Vacation Therapy (23 page)

"See, Taylor, you just have to make the best of things,” Sergio shouted at me.

"I'm trying,” I yelled back.

The sky was twilight gray. The wind had started to irritate my skin and eardrums. Maybe it was the sand from the beach blasting my body, but I was exhausted. “Are you ready to head back to the room, yet? I'm tired, and I'm hungry,” I shouted.

"Mike said they were going to be bringing cold lunches around to the rooms.” Sergio tossed his empty beer can into the bin.

"I can just imagine what they'll come up with."

"I heard the day shift didn't even come in. They boarded up their homes and stayed there. They're all nice, safe and secure, while we're out partying like there's no tomorrow."

"Maybe they know something we don't.” The unknown was starting to unsettle me.

"Don't worry. This is fun,” he shouted in the tempest and opened another beer.

An hour later, Mike was still yelling, “One more minute! Come on you guys. Go back to your rooms. Food will be served there. The storm has stalled at sea, but now it's almost here."

The crowd had thinned a little, but many still milled around the beach and the bar. Empty bottles littered the bar area where the wind wasn't whipping. Sergio grabbed a bottle of wine and finally said, “Let's go up to the dining hall and see if we can find something to eat."

We walked up the stairs to the main building of the resort. Halfway up, the wind turned freezing cold. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees in just a few seconds.

"I think something's getting close,” I said and showed Sergio my arm. Goosebumps stood out on my arms and legs.

"Nah,” Sergio said. He motioned me on into the dining room.

The lights were off and no one was in the hall. As we walked between the empty tables and chairs, we scanned them for food. In the gloom, we found one banana and an apple. I picked them up and tossed the apple to Sergio.

"Thanks,” he said, and took a big bite. “I don't think we're going to find anything else, do you?"

"It appears everything has been pretty well picked over. Maybe Mike brought something to our room."

"Yeah, right,” Sergio said and took another bite of his apple.

As the wind hit, the goosebumps broke out across my entire body. “Well, I think it's here.” I shouted against the gale.

Before Sergio could respond, huge cold drops of rain fell from the sky and splattered across the walkway. “Do you think...” was all that he got out of his mouth when the sky opened up. A wall of cold water dropped from above and blew horizontally into our faces. We peered at each other, nodded, and ran for our room.

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"Are we done with our scavenger hunt?” Sergio demanded, his hands on his hips.

"What?"

He pointed to the paper in my hand. “Did we do everything on that hurricane list?"

The drapes billowed away from the patio doors as the storm raged outside. They were drawn tightly over the glass covered with large “X's” of tape. All our furniture was off the patio and pushed up against the walls, along with the rest of the room's furniture.

We walked to the bathroom. My books, wallet, checkbook, and passport were in my shaving kit in the bathroom. An extra pair of disposable contact lenses was safely tucked inside the pocket of my jeans, just in case. I patted the pocket to double check.

Sergio's important things were jammed in his essential hair valise. It rested along side the bottles of water, candles, and the stolen dinner rolls. Everything was neatly lined up on the countertop. I made one last check of the list, and we were ready for the hurricane.

Sergio clapped his hands and rubbed them together, briskly. “All we need now is our supper."

"Mike promised...” I began.

"Don't get me started on his promises. I doubt we're going to see any food tonight, except for those hard buns you pinched from the dining room."

"Don't say that too loud. Someone may get the wrong idea."

"You can't still be worried about what people think. This is a gay resort. Big deal. No one can hear us,” he motioned to the patio door. “I doubt anyone could hear someone screaming for their life tonight with that gale-force wind blowing out there."

A pocket of air puffed the entire curtain out into the room. As it escaped, the bottom edge flapped violently. It was going to be a wild night. Luckily, no rain had been driven in. Yet.

As if reading my mind, Sergio asked, “Shouldn't we put a few towels along the patio door to prevent any water from soaking in?"

I grabbed the damp towels from this morning, since the maids hadn't given us dry ones, and decided to use the wet ones we used after our drenching run across the resort instead. “Use the soaked ones.” I headed to the patio door.

Sergio knelt down next to me and tucked the bottom edge of the drapes into the row of damp towels to help secure them all to the floor. “The food can come anytime now,” he said, as he pushed up to his feet.

Nine o'clock came and went, but no Mike and no supper.

"I doubt Mike even called for a taxi or the airline for you.” Sergio rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “If he lied about supper, he'd lie about that."

"But why would he lie?” I asked, glancing up from my book. Actually, it was Sergio's book,
A Body to Dye For
by Grant Michaels.

"Well, it's not like this resort has been all it was supposed to be. I should've listened to you earlier. Well, my faith in Club Fred is finally over.” Sergio held up his palm to the door and turned his head away. “Anything Mike says from now on, is not going to be believed, no matter how good he makes it sound.” He pointed to the crumbs on his bed. “After eating those hard rolls, I think he owes us a meal. A good one, right?"

"I think he owes us a lot more than that.” My finger held my place in the trade paperback, but before I could return to reading, the phone rang, making me jump. I dropped the book and reached to answer the phone. “Hello?"

"Hey guys, how's it going? This is Mike,” he said in his party voice. “I just wanted to check on how you two are doing."

"We're still waiting for our supper,” I said.

"Oh, yeah, that.” He paused. “We had a little problem with the staff, and we didn't have enough time to make up any snack boxes before the storm hit."

You were too busy drinking on the beach to worry about our lunch or supper
, I thought, but I bit my tongue. I replied simply, “Oh."

Silence.

Finally, Mike said, “We'll have something for you to eat as soon as the storm breaks, whenever that is. But...” he paused again. “I've heard that the hurricane has stalled over us and..."

"And what?” I pressed.

"...And that... you may not get anything to eat tonight. But we're hopeful that there'll be breakfast first thing tomorrow morning."

I didn't say a word. Therapeutic silence forced people to explain further and kept them on the spot.

Mike exhaled forcefully. “I wish I could do more, but..."

"But we're stuck here, aren't we?” So much for therapeutic silence. Before he could respond, I said, “What happened to my taxi, Mike?"

"What...?” His voice died out, and he was silent. “Oh that."

"Yeah, that."

"I called, and they promised that they'd be here. I guess the storm prevented them from getting in. Sorry."

Yeah right
, I thought.

"Anyway, hang tight, and I'm sure you guys will be all right. Did you get everything done on the list?"

Just then, a violent wind gust struck the resort. The entire building rumbled and shook. The ceiling threatened to rip off and split the room wide open. The floor shook, and the furniture shifted away from the walls. The lights flashed off, plunging the room into blackness, and then flickered back on. The phone clicked in my ear and died.

"So much for that.” I said, setting the receiver down.

"What did he say about supper?” Sergio swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. His eyes scanned the corners of the room, looking for any cracks or damage to the walls.

"They'll feed us as soon as the storm blows over."

"That shouldn't take too long. Should it?"

"I think the hurricane has stalled out, right on top of us. We probably won't be fed tonight. If we're lucky, we'll get breakfast tomorrow."

"Good thing you took those rolls. I know it's only bread and water, but we are prisoners here, aren't we?"

It sure felt that way.

The wind continued to howl and whip as rain blasted against the window. The drapes remained closed, but as each gust rocked the building, they billowed out into the room. Their rhythmic sway hypnotized us.
CNN en
Espanol
warned of Hurricane Brian. The reports predicted a category two hurricane with winds up to one hundred and ten miles an hour. At least, that was all I could gather from the few words of Spanish I understood, the interrupted satellite signal, and the flickering electricity.

Unable to resist the temptation of the wind, I crept to the patio door and peered around the drapes. With my face pressed against the cold glass, my breath fogged it. Just then, a gust of wind rattled the thick glass, making it bend and flex like a piece of paper. I pulled my head back and examined the door's frame.

Air whistled around the plastic and aluminum frame, as rain was driven through and around the edges. The drapes were damp and heavy, but they didn't appear strong enough to stop even the smallest shard of glass if the window broke.

Another gust hit the door at full force. My curiosity was looking like it could kill the cat and the idiot from the Midwest who had never seen a hurricane before.

I slid the curtain back, leaving a slit just big enough for one eye to peer out into the tempest. The emergency lights that lit the walkways flickered, but I wasn't able to see if it was from debris or power failure. So far, the generator seemed to be still working.

As that thought crossed my mind, I noticed a light bobbing along the side of the building across the walkway. Had one of the emergency lights broke lose?

No. This light moved along the tiled hallway slowly, methodically, not like the melee of wind and rain. It looked like it was searching for something. Then the realization struck me: Someone was out there, walking around in that storm.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, causing my heart to stop. My entire body went rigid as a flash of white light blinded me, and my hand flew up to cover my mouth, preventing the scream that threatened to erupt.

"What are you looking at?” Sergio asked, butting me out of the way with his bony hip. “Move over so I can see, too."

Swallowing hard and gasping to catch my breath, I croaked, “I think someone's out there."

"What? Are you crazy?” He turned away from peeking out and faced me. “No one would be out in that storm. There's no way that they could walk around out there. They'd blow away with all that wind and rain."

"I know what I saw."

"In the dark? You're as blind as a bat. What are you talking about?"

I moved next to him and pulled the curtain back. “Look over there,” I said, pointing toward the edge of the courtyard below. “See that light? The one moving over there?"

"No,” he said, with his hands cupped against the glass and his face pressed into them.

"Remember where the snake and reacher fell?"

"Yeah."

"Veer over to the right, where the retaining wall is.” I looked back into our room. The lights were on. Whoever was out there could see us looking out into the storm.

"Maybe it's just the branches blowing in front of one of the emergency lights."

I tried to decide what to do next; pull him away from the window or show him the danger. I decided on the latter. “It's moving too smoothly and controlled."

As if the light heard me, it went out, and the shadow seemed to look up straight into my eyes. A surge of lightning flashed cold and blue, illuminating the single figure, dressed in black, silhouetted against the short stucco wall. Its hand rose over its head, and then nothing.

The world returned to blackness, but the shadow burned into my retina.

Another thundering rumble shook the building, rattling the pane of glass that separated us from the tempest. We both stepped back, instinctively.

"I saw him. Close the curtains!” Sergio said, jumping up and down and pointing to where the silhouette had been standing. He pulled the curtain closed and pressed it against the glass. “It looked like he was going to throw something."

"Like closing the curtains is going to stop that.” I grabbed Sergio and spun him with me so our backs were to the patio, and we covered our heads.

A second later, shattering glass exploded from the room beneath us. Amidst the rain, thunder, and wind, I heard what sounded like a blood-curdling scream. It lasted for only a few seconds, rose up against the tempest, and then was cut off, severed into silence.

"Was that...?” Sergio asked, his eyes wide in shock. He pulled the drapes back to look out into the storm, but thought twice and ripped them back to cover the glass.

"I don't know. It sounded like a scream to me.” I ran for the door. “We have to go and see if we can help him."

"Help him what? Die?” Sergio grabbed me and swung me around to face him. “No way. I'm not going out there, and neither are you. No way, no how. We'd never make it down there, let alone get back in one piece."

"We could stay there..."

"With no windows?” He pointed to the door. “Besides, there's nothing we can do. Nothing.” Panic dilated his pupils.

A sick, helpless feeling settled over me. He was right. There wasn't anything we could do now. We weren't even sure if it was a scream. It could have been the wind, a television set. Anything.

Another gust of wind struck our entire building, thundering the structure to its core. The roar of thunder rattled the glass door, as if someone wanted in. Another flash blazed outside. The lights flickered once and went out, plunging us into darkness for good this time.

Sergio and I dove for our beds, but we landed in Sergio's. Wrestling for position and the blankets, we ripped the covers off and tried to get underneath them. Something slammed against our patio window. Our arms came up, our heads turned away, and we waited for the glass to implode into our room.