Vacation Therapy (12 page)

Sergio coughed, spitting a mouthful of water that he had been drinking across the table. Embarrassed, he wiped his mouth. “I'm so sorry."

Sergio glanced over at me, but I refused to make eye contact. I knew what he was thinking. I prayed, “Please don't say anything.” I felt with all the prayers I'd been saying on this trip, it was quickly becoming a religious retreat.

Tom stared at me, and I read the same question in his mind.

Logan glanced from me to Tom to Sergio. “What's going on here with you three? You all look like you've just seen a ghost."

"It's difficult to explain,” I said, trying hard to decide if I should tell him the truth.

But before I could say another word, I heard, “There, they're over here. Come on. I'm sure they won't mind if two more join them at their table."

All eyes watched as a couple wove their way through the tables. The skinny guy from the jungle cruise wore a red and yellow Hawaiian shirt. His friend, a portly balding man with a red face, which may have been from sun or exertion, followed close behind.

"Hi. Do you remember me?” the skinny guy said to me.

Oh crap.
I looked at him, shaking my head no, hoping to prevent them from joining us if I seemed not to remember him.

"I was on that boat this afternoon. You two were there, right?” He pointed from Tom to me.

Before I could answer, he continued. “I'm David, and this is David. Most people call us David and David."

"These two saved my life today,” Skinny David said to Chubby David, pointing from Tom to me. “Not that they were the two that actually removed the snake from around my neck. Two other guys did that. No, actually one did. The other one slapped me when I kept screaming about the Black Mamba. I was sure I was going to tip the whole boat over, but these two guys saved us all.” He pointed at Tom and me.

Maybe you should go find the other guys who really saved your life and join them
, I thought.

Tom rolled his eyes and avoided the Davids’ stares.

"I can't believe that big old snake fell right into my lap. If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn someone threw it at me. But who'd do a thing like that?"

I could think of a few, my mind screamed, but just then an image flashed in my mind. The silhouette.

Tuning out what Skinny David was saying, I strained to remember. The scene replayed in my mind, but this time in slow motion. I heard a low grunt and a snap of something hitting branches. That was when the twisting, withering mass flew through the air. Two hands had launched it. I could see the arms tossing the snake and the shadow of a man hitting the dirt. Definitely, someone had thrown that snake into the boat.

Skinny David stood up. “I'd like to make a toast.” He paused with his glass in hand. “Hey you,” he shouted to the magnetic boys, sitting a few tables away.

"Those are the two who really saved your life,” Tom said.

"That's right,” I piped in, “You should really go and thank them."

"Personally,” Sergio said, quickly adding, “like in person.” He stood, trying to shoo them in the magnetic boys’ direction.

Chubby David stood up and took Skinny David's hand and headed over to the magnetic boys’ table.

A sigh of relief escaped from all of us.

Sergio broke the silence. “Well, you two must've had one wild afternoon."

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Tom glanced from me to Sergio. He opened his mouth to begin, but the trumpet music blasted from the speakers, cutting him off. This time Mike stepped out onto the stage with Gary close behind. “Tonight, we have a special treat. All the food that you would find in the Mediterranean is here tonight. But don't leave after you've stuffed yourself, because tonight, after supper, we have a very special show for you. A local group of dancers, singers, and musicians will show the history and heritage of Mexico in native song and dance."

"When did Mexico get moved to the Mediterranean? Great, just what we want to see after dinner,
Dysentery, The Musical
,” Sergio said to our table.

Mike waved his hand into the air, and metallic clinks sounded around the perimeter of the dining area as the waiters lifted the lids off the serving trays. Tom pushed his chair back and headed to the buffet tables. I stood up and followed his lead.

At the first table, Tom picked up two plates and handed one to me. The table was covered with lettuce, veggies, and every salad topping imaginable. I waited as Tom piled a heap of lettuce on his plate and covered it with French dressing. He looked at mine. “Aren't you hungry?"

"Starved, but I'm not a salad eater, lettuce isn't..."

"Sure,” Tom interrupted. “You're just saving room for all the other exotic dishes."

I leaned forward. “I can't wait to see what they have."

"Cut in front of me.” Tom stepped to the side. “I may be a while.” He motioned to the salad bar.

The next table was covered with metal pans held in heating racks with cans of Sterno flaming underneath. Frog legs, fried in a light batter, were piled high in the first pan. I looked closely at them. Small pointed toes were still visible through the batter. I thought I could see a tinge of green under the light coating. Skin? Frog skin? Weren't they supposed to peel that off before battering? A flash of biology lab and formaldehyde stabbed into my nose.

I swallowed hard and continued to the next pan. A dark liquid bubbled from the heat. I picked up the large serving spoon and dug into the depths. Small squids or octopi rose to the surface. Their tentacles were still attached, and they quivered and squirmed in the liquid. Were they still alive?

I dropped the spoon into the pan and peered over to the next one. This one was labeled: Boiled Fish. I didn't look. Next.

The Red Snapper had slices of limes sticking out of its belly and gill slits. One even protruded from the mouth of its triangular head. Flying fish were fried crisp with their wings fanned out to each side. A pan of shrimp with their shells and heads still intact looked back at me. Grill lines transversed more fish, crisscrossing their scales and skulls, as their milky white eyes stared off into the night sky. My stomach began to roll.

Saliva production increased, and not due to the delicacies set before me, but what threatened to come back up. I forced a hard swallow. My skin crawled. This wasn't a buffet. This was a science experiment.

The next table was covered in bowls and dishes of things I've never seen before. The only thing that I recognized, or thought I recognized, was mashed potatoes. And with my luck, they were probably left over from lunch. I scooped two big clumps onto my plate. At the end of the buffet stood a wicker basket full of rolls. I quickly snatched up three.

Tom watched as I walked by, glancing down at my food. “Is that all you're going to eat?"

"That's all I can eat. I bet they'll put out some fruit and desserts later. I'll get something then."

Sergio bounded back to the table with his plate covered with a little of everything. He smiled and dug into his heap.

I pushed my mashed potatoes away and started on my rolls. The crust was too hard for my fingers to break. My knife sawed the bread like wood. Dunking it into my water glass made it chewable. I watched as Sergio shoveled food into his mouth.

He must have felt me watching him, because suddenly the tentacles began to slip out of his mouth, like a wave of spaghetti. They slid in and back out. Then he sucked them back in. He grinned at me. “I think it's still alive. I can feel it swimming around in my stomach.” Sergio grabbed his stomach like the guy in
Alien
. “It's alive, it's alive,” he said as he clutched his belly.

"You think you're so cute."

"I am,” Sergio said, and stroked the side of his neck with his hand. “I wish they had taken the suction cups off these tentacles before they cooked them.” A funny expression played across his face. “I think one of them is stuck in my throat."

"Don't expect me to do the Heimlich on you,” I stated. I tried to clear the image of the suction cup from my mind.

"Fine. I'll behave, but only if you tell me what happened this afternoon."

Great. Now, he was resorting to blackmail to get what he wanted. Tom and I told him about our adventure on the Jungle Cruise. Logan hung on every word, as if taking mental notes on the details of our trip. I wondered if this story was going to end up in his novel.

Tom turned to me and asked, “What was that expression that came over your face when David and David were here?"

I told them what I had remembered.

Sergio broke the silence. “Do you think that someone threw that snake into your boat?"

I nodded my head, slowly. “Skinny David had on a yellow T-shirt, just like the one I was wearing. The strange thing is, I had sat in the same seat that Skinny David took over after I moved back to keep Tom company.” I glanced over at Tom. “Both Gary and Tom tried to keep me in my seat, but I didn't listen, and now I'm glad I didn't."

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but closed it.

"I'll be the first to admit that I don't like snakes, but now, I'm starting to think that someone wanted to drop that snake on
me
."

"Wow,” Sergio said. “This is sooo cool."

"But why would someone want to drop a snake on you?” Logan asked.

I glanced from Tom to Sergio, and they both nodded their heads in agreement.

Logan still looked puzzled.

"Last night, I came back to my room, and the shower was running. I thought Sergio was in there, but it turned out to be a body. A dead body."

"A hairy one,” Sergio added.

"We ran to get help, but when we got back to the room..."

Logan finished, “The body was gone."

Sergio and I nodded.

"Did you stumble across...?” Logan began.

"I tripped over him on the beach later that night."

"Just like in my book.” Logan rubbed his forehead. “You must think...” He paused. “That's why all of you gave me such a strange look earlier."

"It makes you look suspicious,” Sergio accused.

"It's just a coincidence,” Logan explained.

I had my doubts.

"So what do we do now?” Tom asked.

"I think we should go out into the jungle tomorrow and look for clues,” Sergio suggested. “If we verify what Taylor saw, maybe we can find who threw the snake at him, and prove that the killer was trying to tie up the loose ends."

"I don't really want to go back on that boat,” I said, turning to Tom, “Do you?"

"I didn't mean back on the boat,” Sergio said.

My body cringed at what was coming next.

"We can walk through the jungle.” Sergio rubbed his hands together in excitement.

"Just like Tarzan?” I asked.

"Exactly.” Sergio smiled.

In the next few minutes, we discussed plans for our investigation. Sergio finally said, “Then it's settled, we'll set off into the jungle tomorrow morning after breakfast and see if we can find anything that proves someone threw that snake at Taylor and hopefully find the killer."

Logan nodded his head in agreement.

"But if we find something that proves that Taylor is the target, then what?” Sergio asked.

"Then,” Tom sighed, “we'll have to protect Taylor. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, we'll go with him."

Sergio's eyes lit up with Tom's offer, but my heart sank. So much for my relaxing week alone in the sun, just me and my books.

[Back to Table of Contents]

"You can't be serious,” I said, stepping out of the bathroom.

Sergio stood waiting by the door. “What?” He held his hands out, questioning.

"You have to ask?” I pointed to his outfit.

Sergio stood by the door with a safari helmet on his head, high-top hiking boots, wool socks, khaki shorts and shirt. Two thick utility belts crisscrossed his skinny chest, while a huge machete hung from his slender hip and pulled his pelvis cockeyed. “They have a prop and costume room with everything you could ever want to play dress up with. And I mean everything.” He swung his machete. “It's real."

"Indiana Jones you're not,” I said.

"What about Lara Croft?"

"You'll need to be digitally enhanced and in more ways than one."

"Well, I doubt that your black shirt and jeans are the appropriate attire for this little adventure,” Sergio eyed me. “Maybe if you were stalking someone at midnight or playing Ninja warrior, but you'll die of heat exhaustion out there in that get-up."

I glanced at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Maybe he was right. Even this early in the morning, the black would absorb the humidity and heat. “Fine. I'll put on a light colored shirt, but I'm not changing my jeans. I can just imagine what else is living in that foliage.” Images of the slides from my microbiology, parasitology, and mycology classes came to mind, followed by the diseases they caused.

Sergio pulled a string from the side of his helmet and a net sprang free and surrounded his head.

I smiled and started to laugh.

Sergio looked at himself in the mirror and burst out, “I look like Mrs. Howell."

I laughed even harder, and tears formed at the corners of my eyes. “I need to change, and I think you do too.” I rifled through my clothes and found a tan long-sleeved shirt. I quickly changed my shirt. With all of my allergies, I wasn't taking any chances, and with the threat of snakes, there was no way I was going to wear shorts, no matter how hot it got.

Sergio removed his bandoleers and helmet, changed his boots for white tennis shoes, but kept his khaki shirt and shorts. “Do I meet your approval?"

"Yes. At least, I can be seen with you in public."

"Well, don't wait for Tarzan to be picking up your sorry ass in that get-up.” Sergio opened the door and headed down for breakfast. The machete bounced with each step.

"And that's just fine with me,” I called after him. Following him, I scratched my head. “Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Where did you get that machete?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?” he said, looking over his shoulder. “The costume closet has everything. Trust me."