Vacation Therapy (16 page)

Ignoring Sergio's finger, I knelt next to Gary and placed my fingers on his neck to check his pulse. His breathing was even, and a strong heartbeat throbbed in his neck. My fingers explored the back of his head. I felt a huge lump rising, but no blood seemed to be oozing out of him. Pulling open one of his eyelids, I watched his pupil constrict as the light hit it. The other eye did the same, symmetrically. No sign of head injury. I turned to face Sergio. “You could've killed him.” The panic still shrilled in my voice. I took a deep, calming breath.

"Oh, I'm sure. I doubt I could even crack that concrete between his ears,” he retorted.

Standing up, I grabbed under Gary's arms and tried to lift him. His limp body hardly budged. Glancing at Sergio I asked, “Are you going to help me?"

"Do what? Take advantage of him?” Sergio's eyebrows rose up and down, just like Gary's had. “Haven't you done enough?"

"Do you see where he is? We need to hide him.” I peeked down the hallway at the utility closet. “Maybe we should bring him into his room, because I don't want to be around when he wakes up."

Sergio opened his mouth to say something.

"We can't leave him here,” I said, before he could respond.

"Why not? It'll look like he had too much to drink and knocked himself out,” Sergio sniffed the air, “and from the smell of it, we wouldn't be too far off."

"Well, I'm not taking any chances. He could've been the one who followed me the first night on the beach, remember? And he could've been involved with that thrown snake on the jungle cruise."

Sergio shook his head while he set down his machete. He bent forward and grabbed Gary's legs. As we struggled to pick him up, he asked, “How much does he weigh?” With a heavy grunt, we lifted him off the ground. Sergio pulled one way and I the other; Gary's body slipped out of our hands. This time, I caught his head before it bounced off the tile, but Sergio let his half fall. Gary's bottom hit with full force. “Why didn't you try to catch him?” I demanded.

Sergio put his hands on his hips. “It looks like he has enough padding,” he said, glancing down at Gary's butt. “More than enough, and how much oil does he have covering his body?"

I exhaled hard. “Can we at least go in the same direction?"

"Well, where are we going with him?” Sergio asked.

"To his closet,” I said.

"Too late. I think he came out a long time ago, and he ain't going back."

"In his room.” I rolled my eyes, grabbed under Gary's arms again, and pulled him up. Sergio followed with his legs, holding onto him higher this time. We moved him across the hall and closer to his room.

We heard footsteps echoing up the stairwell. Sergio mouthed, “Hurry."

We shuffled Gary's body to his door, where Sergio dropped his legs without warning. Gary's sandals clattered on the tile. Sergio reached into his pocket, fished out the room key, and slipped it into the lock. The footsteps paused at the top of the stairs and then headed in our direction.

Sergio swung the door open, and I spun Gary's unconscious form around and dragged him into his room. Sergio waited behind the door. When Gary's feet cleared the door, Sergio slammed it shut, just before the guest walked by the door.

"Whew. That was close."

"Too close,” I agreed.

"So, now what do we do? Take off his clothes?” Sergio nodded his head in short rapid jerks.

"That'll help a lot,” I said.

"It wouldn't hurt,” Sergio grinned.

I scanned the room and motioned toward the bed. “Why don't we just put him on the bed and make it look like he fell asleep? Maybe he won't remember seeing me in the hallway and that you clobbered him."

"I didn't clobber him, I rescued you."

"Whatever."

We picked Gary up again and placed him on the bed. We straightened out his arms and legs and took off his sandals.

"Shouldn't we get an icepack for his head?” Sergio asked.

"Then he'll know someone
nice
knocked him out?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that.” He scratched his head.

Before we could do anything else, Gary's phone rang. Sergio and I jumped.

"Let's get the hell out of here.” Sergio made a break for the door.

I glanced at the phone, wondering who was calling Gary. My hand reached to answer it, but as soon as my fingertips touched, I heard the room door open. I turned. Sergio was gone, and I bolted.

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"I can't believe you hit him with the machete,” I said, emptying my tote bag on the dresser.

"Taylor?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Taylor!” Urgency filled his tone.

"What?” I said, but didn't turn around. I shook the sand out of my paperback and placed it on the dresser. Looking into the mirror, I saw my sunburned face. I really should've started tanning before I left Sioux Falls.

"You know that snake that was thrown at you? Was it poisonous?"

"I don't know, maybe.” I leaned forward and ran my fingers through my hair. I could see my brilliant pink scalp underneath. No wonder my head itched. “Why?"

"Because one just came out from under your bed. It must've followed you home.” Sergio bumped into me as he backed up and pressed his body against the dresser.

"Ha. Ha...” I started, but looking into the mirror I saw what Sergio was talking about. A large, dark brown, almost black, snake with yellow crossbars slithered out from under the dust ruffle. Its diamond-shaped head rose slightly, and its tongue flicked in and out, scanning the environment. Sensing our presence, it headed in our direction.

We scrambled over each other to get on top of the dresser. Once on top, we wondered how we had gotten there.

The snake side-wound around itself, uncoiling to over six feet in length, as it crossed the tiled floor. It raised its head again, sticking out its forked tongue, searching for us. Its cold black eyes bore down on us, unblinking, as it continued crawling closer.

My mind raced back to the Discovery channel shows that I had turned off when the snakes came on. Did motion or heat attract them? Weren't they afraid of things bigger than them?

Sergio nudged me forward, bringing me back to the problem at hand. “Do something,” he hissed.

My body tensed, and I pushed back against him. “I don't do snakes."

"Well, neither do I. Marlin Perkins I ain't.” He edged away from me, and the dresser swayed with the weight shift.

I took a step back. “Then be Jim. He did all the dirty work on that show anyway."

"I'm not Jim either.” He motioned to the snake. “All you have to do is just grab it right behind its head and take it out of the room."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"That's easy for you to say, but I'm not touching that thing.” I moved closer to Sergio, the dresser rocking back and forth under our weight.

"Well, neither am I.” He wrung his hands together. “Careful! You're gonna tip us over."

"So how do we get rid of it?"

"Call room service?” Sergio suggested.

We stared at the nightstand between the beds; the phone mocked us.

"Why don't you go and call for help, and I'll keep its attention.” He waved his hands in the air.

"No way. You go call.” I nudged him toward the phone.

The snake slid closer to the foot of the dresser and stopped where we were standing. It reared its head up off the floor, searching.

I grabbed Sergio's hands and stopped his waving. “Let's not get its attention right now."

"How high can one of those things reach?” Sergio asked.

Pressing my back up against the wall I said, “I don't know, and I don't want to find out.” I nudged Sergio. “Reach? Reacher. Grab the reacher."

"What?” he looked at me confused.

"The reacher,” I nodded to his right. “Grab the reacher. We can use that to catch the snake and get rid of it.” I pointed to the aluminum device, lying at the end of the dresser.

Sergio slowly made his way to the edge and picked it up. “Here, catch.” He wound his arm back, getting ready to toss it to me.

"No!” I shouted.

"Why not? Do you think I'll throw like a girl?” Sergio shot back, his hand holding the reacher at his cocked hip.

"No. I can't catch."

"Why not?"

"You know, my detached retina. I don't have any depth perception. I couldn't catch anything to save my life. And for that matter, I don't think I can trust myself to grab the snake with the reacher."

"You've got to be kidding. You use them everyday, don't you?"

"I don't, my patients do."

"Oh great,” he said and sidestepped back to me.

"I can teach you how to use it. I'm sure you'll be able to catch it."

"Forget that, think of another plan.” He handed the reacher to me.

"All you have to do is pull the trigger,” I said, pulling it with my index finger and the plastic claw opened and closed.

"You're the expert. You do it.” He folded his hands under his arms and refused to take it from me. “I'll open the door so you can throw it off the balcony."

"I can't throw it off the balcony. The fall might kill it."

Sergio glared at me. “I don't care. I just don't want
it
to kill
us
. Every man for himself."

"What if it falls on someone or lands on someone else's balcony?"

"Who cares? Then that's their problem, not ours.” Sergio snapped.

"Aren't you the humanitarian of the year."

"I don't care. I just want that snake out of here. Don't you?"

The snake rose higher, flicking its tongue toward us. Its head extended halfway up the dresser.

"Fine. I'll do it. Just stand back and give me room.” I spread my arms out to the side, almost dropping the reacher in the process of making eye contact with Sergio. “As soon as I grab the snake, you jump down and open the patio door. Okay?"

Sergio stared down at the snake, and he didn't say anything.

"Okay?” I raised my voice and tapped him with the reacher.

"Okay. Just do it."

I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Find something to throw to distract it, and then I'll jump down and grab it."

Sergio bent over and picked up my paperback.

"No! Not that!” I cried.

"Then what?” he asked, setting my book down.

"I don't care, you can use anything you want, just not my book."

Sergio knelt down, reached over the edge of the dresser, and slowly opened my top drawer.

The snake reared its head back, hissing as its forked tongue sensed the movement of air. It rocked its body side to side, following Sergio's movements like a mirror.

Blindly, Sergio grabbed something and stood up. “Will this do?” He shook a scrap of bright blue cloth in his knuckled fist. My Speedo.

"I don't care, just do it,” I said through pursed lips.

Sergio threw the Speedo to the right of the snake.

It lurched forward, following the swimwear's arc of descent. Its head shot through a leg opening and landed on the floor.

I jumped down, extending my arm with the reacher's claw wide open, ready to grab. The Speedo wrapped around the snake's neck, slowing it down just long enough for the claw to find its hold. My index finger pulled the trigger. The snake reared its head up and back against the aluminum and plastic, trying to escape. I squeezed down harder, praying the plastic wouldn't break. I glanced back at the dresser.

Sergio still stood on top of it with his hands over his eyes.

"Sergio!” I shouted as the snake started to coil its body around the shaft of the reacher. I tensed and extended my arm straight out in front of me, turning to face him.

He brought his hands down, and as he opened his eyes, he let out a blood-curdling scream. The reacher with the trapped snake's head was eye level with him.

His scream scared me so much that I almost lost my grip and dropped the snake. Squeezing tighter on the trigger, I pointed the snake's black eyes into Sergio's face and then pointed it at the balcony. “The door!"

Sergio bolted from the dresser and scrambled across the room. With his eyes glued to the snake, he fumbled in blind panic with the latch. It snapped, and he threw the door wide open.

I rushed across the room and into the welcoming sea breeze. My pelvis hit the balcony wall, and I bent over the railing with the reacher. Seeing no one below, I released the trigger.

As soon as the pressure released from its neck, the snake clung to the reacher for dear life. Its body started pulsating, coiling back up and around the shaft, moving closer to my hand. I shook the reacher, but the snake wouldn't let go.

"Drop it!” Sergio yelled, as he stood next to my side.

"I can't! It won't let go!"

Sergio bumped into my side as he reached over the railing to help.

The snake's tail slapped his forearm. Sergio screamed again and backed up. From behind me, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook my whole body. “
You
have to let go, it won't."

This time, the snake's tail brushed against my fingers on the handle. Instantly, my hand released the reacher. It and the snake tumbled through the air, plummeting toward the ground.

We watched as the snake and the reacher rolled end over end, all the way to the courtyard. The reacher clattered when it struck the tiles below. The snake flopped once and then lay motionless, still partially wrapped around the reacher.

"Thanks,” I said as my legs collapsed, bringing me down to the balcony floor.

"Tell that vendor they make one hell of a reacher,” Sergio said, sliding down the balcony wall and joining me on the floor.

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The phone began to ring. “Now what?” I asked, pushing myself up to my feet and answering it.

"This is the front desk. Is there a problem in your room?"

"No. Why?
Is
there a problem?” My hand shook at my ear.

"We've had complaints about yelling and screaming. Are you in trouble?"

"We had a problem, but now it's gone."

"Can you answer that or are you danger? Is someone listening? We can send someone up if you need help."