Vacation Therapy (25 page)

Sergio followed suit, and we sat looking at each other. What should we do next? The two hard rolls sat on the bathroom counter, but they weren't calling to us. The cafeteria was. Well, correction: Sergio was. He was cranky and demanding to be fed.

I opened our door, and the rain started to fall harder. “If you would've been faster in the shower,” Sergio said, motioning toward the rain, “we could've made it to the dining hall before it started up again."

"You were in there twice as long as I was."

He held up his hand to me and headed down the stairwell. Stopping at the courtyard, we watched the heavy drops of rain splatter across the tile. Taking a deep breath, we stepped out into the courtyard and were instantly soaked. My T-shirt became a second skin. The stairwells and the tiled walkways were mined with puddles. My sandals splashed and slid with each step.

Sergio turned around to look back at me and inhaled sharply. I spun around with my arms up in a defensive stance. He shook his head and pointed to the room below ours.

The patio door was gone. Glass, frame, drapes and all. A gaping, jagged hole stood where it should have been. My eyes strayed to see into the depths of the room. A dark stain covered the back wall, and if I used my imagination, the streaks looked like a man's body had been thrown against it, and a firing squad had opened fire.

It was five o'clock, and the dining hall was empty. No other guests wandered around. Not even the morning crew had arrived. As if they were going to be in today, anyway. So much for our food being set up in the buffet line. The kitchen door was closed, and no sounds emanated from behind. I'm sure before the hurricane hit, the staff had no trouble getting into work and would have already busy creating all that inedible food that I had so far refused to eat. Except those hard rolls, which were probably brought in from town.

Mike and Geoff were nowhere to be found. Maybe they washed away with the storm after throwing rocks at us last night, but more probably they were still in bed. It's not like we needed them anyway. What did they really do? I didn't really expect them to be up this early, cooking or providing food for their guests.

"Hey, where's all the food?” Sergio asked from behind me.

I called over my shoulder. “The locals haven't arrived yet. Maybe they can't get back to the resort."

"So, we're going to starve to death while they wait for the weather to clear? Wait a minute. If they can't get in...” he paused for dramatic tension, “we can't get out. We're trapped."

I rolled my eyes. “Let's not start a panic. We still have two rolls left back in the room. I'm sure they'll have this problem corrected by lunch."

"What are they going to serve? Those who didn't survive the hurricane?” Sergio smiled at his clever wit.

"I'm sure they have a storeroom full of food,” I began.

Sergio grabbed my wet T-shirt. “So? What are
we
waiting for? You teach people to cook everyday at the hospital, right? I'm sure you can scramble us a few eggs.” He dragged my protesting feet after him.

He let go of me as we passed the coffee and hot water dispensers. He reached over to check if the hot water was on.

A cup of tea with extra sugar would hold off my stomach's growling and maybe warm me up just a little bit.

Finding it empty, Sergio proceeded to the kitchen door and peered into the round window. He waved me over and tried to push the swinging doors open. They wouldn't budge. “It's locked.” He ran his fingers through his damp hair. Even it refused to stand up on end.

"I'm sure after the drunken party on the beach, Mike locked the doors to prevent himself from being eaten out of house and home. Or maybe he joined in and drank himself into the poor house and now he's passed out..."

"Aren't you being a bit snotty? We took a few cans of beer and pop, too. Actually, you took them and gave them to me."

His eyes gleamed with mischief.

I hated when the devil took him. There was just no reasoning with him when he was this way. “That was all I had. No food. No booze. Nothing else. Someone had to be responsible.” Echoes of my mother's voice rolled through my ears. Great. Now I was starting to sound like my mother.

"And you did it so well, now didn't you?” he said coolly.

"Does your key work on this door too?” I asked, trying to distract him.

He patted his pant pocket and fished out his key chain. Slipping it into the lock, he turned it. Nothing.

"So much for that idea. The keys open every other door in this place, but not the kitchen.” I exhaled deeply.

"You give up way too easily.” He tried a few more keys on his ring, but quickly gave up on them. He then pulled a long, thin piece of metal from his key chain and inserted that into the slot. In a few quick twists, an audible click echoed through the air. “Bingo!” He smiled brightly and motioned me to open the door.

I looked around the dining room to make sure no one was watching. No one had joined us, so I hurried, pushed the door open, and snuck into the kitchen with Sergio close behind.

The kitchen was dark, and long shadows emerged from every corner. A few windows were set high up on the walls, but the overcast day, rain, and coating of grease allowed little light to come through.

"Do you see a light switch?” Sergio asked.

While I waited for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, he expelled a huff and pushed me aside. “Sorry, I forgot. Let me look."

I blinked my eyes, trying to get them to adjust faster. A shadow seemed to rush across my foot in the dark. I knew that at times as my eyes were adjusting to the dark or the light, they sometimes played tricks on me. Squinting hard, my eyes revealed a few stained white aprons, which hung from hooks on a short wall. It was then I noticed one of their tie strings had wrapped around my ankle. Kicking it free, I heard a soft plastic clicking sounded in the distance, but the kitchen lights refused to come on.

"I think the power's still out,” came Sergio's voice from behind one of the huge stoves.

"Do they have gas stoves?” I stepped forward to see. “Maybe we could turn on a burner and light this place up."

"That would light this place up real good. Boom.” He emerged from behind the stove. “Do you trust the gas lines in here? You know, after the hurricane.” Sergio came and stood next to me.

"It wasn't an earthquake,” I reminded him.

"Fine,” he said, pulling out his stolen lighter. “You do it.” He handed it to me and stepped back.

"Maybe we should just make do with something cold. We have a choice. Should we raid the pantry or see what they have in the walk-in cooler?” As soon as that idea came out of my mouth, images of Duane and Gary's lifeless bodies being stored in there sent shivers over my damp form. Where else would they have put them to keep them fresh? “Maybe we should check out the pantry first?” My eyes darted away from the cooler.

Sergio glanced over to the cooler and understanding registered in his eyes. “Do you think...?” He nodded toward the door.

"I don't even want to think about it."

"Do you think they would still use the food in there? You know if...” His face scrunched up. “I mean.” He swallowed hard. “Where else could they have put them?"

Working with the cadavers in grad school had been very interesting, but to think of seeing someone I knew didn't sit well with me. I had seen both of them once already, I didn't need a repeat viewing. “Let's go check the cabinets,” I suggested.

Walking to the other side of the kitchen, we found all of the cabinets were chained shut. “I hope your lock picking skills are up to this challenge."

Sergio walked up to one cabinet with a loose chain. “I think I can squeeze my hand into this one.” He pulled hard on the door's handle and slipped one of his hands into the narrow opening. He reached up to his elbow and dug around. Cans clicked against each other and tumbled over. “Ouch!” He jerked his arm down, but not out of the cabinet.

"Careful,” I cautioned. Leaning forward, I asked, “Can you get anything out?"

"Hang on. I think I got something.” Then his smile died on his face. “Correction, I think something has got me."

"What?” I said, stepping closer to help.

"Ah! There's something in here,” his voice shrilled. “It tickles. It..."

Then his whole body started to convulse as he tried to pull his arm out.

"It bites!” One of his legs reflexively braced against the lower cabinet, and he began to pull back with all his might. “Help me!” Panic was taking over. He twisted and tried frantically to free his arm. His body was bucking uncontrollably, but neither the cabinet nor whatever held onto his arm released their holds.

I grabbed onto him around his waist and pulled.

"Ow! My arm!” he cried.

I reached up alongside his arm and tried to ease it out of its trap. We pulled harder, and the sound of metal being pulling out of wood cut through the air. The cabinet doors bulged out, the hinges started to snap, and the doors released Sergio's arm. As they pulled out and away, a black wave flowed from between them. The dark mass withered and squirmed as it cascaded over both of us. Several seconds passed before we realized why
La Cucaracha
was a Mexican favorite.

The cockroaches spread out in all directions. Sergio pulled back and slammed his body into mine, thus passing an armload of bugs onto me. The wave hit hard; hissing insects crawled over my skin, digging their sharp feet into me. Both of us waved our arms, trying to flick the roaches off our bodies before they could enter our mouths. Bumping into each other, we tried to escape from the cabinet before more roaches poured out. We continued to back away from the cabinet, trying to avoid the source of this assault.

In our retreat, the wave of bugs continued to follow us across the floor. Our feet crunched bodies with each step. Crack. Crack. Crack. We brushed the creeping insects from our bodies. Suddenly, Sergio stopped. A horrified expression crossed his face, and he started to spasm violently.

"What's wrong?"

"A bunch of roaches just slipped underneath my shirt, and I think they're working their way into my under... AHHH!” With that he screamed and lashed out, slamming his body into mine.

The force drove me back into the wall, where all the aprons hung. My breath expelled from my lungs from white pain that blazed through my body. The impact made a sick-cracking sound behind me, but before I knew what was happening, the thin pressboard splintered inward. The wall split open and swallowed us whole.

Darkness descended over us as we fell into oblivion.

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Our descent didn't last long. My back slammed into a sheet of metal that sloped downward into the bowels of the resort. My head dangled and bounced against the metal, but my legs remained sticking out of the hole in the kitchen wall. The wave of bugs washed over me, hissing and clicking. Small feelers probed my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, even more thoroughly than my doctor did.

A hollow thud reverberated in my ears and Sergio landed on top of me. He continued screaming and thrashing around, trying to get rid of the roaches, which only liberated more onto me. I closed my mouth and eyes tightly, willing my ears and nose to close also. My arms were pinned down to my side, so I wasn't able to wipe away the assault.

With the momentum of Sergio's landing and before I could free my arms and sit up, the traction of my damp shirt slowly began to release. We started to slide down the incline. Small bodies crunched underneath my back. My feet struggled to maintain a foothold on the edge of the hole, but with Sergio's added weight and my wet sandals, the blackness sucked us in. Splintered wood dug into my calves, and my hands struggled to hold traction on the metal. My fingers extended, searching for anything to hang onto, but our descent only accelerated.

Sergio's screams intensified as our speed increased. He continued swiping at the insects. How many were there? I opened one eye, and a huge roach straddled my socket. I closed my eye and pursed my lips together even tighter. My body braced for impact. I hunched my shoulders and flexed my neck forward, in an attempt to prevent a spinal cord or head injury when we landed.

If we landed.

My teeth clenched together as something tried to crawl between my lips. Fearing it would, I exhaled sharply, and the exploring antenna disappeared. At the same moment, the metal slide disappeared from beneath me. I inhaled deeply before flopping onto the concrete floor. If that bug had remained, it would've been ingested, and probably would've been the healthiest thing I'd had the chance to eat so far.

The stone floor didn't soften my landing, but my body cushioned Sergio's. His weight touched down for a second and then lifted off.

I blinked my eyes, trying hard to force them to adjust to the darkness. The impact with the floor had knocked most of the roaches off. I could feel them scattering to the corners of the basement. I raised my head to see where we had just landed and what happened to Sergio. I pushed up to a sitting position, crunching things underneath my palm. Slowly, I got to my feet and swiped at the rest of the little things that continued to crawl over me.

Something flew over my head, and I ducked. Now what? Bats in the basement? I thought they only lived in the belfry. “Why are you still screaming?” I called.

"They're crawling into my...” and then he spat a wet wad onto the floor.

"Then keep your mouth shut, and they can't get in."

With that, his screams stopped, but his moans and groans echoed throughout the dark. I could hear hands slapping skin and the flapping of clothing in front of me, but saw nothing. The blackness swallowed the fading echoes as the cool air settled down on me. A musty smell rose, and the sound of water dripping in the distance welcomed us.

Too bad we hadn't found a flashlight in the kitchen. My hand brushed against my shorts pocket, and I smiled. The stolen lighter was still there. Pulling it out, I called, “Sergio? Are you there?"

He didn't respond, but the rustling of fabric told me he was nearby.

My finger flicked the dial, a spark flashed, and a small blue and yellow flame burst from my hand. I adjusted the dial and the flame shot up and illuminated a small area around me.