Vacation Therapy (26 page)

Sergio's shirtless form appeared pulling up his shorts a few feet away. “Hey, no peeking.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. His whole body shuddered. With the addition of the light, he was able to examine his body and saw that the roaches were finally off. They were busy, scattering across the floor and away from us and the light.

As I watched them scurry away, I scanned the floor and found Sergio's discarded shirt. That must have been the thing that flew over my head. It was still covered with bugs. I stepped forward and raised my foot to stomp on them.

Sergio shouted, “Wait!” He rushed past me and held up his hands to stop me. “Don't squish them. I don't want their guts mashed into my shirt.” Tentatively, he bent over and picked it up by the hem. He shook it violently, spraying the insects in all directions. After a few more shakes, he opened the shirt and looked inside.

I held the lighter higher to shine more light on his examination.

After his close inspection and one extra shake to insure that all the bugs were gone, Sergio finally slipped the shirt over his head. When his face emerged from the opening he asked, “Where are we?"

"I don't know."

As if responding to his question, one of the aprons fluttered and fell from its hook, opening a jagged square of light at the top of the ramp. My eyes gained a wider view of our surroundings.

We stood in the middle of a square area that led off into two hallways, which ran at a ninety-degree angle from each other.

Canvas bags lined the right hallway, and a white arrow was painted halfway up the wall. “What do you think is down there?” I asked.

"Let's find out.” Sergio took the lighter from my hand, and the flame went out. He flicked the striker dial, and a new flame shot up. “Come on."

"What about finding something to eat? I thought you were hungry,” I asked, but followed his lead. My damp clothing stuck to my skin. I could still feel things crawling on me. I pulled my wet clothes away from my body so I could move around freely and the creepy crawlies were gone.

I can't believe I'm paying for this vacation
, I mused.

"It doesn't look like this tunnel goes too far. See?” He held the lighter higher up above his head and the shadows ran along its length. A doorway stood at the end of the corridor. Further down the hallway, the smell of bleach and fabric softeners overpowered the musty stale air. “Maybe we could dry our clothes,” Sergio suggested.

"The power's still out,” I reminded him.

"Thanks for bursting my bubble.” He pulled his clinging shorts away from his backside. “Damp underwear really sucks."

"I know. Good thing I'm not wearing any."

Sergio stopped in his tracks, spun around, and stared at me, open-mouthed. The lighter flame flickered in his eyes. He smiled and shook his head. “Good one. You almost had me with that.” He clapped me on the back. “Come on. Let's check this place out, and then get the hell out of here. I want some food."

Inside the laundry, industrial size washers and dryers lined the walls. Bins of sheets and towels were waiting to be washed on one side of the room, while neatly stacked piles of linens were stocked on carts, ready to be used.

"Maybe we should take our clean towels now. I doubt the maids will bring them to us.” Sergio walked over to the carts and took one off. He toweled his hair and then draped it around his shoulders. Taking another one, he wrapped it around his waist.

"We still have to find a way out of here,” I reminded him.

"I'll wait,” he said and threw me a towel. “Come on, let's go check out the other tunnel and then get out of here."

"Sounds good to me. Lead on.” I motioned him to continue.

We walked down the short hallway and turned to our right. Water dripped and echoed as we entered. A red painted arrow pointed into the dark. A trail of lettuce leaves and onionskins dotted the walkway. The smell of overripe fruit and an underlying hint of rot and decay hung in the air, intensifying as we ventured deeper. Small things squeaked and ran from the light. More bugs clicked and crunched underfoot.

"What is that smell?” Sergio pinched his nose with his free hand.

"This must be the garbage tunnel."

"So why are we going down here?” Sergio turned to face me. He pressed the towel to his face and breathed through it.

"You're the one who suggested it,” I countered.

"Shouldn't we turn around?” Sergio paused in his tracks.

"We've come this far. We might as well see what's at the end. Right?"

He gave me a doubtful look, but continued. Patches of mold grew on the bricked walls. This place was going to do wonders for my allergies, but something told me to continue forward.

The hallway slanted upward and the sound of dripping water grew louder. A small room appeared off to the left. Various plastic bottles and rusted metal cans were scattered against the far wall. Labels with red skulls and crossbones gazed at us with eyeless sockets. Red and orange flames warned of the flammability of the fluids they contained.

My arm blocked Sergio's approach. “Don't go in there with an open flame.” I pointed to the bottles. “We may find the fastest way out of here yet."

He stepped back and walked to the opposite side of the hallway as I continued my search. The only other thing in the room was a push broom that leaned against the wall just inside the entryway. It didn't look like it had been used in a while. Did they use it to push the garbage into the water? Then what? Let it get washed out to sea. So much for giving a hoot, and not polluting. Too bad Woodsy Owl didn't get this far south.

Just past the doorway of the alcove, the floor slopped down toward a pool of water at the end of the tunnel. The water rose and fell rhythmically, lapping like the tide. The back wall had watermarks and lines of crusted salt above the water's surface.

Steps led down into the brackish water. Sergio stepped to the edge and held the lighter up. The flame reflected off the water and the wet walls, making the small space glow yellow. Pieces of lettuce and paper floated at the surface of the pool.

My eyes caught something rocking with the waves just below the surface. “Bring the lighter over here.” I pointed to the object.

Sergio knelt down and asked, “Where?"

"Over there. See it?"

He stretched his arm over the water and balanced on the brink.

"I'll get it. I don't want you to fall in.” I lay down on my stomach and pulled myself to the edge. Dipping my hands into the water, I fished it out.

A black leather boot with a silver strap wrapped over its bridge rose to the surface. I turned it over in my hands, showing it to Sergio.

"Don't look up my towel.” He pressed one hand down to hold the flap close to his legs. Seeing I wasn't amused, he asked, “How did that get there?"

"Better yet, whose is it?” I countered, but I thought I already knew the answer.

Sergio brought the lighter closer, the flame reflecting off the wet black surface. “Do you think?” he whispered.

Before I could answer, a spotlight flashed into our faces and a voice commanded. “Freeze!"

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"Mike, is that you?” Sergio asked, raising his arm to shade the light from his eyes.

The wet boot slipped out of my hands. The heel struck the floor, sending echoes down the hallway.

"What are you two doing down here?” Mike demanded, bouncing the beam back and forth between us.

"Nothing,” we said in unison.

"I saw the doors ripped off their hinges in the kitchen, along with a huge hole in the wall...” Mike started.

I bent over, quickly picking up the boot and hiding it behind my back.

Mike's beam shifted to me, following my sudden movement. “What do you have there?” He extended his flashlight like a fencing sword and tried to parry out an answer as he approached.

"It's a boot,” I said simply, bringing it out from behind my back. I offered it so he could see.

"Where was that?” He lowered the beam from my eyes and trained it on the boot.

"It was in the water.” I motioned to the end of the hall. “It looks like they're using this pool as a garbage disposal."

"So, whose boot is it?” Mike cocked his head to the side.

"We don't know.” Sergio stepped forward. “It's not like it has a name in it or anything.” He turned to me and whispered, “Does it?"

Mike moved closer and played the light across the boot's surface. Nothing was visible externally. He motioned with the flashlight for me to rotate it. I tipped the boot so the opening was facing him, and he pointed the light in. A piece of lettuce clung to the side, but nothing else.

"Do you have any ideas?” His eyes narrowed at me.

Did he suspect the same thing we did? Or had he overheard our conversation? He didn't appear to be too surprised to see a boot down here.

He reached over and took it from my grasp. “I think I'll give it to Geoff and see what he has to say about it. Maybe he'll be able to come up with something. But I'll let him know,” he winked at us, “that you two were the ones who found it."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice or the dampness of the basement that sent shivers across my body.

"Good,” I took a step forward. “Maybe, now, we can have breakfast. Has the staff arrived yet?"

"We tried to find something to eat and ended up down here,” Sergio continued for me. “They need to call an exterminator for this place. It's really starting to fall apart around here, if you ask me.” He raised his eyebrows. “And if they're not careful, they'll lose their five-star rating."

I poked him in the back, trying to get him to shut up.

"Well, they could,” Sergio said over his shoulder in protest.

"Since you guys are so ambitious, maybe you can help me get breakfast started. You two can cook, can't you?” Mike asked.

Sergio held up his hands. “You wouldn't want me in the kitchen unless you have a smoke detector and a fire extinguisher. I use them both at home to let me know when my food is done."

"I know my way around a kitchen, but I've never had to cook for so many."

Mike rolled his eyes, turned around, and led us down the hallway. With his flashlight, he motioned to something behind the garbage chute, which we had ridden down. A small spiral staircase came into view. I hadn't noticed it before. He motioned with his hand and directed the beam up the stairs.

Sergio made a dash for the bottom step. “We should hurry. I'm sure there's a mob forming for food out there, and I want to be first in line.” As his foot touched it, he stopped and turned to Mike. “We'll get a discount for helping, won't we? I mean, like a refund or something. It's not like I mind helping, but...” He extended his fingers and looked at the backs of his hands.

"I'll see what I can do.” Mike motioned up the staircase with the flashlight again.

"We're going, we're going. Don't rush the slave labor.” Sergio grabbed onto the railing with both hands, but didn't move.

I gently pushed him up the stairs and followed close behind. The narrow metal steps cut into the soles of my sandals as we ascended the stairs. A small door opened at the top, and we stepped out from behind the walk-in cooler, which we gave a wide berth.

Mike set the boot and flashlight down on the floor next to the cooler. He clapped his hands together. “So, what do you think we can whip up for the crowd?"

"Corn flakes and milk, if it's still good since the power went off,” Sergio offered.

"If you can find it, you can serve it.” Mike smiled.

Sergio rubbed his hands together, remembering what he had found earlier. “Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. All the cabinets are locked.” He pointed to the chains on the handles.

Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys and tossed them to Sergio. “This should help."

"Thanks,” he said, catching them. He looked at me and offered the keys.

I held up my hands and shook my head.

"If you unlock that door,” Mike pointed to the one behind the huge stove, “and go to your left, you'll find the storeroom with cases of breakfast cereal. See if they have any corn flakes."

Sergio tossed the keys up in the air and caught them. “I'm outta here.” His index finger gave me a salute, and he headed for the door.

"What can you help with?” Mike asked. He went to the walk-in cooler and grabbed the door handle.

My eyes stared at the door. I wanted to see what was really inside, but yet, part of me didn't. I swallowed hard. “I can fry eggs or bacon, I think."

"Go turn on the stove and get the gas griddle fired up. I'll bring you the eggs and whatever else I find.” He pulled the silver handle, and the door opened.

Two large mounds lay on the floor of the cooler. Mike walked up to them and stepped over. Were they big enough to be...? My eyes tried to size them up or pick up on a telling detail. All the while, a force seemed to draw me toward the cooler. As my foot took a step, I resisted and raced to the stove. Scanning the panel of knobs, I found an icon that looked like the grill. I turned that dial on the panel, closed my eyes, and clenched my fists, not knowing what to expect.

Nothing happened.

Sergio returned with a case of corn flakes.

"Do you still have that lighter?” I asked.

Sergio set the box down and reached into his pocket.

I motioned him over. Turning the knob again, a hiss of gas escaped, and Sergio clicked the lighter. The gas ignited with a whoosh into a blue flame.

"Here,” Mike said next to me, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you, but I found these.” He set a case of what looked like smoky links on the side table. “And I'll be right back with the eggs."

Dawn's light filtered down onto the countertop from the windows above the stove. Sergio and I took a few deep breaths and opened the box. Nothing crawled out, so I looked in and found rows of neatly piled sausages. Grabbing handfuls of them, I covered the griddle in a few minutes. A large spatula hung from a hook above the butcher block and soon the grill was sizzling.

Mike found a large bowl and broke eggs into it. He grabbed an industrial size whisk and started whipping like crazy.