Acapulco Adventure Read online

  “Someone’s strange idea of interior decorating, I guess,” he laughed and shrugged.

  I told him once again how I felt about the place, but he merely patted my shoulder in consolation. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten, and if it still bothers you that much, we’ll ask at the restaurant for another place to stay. Come on, let’s find someplace to eat.” He attempted to lock the door before we left, but I noticed that it wasn’t completely closed. I tried to push the door open from the hallway, but it wouldn’t. I supposed it was locked then, but it didn’t seem very secure.

  Greg was already half-way down the hall before he noticed I wasn’t following him. “What are you doing?”

  “The door—it’s—oh, never mind.” I hurried down the corridor after him.

  ****

  We found a charming restaurant atop a pottery shop. The building was all white adobe with a rippling red tile roof. We sat outside on a balcony which afforded us a good view of the alley below and the roofs of the buildings on either side. Red clay pots of dead flowers perched precariously on the low, narrow, red brick wall that prevented us from falling down onto the street. Even though the sun was lower in the sky, the air was still oppressively hot and humid. I felt sluggish and sleepy after the long drive and the heat and could happily have laid my head down on the table and slept. But I kept myself awake by slapping at the flies that persisted in buzzing noisily around my face and landing on my arms.

  We sat there for a long while before the lone waiter appeared to discover we were there. He came over carrying a large jug of water which he poured into glasses for us, then handed out thick paper menus. I was relieved to find that he had a good grasp of the English language. At least ordering our meal shouldn’t be much of an effort.

  I studied Greg as he looked over the menu. He looked tired too. His usually styled hair lay damp with sweat in limp strands across his forehead.

  After we ordered, we couldn’t find much to say to each other, which I blamed on our condition rather than my lack of wit and fluent conversational expertise.

  ****

  After dinner, we went off to play tourist. We walked back to where Greg parked the car, in front of the impressively ornate Santa Prisca Catholic Church. I’d seen the church’s twin towers and round dome since we’d arrived in town. It was all brick, a creamy, almost golden-with-age color. The church was surrounded by a ten-foot high curlicue black wrought-iron fence.

  “I want to get a picture of this. Would you pose in front?”

  “Nah, I’d feel silly—like a tourist.”

  “You are a tourist,” I reminded him.

  We passed a vendor on the street selling brightly-colored hammocks made out of a kind of twine-like rope. I thought they were over-priced. Greg bought three. “I hope you have a lot of trees on your property,” I told him.

  “I’m planning to build a house. I’ll need them.”

  I wondered if the girlfriend would help him.

  When we came out of the last shop, the air still hadn’t cooled. It was getting dark, though, and most of the shops were closing. An elderly man pushed a cart along trying to sell the last of his wares before going home.

  “Popsicles! Let’s get one.” My mouth still burned from the spiciness of the Mexican food.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  I found my favorite flavor, lime. The flavored ice numbed my lips and slipped coolly down my burning throat as we walked down the winding street, past the darkened shops and to the car. I wouldn’t have made the walk alone. I moved a little closer to Greg

  “We didn’t get to the silver mine and gift shop Seῆor Pidalgo said we must see. I could get some good silver jewelry.” He didn’t reply. I turned and saw a pained look on his face. “You look awful. What’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe all this spicy food is getting to me. They make it a little hotter here than I’m used to.” I could tell he didn’t feel well. The pained expression didn’t go away. His arms were full of his purchases and some of mine he’d insisted on carrying.

  “Here, let me take those.” All I got from him was a brief, half-hearted ‘no’ before he surrendered them to me. Then he jerked as a painful spasm jolted him and he wrapped his arms around his body as though he hugging himself. He staggered over to an adobe wall. I quickly shifted all the packages to my right arm and hand and with my left I reached out and grabbed his elbow to keep him from falling.

  Greg’s symptoms looked alarmingly like Brenda’s when she came down with food-poisoning. But she had been able to go to bed and lay down. Greg and I were still on a darkened street quite a way from the car and I didn’t know where we would get help. “Why don’t we stop awhile and rest?” He grunted, which seemed to mean ‘yes,’ so I steered him over to the side of the building where he could sit on the sidewalk and lean against the wall. I sat too and wondered what to do next. Should I leave him and get the car? But that meant me walking the street alone and I hated to leave him in his pitiful state. He would be easy prey. I considered asking him what he thought I should do, but I doubted he was up to making any kind of decision. It was up to me.

  I decided we should try to walk to the car. I stuck out a hand to pull him to his feet. He chose to ignore it with an even-though-I’m-on-my-deathbed-I’m-still-tough attitude, and pushed up off the sidewalk. He staggered away from the wall, bent over like a man hunched against the driving snow and wind of a blizzard. I reached for his elbow again, but he cried out, “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my hand away and stepped back, unable to conceal my hurt feelings. I felt tears flooding my eyes, yet at the same time, I was angry too. Sure he was sick, but I was tired. He must have seen the expression on my face, or realized how ungrateful he’d been. “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t bear being touched right now. I’ve never felt so—” he broke off, and stumbled to the gutter.

  I knew he needed to see a doctor, and made a decision.

  “Greg, I’m going to get the car.”

  He jerked his head up. “No!” Don’t leave me—please.”

  “Greg, the car can’t be too far away. I’ll—”

  “Please?”

  Aw, I was a sucker for that word. “Okay, okay.”

  We made slow progress down the street. At least it was all downhill. Everything was closed by then. A sudden, unwanted thought occurred to me and made me even more uneasy: maybe we were in such a high crime area that people were afraid to walk the street alone at night. I didn’t even see a dog or cat sniffing through the garbage. We had to stop now and then for Greg to throw up. It almost didn’t bother me anymore, and despite his aversion to being touched when he felt ill, I took a Kleenex from my bag and wiped his damp face and pushed the sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes.

  “Thanks.” He smiled weakly.

  Abruptly, in the light of the full moon, I saw something move in a darkened shop doorway. I froze, and pulled Greg to a stop with me. He looked up. “Are we there?”

  I held a finger to my lips. “Shh.”

  “Why?”

  “I saw something move over there,” I whispered, and pointed.

  “It’s probably some animal.”

  “Probably,” I muttered, “but what kind of animal?” Whatever, we had to keep moving. I started forward again, but my heart pounded abnormally and my hand was about as damp as Greg’s shirtsleeve that I still held. When we came up even with the doorway, I think my heart almost stopped and I gasped as I jerked Greg’s arm.

  A man stepped in front of us. He appeared to be studying us. My heart kicked up. His yellowed teeth were uneven and there were a couple gaps where he had no teeth at all. It was the man dressed as a pirate on the boat cruise.

  But this time, he wasn’t wearing the pirate’s outfit he’d worn on the boat. He moved from the doorway toward us.

  Oh no, this is exactly what I was afraid of, I thought hopelessly, and if possible, my heart beat even faster. If he tried to harm Greg, I’d-I’d...

  Nothing happened. The guy sto
pped. What was with him?

  “Hospital?” I asked tentatively, hopefully.

  He finally spoke. “No,” he said, and shrugged his shoulders, then moved away.

  “No? What did he mean by that? There has to be a doctor or hospital someplace around here,” I said to Greg, frustrated and angry. I looked down at Greg for a moment and when I looked up again, the man was gone—vanished into the darkness. The town was small enough, maybe there wasn’t a hospital. I’d take Greg back to the hotel and deal with it from there.

  The street was empty once more. Could it be that my spooked imagination played tricks on me? Had I only imagined him, as I probably imagined that other unpleasant fellow on the boat speaking to him? Why would that pirate be in Taxco? I pulled Greg along as fast as I could, no longer afraid of the empty, dark street, but only of what tricks my mind might play on me again.

  We finally reached the car, and I realized, horrified, that I’d have to drive it. I hadn’t driven a car with a stick shift in years. And then, I only had a couple lessons, so I never really got good at it. “It’s like learning to ride a bike; once you do it, you never forget how,” I mumbled aloud, then added, “I hope.”

  I got Greg settled into the passenger seat, where his head flopped back against the headrest, his eyes closed, and then I climbed into the driver’s side. Where were the lights?

  I adjusted the seat. I looked at the stick and remembered the H position, but which gear was which? I studied the pedals, trying to remember which was the clutch and which the brake. At least I didn’t have to back up out of our parking spot. I hoped to ease the car out onto the road—if I didn’t kill it.

  I glanced nervously at Greg, whose eyes were still closed. Then, pressing my left foot hard onto the clutch pedal and my right on the brake, I eased the stick from neutral into first, and hoped I hadn’t stripped the gears. But other than a little jerk, the car rolled fairly smoothly onto the road. Great. Now, which one was second? When was I supposed to shift again? I tried to remember what I’d been taught by my high school boyfriend. And then, oh-my-gosh it was there before me: a goat standing in the road.

  I would have to stop, but I didn’t know how. Should I step on the brake? Didn’t I have to shift down? Was I supposed to step on the clutch? Oh damn, wake up Greg.

  ****

  I was still shaking when we reached the motel. I’d stepped hard on the brakes, the car died and coasted to a stop—inches from the goat. It looked at the car then slowly walked away. I waited a minute or two with my head on the wheel, trying to calm down from all the adrenaline that kicked in. I looked over at Greg and this time, I was glad he was asleep. I managed to get the car started and we continued on.

  The motel was as strangely quiet as ever, and awfully dark. I realized then something that I hadn’t noticed before—there weren’t any other cars parked in front of it—not even the manager’s. The manager. Maybe the shift had changed and the night manager could tell me where to find a doctor.

  I pulled Greg out of the car, and dragged him to the motel’s front door, then left him momentarily propped against a pillar. If I had to get him back in the car to drive to a hospital, it would be easier that way.

  I walked into the lobby and saw immediately that the large woman wasn’t there. The door behind the counter was still open, but the room was dark. I looked at my watch. It was very late. I considered pounding on a service bell to wake someone up, but there wasn’t one in sight.

  I walked back outside and found Greg on the ground in a heap, asleep. I struggled to awaken him and wished there was someone around to help me. I pushed and prodded at him. The man was solid as a rock wall. I hated to wake him up—sleep was what he needed. “We’re at the motel, Greg. I need to get you to the room.”

  “Leave me here. That’s fine,” he croaked and started to slide from my precarious grip.

  “No. You can’t stay here.” I decided to be firm rather than sympathetic. “Come on Greg, get up!” I shouted. He slumped back onto the ground. I leaned against the pillar, sliding my back down until I too sat on the ground, and this time I allowed myself to cry.

  I paused in the middle of a sob and looked through a watery blur. I thought I’d heard footsteps. Then, another sound like feet crunching on gravel, made me turn my head toward the parking lot a few yards away. Someone stood by the Volkswagen. I saw a small flicker of flame and then the burning glow of a lit cigarette. Could I be imagining things again? In the brief flare of the match, the face I’d seen was the “pirate” who’d disappeared. Was my mind so overwrought that everyone in the dark took on the same features? But if it really was him, why was he following us? I didn’t plan to wait around and find out if he would disappear again.

  I found an energy and strength I didn’t realize I still had. I tugged and heaved until I’d managed to get Greg up again. “Wake up. Get up!” I shouted.

  “Wha...” At last, he allowed me to half-lead, half-drag him through the motel doors and down the long hallway to our room. In a panic, I couldn’t find the key. I hastily dumped the contents of my purse onto the floor, and of course, it was the last thing to fall out.

  I expected the door to open easily, since in the back of my mind I remembered that when we left, the door wouldn’t shut all the way. Maybe the manager had called in maintenance, though, as I found it firmly closed. It wouldn’t open until I leaned against it and shoved hard with my shoulder.

  I pushed Greg through the door, and plopped him down on one of the beds, then quickly crossed the room back to the door and locked it. Now what? Who could I turn to for help? There wasn’t any phone in the room, and I didn’t want to venture out to find one. And I doubted that I would be able to make my problems understood to the police anyway. Why hadn’t they taught us what to say in an emergency, in my Spanish 101 class?

  I decided to lie down on the other bed for a moment. My eyes focused sleepily on the window that wasn’t a window, and, though I struggled to keep them open, my eyes closed and felt myself drifting off to sleep.

  ****

  I woke, shivering, and with a pounding headache. The room was chilly, but what woke me, I think, was the sound of a door shutting. I was still half-asleep, when my eyes turned once again to the window. It was still dark outside and I could barely see the moon. But why did the window appear so high up in the wall and so small? Then I remembered, and sat up so fast, I got dizzy. I sat for a minute, reaching out a hand to steady myself, and then walked over to the window. Then it dawned on my sleep-fogged brain...we were in a different room.

  Why were we in a different room? How did we get there? We must have been drugged. What could we possibly have that someone wanted? Rich American tourists? Ha! They hadn’t taken any of the rings off my fingers, or my necklace with its two tiny diamonds. And who were “they” anyway? I tried the door, though I knew it would be locked. It was. Whoever put us in here certainly wouldn’t let us leave.

  Greg. He was already so sick, did they drug him too? I hurried over to his bed and sat down beside him. My heart pounded so loud I thought that surely it would wake him, but he slept on. “Greg?” I whispered, and put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Wha...?” he mumbled groggily.

  “Greg, we’ve—”

  I froze at the sound of footsteps outside the door, then the rasp and click of a key in the lock. The door opened with a jerk and banged against the wall. I sat up with my back against the headboard. The large woman manager stood there with two men. One of them was the pirate. The other man was the one who I’d seen talking to him on the boat. So, they had been following us. But why?

  “What do you want?” I asked, trembling, but they ignored me.

  The pirate spoke in Spanish to the other man. But the other man cut him off, and motioned at me, saying that I understood Spanish. The pirate picked up my purse from the floor and practically ripped it apart, looking through all the pockets.

  “Where is it?” he shouted angrily, taking a menacing step toward me. I shrank
back on the bed against the wall.

  “What? What are you looking for?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have it,” the other man said. “The girl was supposed to plant it on the other one.” He gestured to Greg. The pirate walked over to Greg then and slapped his face to wake him.

  Greg came fully awake and sat up. “Run, Dee.” He must have sensed we were in danger.

  “No I’m not going to run.” I forgot my fear. “Leave him alone! He’s sick.” I was ready to jump up and defend him, but the manager took my wrist in a vise-like grip.

  “Silencio!” she commanded.

  Greg tried to resist, but the pirate had full advantage. He twisted Greg’s arm behind his back. Greg cried out in pain as I squirmed in the woman’s grip. She squeezed my wrist so tight it went numb.

  “What have you done with it? Where is it?” The pirate leaned down and shouted into Greg’s face.

  “I have no idea what you want, or why you’re doing this,” Greg said.

  The pirate lost his temper, slapped Greg hard across his face, then thrust him roughly away. Greg fell back.

  “Stop it! He told you we don’t have what you are looking for,” I cried out, and got a sharp wrench of my arm from the manager for my efforts.

  “Leave them,” the pirate ordered the manager, and then the three of them left the room.

  As the lock clicked again, I stumbled to the door to listen. I didn’t understand most of what they said, but one word did come through: Pidalgo. Seῆor Pidalgo, the helpful Chamber of Commerce rep was involved too?

  I hurried over to where Greg lay on the floor. I crouched down beside him and my tears overflowed. It wasn’t only that I felt sorry for him, I realized then. I’d been fooling myself when I thought that I only wanted to be his friend. I’d always been attracted to him, but I didn’t want to believe it was jealousy that caused me to be annoyed when he flirted with other women. I knew deep down I was also afraid of being hurt again. But Greg wasn’t anything like Mark so I couldn’t compare the two. Greg was sweet and smart—everything Mark wasn’t.