Authors: Lance Zarimba
After breakfast, Logan, Tom, Sergio and I headed through the front door of the resort and across the parking lot. The shuttle stood ready to take the next group of unsuspecting tourists to their fate. We ignored the driver's calls and headed down the dirt road toward the jungle cruise.
"So what exactly are we looking for?” Sergio asked.
"First, I think we need to find the place were the snake fell and look around there,” I said.
"I thought you said the snake was thrown,” Logan remarked, with a small notepad and pen in hand.
"I said I thought I saw hands throw the snake, but I want to make sure."
"Do you even remember where this happened?” Sergio asked.
"There was a sunken boat in the clearing close to where it happened,” Tom replied. “We need to find that boat and look around there. I'm sure we'll find something."
As we neared the grove of trees where the boat departed, I pointed to a worn trail that wound into the foliage. “This looks like a path."
"That?” Sergio's voice raised a few octaves.
"It's all we have,” Tom said. “Unless we go by boat."
"We can see where it takes us,” Logan offered.
I removed my camera from the fanny pack and opened its shutter.
"Who wants to lead the way?” Sergio asked.
"You're the one with the machete. I think you should take lead,” Tom said.
Sergio unsheathed the blade and passed the handle to Tom. “It's all yours."
I smiled to myself; he did look more like Mrs. Howell than Indiana Jones, and Lara Croft would have taken charge.
Tom grasped the handle and swung the machete from side to side. The blade cut through the air with a swooshing sound.
I wondered how sharp the blade was. “Did you bring this with you from Sioux Falls?” Tom asked.
"I have my connections.” Sergio smiled, but refused to say more.
Tom sliced a small branch off the tree and pushed into the underbrush. The blade cut the wood without any effort.
I followed Tom with Sergio behind me, and Logan brought up the rear. I felt a slight tap on my backside. I turned and glared at Sergio.
"Sorry,” he said, his face flushed. “I thought I saw..."
I held up my hand, turned around, and followed Tom.
Branches that Tom didn't cut slapped me and clawed at my shirt. The wet shirt clung to my back and chest like a second skin. Another shower waited for me when we got back to the resort. If we got back. Why was I such an optimist?
The foliage thickened and the branches became larger.
"This reminds me of
Romancing the Stone
,” Sergio said. “All we need to find is an airplane with a skeleton in it and...” Sergio paused when I turned around and glared at him. “Never mind."
We walked a little further, and he started up again. “You know, this reminds me of that movie
Anaconda
. Did you see it? Jennifer Lopez was in it, but that was before she exposed her bazoobees to the whole world. Anyway, there was this huge snake that swallowed Jon Voight whole, and after it digested him a little bit, it spit him out."
"Thanks. That's just the wonderful image I was searching for.” I didn't want to be out there to begin with, but I needed to know if I was going crazy. “I'm freaked out enough about snakes, especially ones being thrown at me, and all this talk about snakes isn't helping."
"You really need to rent the movie,” he continued.
Logan humphed behind us.
"Okay. Run Toto, Run,” Sergio said, and then began singing, “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my."
"Lions and tigers and..."
On the second chorus, I let a branch snap back.
Whack
.
"Ouch!” Sergio swore under his breath.
"Watch out for that flying monkey,” I called.
"Thanks,” Sergio grumbled.
"I'll separate you two if you don't knock it off,” Tom said in a fatherly tone. “Don't make me come back there."
We fell into silence for the next twenty minutes. Our eyes scanned the trees for any sign that someone had been through there in the last day or so.
Small things skirted across the trail, while insects buzzed and swarmed us. Birds squawked and who knows what else followed our trek.
Internally, I wished I had put on the pair of high-top boots that Sergio took off and left in the room. My Reeboks weren't giving me all the protection I needed.
A glimmer of yellow shone between the leaves to our left.
Tom stopped and pointed in the same direction. “I think we found the boat. Now, before we trample any evidence, I think we should look around for any broken branches."
The small clearing had a few patches that appeared a little trampled down, but nothing distinct. Had it been the weather? Wildlife? Or someone else?
"Taylor, why don't you take a few pictures? Maybe the film will pick up something we miss.” Sergio looked around the area. “I hope the resort has a computer so we can blow up and really examine the pictures, otherwise you'll have some pretty dull photos to show your friends at home. Molly will get a kick out of it."
"I think my sanity is worth a bunch of bad pictures,” I said, and I snapped a few shots of the ground and the surrounding trees and brush.
Once the photos were taken, Tom divided the search area into four quadrants and sent us to explore our sections.
The ground was sun baked and cracked, and no footprints were visible.
Something splashed in the water next to the sunken boat. I waited for something to slither out of the swamp, but nothing appeared. It was probably a fish, maybe piranhas, at least, according to Tom.
"Hey! Over here,” Sergio called a few minutes later.
Tom, Logan, and I headed toward Sergio and slowed as we neared. He pointed to a dark blue object stuck in a lower branch of a small tree.
I snapped a picture of it.
Sergio reached to touch it, but Tom stepped forward, machete blade blocking his reach. “Here, let me get that."
"Should we touch that?” Logan asked.
"How many police officers have you seen around here?” I asked.
"I'll use the blade, so I won't smudge any fingerprints,” Tom said. He worked the blade underneath the object and pried it loose. A Nike gym bag fell to the ground at our feet. The top was unzipped and gaped open. Tom slipped the blade into the bag's mouth and waited for something to jump out. Nothing did.
Tom pushed one of the sides back, and we all peered inside.
"What's that smell?” Sergio asked, covering his nose. “Whoa, did someone forget to wash out their jocks and socks?"
"That smells like urine,” Logan said.
Tom moved the blade and pulled back on the other side of the gym bag. Sergio pulled back the other side with a stick he had found on the ground.
The bag was empty. Well, almost empty.
"What's that?” Sergio dug into the bag with his stick. He pulled out a small tattered piece of transparent paper-like material. It appeared to have a honeycomb texture. As it exited the bag, it fluttered in the breeze and threatened to blow off the tip of the stick.
"It looks like skin,” Logan said.
"Skin?” Sergio scrunched up his eyes as he brought the tip closer. A sudden gust of wind caught it and blew it into his face, sticking it to his lips.
"Snake skin,” Logan corrected him at the moment of contact.
"Aaack.” Sergio spat the skin onto the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I need mouthwash!” He spat again and rubbed his mouth harder, his lips darkening from the force. “I think I'm going to be sick.” He moved away from us as gagging noises rose from his throat.
Logan pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to Sergio.
"Thanks,” Sergio said, grabbing the cloth from his hand and rubbing his lips even harder. “Is it coming off?"
"Your lips?” I asked.
Sergio spat again. “No. The skin!” His voice took on a panicked tone.
I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn't laugh. “No. It's gone,” I said through tight lips.
Sergio looked from me to Tom, and then Logan, his eyes pleading with us.
"It's gone,” Tom said.
"Completely,” Logan agreed.
"Really?” tears pooled in Sergio's eyes and threatened to fall.
I stepped forward and rubbed his shoulder. “It's gone, really."
Sergio's breathing started to slow. His chest's heaving decreased, and he took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart rate.
"Anything else in there?” Logan picked up the stick from where Sergio had dropped it. He pulled the opening wider and peered in.
The inside appeared as stained and well used as the outside. The zipper looked like it was getting ready to pull away from the vinyl. Otherwise, nothing. No writing, no names, no addresses.
"Nothing but some white crusty splatters that covered the bottom of the bag,” I said.
"That's the snake's urine,” Logan added. “Snakes have solid urates, just like birds."
We all looked at him in amazement.
"I used it in a book once."
"That's right, in
Wring, Wring
.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe we'll find something else in there when we get back to the resort. I'm sure Geoff will want to fingerprint it or something. That is, after we search it further. We might be destroying evidence."
"Like the snake skin?” Sergio asked. “It's gone. It must've blown away when I panicked and spat."
"I'm sure it's around here someplace,” I said.
We looked for ten minutes and found nothing.
Tom and Logan finally gave up looking. “Even without the piece of skin, I'm sure the urine in the bag should be proof enough that a snake was inside. Maybe there are a few more smaller pieces inside that we can't see?” Logan said. “But I'm not sure they will be able to tell what kind of snake it was."
"Is that important?” Tom asked.
"It could be,” Logan said.
"Why?” Sergio asked.
"If the snake was poisonous or not,” I said. “It makes a difference if it was meant to scare or...” I swallowed hard and didn't finish the sentence.
Sergio broke the silence. “Well, at least now we know someone threw that snake."
"Yeah, but that still leaves three big questions unanswered.” I said, more to myself than to anyone in particular. “Who killed Duane, who threw the snake, and who was it intended for?"
Geoff was less than excited with our evidence. “Mon, get that smelly bag out of here,” he said, pushing it across the desktop away from him.
"But it proves that someone tried to kill Taylor with a snake yesterday.” Sergio used the machete to push the gym bag back in front of him.
Gary stood beside Geoff, but said nothing.
Logan, Tom, Sergio, and I stood our ground. “We're not leaving until you do something,” Sergio said. He crossed his arms over his chest, machete still in hand. We ducked when he tapped the flat edge of the blade against his shoulder.
I cringed and waited for the blood to flow.
Gary reached across the desk and picked up the bag by the handle.
"Fingerprints!” everyone shouted at him at the same time.
Gary's hand released the handles and let it drop. “Sorry,” he said and wiped his hand on his pants.
"Do you realize what you just did? You just contaminated the evidence,” Sergio sprang forward and waved the machete at Gary. Good thing the desk was between them.
"Yeah,” Logan said.
"I said I was sorry,” Gary said, and stepped behind Geoff for protection.
Geoff rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Fingerprint the whole resort?"
"Well, of course,” Sergio said. “Isn't that your job?” He poked Geoff in the chest with the tip of the machete.
"I don't got the mon power to do that.” Geoff pushed the blade away from his chest and then poked at the Nike bag with a pencil. “There's too many to check, and there's no way to be sure with the fingerprints here. I can send this to the lab, but..."
"But nothing. What are you going to do? Now! We had a dead body in our shower. Someone tried to kill Taylor with a snake. Isn't that enough?” Sergio's arm flapped to his side with a whoosh of the machete and almost cut off his leg.
Gary put his hand on Geoff's shoulder and leaned forward. “What can we do to make you feel that we are trying to solve this problem?"
No one said anything.
"See. That's where we are at too.” Gary stepped to Geoff's side. “You said there was snake skin in there. Where is it? We can smell the urine, but you guys could have peed in the bag."
"Are you calling us liars?” Sergio demanded. The blade swung back toward Geoff and Gary.
"Boys. Boys,” Geoff said and pushed the blade aside. “This isn't helpin'."
"Well, neither are you,” Sergio retorted.
"I doubt we're going to get much analyzed from that bag down here,” Logan said. “I don't think they have the testing facilities in Mexico like we have back in the States. Unless there is something else left in the bag, which can link it to the owner, I don't think the fingerprints or urine will help us."
"Why not?” I asked.
"Do you know how long it would take to try and match the fingerprints from the resort's guests? And I don't think this place's computer has a database or the speed to complete that task. Do you?” Logan scratched his head.
My heart sank. So much for finding our snake thrower. “I think we've wasted enough of your time,” I said, and walked out of the small office.
Tom, Logan, and Sergio followed me.
Sergio grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “What did you mean by that?"
"If we want to find out who threw that snake, I think we're going to have to do it ourselves, without their help."
"So now what?” Tom asked.
"I guess we can hit the beach and relax for now,” I said. “Maybe we'll come up with something else. The killer is going to have to wait until I change out of these hot black jeans and shower the jungle off of me."
Our chaise lounges still held our towels, folded neatly on each seat. Spreading my towel out across the white plastic, I noticed that the ocean breeze had picked up. The surf crashed on the sand in larger waves than yesterday. The bright blue water appeared to be darker and debris floated in the once clear waves. White caps rolled and hissed as they dissolved into the sand. Maybe it was high tide.