Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. Page 3

  The whirring air-con made a calming background noise. He couldn’t stand true silence, as it let his thoughts have free rein. As he turned on the shower, the sound of the high-powered streams of water hitting the porcelain below relaxed him even further. After putting some music on his phone and placing it on the sink, he hopped into the flow of cool water—the perfect temperature to sooth his angry red shoulders. Cascades of water ran down his torso, washing away the grime of the last two days. Somewhat energized from the cleansing shower, Michael donned a complementary bathrobe. This was the life. He grabbed a menu from the writing desk and browsed through the pages. Today was a room service day. Despite the exotic options available, he opted for a beef burger with mulato-chilli cheese.

  ***

  Clean, and with a full stomach, Michael felt renewed. He continued to play music, got the baggie of mescaline and walked over to the kettle. As he waited for it to boil, he held up the packet to his face and looked at its dry, brown contents, trying to remember how much the guy had said to take. He aired on the side of caution and put a little into his cup before topping it up with the freshly boiled water. He swirled the mixture, watching it turn a yellowy brown—here goes nothing.

  He sat on the soft bed waiting for the drug to kick in, and not sure what to expect. He had dabbled in hallucinogenics before, in his younger days, and hadn’t had a bad reaction yet. Instead of just waiting, Michael walked up to the closet and went through his limited selection of clothes. This was a fancy place, but all the other guests seemed to be casual, so he opted for his usual shorts and T-shirt—the last fresh pair he had. He went back to the bed and laid back against the plump pillows to rest his eyes for a moment.

  When Michael opened his eyes, he knew time had passed, how much, he wasn’t sure, but the room looked different somehow. After taking a couple of minutes to remind himself where he was and to make sense of his surroundings, he felt the need to get out of the room. As he collected his things and walked out the door into the hallway, a tingly buzz traveled up and down his arms as if the air around them felt alive, and he could sense each individual particle vibrating. The world in front of his eyes felt crisp and more vivid than usual. He wanted to touch everything. As he approached the elevator he became aware that he had a strange smirk on his face, but couldn’t help it. The more he tried to keep a straight face, the more he smiled, and it took all his willpower to stop himself from bursting out laughing. There was no one in the elevator when it arrived at his floor, and as the elevator dropped down below him, his stomach lurched. The face looking back at him from the mirrored walls did not look like his own, and the longer he looked at it, the more distorted it became. It was him, but with small differences, just similar enough that it was still recognizable as him, but just different enough that something was clearly not right. It was the eyes. When he decided he couldn’t look at them anymore, the ping of the elevator reaching the ground floor made him jump.

  Avoiding eye contact with the other guests waiting to get in the elevator, he slipped by them, past the reception desk and straight out the doors into the warm night air. The sound of insects chirping and distant conversations droned in the background. Bushes and red tropical plants lined the building, and he followed the path towards the sound of voices. When he got to the end of the wall, he turned to the right and the swimming pool revealed itself to him. The pool area was full of young people talking way louder than they needed to. Michael missed his twenties. Everything seemed just that little more rosy then. In his twenties he still had the hope that he could make something of his life, that anything he did mattered.

  The hotel bar overlooked the pool. Despite the luxuriousness of the hotel, the bar had a rustic vibe. A straw roof, wooden chairs and tables, and cocktails flowing with free abandon. He couldn’t help but smile when he remembered he had paid for all drinks to be included. There was only one free table left, so he planted himself down and started looking through the drinks menu. Determined to get his money’s worth, Michael ordered two cocktails, and whilst he waited for them to be made, the buzzing of the blender started up.

  He looked over at the drinks on the table next to him. The selection of drinks seemed to cover all the colors of the rainbow. A mojito stuffed with green mint, a pale-yellow pina colada crowned with a bright slice of pineapple, a strawberry daiquiri bejeweled with dark red fruits and the orange and red ombre of a tequila sun-rise.

  The bartender came back with his drinks. A wide salt-rimmed glass of tried-and-true margarita, and something mysterious topped with half a purple passion-fruit. Now he sat still, the slight movement of his surroundings became more apparent. Nothing seemed stable, and he felt as if his hands were sinking into the table.

  “Do you mind if I sit on the end of your table? There’s nowhere else to sit.”

  He hadn’t even noticed her approach and tried to find his words. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Yes,” he blabbered. The lady put her laptop on the table and he recognized her peachy-colored blouse and sleek hair from earlier. “You were in the elevator.” He was unsure why he said that and was certain she would be creeped out by him remembering her.

  “Oh yeah. Hi. I’m Josie.”

  “Nice to meet you. You here on business?” he asked, glancing at the laptop.

  “Not exactly.” She didn’t elaborate and ordered a beer from the bartender in perfect Spanish, well he assumed. It sounded perfect.

  She pointed at his drinks. “They look nice.”

  “Yeah, I thought, when in Rome. Although it feels a bit weird having girl cocktails while you’re having a beer.”

  “I don’t subscribe to gendering drinks.” Her face lit up with a smile.

  “Well I do. I take it very seriously.”

  “Okay then, what gender is a bourbon?”

  “Male of course, next.”

  “What about a mojito? I know it’s a cocktail but—”

  “It’s a tomboy. Next.”

  “Cider?”

  “Oh, you’re throwing a curve ball in there. Male. Next.”

  “But, it’s so sweet.” She looked bemused, but like she was enjoying herself.

  “Still male. Next.”

  “Wine.”

  “Female, obviously. Come on, I’m no rookie, give me a tricky one.”

  The bartender arrived with her beer and placed it on the table with a napkin underneath, which soaked up the remnants of previous drinks that had been spilled on the table. Reflections from the pool danced across Josie’s face and he had to stop himself from staring as strange shapes shifted across her, making her ripple.

  “I was thinking of ordering the chilaquiles.” Her mouth distorted in an unnatural way as she spoke, and Michael’s brain tried to make sense of what was happening. “Are you okay?” Her voice anchored him and her face went back to normal.

  “Listen. I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I took some mescaline earlier, so I might act a bit weird.”

  “Ah man.” She laughed. “You’re in for an interesting night.”

  “You’ve tried it? he asked, hoping for some wise guide to talk him through it.”

  “Hell no. I’ve read about it though.” She leaned in closer to him, studying his face like he was a science experiment. “Are you hallucinating right now?”

  “Not exactly. Kinda.”

  “What can you see now?” Her chair scraped across the concrete as she pulled in closer.

  “Nothing looks right. It’s hard to describe. You kind of look like a cartoon character right now.”

  “A cartoon character.” She looked amused. “Like Jessica Rabbit, or Elmer Fudd? What are we talking about here?”

  “Definitely the Jessica Rabbit end of the spectrum. And your eyes are a bit swirly. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

  “I take it you’re not up for food then?”

  “I ate back in the room.” His mouth dried up as if he had run out of words for the day. “I think I have to go.” As everything seemed to spin, his roo
m seemed a million miles away.

  “You don’t look so good. Do you want me to help you to your room?”

  “You don’t have to.” He protested, slightly embarrassed, his stomach tossing and turning like a dingy in a squall.

  “Well, I’m not giving you the choice. I’m not leaving you in this state.” She stood up and offered for him to lean on her as he got up.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” He heard his own voice, and it sounded pathetic.

  She tilted her head to one side as if deep in thought. “People need to look out for each other. It’s not safe.”

  It’s not safe. The words sent a chill down his spine and felt like a warning.

  “Come on you. You’re gonna be fine.” Her voice was reassuring. She sounded so certain in her words. Maybe he would be fine. She guided him feebly up the path like a nurse taking an elderly person to the bathroom.

  “Now this is a tricky bit,” she said as they navigated the steps that felt twice as tall as earlier. The lobby was painfully bright, and Michael looked down at his feet until he was safely in the elevator. “Are you going to be alright if I leave you here?” she asked when she reached her floor.

  “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

  She got out and turned back to him. “Don’t be sorry.” She gave him a wave before the doors slid shut behind her.

  The corridor seemed to get longer and longer as Michael walked towards his room, like something from a Hitchcock movie. He hurried his pace as his stomach protested, burst through the door, bolted to the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach.

  Chapter Six

  The grounds of the hotel resort looked less glamorous in the cold light of day, without the romantic glow of fairy lights. As he passed the pool, he screwed his face up at the bodies of floating insects that had met their demise there. Having only managed about an hour or two of sleep, he was certain he looked like shit, but he couldn’t wait. He had to thank Josie for looking after him. His head was a little sore, but he had been expecting much worse. Sunglasses shielded his delicate eyes from the intense morning light, and everything was a murky shade of brown through the lenses.

  Hordes of people swarmed around the pool, staking their claim by laying their beach towels across chairs and then heading to the bar to stock up on drinks. Despite the early hour, plenty of people already had a cocktail or two in their hands. One man looked like he had already raided the bar and leaned over, slurring at an uncomfortable-looking woman whose eyes darted around desperately for a distraction.

  He would never find her at this rate. The bar was full of people vying to get served before everybody else. It was a free for all with no order to be seen. None of them were her. It might have been quicker to grab a coffee in his room, but he was already downstairs now, so he may as well enter the fray.

  By the time Michael managed to get served, most of the other customers had already left for the pool, the beach, or one of the many excursions the hotel arranged. He ordered himself a coffee, and the earthy smell of those freshly ground beans woke him up a little. He sat at the back of the bar watching each new person as they came in and took a sip of his steaming coffee, enjoying the peace. Today, he only had one goal, and in the meantime, he could revel in the pleasure of doing nothing in particular. He’d spent the last few days hiking, swimming in the underground caves of cenotes, and clambering on ruins, and now, was time to relax. The palm fronds swayed in the distance as his eyes followed them backwards and forwards as he zoned out.

  A stab of anxiety jabbed him out of nowhere. The peace and relaxation had made him let his guard down, and his body brought him back down to earth—reality waits for no man.

  He pictured his last few moments, hoping he would feel relief, but with a strong inkling that survival mode might kick in to fuck everything up. He knew if he listened to that doubting voice inside him, that he would regret it. He couldn’t go back to his normal life. There was nothing for him there. If he put the do not disturb sign up, hopefully nothing would stand in the way. He contemplated putting a note under the door. Having it stick out just enough so you would only see it if you were looking, or if you opened the door. He didn’t want some poor hotel worker to stumble upon the mess, although he had picked a method that hopefully wouldn’t traumatize anyone too much. That reminded him he needed to buy some plastic sheeting to put down so he wouldn’t leave too much of a mess. It was the little things that made a difference; he convinced himself. It was as considerate as he could muster, given the circumstances. The practicalities of death drifted from his mind as soon as he saw her.

  As she headed over to the bar, a crowd of people walked in front of him and stood there chatting. He tried to weave his head in between them so he could get her attention, but more people started joining them, so he waited for the people to be shown to their table. Once they dispersed, he could see her sat at a small table and she had her back to him. She opened up her laptop, and he wondered if he should wait until he was on his way out before bothering her—just in case she wanted nothing to do with the pathetic mess that she had to escort to his room last night. He hopped from his table to one closer, like some crazy stalker. What are you doing, psycho? He noticed a familiar screen. She was calling someone over video-chat.

  “Hi mom. Hi dad.” He found himself strangely relieved it wasn’t a boyfriend she was calling. Now you’re eavesdropping. Psycho.

  He couldn’t hear what they were saying on the other end of the computer, but he could hear Josie loud and clear.

  “Listen. Calm down. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  He could see pixilated images of her parents. One of them was throwing their arms around as if trying to make a point.

  “Yes, I’m taking precautions,” she said.

  It felt wrong, spying like this, and he was just about to back off to his original table when a family of four gathered around it.

  “I’m doing this, whether you like it or not. There’s no debate here.” Her voice was loud and firm—a force to be reckoned with. “I’m not giving up on her. Not like you.” She went quiet, as did her parents on the other end. Michael averted his gaze to his coffee cup, tearing on the cardboard sleeve.

  “I have to know what happened.” Upset and frustration bubbled up in her voice. He wondered who she was talking about and what happened to them.

  The waitress approached him. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

  “No, no. I’m fine,” he mumbled, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He picked up a leaflet that had been left on the table and held it close to his face. After briefly looking at the activities on offer, he looked over at Josie again.

  “I’m not naïve. Look, I know exactly what I’m doing. We’re not getting anywhere. I can’t keep having this same argument with you. Listen. I’m going to call you later okay. The connection is terrible.” She pressed the end call button and slammed down the lid of her laptop. This was obviously a bad time and Michael decided to make himself scarce, heading for the door, not looking in her direction.

  “Michael.” She tapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

  “Oh, Josie. Hi. I didn’t see you there.” He hoped he wasn’t as transparent as he thought he sounded.

  “Sit with me.” She pulled out a chair and looked up at him pleadingly.

  He stood there like an idiot for a minute as his brain tried to work out why she wanted him there. “Thanks.” He dropped on to the seat. He could probably do with breakfast anyway, after losing most of last night’s dinner.

  He looked at the menu, trying to avoid eye contact. “I might have the huevos rancheros.” Then he wondered if spicy was a good idea.

  “How are you feeling?” She had the hint of a mischievous grin, like she was taking pleasure in his misfortune.

  “Well, I did manage to get in eight hours of extreme anxiety with my hour of sleep, so that’s a bonus. Oh, then there was the mammoth vomiting session.” He regretted being so candid. He didn’t wan
t her picturing him like that.

  “Ahh, poor baby.” Her mouth down turned in an exaggerated frown.

  “Are you pitying me, or just mocking me?” He asked, propping his sunglasses up on the top of his head.

  “Hmm. Little from column A, little from column B.” She flagged down the waitress and ordered herself pancakes with fruit salad, and his huevos rancheros.