Montezuma’s Revenge

The sudden wet shock had an instant restorative effect, cooling and soothing him. Though his lungs ached he stayed under as long as he could, swimming steadily out to sea. When he finally did surface, gasping in the welcome air, he was beyond the pool of illumination thrown by the light and could tread water for a moment to catch his breath. And admire the turmoil on the wharf. His pursuers had been joined by an interested crowd of spectators and more were hurrying up. A policeman was listening to the spirited explanation of one of the men while two others tried to untie the rope securing a rowboat to the land. Some people pointed and shouted at things in the water, but no one was pointing in his direction. Slowly, so as not to splash, Tony swam away from the busy scene and toward the line of deep-sea fishing boats now secured for the night.

Escape was time consuming but simple enough. There was much flashing of lights into the water, but there was too much area to cover, too many dark spots under the counters of the boats and between their hulls. Twice Tony had to dive and swim underwater when the lights approached, but eventually he outdistanced them. By the time he reached the commercial dock and the bulk of a dark freighter most of his pursuers had been left far behind. There was activity now aboard the freighter, people on the bridge, and eventually the searchlight there was manned and put into action sweeping the water’s surface. But Tony had paddled farther out to sea by this time and the light never came close. He lay on his back and floated, kicking gently, paralleling the lights and the shore and moving steadily away from the center of town toward the towers and battlements of the tourist hotels along the bay.

What next? There was plenty of time for thought now as he paddled along and very few of the thoughts were at all cheering. Escape had been spontaneous and cumulative, one thing leading naturally to another until it had brought him here. But where was he? In the middle of Acapulco Bay in his undershorts, getting tired and slightly chill, bereft of money, clothes, friends, succor, den or destination. It was all very, very depressing. What could he do? The mental request for information went out but no answer was returned. He swam on, angling slowly toward shore so he would not be too far out when total exhaustion did finally strike. Or perhaps he should simply swim in the other direction? Out into the sunset and eternity and end this grim farce once and for all. This solution was tempting until a wave broke over his face and he surfaced coughing and spitting and not feeling in the slightest like continuing his impromptu dive into the dark depths.

Now the towers of the hotels were beginning to drift by, their brightly lit windows twinkling a warm welcome that he yearned to submit to. But how? Crawling out of the sea like some dripping monster and writhing damply into the lobby? Impossible. He swam on, ever slower but ever on, until a larger and darker tower came into view with the magic calligraphy of HILTON shining high above it.

Hilton, how he longed for its familiar American embrace. If there were an American heaven to go to it would be a big Hilton in the sky; what more could one ask? Warmth, luxury, bloody steaks and chill ice water, baked beans and brown bread, breakfast in bed and the home-town newspaper on the tray, hurrying waiters, man-sized drinks, hospitality and home. He yearned painfully for the Hilton.

Happy cries delivered the message to his soggy brain cells that perhaps he would not yearn in vain. Under the great orange globe of a newly risen moon, some happy Hilton denizens were disporting on the beach. Children for the most part, though a few nubile girls pranced at the ocean’s edge for the pleasure of their male counterparts. Slowly Tony beached himself away from the small crowd, his knees and hands fumbling at the novel surface of solid land. At first he could do no more than sit in the water while the small waves foamed around him, gaining enough strength to stand and walk without staggering to the welcome shelter of a lounge chair, beneath the mushroom shadow of a palm-thatched umbrella. His undershorts were swimming attire in the night and he drew no attention, no attention at all. Collapsed onto the lounge his strength slowly returned.