But now, Arnie’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy around the edges. He looked rather disheveled and irritated about something.
“Arnold! Protector of my utopia!”
He seemed confused. “You’re here already?”
“As scheduled.”
“Right. Right.” He looked over his shoulder, but remained standing awkwardly at the door as though he was waiting for someone else.
“You all right? Looks as though you just hurled.”
“No, I’m good… I just—I didn’t realize you were coming this soon.”
“Well, here I am.”
“Yeah.” After a beat, Arnie chuckled strangely. “I’m just not ready to leave.” Another chuckle followed. “So peaceful here you know. I can finally think straight.”
“Oh? Having troubles in Belize, Arnie?”
More perplexities contorted his tired face. “Huh? Oh, no not really. Just living life brother. Floatin’ on a breeze.”
“Smoke a little weed there, Arnie? And by a little, I mean all of it.”
“No, no. I’m off the stuff. Messes with my clarity.”
“Right. Who needs to think clearly when life is one big vacation?”
Stefan furrowed his brow in response to the vacant stare that flattened out over Arnie’s clammy face. “You okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine.” He chuckled.
“You’re good to take the boat back to Ambergris?”
“Yeah. I could do that. What are you guys doing tonight though?”
“You guys?”
“Yeah, your friends are here?”
“No. You’re taking them in tomorrow. Remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
Mushrooms. Must be mushrooms.
“How high are you, man? Can I trust you with my boat?”
Arnie’s grin widened and he shook his head. “You can always trust me, brother. I am at your service, as always.” He tipped his pretend cap. “Just let me grab my bags.”
He abruptly closed the door on Stefan as he was about to follow him in. Stefan pulled on the handle, but it was locked.
It took him five minutes to open up again and he walked straight passed Stefan with sudden urgency in his step.
“Need a hand getting out?”
“No! No, I got it.” He continued walking without even turning back to acknowledge Stefan.
“Hey! Don’t forget about my guests you burnout! Call me on the SAT phone before you leave!” Stefan shouted.
As he walked into his beautiful home, he was questioning his decision to form any sort of partnership with Arnie. It wasn’t that he had any stake in his business, but he would potentially be interacting with future guests, and he didn’t need some whacked-out wannabe-surfer on drugs in charge of the safety of his guests. He’d make a change after the test trial.
The kitchen was beautiful, all stainless steel appliances. He opened the freezer to find it had been stocked with vegetables and seafood. Maybe Arnie was good for something, he thought. Tonight he would have red wine and scallops pan seared in butter and garlic with a splash of lemon. I think I’ll pair it with a chardonnay. Maybe merlot… Or I could do old-fashioneds.
For now though, he needed to unpack and get his ass outside. The sun was waiting for him, beating down with immense heat with a subtle breeze swirling around, waiting to gently kiss his face or his bare ass. He could do whatever he pleased. It was his island.
His steps were quick and heavy thudding down the stairs into his basement. The hallway was long, with several rooms along the way. Two bedrooms, one bath, a theater room at the end, and just to the right of it, a special room. The long hallway was somewhat haunting in its dated styling, comparable to a home of a 1980s middle-class bungalow, contrasting the sleek and modern furnishing of the upstairs. Two-thirds of the way down the hall, Stefan turned into his bedroom.
His bed was positioned in the center of the room. On the other side of the wall was a massive mirror with two sinks; to its left his shower, to the right a toilet. To the right of the bed was a steel door protruding only a few inches from the wall. There were no decorations.
Stefan began unpacking, leaving neatly stacked sections of his clothing along his bedside. He then lined up his shaving kit supplies out on the counter by the sink in particular order. He pulled the latch on the steel door and entered a small cold storage room. The room was surrounded with wine shelving, an endless selection of bottles waiting to be tasted. Stefan grabbed a bottle and stopped to look at a slender door at the far end of the room.
Stefan sat in his “backyard” drinking straight from the bottle, half of it now gone. The fire crackled and spat sparks at him that he dodged. He heard rustling coming from the old cabin. It was Bruce, the old man, making a fire of his own. Bruce had lived on the island with the previous owners. Part of the deal involved keeping the old man, but Stefan liked him anyway. He was quiet and kept to himself, but had a very direct demeanor that Stefan appreciated.
“Should I go over?” Stefan spoke aloud to himself. “No, it’s all right. He doesn’t like his nights interrupted. You need a good night’s sleep. Big day tomorrow… Big day.” His voice wasn’t loud enough for Bruce to hear as Stefan more or less muttered to himself. “Do me a favor will you?” He swirled the wine in the bottle. “Don’t bombard our guests with your plans right away. Let them get settled in.” Stefan tipped the bottle of wine back. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He tipped it back once more. Once the wine slid down his throat and into his chest, he could feel his eyes grow tired. His time in the water had played him out. He liked what he saw in there, though. There were plenty of colorful fish that would be sure to satisfy the visitors. He was excited, but ready for bed.
Chapter Two - Arrival
Stefan’s head hit the pillow crammed full with anxious thoughts. Three a.m. rolled around and sometime after, he drifted.
He shot up in bed two hours later, his heart pounding. He turned his head toward his doorway and froze. Shadows of a man hovered in the doorway absent of light; the presence staring at him. It didn’t have the correct shape. I’m still dreaming. His head was so unclear that he couldn’t make two cents as to what was occurring. The further he leaned to the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the entrance, the more he realized it was the moonlight through the basement window reflecting off the steel door to his storage room. He rose to his feet and walked toward his opened bedroom door. Did I leave it open? I normally close it.
Stefan chortled and closed the door. He had always been prone to nightmares as a child, and had been a sleepwalker all the way through and into adulthood. He had found, however, that his late night wanderings were usually attributed to high stress, often related to his conflicting feelings of school and his life’s path. There were many sleepless nights because of this.
Originally, he was concerned about the prospect of sleepwalking on an island in the middle of nowhere with the potential of going for a late-night swim, but ever since deciding to leave his unfit life behind, the sleepwalking had stopped completely.
He put his head back on the pillow and told himself to quit being such a coward.
He had to move. There was no time. He had to set the perimeter. Stefan popped up. No time to get dressed. He had to act fast.
His bare feet stepped on sharp branches, scraping, stabbing. The cool sand shifted under his feet. I must get… something. What am I getting again? Line the perimeter! Prepare for defense! The island night was not real; it was a mix of movement, of feelings without any order. Time… Time was all Stefan could feel. It coursed through his veins and filled up his lungs. He was racing toward the shoreline with a wheelbarrow. Is this a wheelbarrow? What’s inside? Stefan tried to change his viewpoint, but he couldn’t pull his focus away from the approaching water. He was getting close, but what for? His head was still locked in a vice, while his feet were moving swiftly. He used all of his strength to look downward. It looked like large steel traps of some kind.