Free The Resort by Sol Stein Page A

followed along, ten or fifteen feet behind them, not hurrying.
    Out-of-doors, Henry trod on the crunching white gravel as if he were wearing sneakers with very soft soles. He knew what he was doing. He was leaving.
    Margaret had to walk quickly to catch up to him. “It’s something in the food,” she whispered, but Henry wasn’t really paying attention.
    “It’s their method of control,” she said.
    When they came to the road going down, Henry turned left, walking a bit faster. “Come on,” he said to Margaret, who was having trouble with those shoes that weren’t meant for fast walking.
    Behind them Clete picked up his pace, but only enough to stay the same distance behind the couple.
    It was very dark on that road.
    “I can’t walk this fast downhill,” she said to Henry.
    Henry slowed a bit, glancing behind him to see if Clete was closing the space between them. Clete seemed in no hurry, as if Henry were doing nothing unexpected.
    Around the first bend Henry saw the object across the road, then, squinting, made out a camper parked sideways on the road. On its roof sat four orange T-shirted young men, all Clete’s age more or less, their legs dangling. Only one of them wore a holster. It was that one who said, “Mr. Brown, would you and your wife please return to your room. Clete will show you the way.”
    Henry looked up at their faces. You really couldn’t tell the difference between them and any other American kids their age.
    “I know the way,” Henry said. He took Margaret by the arm and started back uphill, passing Clete.
    Clete waved a casual greeting to the four atop the camper, then turned to follow the Browns to the door of their room.
    Inside, their sudden privacy seemed a godsend. Then they heard Clete lock the deadbolt from outside.

5
    I shouldn’t have gone walking off down the road like that,” Henry said. His head felt a bit strange.
    “If I hadn’t had these absurd shoes on,” Margaret said, “we could have gone through the brush.”
    “There are steep drops in places, didn’t you see? At night it would be hazardous unless we had a light. And if we carried a light, they’d find us.”
    “What about the mountain lions?”
    “I’m sure Clete just dropped that one to scare us.”
    “We must get out of here, Henry.”
    He didn’t answer.
    “You heard me,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question.
    “Yes,” he said.
    It was then she told him about the dark-haired young woman in the bathroom.
    “Clete said there wasn’t any nursery.”
    “Maybe there is,” Margaret said. “Maybe he was just saying that to put off further questions.”
    “Don’t be naïve,” Henry said.
    Had she been?
    They were both startled by a sharp rap on the door. An unfamiliar male voice said, “Lights out in twenty minutes.”
    “Like summer camp,” Margaret said.
    “Like jail,” Henry said.
    “I thought,” Margaret said, “they kept the light on all night in jails.”
    “Maybe you’re right. Let’s get our stuff sorted away before we’re in the dark.”
    “We don’t have to obey,” Margaret said. “We can keep the light on as long as we feel like it.”
    It’s not that she’s an optimist, Henry thought, she has just never been a Jew. “They may turn the electricity off from some central place,” he said.
    “How long is it since we were eating?” she asked. “An hour?”
    “About that.”
    “Don’t you feel odd in any way?”
    “I don’t feel sick.”
    “I didn’t mean that.”
    “Well,” Henry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “I was thinking that I hadn’t had a drink before dinner and…”
    “And?” She sat down in the one armchair, facing the bed.
    “Well,” he said with a half-laugh, “I guess I feel as if I’d had more than one drink before dinner and wine during.”
    “It was the fish mousse,” Margaret said. “I’m almost certain.”
    “What was wrong with it?”
    “It had a stronger flavor than it should have. And it was a tiny bit