Shit. Perhaps Thomas was a good guy after all.
“This, of course, leads me to my next question. Where do you go to the bathroom?”
“Over there in the small stone temple is a porta potty setup—like the kind you find at campgrounds.”
“Lovely.”
I spent the next few minutes getting to know the team and found them to be unusually agreeable in spite of having been held captive for the last week. It was a real testament to their resolve, as no one liked being incarcerated, least of all in a dank underground chamber. Perhaps, as archaeologists, they were used to working in claustrophobic conditions and were more able to cope than the average person. Once done with introductions, Estelle got Alessandra, Bachué, and me toothbrushes and toothpaste and led us over to the bathroom area, so that we could freshen up, and after brushing my teeth I was feeling a hell of a lot better and was ready to start looking into our current predicament.
“So far, this is pretty civilized,” I said.
“Yeah, our captors are at least making us comfortable,” Estelle said.
“I see, and the toilet part of the bathroom is in there beyond the sinks?” I asked.
“Yep, right inside the stone structure.”
We walked inside to get a closer look, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled.
“All of you have been shitting in there for a week?”
“Yep, everyone, and some even go several times a day.”
“That’s it. We have to get out of here right now.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“I really don’t want to shit in there.”
I decided it was time to conduct my own reconnaissance of our unusual prison cell, and Estelle accompanied me, as she was probably eager to discuss her upcoming wedding and deliver some clever excuse as to why she didn’t bother to tell me. We headed off together to the edge of the stone island, and, as we started walking, I began the interrogation.
“So, I suppose congratulations are in order,” I said.
“Yeah, about that—I meant to tell you but…”
“You were too busy planning your romantic beachside wedding to call?”
“No, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Do you realize that every time we break up, you end up getting engaged?”
“No, but now that you mention it, it seems to be kind of a pattern.”
“You know we could have gotten engaged.”
“We could have, but we didn’t.”
“I would have.”
“Would have, but again, didn’t.”
“Because you left town then broke up with me.”
We continued walking along the edge of the water, and neither of us spoke, but I used the time to make detailed mental notes about our surroundings. Estelle suddenly stopped and took hold of my hands and looked into my eyes.
“I’m sorry—I should have told you.”
“It’s OK, I’m an adult, so I understand that life doesn’t always go the way I want it to.”
“Yeah, but you have to admit that you don’t exactly live the life of a saint when it comes to women.”
“I know it doesn’t look that way now, but I used to—and I would have again for you.”
“Bullshit! In one week, you managed to nail two women. One barely legal, and the other a fucking supermodel.”
Sweet mother of goats. Thank God she didn’t know the full story, which was actually far worse, though three of the encounters were drug induced. Still, I’d had sexual relations in some form or another with five women in one week. Shit, I seriously needed to take a break and live off the grid for a while in order to allow my sex life to return to normal. I really was quite a man-whore at the moment.
“Bachué is way above the age of consent, and, as I said, I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”
“Yeah, and I’m assuming you’re as full of shit as President Clinton was when he said that line.”
“No, it’s the God’s honest truth, and you really should be commending me for protecting her virtue.”
“OK, then what about the supermodel?”
“That was situational. She was angry with Lars for cheating on her and needed someone’s shoulder to cry on.”
“If only I had a penny for every time a woman just needed your shoulder to cry on, and you instead gave her your penis.”
“I can’t help that I’m an empathetic person and use the tools I have to the best of my abilities.”
“Spoken like a true man-whore.”
“Hey now, let’s face it. You’ve moved on pretty fucking quickly and found yourself a new guy, and I’ve accepted it, so why don’t you just lay off, and let me focus on getting us the hell out of here, Bridezilla.”
“Bridezilla? Interesting. Only one person has called me that,” she said, as she looked at me rather curiously.
“Oh, and who would that be?”
“Tina, obviously, but then you already know that, don’t you?”
“Perhaps, though it is a common term for an overbearing bride.”
“Yeah, so how well did you get to know Tina?”
“Fairly well. She was really nice, and we talked on the flight down. How did you know she calls you Bridezilla?”
“Thomas tells me everything.”
She stared at me a moment, and I had a bad feeling she was reading my mind or perhaps detecting something in my expression.
“You piece of shit. You nailed Tina too, didn’t you?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. I did not nail Tina.”
That was actually true, though not for lack of trying.
“Well, something happened. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your guilty tone.”
“Come on. Enough with the witch hunt. Let’s get you and your wonderful fiancé out of here and off to your romantic fucking beachside wedding.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Spelunking for Idiots
I COMPLETED MY inspection of the room and came to some pretty negative and positive conclusions regarding the particulars of our unusual imprisonment. On the negative side was the fact that we were on an island entirely surrounded by water, and there was no physical connection to the outer wall except for the drawbridge style door that only opened when the Chalupan girl arrived with food or supplies. That exit was therefore useless because the airlock style system of two separate doors was actually quite an effective way of keeping us in here—as Thomas and the others had already discovered. Of course, we could potentially use the Chalupan girl as a hostage to trade for our freedom, but she was likely just as much of a prisoner as the rest of us.
So, that brought us to the positive side—specifically the fact that the room was about a hundred feet square and lit by gas-fed tiki torches located about every twenty or so feet along the outer walls. That meant there were about twenty-four in all, and that required a lot of oxygen, especially when you included sixteen people in the mix, and, since they were all still very much alive and not suffering from hypoxia, it was logical to conclude that fresh air was flowing into the chamber either by luck or design. Considering the Chalupan’s mastery of aquatic engineering, it was safe to assume they’d probably also figured out a way to have air reach the chamber, but where was that air coming from? I hadn’t seen any vents, so the source had to be either the door or the openings that allowed the river to flow in and around us. I checked out the door again and realized there were no gaps around its edges, so that pretty much just left the river.
The Chalupans were masters of water, and, as I’d already seen, the entire city and pyramid were crisscrossed by numerous aqueducts—both inside and outside the pyramid. The water came from somewhere and obviously flowed somewhere, so I just needed to find out where. I moved down to the water’s edge and saw that it was fresh, clear, and cool, which meant it wasn’t stagnant and was therefore obviously part of the greater water system of the area. I walked back and grabbed a little scrap of tortilla and threw it in the water.
“What was that for?” Estelle asked.
“Just checking to see which way the water is flowing.”
The piece of tortilla drifted around the island and eventually disappeared underneath a far corner. There was our exit—hopefully, anyway. I started to head into the water, but Estelle took hold of my hand then gazed into my eyes and scrutinized me.
“Whats up? Why are you staring at me?” I asked.
“You already asked about the food, and I can tell that you’re hungry, so I’m thinking that you need to eat something before you set off on some kind of wild goose chase.”
Actually she was correct, and it was slightly annoying to acknowledge that she knew me better than I knew myself at times. Shit. I followed her over to a foldout table, and she made me a tortilla with rice and beans, and I proceeded to wolf it down as though I hadn’t eaten in days. In truth, it had only been about twelve hours, but roaming around ancient pyramids, rescuing innocent Chalupan lovelies, and fighting supposedly undead minions really built up an appetite. After two more makeshift burritos, I was properly sated and ready to get back to work finding a way out of our predicament. Or so I thought until I took one step and realized the coffee and food combination meant I had to make a stop first, and it was a stop I dreaded with all my heart.
“Oh, God no,” I mumbled.
“What is it?” Estelle asked, looking concerned.
“Um, I have to make a poopy.”
“So, is your weird word choice some kind of childhood regression?”
“Perhaps, as this trip has brought about a lot of conversations concerning some traumatic events in my life—some of which just happened to have taken place during childhood.”
That was actually true, considering I’d managed to tell Professor Hot Sauce about my failed bid to complete my PhD as well as the traumatic childhood origin of my bathroom issues. Interestingly, that meant I was either really comfortable with Hot Sauce or she was really good at getting me to talk, and, regardless how much drama seemed to exist between us, there was definitely some kind of connection—which was weird to think about while I was currently talking to Estelle.
“What kind of conversations?” Estelle asked, suddenly sounding particularly curious.
“Just life shit.”
“Life shit you never talked about with me?”
I thought about it for a moment before I answered, as I was feeling as though I were being led into some kind of emotional trap.
“Um—yeah,” I responded timidly.
“Well, why didn’t you talk about any of these things with me?”
“I don’t know. I guess they never came up.”
“So, who did they come up with?”
Oh for fuck’s sake—the trap was about to spring shut, so I needed to try some evasive action.
“Honestly now—why do you care?”
“Because we had something special.”
“Not that special if you’re marrying someone else.”
“Don’t try to avoid the question by acting like an asshole.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh I see—so it must have been Fabiana, Tina, or perhaps even Bachué.”
“Nope.”
“Then who?”
While I considered my answer, Estelle looked over at the group and noticed Alessandra was gazing over at us.
“Holy shit! Was it Professor Hot Sauce?” Estelle asked, sounding surprised.
“You know her nickname?”
“Of course—everyone does. Fuck! I can’t believe Professor Hot Sauce was the person who you divulged all of your life secrets to?”
“They weren’t exactly secrets.”
Estelle thought for a moment, and I could see her face turning a little red as her anger grew.
“You fucking asshole! You fucking fucked her too—didn’t you?”
“Excuse me, but talking doesn’t automatically lead to fucking. Sometimes people just connect on an emotional and intellectual level.”
“Yeah, normal people, but not you.”
“Now, you’re kind of being a bitch.”
“Maybe, but the fact that you didn’t say no means you did fuck her.”
I let out a long sigh.
“Yes, yes I did, but it only happened because we were drugged.”
Estelle shook her head and looked away as she took a moment to think, and, when she turned back, her eyes looked red with the beginning of tears.
“Well, now I guess we both know why I’m marrying someone else,” she said.
“Look, the only thing I’m guilty of here is falling in love with you and then letting you break my heart.”
She took a moment to stew, and a range of emotions crossed over her features before she groaned and finally responded.
“Goddammit, Finn! I’m so confused right now that I’m not sure if I want to punch you in the face or kiss you.”
Fuck, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting, and now I really needed to go take a shit in that hole, so that I could get our asses out of this actual shithole—that was in actuality a fucking emotional pressure cooker and chamber of secrets that were better kept secret.
“Given the current company and the fact we’re all trapped in an underground chamber, I think that neither of those options is going to turn out any good, so, in the interest of keeping the peace, I’m going to man the fuck up and go take a poopy.”
I walked over to the stone temple bathroom and entered the dank little structure to find that it had one toilet—one lousy fucking toilet for sixteen people—and I could already smell an entire week of waste. I took a moment to gather my courage then moved closer, turned around, and was about to pull down my camo pants when Estelle suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Are you coming here to punch me in the face?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then are you going to kiss me right before I take a shit?”
“Hell no—I’m just here to tell you that it’s going to be OK, because I just told everyone to stay away until you’re done. Just focus on the task at hand, and you’ll get through this,” she said.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“OK, now I’m leaving, and no one’s coming in, as I’m going to stand guard outside the door.”
“Wait, now you’re back to being the girl I fell in love with—so is there any chance we could revisit that whole kiss thing?”
“No, that moment of anger and lust has passed.”
“Oh well, I guess I’ll just go conclude my business now.”
Estelle left, and thoughts of our rather tumultuous talk faded as I dropped onto the cool plastic seat and found myself being mildly intrigued by the fact that someone had bothered to build a semi-modern bathroom in a chamber beneath a thousand year old pyramid. There was clearly some weird shit going on down here, and I wasn’t talking about the actual shit that was about to leave my body.
I let loose the dogs of war and continued to think about this mysterious chamber. What the hell was its purpose? It obviously wasn’t built to be a prison, and, had it not been closed off, it would have been pretty cool. I next thought about the other rooms I had seen thus far and realized this was probably some kind of lunch or activity room for the workers from the laboratory. Lars was obviously a really nice boss to be so concerned with the comfort of his illegal employees working for his illegal drug operation.
Sweet mother of goats. I finished my poopy, and, while it wasn’t great, it was at least completed without interruption, and now I could wipe, and hopefully forget I had ever endured this experience. I finished up then emerged from the bathroom and went straight to the little sink to wash my hands.
“Feeling better?” Estelle asked.
“I am, and I appreciate your support.”
“You’re welcome, and I’m sorry for kind of losing it earlier.”
“It’s OK, I imagine you’re probably not feeling entirely normal after having been drugged, kidnapped, and held prisoner
for the last week.”
“True, so now I really want you to get us out of here.”
At that moment, Alessandra appeared, and she looked concerned.
“Everything come out OK?” she asked.
“Yes indeed, and thank you for your concern,” I responded.
Estelle watched our brief exchange, and I saw her expression change ever so subtlety, as she now had a little insight into the intimate relationship that had developed between Hot Sauce and me. Of course, it would probably also add to her belief that I was a world class man-whore, and, worse still, make her sad, though part of me kind of enjoyed that last bit.
I left the bathroom and went over to the corner where my tortilla experiment had taken place, and I waded into the dark aquatic abyss. The water was decidedly cool, and the edge dropped off fairly quickly, and, as my gentleman region submerged, Tag Junior and the boys retracted to my body in search of warmth. The cold was a cruel mistress indeed when it came to the male genitalia, but it was a welcomed bedfellow when applied to women’s nipples. As I was without female companionship and the subsequent respite of gazing upon hard nipples, this moment pretty much completely sucked. Still, I continued on, and by the time I was past my chin and forced to swim, the entire group of cave dwellers had come down to the water’s edge to anxiously watch my progress.
“Be careful of the current!” Alessandra called out.
“I will, and don’t worry—I’m just doing a little exploring.”
I once again saw Estelle’s expression turn uncomfortable when she witnessed Alessandra’s concern, and I couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated. She broke up with me by phone then snuck off to get married, yet I was the bad guy for engaging in a little emotional and unintended sexual bonding with my female liaison. Female justice was indeed swift, ruthless, and often irrational, but to oppose it was to face an even greater wrath. I reached the wall, waved to the crowd, then dropped down until my eyes were at the surface level of the water. There was a gap of at least two inches, and I could feel the air rushing through as it flowed out of the room. Bingo! I had found where the air and water exited the chamber, but now I wanted to know where it went, and I was hoping that it would provide access into another area of the pyramid or possibly even directly outside.
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 44