AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PAIGE
From the moment I open my eyes the next morning, I hear the drumming of the downpour on my roof. When I open my door to check the conditions outside, I find a cobbled-together hurricane prep bag leaned up against my door, courtesy of the resort. Inside, there’s a bright orange poncho, a flashlight, a bag of cashews, and a ... Frisbee branded with the Siesta Playa logo. I know leftover swag when I see it.
Later in the break room, someone will ask me, “So did you get the Frisbee or the stress ball? I’ll trade you.”
Along with the kit, there’s also a little note urging us to pack a go bag with essentials, in case we need them. Essentials, got it. It’s tough deciding between my hunter green and navy blue sandals, but in the end, I make the right call and pack them both. I stuff in a few changes of clothes, underwear, bras, chargers, my computer, a few books, toiletries, and a file folder with my important documents. All said and done, it’s not much.
After, I don my new bright orange poncho and head to work. The rain is relentless as I hustle along the path. I can hear the chaos of the lobby even before I enter. Ringing phones, demanding guests, apologies, assurances, arguments.
“What do you mean my fishing trip is canceled?!”
“Sir, the water is too choppy,” a receptionist says with a compassionate frown. “It’s a matter of safety.”
The prepper guy waves a hand down his tactical vest and cargo pants. In the process, the half dozen carabiners hanging off his belt loops jinglejangle with survival accoutrement. “You thinkI’mworried about safety? I can protect myself. I’m carrying a Fällkniven F1 made of laminate steel. One of the all-time greats. Full tang with mixed-grade strength.”
The receptionist offers him a little nod. Her eyes have nothing behind them. Physically, she’s here. Mentally, she’s rubbing coconut oil on Tom Hardy. It’s self-preservation. I wonder how many people have already shouted at her today. I pity her. Iamher.
There are a lot of orange ponchos in the lobby, a sea of Oompa-Loompas running to and fro, trying to help any way they can.
Lara is already at the excursion desk, so I join her.
She looks so relieved to see me I think she might tear up.
“You!Oh my god, thank you! Stay here for five minutes, okay?” She takes ahold of my arms and physically drags me behind the excursion desk, smack dab where she was. “I’ll be back,” she promises. “Just need to use the restroom for five minutes!”
Her departure feels both ominous and permanent. She’s going to lock herself in a bathroom stall and scroll TikTok for the better part of an hour, I know it.
“You better not abandon me here!” I demand.
She doesn’t even turn around. She just gives me one of those halfhearted waves over her shoulder as she picks up her pace to get away from me.
There’s a TV mounted in the seating area of the lobby that’s usually set to a nonpartisan nature show; today it’s been swapped to news about the weather. A crowd of thirty watches intently while the junior meteorologist on screen thrusts himself into the elements, all in the name of good reporting. I mean, mister, we realize there’s a hurricane; we don’tneed you to report frominsidethe damn thing. But there he stands, knee deep in the angry ocean, desperately trying to keep ahold of his microphone as harsh winds throttle him from all sides.
“The winds are really picking up!” he shouts at us. “The trees arereallyswaying! It’s getting treacherous out here. For residents not planning to evacuate this morning, we encourage you to get a plan in place. Seek shelter and hunker down for the long haul.”
A woman lets out a trembling gasp, like the weather is too much for her delicate sensibilities. Having had enough, she turns away from the TV and covers her face. Her husband consoles her with a tight hug and a tone of reassurance. “It’s okay, Sue. If one of us dies, the other will probably get the trip comped.”
Meanwhile, the preppers in the audience are absolutelybesidethemselves. They turn to one another with Cheshire grins. I’m surprised their eyes don’t roll back in ecstasy.This?A real emergency where they can flex all their precious survival gear? They’re about to pee themselves.Rip the price tags off those LED headlamps and hand-crank radios, boys! It’s go time!
Immediately, I’m pelted with questions at the excursion desk, and it’s not fun to flounder in front of the guests, so when I see Oscar running past, I call out to him in desperation. He looks relieved to have found me.
“Do you know what’s going on?!”
“Here,” he says, forcefully shoving a printout at me. “This is the new schedule for our department. I’m supposed to be distributing them.”
I look down at it, trying to find my name amid the chaos. “New schedule?”
“Yeah, all excursions are postponed until further notice. We’re not under an official lockdown or anything.” He leans in and drops his voice. “But they don’t want the guests wandering too far, just in case ...”
My voice carries a slight panic now. “What are we supposed to do with them?”
I swear the noise volume in the lobby explodes.
“Check the schedule and see where they want you.” He gets distracted. “Hey,Mitch! Here, take this! It’s your new schedule!”
I stare down at the paper. Someone (Cole, probably) has painstakingly divided the entire day into hour increments and by various locations. It looks like a music-festival set list. In the craft room, from 10:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m., you can paint your own conch shell. From 11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., kids can enjoy face painting and crafts in the Tiki Hut Kid Zone. In the Palms Meeting Room from 1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m., there’s a magic show (suitable for all ages). The list goes on.
I finally find my name printed under an afternoon yoga class located in the hotel gym. After that I’m stationed in the Turtle Cove Ballroom to help with setup for an impromptu movie night.
