The Resort

by Sol Stein

  It took six weeks for Henry to put the new plan into effect. The workers loved it, especially the new hours. The good people stayed. The task of teaching newcomers almost disappeared. The fulfillment center could guarantee same-day shipment. The customers got their orders filled promptly and correctly.

  The customer service department with the highest-paid help got cut down to one person, who sometimes had idle time. And all of it shaped the business into the success it became out of an evening’s thought.

  On hands and knees Henry crawled around the perimeter of the roof, checking the activity in each direction. Use your brain. What interested him suddenly was the view in the direction from which he had come: the nearest wooded area.

  To escape from jail is one thing. To escape from a jail that has no right to exist is another. The solution is not escape but the destruction of the jail. Peering over the parapet at the woods, Henry, as if stimulated by Margaret’s absent collaboration, had an epiphany, an illumination of how one person, if lucky, could liberate all the inmates of Cliffhaven and expose the place to the glare of the outside world.

  He felt the high excitement of possibility. Could he recruit anyone else to help? Who? What if they proved to be unreliable? The beauty of the plan was that he could pull it off, if necessary, all by himself!

  Henry heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on gravel. Quickly, he crabbed himself over to the other side of the roof and peered carefully over the parapet.

  He couldn’t see anyone.

  Taking a chance, he raised himself enough to look over the parapet and down. Almost immediately below him, two stories down, was a resident wearing the trusty armband. The man had set down a bucket and mop, and was opening the door with a key. Suddenly, the man looked up and Henry jerked his head back just in time.

  He hoped it had been just in time.

  The trusty was an older man, past sixty, frail-looking. There was no way Henry could get off the roof safely. If he jumped, he chanced breaking a leg or worse from that height. If he got hurt now, his plan was doomed.

  He was about to look down again and attract the man’s attention when he heard the door slam. The man was inside.

  Henry surveyed the roof, squinting his eyes against the reflection of the now-bright sun. He could see a slightly raised rectangle in the center. He crawled closer to it, realized it was a kind of flat skylight that had been painted over. He could try to break it with his fist, but he might cut himself. The noise might attract somebody outside the building. He could stomp it with his foot. No need to, it had a catch, caked over with paint, and some roofing material with aluminum in it. Lucky; the beginning of luck. He scraped the catch with a fingernail. No good. He scraped it with one of his keys. That did it. He got the catch free enough to lift it, and then with all of his strength yanked at the skylight, lifting it away from the roof. As soon as it was open, he was on his knees peering down.

  The trusty holding the mop was looking up, petrified. Henry held a finger to his lips.

  The man was saying something in a voice too thin to hear.

  “I can’t hear you,” Henry said, raising his whisper to an audible level.

  “You’re the man they’re looking for,” the trusty said.

  Henry saw the old man put the mop down and glance toward the door.

  “What is your name?” Henry asked.

  The trusty hesitated. Henry had to keep the old man from betraying him.

  “My name is Henry Brown. My wife is a prisoner here, too.”

  “You’re not supposed to use words like prisoner,” said the trusty.

  “What is your name?”

  The old man put his fingers to his lips, then spoke. “Morton Blaustein. My wife is here.” He jerked his thumb at the wall.

  “I don’t understand. Mr. Blaustein, listen, I want to come down and talk to you. There’s a metal ladder outside along the wall that could reach up here.”

  “They’ll kill me.”

  “Nobody will know.”

  “They always find out everything.”

  “Not anymore. I want to tell you my plan. Please, Mr. Blaustein.”

  The old man shook his head.

  “You have to do it,” Henry shouted. “Our lives depend on it!”

  “I don’t want any trouble, mister.”

  If life is trouble to this man, is freedom too much trouble? Had he resigned himself to mopping floors forever?

  “Listen, I can give you more trouble than they can, Blaustein.”

  The old man looked up at him. Was that a look of fear?

  “Get the ladder!” Henry ordered, his voice demanding obedience.

  The old man headed toward the door. Would he run for it? And squeal?

  “Blaustein!” Henry shouted, his fist a gesture at the man.

  Blaustein glanced up for just a second. Was that a derisive look? Or frightened?

  The old man went out the door. Henry listened for his footsteps in the gravel. He was heading around the building, not away from it.

  It seemed to take an eternity, then the old man came back in the door, empty-handed.

  “It’s too heavy,” he said. “I can’t lift it.”

  Henry wanted to throttle him, for being a coward, for not being strong enough. They both heard footsteps from outside at the same moment.

  God, thought Henry, there isn’t time to close the skylight gently. If he closed it quickly, the clatter would attract attention. Don’t do it.

  Henry lay down as quietly as he could so he could look past the edge of the skylight. He saw the orange-and-blue-uniformed Cliffhaven man shove a younger man, no more than twenty, through the door. “I’ve got a new helper for you, Mr. Blaustein. Teach him to be polite.”

  “Fuck you,” the young man said.

  The Cliffhaven person laughed and shut the door behind him. Henry listened to him walk away. When he looked down into the building again, Blaustein was pointing up at the skylight. Henry recognized the young man.

  “Hey!” Henry said. “You’re the fellow in the Mercedes they got last night.”

  “That’s right,” the young fellow said.

  “I’m the guy on the road who tried to warn you.”

  “No shit?”

  “How come they’ve got you on clean-up duty the first day?”

  “That guy Clete said I was a wiseass. What are you doing up there?”

  “I can’t get down. It’s too far to jump. Listen, I’ve got a plan for getting out of here. I’ll take you with me if you’ll get the ladder that’s outside and get me down.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I’m not supposed to let you out of the building,” Mr. Blaustein said.

  The young man laughed. “Try and stop me.”

  He went out the door, glanced around to be sure he wasn’t observed, then went around the building, found the ladder, got a grip on its middle, lifted it off the ground, and carried it into the building.

  “Shut the door,” he told the trusty.

  “You’re going to get us killed.”

  “Just shut up and do as I said,” the young man said.

  Henry liked that. He’s fresh from the outside, not like some of the others around here. He hasn’t been worked over yet.

  The young man put the ladder on the floor, and moved it so that one end was just under the skylight. Then he went to the other end, put one foot on the bottom rung.

  “Okay,” he said to Blaustein, “lift the other end.”

  “I can’t,” Blaustein said.

  “Then come here and do what I’m doing.”

  Blaustein obeyed. The young man went to the other end, lifted up a bit, then higher, then over his head, and started walking the ladder into a vertical position. Henry could see it wasn’t easy. He was able to reach down and grab the end. It barely touched the rim of the skylight.

  “A bit higher,” he said.

  The young man nodded. He motioned the old man away, got hold of the fourth rung from the bottom,
jerk-pulled it toward him, moving its position the requisite few inches.

  “Okay,” Henry said. “I think it’s safe.” He started down, with the young man holding onto the ladder, steadying it.

  When he got to the bottom, relieved, he stuck his hand out. “Thanks. My name’s Henry Brown.”

  “Jacob Fetterman,” the young man said. “Jake is okay.”

  “The trusty’s name is Blaustein,” Henry said.

  Jake nodded in Blaustein’s direction, then said, “What the hell is this room?”

  Henry noticed that two walls were covered with long rows of Stars of David. Next to each star was a nameplate.

  “What is this place, Blaustein?” Henry asked.

  Blaustein looked at each of them in turn. “This is where they keep score,” he said.

  For a second they were all silent.

  “You mean these plaques were all people here in the last six months?” Henry asked.

  Blaustein nodded.

  “Your wife?”

  Blaustein shuffled over to the wall and, stooping, pointed a sad finger at a plaque near the floor. “She lasted three weeks,” Blaustein said. “She was always a fanatic about the Sabbath. We were given a chance to work on the farm. She refused to work on Saturday because it was the Sabbath. She said she’d work on Sunday. They wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever come looking for you?” Henry asked.

  “Of course. My son came. Within a week he found us. They took him also. That’s what killed my wife. She yelled at Mr. Whittaker they could do anything they wanted to her, but to let the boy go. He laughed at her. He called her a Jewish mother. ‘I’m proud to be a Jewish mother,’ she yelled at him and spit in his face. Finished.”

  “Jesus,” Jake said. “What happened to your son?”

  “He works with me on the farm. Including Saturdays. Twice a week I clean this place, and he cleans the lockers.”

  “Lockers?” Jake asked.

  “Just hope you never find out,” Henry said.

  “You were already in the lockers?” Blaustein asked. “What did you do? I thought you just came here.”

  “What kind of farm is it?” Henry asked.

  “Very profitable.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Blaustein said.

  “Blaustein, how long have you been here?” Henry asked.

  “Six months. From the beginning. I was here the first week.”

  “What will happen to you?”

  “Nothing,” Blaustein said. “I’m a trusty.”

  “Is your son a trusty?”

  “Not yet. I’m hoping.”

  “Why would you want your son to be a trusty?” Henry asked.

  “It’s the only way to escape being taken for a ride like my wife,” Blaustein said.

  It’s frightening to see a pale face blanch, Henry thought. “What’s the matter, Blaustein?”

  “I said too much. Only trusties are supposed to know.”

  “What does going for a ride mean?” Henry asked.

  “I’m not saying anything.”

  “Yes, you are,” Henry said. He moved very close to Blaustein.

  “What are you going to do to him?” Jake asked.

  “Keep out of it!” Henry said, his eyes inches from Blaustein’s eyes. Bluffing is the heart of business. God, help me bluff, Henry thought.

  In a whisper Blaustein said, “It’s a very American expression, taking somebody for a ride.”

  Henry stepped back. “A car ride?”

  Blaustein nodded.

  “Where?”

  Blaustein shook his head. “Must he hear, too?” Blaustein pointed at Jake.

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t have to be your car,” Blaustein said. “Just some car that brought guests here. They tie your hands. There can be one, two, three guests in the car, all hands tied. One of the Cliffhaven people drives. Up that way.” His pointing was meaningless.

  “What way?” Henry asked.

  “Where the cliff is. There’s a road. It starts just behind the dining room. It ends at the cliff. The gully is eight hundred feet down. The driver leaves the car in gear and just gets out. The car goes over the edge with the guests, all the way down. Sometimes we hear the sound. To those of us who know what it is, the crash of a car in the bottom of the gully is like the sound of a firing squad. They told me my wife had a heart attack in the lockers. Maybe she was still alive. They didn’t take her to the hospital. They took her for a ride. All the names here are of people in the bottom of the gully. Sometimes…” Blaustein looked at Henry and then at Jake. “Sometimes, if you go real close, you can hear screaming from the gully long afterwards.”

  “The ones who don’t die on impact?”

  Blaustein nodded. “Maybe you two can become trusties. You won’t have to go for a ride.”

  Henry looked at Blaustein’s face. He wasn’t as old as he had at first thought, just so defeated-looking.

  “Were you always a coward?” Henry asked. “Or did they make you one?”

  Blaustein let a fragment of a smile flicker onto his face. “Mr. Brown, listen. Before Cliffhaven, I was an accountant. I add up the past. I don’t have a handle on the future.”

  “Well,” Henry said, “you’ve got a handle on yourself, which is better than most people have. We’re not going to stick around, Blaustein. And I can’t afford to have you squeal on us. Will you come along with us peacefully?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You do not have a choice,” Henry said.

  “Then,” Blaustein said, “you are the same as Cliffhaven.”

  “You’ll come with us?”

  “What about my son?” Blaustein said.

  “There’s no way we can get him now,” Henry said. “But if my plan works, we’ll be able to set everyone free. We’ve got to get into the nearby woods. Will you come?”

  “They’ll kill me or you’ll kill me, what’s the difference?”

  Jake said, “When will that creep come back for me?”

  “Not for two, three hours,” Blaustein said.

  “Good,” Henry said. “Let’s go. The spot we want to head for is the wooded area about seventy or eighty yards from the back of the building. Let’s lower the ladder. We don’t want them on the roof looking for us.”

  Jake and Henry carefully took the ladder down and laid it on the floor.

  “Now,” Henry said, “I’ll go first. Stick close to the building, there’s less chance of being noticed. Blaustein, you go second. Jake, you follow, make sure Blaustein keeps up. When you get to the back, crawl to the woods.”

  “Crawl?” Blaustein asked.

  Henry got down on the floor and demonstrated.

  From the floor Henry said, “You ever in the army, Blaustein?”

  “No.”

  “Jake?”

  “No, but I’ve seen movies on TV.”

  “Watch me. Think you can do it?”

  “Sure,” Jake said. “Mr. Blaustein, I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Okay,” Henry said, getting up. “Let’s go. Jake, shut the door behind you. Quietly.”

  “Will do.”

  Henry went out the door and around the building, his eyes taking in all directions. Nobody. Where were they searching for him? Down below? Had they given up? Did they think he had escaped to the road?

  At the back of the building, he lowered himself to the ground and started off.

  Left elbow, pull forward.

  Right elbow, pull forward.

  Left elbow, right elbow, like an automaton. Keep your mind on the movements you make, not on your destination.

  Left elbow, pull, right elbow, pull.

  It seemed a much longer distance than it had when he crawled to the building. He could feel the heat of the sun on his back. His knuckles were beginning to bleed again. Had Blaustein started out? He didn’t hear anything.

  Almost there. Keep going.

  At
the edge of the woods Henry stood up, moving rapidly into concealment, turned to watch. Blaustein was no more than a quarter of the way, Jake just behind him. Why was he crawling so slowly? Then he saw Jake moving around Blaustein, passing him, and crawling like a large lizard toward the woods, leaving Blaustein behind.

  Could anyone see them? Were they safe from view?

  Jake reached the woods. Henry grabbed his shirt. “Why the hell did you do that? I said to stay behind him.”

  “He was going too slow.”

  “That was an order. If this thing is to work, you’ve got to obey orders.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  They both saw Blaustein stand in the middle of the clearing, look around uncertainly.

  “He’s going to run away,” Jake said. “I’ll get him.”

  “No, you don’t,” Henry said.

  Blaustein was running toward them. Breathless, he arrived in the woods. “I couldn’t crawl any more,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I just hope you weren’t spotted,” Henry said.

  He peered out, watched, listened. Nothing. Thank heaven, nothing.

  He turned to the two of them. “Now both of you listen carefully. There are small patches of clearing scattered through these woods. What I want us to do is to move as much brush as possible, and any dead wood that we can carry, anything, into the clearings that are close to the perimeter. We’ll stack the brush close to the woods, not in the center. Pile it up for a bonfire. I want at least one big stack close to the woods in every clearing.”

  “What are you going to do?” Blaustein said.

  “We’re going to set fire to those stacks as near simultaneously as the three of us can manage. These woods go clear around Cliffhaven, except for the road, which will act as a firebreak unless the fire jumps across.”

  “Hot damn,” Jake said. “This stuff is dry as hell.”

  “That’s right. With these woods on fire, there’ll have to be a massive fire-fighting effort. They’ll have to bring in the pros.”

  “Won’t the buildings catch?” Blaustein asked.

  “I hope not. There’s enough space between the woods and the buildings.”

  “Burning debris could get airborne and land on a building,” Jake said.

  “I hope not,” Henry said. “There are a lot of people in Cliffhaven. Including my wife.”

  “What happens to us when the woods start burning?” Blaustein asked.