MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE:

FACING MY FEAR

Written by Rick Archer 

TIME TO MAKE A MOVE
 

Who would have ever imagined that my Halloween from Hell could possibly get worse?  But that is exactly what had happened.  Terrified by a moan that defied any sort of explanation, I had panicked and instinctively fled to the Big Room to hide. 

I don't fault my decision to retreat.  However I had proceeded to make two serious mistakes.  First I closed the door.  What I should have done was leave it ajar so I could peek down the gloomy hallway.  Then for reasons I will never understand, I wandered over into a corner.  What was I thinking?  This corner offered me absolutely no added protection. 

Trapped in the corner of a pitch-black room, I feared someone would come in, flip on the lights, see me, and try to kill me.  I could not stay in this corner any longer or I would go insane.  Thank goodness I had turned off the music.  Deprived of the use of my vision, my ears worked overtime.  Whatever the threat was, I was certain Room One was vacant.  My finely-tuned ears would have heard the door open.  No one could be that quiet.  Therefore the danger was outside that door, so my next step was get control of the doorway and the light switch.  Running my fingers along the wall, I cautiously made my way in the direction of the door.  My heart was pounding the whole time. 

At the halfway point, I froze.  Two red eyes suddenly appeared to stare at me.  Glowing in the dark, had the Devil come to get me?

Paralyzed with fear, I noticed those red eyes were not moving.  They were more like dots than actual eyes.  That is when it dawned on me that the 'red eyes' were coming from the general direction of where I had placed my music system.

Good grief, the red lights were coming from my amplifier/receiver.  I had turned off the tape deck, but not the receiver.  I rolled my eyes at my continued ignorance.  I was so nervous I was finding imaginary threats everywhere!

As I slowly crept along the wall, I had to keep reminding myself I wasn't crazy.  Nothing made a bit of sense, but I had definitely not imagined those sounds.  Of that I was convinced.  But I still had no idea what the explanation was.  It upset me greatly that I could not think of a single plausible scenario.  Maybe the answer was benign, something like two lovers looking for a place to make out.  Or maybe the sounds were a warning, a sign of danger.  Just then, I heard it again. 

Woooooh!

I was so scared I jumped higher than at any previous time in my life.  This was the third moan.  Like the other two, the latest sound had come from somewhere down the Hallway, maybe the Drink Room.  Or maybe someone had entered the hallway.  Was the Intruder coming for me right now?   Damn it!  Since I had not reached the light switch yet, I was exposed and helpless.  How was I supposed to hide in the middle of the dance floor?   Fortunately, the door did not open.  Hmm.  Maybe the monster was waiting for me to open the door. 

"Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a drunken dance teacher.  Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Oh hell, what difference did it make where I was?  After this new moan, I hesitated.  I fully expected someone to come bursting through that door any second.  Trembling, I stood still awaiting my fate.  But nothing happened.  No sounds, no movement in the hall.  I shook my head in confusion.  I was going out of my mind with my inability to guess what was going on.  Oh well, no point in standing still any longer.  Touching the wall, I resumed moving towards the doorway.  As I made my way to the light switch, a new fear crossed my mind.  Surely the Evil One was in the hallway right behind that door.  Since the door was right beside the light switch, that had to be where the trap was set.  I was sure of it.  Someone wanted me to turn on the light and then they would burst through the door to attack me.  Maybe so.  But what were my other choices?  Stand there in the dark and do nothing?  I don't think so.  Sooner or later I would have to face the intruder.  If I had to fight for my life, at the very least I needed to see who I was fighting.  So I kept moving towards the light switch.  

As I passed the doorway I discovered a slim sliver of light at the bottom of the door.  I have mentioned the crack at the bottom of the door.  The source of that sliver had to be emanate from the nearby Coke machine in the hall.  I was pleased at my discovery.  That miniscule sliver of light confirmed no one had turned on the hallway lights.  Maybe there was no one out there.

It was time for me to make my final move to the light switch.  Touching the door with my hands, I estimated three feet.  I was afraid to take this last step.  With the hallway door shut and the room so dark, there was absolutely no way to guess what kind of danger I was in.  What if someone was inside this room and I did not notice them when I inspected the trash earlier?  Nonsense.  I would have seen them.  There was no way anyone was in this room, so stop being so paranoid!  Convinced the monster must be waiting right outside the door, maybe I could hear him breathing.  I held my breath, put my ear to the door and listened.  All I could hear was the thump of my own heart beating furiously.  Finally I had to take a breath.  Now I tried listening again.  Holding my breath, still no sound.  The tension was more than I could bear so I slowly dropped to my knees to look under the crack at the bottom of the door.  Maybe I would detect the shadow of the monster's feet.  Nothing. 

I knew these were crazy irrational thoughts, but that is what blindness does.  It made me fearful and stupid!   Alone in the dark, my blindness made me afraid of everything I could not see.  The threat of attack made my brain predict every imaginable danger and think of ways to cope.  I felt unbelievably vulnerable.  If someone was standing outside the door, I would never know until it was too late.  Finally I decided this was ridiculous.  Why would an attacker be so passive?  Personally, if I were looking for someone, I would have come in this room long ago and turned on the light switch.  No one was inside the room and probably not outside the door either, so get a grip. 
 
I screwed up my courage and made a desperate lunge for the light switch.  In the dark, I bumped my head on a shelf, then fumbled around the wall till I found the switch and turned it on.  As the lights flickered on, I assumed a defensive posture and prepared to run like a bat out of hell if someone came crashing through that door.  When nothing happened, I felt sheepish.  I had just spent five minutes crossing the floor inch by inch for nothing.  All those ridiculous thoughts for nothing.  No knife slashes.  No goblin to steal my soul.  No vampire to bite my neck.  No weirdo hopped up on cocaine.  No street person looking for a bathroom.  No street thug looking to rob me.  No ridiculous prankster.  No lovers writhing on a nearby couch.  Thanks to blindness and vivid imagination, I had just put myself through a fifteen-minute ordeal in this darkened room that was totally unnecessary.  It was all in my head.  Of course I was being silly, but those concerns seemed real at the time.  Now with the lights on, I felt much relieved.  Just being able to see again made me feel a whole lot braver.  My excruciating trip to the light switch had been the right move.  Now it was time to solve the mystery.

I was thrilled to notice a short metal pipe lying on the floor by the trash cans stored under the light switch.  This pipe was a remnant from a metal ballet barre that Glen's jazz dangers used to stretch their legs.  The ugly metal barre had been recently taken down and replaced with a more attractive wooden barre.  I gladly picked up the pipe for security.  Now I waited for any kind of sound, but heard nothing.  The time had come to open the door and have a look down the Main Hallway.  However first I decided to turn the lights back off.  I didn't want anyone to see the lights on in Room One when I opened the door.  That would alert them them to my presence.  Now that I had this pipe, making Room One black again would render me invisible when I opened the door.

I flipped the switch back off.  With the darkened room behind me, I opened the door just a crack and peeked into the long, gloomy Hallway.  Nothing.  However, I could not see beyond the Coke machine.  There might be someone in the hall further away, so I stood there in the doorway and waited.   No sound, no movement.  I was relieved, but also mystified.  Now what do I do?

EXPLORING THE STUDIO
 

I estimated my ordeal had lasted 20 minutes.  Thanks to three moans, I had a pounding heart and countless catastrophic fantasies to show for my time.  I was still scared, but so far my comeback had paid off.  I was starting to feel a bit more confident.  Now that I dominated the Hallway, the obvious reticence of the intruder suggested he either did not know I was here or was just as afraid of me as I was of him.  The lead pipe was my new best friend.  Against a knife or a gun it wouldn't have been much use, but it was better than nothing.  Whatever was going on, the intruder in the building was behaving timidly.  If anyone was after me, they should have come for me by now.  I was still pretty scared, but my curiosity was starting to get the better of me.  It was time for action. 

I decided the darkness did not work in my favor, so I turned the lights in Room One back on again and left the door wide open.  That allowed me to see the entire Couch Hallway.  No one in sight.  Now it was time to turn the hallway lights back on. 

Moving 50 feet forward down the hallway, I flipped on the Hallway light switch and braced myself.  Whoever was in the building was certain to see the lights on.  I half-expected some crazy maniac would come charging from somewhere, but nothing happened.  Filled with relief, I was not disappointed at all.  I did not want to fight if I didn't have to. 

It was time to start checking each room one by one.  Before I could begin the clean up, I had to solve the Mystery.  I had a plan.  If I opened a door and someone lunged at me, I would bop them in the head with my lead pipe.  retreat swiftly to Room One, slam the door shut and flip the lights back off.  If they opened the door and I had a chance to evade them, I would retreat to the Big Room and make them come get me.  And if I had to fight, so be it.  Armed with the pipe and in possession of a place to retreat to, I got braver.

The Couch Hallway was a scary place because someone could jump out at me from eight blind spots.  From my vantage point in the middle of the Hallway, I counted six closed doors.  They could also jump me from Room Three or the Long Hallway.  I began to speculate that whoever was in the building was just as afraid of me as I was of them.  Or maybe they had already left the building through the Back Alley.  Or maybe they were hiding from me behind one of those closed doors.  I decided to start eliminating possibilities.  I would start with Room Two, Bob's Punch Room.  This was a real possibility.  Back when I was standing in the corner of Room One, the second moan felt like it had come from Bob's room on the other side of the wall.  This could be it. 

The Punch Room door was closed.  If someone was in there, was my attacker waiting for me in the darkness of that room?   Quite possibly. 

Like an Indian, I snuck up as quietly as I could to retain the element of surprise.  The light switch was just inside the doorway which made it easy to reach from the hall.  I gripped my pipe for all it was worth and held it raised ready to strike.  I opened the door rapidly with my free hand, then reached inside to flick on the switch.  Nothing. 

Other than dismay at yet another mountain of trash, I went limp with relief.  There was no one in here. 

Where was my nemesis?  Maybe there was a bogeyman, but if so, he was not aggressive.  That thought made me feel a lot more in control.  However, the mystery still needed to be solved.  Three moans meant someone was probably here in the building.  Now that I had announced my presence by turning on the lights, there should have been a reaction of some sort.  Therefore the continued silence added to the mystery.  If a person meant me harm, there should have been a confrontation by now.  Okay, but if the intruder meant me no harm, then why didn't they announce their presence when the lights came on?  But maybe they were behind a closed door and didn't see the lights go on. 

My eyes focused on the Hallway door to the air-conditioner Storage room.  We had a safety bolt on that door from the Hallway side.  If it was locked, someone in the AC room would need a sledgehammer to knock down that thick door.  But if it was unlocked...  Uh oh.  The bolt was not locked.  That meant someone could be in the storage room at this very moment.  However, the door was so thick, they would not have seen the hallway lights come on. 

The AC room  led to the back alley behind the strip center.  Whenever I emptied the trash, I would use this back alley to access the dumpsters.  Maybe my nemesis had left through the Emergency Exit.  In fact, maybe that's why the moans had stopped.  If the Intruder had no idea who I was, maybe they feared me as much as I feared them and decided to leave via the Emergency Exit.  That must be it! 

Did I really want to open the door and risk danger?  No.  I had a better idea.  Bolt the door.  That would eliminate any danger.  Was there anything of value in that storage area?  Not really.  After locking the Hallway door, the AC room was no longer a threat.

Room Three was nearby.  It did not have a door to the Hallway, but it did have a door to Glen's apparel store in the front of the building.  I had not thought of this door until now.  That was an excellent place to hide.  Should I open that door and check?  No.  I had a better idea.  Bolt this door too.

There was a small storage closet across from Room Three.  It had a locked combination padlock, so that closed was not a problem.  A quick peek in the men's room revealed nothing.  A quick glance down the Long Hallway to the front door revealed nothing either.  Whatever the explanation, I was getting a lot braver.  I decided whoever had been here had probably left through the emergency door to the back alley. 

This search had been nerve-wracking!  I admired any policeman who enters a building after a silent burglar alarm has been tripped.  Sure they have guns drawn, but a bad guy can shoot first from a hiding spot.  Tonight I had gained a real appreciation for the kind of guts it takes a cop to deliberately place himself into danger.  My nerves were completely shot.  Clearly I was not cut out for police work. 

However, I had begun to relax.  The crisis was over; time to begin cleaning up.  But then I stopped.  There still two doors left unchecked, one to Glen's office and one to the Ladies Restroom.  As I stood in the hallway, I stared at the two remaining closed doors.  Hmm.  Why hadn't I thought of Glen's office before?   That is when a new possibility occurred to me.  There was a couch in his office and I did not recall locking the door after the Jungle Fever performance.  Perhaps Glen's dancers had left that door unlocked after retrieving their clothes following the performance.  If so, one or two intoxicated party guests who wanted privacy may have found their way in there.  Maybe they fooled around for a while, then passed out just like me.  That made a lot of sense.  Why hadn't I thought of this before?

I checked the handle.  To my surprise, the door was locked.  Hmm.  But then I had a second thought.  If someone was in there, they could have locked the door from the inside.  I nodded.  That was the best explanation so far.  Impassioned lovers looking for privacy!  Of course.  They had sex, passed out, then woke up again, maybe someone moaned for whatever reason.  However, just when they were getting ready to leave, they realized someone was in the building.  Without a window, they probably did not know it was me.  Embarrassed at the thought of being caught, they were waiting for some sign the coast was clear to leave.  Maybe they had left when I was hiding in Room One.  After all, I had not heard a single sound since I left Room One.  Or maybe they were still in there.  Maybe they were hiding from me just like I had been hiding from them.  This had to be it!  I was certain someone was in Glen's office with the door locked from the inside.  This made more sense than anything I had come up with all night long. 

I was very pleased to finally have a non-lethal explanation.  However, as I pulled out my key to check, I hesitated.  There were negative consequences attached to investigating Glen's office further.  The thought of discovering two lovers on Glen's couch or even a solitary individual was not my idea of fun.  I stood there in the front of the door debating what to do.  How about knocking?  But what if a bad guy was hiding in there?  If so, I would prefer not to confront him.  If I knocked or said something like "Whoever is in there, come out!", that would indicate I had him trapped.  If so, a cornered animal is dangerous.  Why take a chance?   Maybe I should call the police.  The thought of having the police come over and finding nothing shut down that idea.   What would they say about the mountain of trash?  No, the police were probably not necessary.  I really didn't believe a burglar was in Glen's office.  Full of indecision, I just stood there staring at the office door wondering what to do.  At that point, I had a new idea.  Why not put my ear against the door and try to hear something?  

FRIGHTENED OUT OF MY WITS
 

At the exact moment I put my ear up against Glen's door, I heard a fourth moan.  This time it was loud.

"Wooooooh!!!"

Terrified, I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs!  Someone had just scared the bejeezus out of me!    

I was so frightened I jumped up on one of the nearby couches with my lead pipe raised high.  Someone was in Glen's office, I was certain of it.  As my wits returned, I could not take this mystery anymore.  I HAD TO KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON!  I went back to the door, knocked hard and yelled, "Whoever is in there, come out here!"

To my surprise the door did not open.  Okay, then I'm going in.  With my heart pounding, I raised my lead pipe, inserted the key in the door and ripped it open.  Nothing!!!!   The room was empty.

I was incredulous.  There was no one in here.  I looked under the desk.  No one.  That was the only hiding place, so that eliminated Glen's office.  I returned to the Hallway.  With my heart thumping wildly, I turned my gaze to the Ladies Restroom adjacent to Glen's office.  That was the only remaining possibility. 

Due to the proximity, it was conceivable the fourth moan had come from there and I mistook it for Glen's office.  The restroom door was five feet from where I was standing.  I walked around the Coke machine to stand in front of the door to the Ladies Room.  I was so scared I practiced swinging my metal pipe a couple times just to get the stroke down.  Keep in mind I still had no idea what was going on and there was no one to help me. 

Maybe it was all just a prank, but maybe it wasn't.  I could be in grave danger.  Should I go unlock the front door just in case I needed to run?  I frowned.  No.  I had lost all patience.  I wanted to get this over with, so on impulse I jerked the door open. 

I was stunned by what I saw. 

In the gloom, a woman was motionless on the floor.  It looked like she was dead!

Flipping on the lights, I stared at an unconscious woman sprawled face down on the restroom floor.  She was a black woman dressed in a red belly dance outfit.  Despite the lights and my presence, the woman did not move.  She was out cold.  I quickly pinched my nose at the incredible stench.  Her face, her veil, her costume plus the entire restroom was covered in vomit.

I stared in disbelief.  This was the most ghastly sight I had ever seen in my life!  

The woman did not move.  No, she couldn't be dead.  After all, she had just spent the past 30 minutes scaring me out of my wits with her weird moans.  It did not take long to figure it out.  This poor woman had suffered the same fate as me, only much worse.  She had probably been moaning all night long, but her sounds were disguised by the loud music from Room One. 

Oh my gosh, the stench was overpowering!  She had thrown up everywhere.  Her costume was covered in vomit.  She must have accidentally rolled in the damn stuff.  It wasn't just on her costume.  One of the toilets, the sink and much of the floor was covered with vomit.  Her face was covered with thick layers of dried vomit.   This woman's plight was so gruesome my own nausea came back.  I had never felt more miserable in all my life.  However this woman needed me so I got a grip.

Despite my horror, at least the mystery was solved.  A huge relief passed over me.  Everything made sense now.  This poor woman was a fellow victim of Bob's Wicked Wizard Punch.  The woman really did look dead.  I am not exaggerating.  I had never seen anything like it.  She was completely motionless and her ashen face was an indication of great suffering.  This lady was in big trouble!  Despite my extreme disgust, my heart went out to her. 

Good lord, there was vomit everywhere.  This woman had puked her guts out, then passed out and spent the night rolling around in it.  I could not imagine the pain she had been in.  The woman must have suffered gut-wrenching agony before she collapsed on the cold tile floor.  Her intermittent moans suggested she was still in misery even as she slept.  When I say 'passed out', she was completely and utterly unconscious.  Her legs and arms were twisted in weird directions.  As I gently moved her limbs around to make her more comfortable, the woman never reacted.  She was out cold.

This poor wretched woman!  I did not know who she was, but I did remember seeing her at the party earlier in the night.  The stench brought me out of my musings.  Phew!  I reflexively grabbed my nose again and stepped back into the hallway to catch my breath.  From the doorway I moved my eyes around the restroom.  What a horrible, revolting mess!  Obviously she had tried to make it to the toilet, but did not totally succeed.  Instead she had puked both in and around the toilet.  Then she had puked in the sink and the middle of the floor.  

After she collapsed, she got puke all over her belly dance outfit from head to toe.   Vomit was caked on her mouth and face too.  I shuddered at the thought of this woman soaked in her own vomit all night long.  It was horrible to see, much less smell.  How could she even breathe?  Can people suffocate from vomit? Of course they can.  She was lucky things weren't quite that bad.

And the smell!!  Oh my goodness, yes, the smell.  Who could forget that?  Nothing had ever reeked like this before or since. The stench was so overwhelming I had to use one hand to squeeze my nose just to remain in the restroom.

What exactly was I going to do?  Realizing how much this helpless woman needed me, I decided on a course of action.  My first thought was to wonder if the woman needed medical attention.  As I removed the vomit-soaked veils from her face, I assessed the damage.  She seemed to be alive, sort of.  At least she was breathing steadily.

I got some paper towels, wet them in the sink, and gently began to wipe her face clean.  As I ran the wet paper towel across her face, she began to moan.  I jumped to the ceiling yet again.  This woman was way too creepy!  Her pain reminded me of my own pain.  A single thought raced through my mind over and over... "I am way too sick to be doing this!  Someone needs to be helping me!"

I shook my head at the jam I was in.  No one was going to help me.  I was just going to have to suck it up and do this job all by myself.  What on earth was I going to do with this poor woman?   And where was I going to get the strength to do it?  But I had no choice.  I had to keep going.  It was almost 5 am and I was running out of time.  I steeled myself to the task and resumed cleaning her face.  The whole time I was disgusted beyond belief.  I wondered, "How do nurses stand doing stuff like this?"  This was horrible.  This task was so putrid I wanted to throw up myself.

Reluctantly I returned to the job of cleaning her face.  My fear of letting her suffocate kept me from quitting.  Accompanied by my new-found respect for nurses, I continued to clean the smelly vomit off her face.  Now came the moment I had been dreading.  I carefully examined her gaping mouth to make sure she was in no danger of suffocation.  Thankfully, her mouth seemed clear.  Either she had spit it up or swallowed the rest sometime in the night.  Lucky woman.  It probably saved her life.  However, her presence was ominous.  Glen was certain to fire me unless I got her out of here.  Forced to dedicate what little time I had left to this woman, there was no way I could ever get the studio clean.  And there was no guarantee this woman was going to wake up by then.  I could just see me trying to explain what had gone wrong last night as my fire-breathing boss stared at this near-corpse lying on the floor.  Besides, what difference did it make?  Even if I got her out of here, the stench would remain.  Time to think about my next career.  I decided if I ever survived the night, I wasn't going to become a nurse.  Not a policeman, not a nurse.  Two totally thankless jobs.  I cannot explain how miserable I felt. 

WHAT TO DO ABOUT HER CLOTHES?
 

Washing my hands for the fifth or sixth time, my nausea got too much for me to take.  I had to sit down for a moment.  I stuck something under the door to keep it open.  This allowed me to keep an eye on the woman while I sat on the nearby couch in the hallway.  Now that the mystery was solved, the adrenaline was gone and my overwhelming exhaustion kicked back in.  I doubted I had the strength to continue.  How does a sick person tend to a sick person?  I was just one notch better off than she was.  How was I ever going to take care of her and still clean the studio?  

Just then I heard the woman begin to moan again on the cold restroom floor.  She sounded awful.  I shook off my own misery and went back inside to help her.  I had never seen this woman before tonight.  Who was she?  Where did she come from?  I took another look at that belly dance outfit.  Her clothes reeked beyond belief.  They had to go.  I fervently wished there was another woman around to get her out of those horrible garments and put her in an oversized tee-shirt or something.  No such luck. 

I had a tough decision to make.  Do I remove her clothes or do I let her continue to suffer?

I thought of Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, a classic Robert Mitchum movie.  Mitchum played an American soldier hiding from Japanese occupiers on a small Pacific island during World World II.  By accident during a heavy rain storm, he came across an unconscious Nun lying in the mud.  She was from the convent located on the island.  Realizing she was in danger of drowning, the soldier dragged her into his cave.  He decided he had to get her out of her soaked garments for her own safety.  Only one problem... this woman would know what he had done.  Would she forgive him?  Mitchum decided her safety was more important, so he took the chance.

Undressing the victim might have been okay in the movie, but what would this woman think when she awoke?  I found some old clothes in the lost and found that would make this woman feel much more comfortable.  There were also costumes in the same closet from past performances.  I found a large tee-shirt and baggy Sinbad pants from an abandoned costume that would work.  However I had no business changing the clothes of a woman I did not know even for her own good.  Since this was not a life or death situation, I had no choice but let her remain in that horrible vomit-saturated belly dance costume.  Instead I placed the clean clothes nearby in case she woke up.

Then I went back to my couch to rest for a moment.  Barely able to breathe from the smell, sick from my abuse of Bob's punch, exhausted from the ordeal of gut-wrenching fear, I experienced a level of misery I had never felt before.  Disgusted beyond belief at my task, waves of nausea swept over me.  Several times I had to suppress my own puke reflex.  I felt so much revulsion, it was everything I could do not to throw up.  Puking on my own patient... gosh, now wouldn't that take the cake?  Then it occurred to me she wouldn't know the difference.  Oh, gee, aren't I funny?  I smiled grimly to myself.  Nothing like sick humor at 5 am in the morning.

Finally I got moving again.  I had to attend to her.  What other choice did I have?  I cleaned her face a second time as best I could.  I saw no reason to wipe the vomit off her clothes.  It had been on her so long that it had dried and caked.  Then I found I could just peel it off barehanded.  It wasn't like I had gloves.  Yuck!  I was gagging with nausea the whole time.  This was beyond awful!  The woman never moved the entire time I cleaned her.  Not once.  I rolled her from one side to the other a couple times without even a facial twitch.  She was dead to the world.  There was one good sign though.  The moaning stopped once her face was clean.  I guess at some level she knew someone was taking care of her.  After cleaning her up as best I could, I decided she was going to be okay.  The woman seemed more relaxed and she was breathing normally. 

Now I had to get her out of that stinking restroom.  I covered the nearby couch with an old blanket I found.  I tried to pick the woman up, but this was not going to happen.  She was a big woman plus she was completely limp.  I tried lifting again, but she was much too heavy.  Finally I gave up.  There was no way I was ever going to get her on that couch, so I did the next best thing.  I covered the hallway floor with the blanket.  Then I grabbed her under the armpits and dragged her onto the blanket.   Then I stuck a pillow under her head and let her lay there.  It wasn't dignified, but it was an improvement over the restroom floor. 

I had made the woman as comfortable as I could.  She never even stirred.  Leaving my patient sound asleep on the hallway floor, I got to work on cleaning the restroom.  I cleaned the toilet, cleaned the sink and mopped the floor.  While I worked, the irony of exchanging Liz the beautiful gypsy for a vomit-covered belly dancer was not lost on me.  The violent drop-off in my fortune did not escape me.  On the other hand, I shuddered to think what would have happened to the woman had I not been here to find her.  It took half an hour, but I finished with the restroom.  It was close to 6 am.  The area was clean enough, but it stunk horribly.  What could I do?  There was no freshener available.  I told myself I had done the best I could.  I wondered how badly I was going to get chewed out by Glen for the smell.  I also worried the smell had moved over into his office, but then I scoffed.  I had bigger things to worry about.  I had not begun to clean up the studio and time was running out.  When was this ordeal ever going to end?  More important, could I finish in time before the rehearsal?  I doubted it seriously.

THE CLEAN-UP BEGINS
 

I started in Room One.  For motivation, I turned the music back on.  I laughed when 'Love Her Madly' came on first.  Talk about 'Madness'!  This had been quite a night.  Oddly enough, I was so proud of myself for taking care of the woman, I found a second gear.  I picked up the trash.  I emptied the drinks.  I swept the floor.  I mopped up the sticky spots.  I carried twenty bags of trash by hand to the dumpster in the back alley.  Carrying two bags at a time, the ten trips nearly killed me.  During this time I used a lot of profanity.  Whistle while you work?  Forget that.  Not tonight.  I finished Room One at 7 am and I still had the Drink Room and the Hallway to do.  I would never make it. 

The woman slept the entire time.  There she was in the middle of the hallway floor.  With the nearby couch restricting the remaining space, I could not go around her.  Instead I had to carefully step over her body every time I took trash to the dumpster.  She had started to snore, so I hoped this was a good sign.  It seemed like she was sleeping soundly.  Every time I passed her, she became the symbol of my Halloween Party gone mad.  I promised myself I would never to pull a stunt like Wicked Wizard Punch again.  I also realized this woman had done me a rather odd favor.  By scaring the heebie jeebies out of me, her presence had shocked me out of my drunken stupor.  Without Julia's moans, I would have passed out again and never been able to clean the party up in time to avoid Glen's wrath.

As I worked, I often had to put my foot on either side of her face just to get past her.  I stepped her over her 20 times, 10 while carrying the giant trash bags out, 10 on the way back.  Not once did she move.  This was one very passed-out woman.  Every time I walked past her, I wondered why the possibility of another victim of Bob's killer punch had not occurred to me.  After all, a dozen other possibilities had crossed my mind.  Why not this one?  So what about you?  Did you think of this possibility?  If so, give yourself a pat on the back.  As for me, I drew a complete blank.  Oh well.  Considering the extent of my fear, I had paid a very heavy price for my ignorance.

As I returned from dragging the last of the Room One trash to the dumpster, I was surprised to discover the woman was finally stirring.  Thank goodness.  I was sure Glen would not be pleased to find an unconscious woman lying in the middle of his hallway.  Seeing her eyes flutter, I sat down on the nearest couch and rested for a minute.  Finally her eyes opened.  At first, she just stared up at the ceiling in wonderment.  Then she raised her head and looked around in bewilderment.  Finally she noticed me.  Frightened, she sat up quickly.  I'm sure she just loved being down on the floor with me staring at her.  The woman looked at me warily, but said nothing.  After a couple blinks, she recognized who I was in my blue and white sailor outfit.  I saw her relax noticeably.

I said, "Good morning.  You had a rough night.  How do you feel?"

She did not respond.  Instead she sat up and started looking around at all the trash in the hallway.  Then she shook her head, probably in disgust at her situation.   Hmm.  Join the club.  I recalled my own rude awakening.  Now her nose twitched.  Boy, did it ever!  Her nose twisted in knots when she smelled the stench.  Her eyes bulged as she inspected her clothes.  That was her wake-up call.  As she began to figure things out, she shook her head in dismay.  The woman had to be repulsed, but I did not know how to spare her this embarrassment.  Despite my own problems, I felt so sorry for her. 

"How do you feel?" I asked for the second time. 

This time she spoke.  "Like death warmed over," she replied.  No surprise there.  "Answer me a question.  What was in that punch?"

I suppressed a rueful smile and told her my theory of what had gone wrong.  She nodded in agreement.  After learning her name was Julia, I shared my own story.  "You might be surprised to know I passed out too.  I found you after I woke up myself.  I want you to know I did the best I could to clean you up.  I'm sorry I left you on the floor like this, but I was too woozy to lift you."

Julia said nothing.  Instead she just nodded.  Now she tried to get to her feet.  Anticipating her stumble, I rose just in time to steady her from falling back down.  She nodded her thanks.  After helping her onto the couch, I went into the restroom and returned with the clean clothes. 

Julia smiled appreciatively.  "Are those for me?"

"Yes, Julia.  They aren't what you would call designer clothes, but you will feel better.  I suggest you use the boy's room to change." 

Julia nodded and disappeared.  Five minutes later she returned wearing the baggy teeshirt and Sinbad pants.  "Thank you, Rick.  I feel much better already."  Then she looked up and down the Hallway.  "That's quite a mess you have here.  Would you like some help?"

I smiled for the first time all morning.  "Yes, ma'am, I would love some help!"

First we cleaned the Hallway, then moved onto the Drink Room.  Julia did not move swiftly, but she was a big help.  We talked as we worked.  Julia was a first-year graduate student at Texas Southern University.  She was taking East Coast Swing lessons here at the studio and had seen my Halloween Party promo poster on the wall.  This is how she learned about the party.  She added she had come to the party alone on a city bus.  I groaned.  A bus?  No car?  That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

There was no way I was going to let this woman take a bus ride home.  Not after what she had been through.  I needed to spare her the added humiliation.  Besides, thanks to Julia, we were done at 8:30.  I could not have finished on time without her, so that gave me a face-saving reason to offer Julia a ride.  She gratefully accepted.  What else could I do?  Leave her at the bus stop in that condition?  I don't think so.  When I explained I needed to load some of my audio equipment into the car before we left, Julia nodded and helped me carry stuff to the car.  With Julia sitting in the front, I took the smaller equipment with me, but left the heavy speakers at the studio.  I would come back for them later.  With that, we were done.  I locked the front door and off we went.  It was 8:45 am, a close call to be sure.  I was thrilled to make my getaway before Glen's arrival.

The smell in the car was pretty bad.  Her clothes were clean, but her hair was filthy and she needed a shower in the worst way.  Julia felt awkward, but hey, I was no better off than her.  I cringed at all the party guests who must have snickered as they walked past me snoring on the couch.  I wondered how much Julia trusted me.  I had used as much discretion as possible while cleaning her up, but she had no way to know that.  Did this woman have a clue that I had been down on the floor cleaning her face and peeling vomit off her costume?  How could she not guess?  Talk about an invasion of privacy!  To my relief, Julia did not ask.  She was grateful to be alive, so why sweat the small stuff?  However, she was probably embarrassed by the smell, so I decided to say something.

"Look, Julia, don't worry about it, just roll down the window.  You and me are in the same boat.  You passed out and so did I.  I crave a bath, so do you.  I crave a bed, so do you.  The important thing is we made it through the night together.  I want to thank you.  I would not have finished on time without your help."

Julia said nothing, but she nodded.  Her wan smile hinted that she felt better.  Her apartment was near the TSU campus.  We rode in complete silence since we were both too exhausted for small talk.  It was a long 30-minute trip because I was too tired to push the accelerator.  The trip seemed even longer because the smell was horrible even with the windows down.  Due to an early cold spell, we both shivered in misery.  Two complete strangers trying to make the best of an incredibly awkward situation.  Julia had done a lot of drinking, probably even more than me.  During the trip, I tried to imagine the depths of loneliness that had contributed to this woman's unfortunate incident.  I decided it was none of my business.  For one thing, I was barely in better shape than she was, so who was I to judge?  We were both victims of a dangerous punch far stronger than either of us ever imagined.

When we reached the TSU campus, Julia could not find her apartment.  I could see the problem.  All the apartments in this neighborhood looked the same.  Embarrassed, Julia said, "I've only been in Houston for two months.  The only way I know to get home is from riding the bus."

I groaned to myself at the delay.  I was too tired to have any patience left, but managed to summon a final ounce of civility.  I am glad I did.  I am sure if I barked at her, Julia would have begun to cry.  She was right on the edge of tears as it was.  I asked if she knew what street her bus stop was on.  Julia said 'Wheeler Street'.  I knew where Wheeler Street was, so I drove through her neighborhood to find Wheeler Street.  Once we found her bus stop, that did the trick.  From there Julia guided me to her apartment.  I offered to help her walk in, but Julia said she could make it by herself.  Realizing her pride was involved, I did not argue.  I was worried about her.  The woman was on her last legs.  It took every last bit of strength, but Julia slowly made it up the sidewalk.  Reeking from head to toe, woozy, wobbly, sick and dazed, Julia staggered to the door.  That poor woman.  Once Julia got her door open, she turned around and waved goodbye.  I waved back and departed.  Hopefully with a shower and rest Julia would recover from this ordeal sometime before the next century.  I assumed I would never see her again.  I was correct.

As for me, I was beyond beat.  I drove home way below the speed limit even though the roads were deserted on Sunday morning.  I was too tired to trust myself to drive fast.  If I fell asleep while driving, I wanted to survive the crash.  It was 9:45 am when I got home.  Considering it had been 9:45 am yesterday when I left home to finish the party decorations, this had been the longest 24 hours of my life.  Fearful of falling if I took a shower, I took a bath instead.  The warm water was delicious and I promptly fell asleep right there in the tub.  I had survived the Halloween Party from Hell, but just barely.  What a night.