The Siren's Code

Gabby

Gabby was already having a bad day and she hadn't seen this time in the morning for a while, well not strictly true, she had just not after going to bed, which couldn't be a good thing. She had been partying too hard for too long and she felt wrecked. Yesterday was Christmas, or was it the day before? Last night, she had slept with that DJ from Roatán, who happened to be DJing here on a party boat on Lago Cocibolca – in his bunk bed in the hostel of all things, she sighed. She had assumed DJ's had a bit more class than that. She couldn't remember much about the deed, but she did know she needed to get to a pharmacy and get a pregnancy test just to be safe... and a bunk bed, how low could she stoop. Yes she wanted to prove to Papa she was not his 'Mexican Princess' just a normal backpacker like the rest of them – she had spent more life at school in England, than she ever had with him, but Mon Dieus. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her eye sockets with the heel of her palm. A bunk bed... suddenly her silk sheets and mahogany four poster were not feeling so bad, as she surveyed her possessions rammed into one dirty rucksack.

Gabriela Martinez was the only daughter of Carlos Martinez, hot shot lawyer in Mexico City and her mum Adela, who had recently moved out and over to London, she felt her family was a prime example of why money doesn't buy you happiness. Her relationship with her father had deteriorated long ago, he was always at work, or stressed, or both, she couldn't wait to get away and 'be normal'. Couple that with a stash of cash she found at their home in Mexico City, which worried her intensely but gave her the exit she needed – the freedom to roam without her actions being tracked by her credit wallet. She put a new sim in her phad, and for the first time in her life he and his security braun could not keep an 'eye' on her. Gabriela had set off south to find the backpacker trail, and as a fun loving anglo-latino girl with clipped English she had fitted right in, recently hooking up with a couple of school friends but as they had peeled off to help turtles hatch their eggs she carried on partying where, it now seemed, she may be hatching her own egg. She groaned again.

This hungover soul searching did reveal that perhaps she had a few problems she was running away from, and that she needed to calm down, get her head straight and work things out.

Sitting with a latte at Coffee Day, she watched the morning unfold from her bar stool. It rained last night, the pot holes in the red earth were full of muddy water sloshing up the white 4x4's as they passed, it was busy and noisy and getting hot.

Gabby got out her phad and searched for five star, no scrap that, boutique eco hotels near me. If she was going to spend money she may as well spend it in an ecological way. Flicking through a few ads that were definitely not boutique or eco, 'Google you really should police your ads more, it's one thing giving me some crap soulless chain when I'm looking for eco boutique, it's another thing offering me RecS in Mexico, money scams in the UK, what do you take me for, these things should not be on a search engine that gets paid billions.

She knew she should use a different search, maybe Ecosia that plants trees or DuckDuckGo, maybe even the Dark Web, if Google shows her all the illegal stuff anyway why not go incognito.

At the bottom of the page an image grabbed her attention, Eco Island Stays, looking good, she clicked through and flicked up and down before selecting reservations and checking out the rooms, stifling a cough as she saw the price, about twenty times her usual nightly rate. Time for Dad's Gold Amex, knowing damn well that the moment she used it he would be on to her. But to be honest she was tired and maybe they did need to talk. What better place than a beautiful eco island with natural aircon, plunge pools, silk sheets and hopefully a fully stocked pharmacy.

Clicking through the booking process, final question, water taxi or air transport, wavering her thumb for a split second, what the hell, she clicked on the helicopter option which looked more like a passenger drone. 'In for a penny...' as they say in England. She laughed at some of the ridiculous English sayings her and her friends would dig out and use to annoy the nuns at her convent. Eager beaver being one of her favourites, the reference to beaver a little too much for the nuns coupling that with eager, sent them into quivering messes, and a class erupting in giggles.

Pulling the wool over my eyes, another one that intently annoyed as they all sat there with their jumpers pulled up over their faces, juvenile us?? Noooo

Ok, some luxury booked she flopped her head onto the coffee bar she was sitting at, her hangover reengaging after the ten minutes of concentration. Trying to occupy herself she idly looked up the Tor browser, 'protect yourself against tracking, surveillance, and censorship' it said, does that mean that other search engines allow these things? She flipped to her Uber app and ordered a cab from Coffee Day Puerto Morrito to the heli-port. Ordered another coffee for the road and waited for the driver to come, drenching her in red muddy water as he pulled up. Uber drivers certainly don't have the training or fineness of a good old black cabbie, she smiled all the same not wanting a bad review.

***

The journey was like a dream from the moment her underage uber guy managed to get her there – she couldn't call him a driver as she didn't think he had ever learned how to actually drive but probably just nicked his Dad's car for the day to make some money. Once out of the car and into the small airport's VIP lounge, it was, well, cold. She certainly hadn't been used to aircon for a while, but if you're gonna wear a suit the whole time you can't hang out in thirty-five degree heat.

Her bag was taken, paperwork done, a fragrant hand towel offered and then breakfast beautifully served in palm leaves, clay pots and ice cold water all by polite uniformed staff.

She thanked everyone, took a fruit salad and sat in the corner to survey the room, two other people getting the heli-transport, a couple she assumes straight from the international airport still in their long-haul clothes, casual, yet expensive.

On arrival they were whisked by electric rickshaws through paths of tranquillity, the layers of stress noticeably receding as the air gently rushed past them. Met by the patron – Señor Serenetti, a wise looking man with the lines of a past – for a guided tour winding up carved stone steps through exquisite surroundings to welcome drinks on the main terrace and a short introduction to their recuperating stay. The panoramic views already worth the dosh. Shown to her Villa past statues, structures and succulents, creating a cooling canopy as she walked through her large mahogany entrance the sound of a bubbling brook further releasing tension she had not realised was there.

When finally alone Gabby threw herself back onto the bed bouncing softly, sighing loudly, perhaps money can buy you happiness – but maybe only momentarily as she remembered what had bought her here in the first place. She rolled over and picked up the phone calling to reception asking if they had a pregnancy test, yes Señorita like it was the most normal request to make, so she ordered a mango smoothie chaser.

Dragging herself off the large comfortable bed Gabby threw off her dress and slipped into the infinity pool, the view of the jungle below a tapestry of vitality, and while she dozed on the lounger there was a knock at the door, pulling herself up wrapping a thick soft towelling gown around her tired body... a pregnancy test, how glamorous, is this what high flyers do, have they ever had to source one before she wondered as she took a sip of the fresh mango mocktail.

Thankfully it was negative, well that is one stress off her long list, now she just needed to wait for dear old Papa's security to turn up and take her home. She decided tomorrow she would go out for the day at least then she could delay the inevitable.