The journey had in fact been a blur, as had first entering the hotel, a bit of an odd place, not many people around, and a receptionist that clearly thought she had better things to do. It was grand, she supposed, in an old-fashioned way, different to the hotels she was used to. She was sure he muttered something to the receptionist about his usual room, and anger had flared within her. She’d talked herself down though. So what if he’d done this countless times before, if she was one of many women? She wasn’t looking for a significant other, as much as she liked him, she just wanted to have a little fun, to live a little, and that was the thing with him, he made her feel alive.
They didn’t have his usual room though, someone else had intervened, had said no. She couldn’t remember who, but it was an old person’s voice, authoritative. There was a mention of renovation, she was sure of it. 1104 was the room they were given, a big room, with a separate living room, but the bed, oh the bed, that was all she was interested in, and Carl in it.
Hours passed; a day or two, perhaps more? His stamina amazed her for an older guy. He was a stallion, a stud, his appetite voracious, making her scream with delight, beg for mercy on occasions, when she was tired, sore, when she needed to sleep, and he’d let her, for a short while, before starting all over again. She must have eaten, but she couldn’t remember what. She’d definitely smoked. Carl had a never ending supply of weed – ‘colitas’ he called it, blowing smoke rings into her face, causing her to giggle again.
“You’re a devil,” she’d say, “a little devil.”
“Not so much of the little,” he’d reply, grabbing her again and making her squeal.
Incredible times, amazing, the time of her life. And then one morning she’d woken, her mind no longer hazy, but much clearer, to find she was alone. Immediately, she was bereft. Where was he? Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she’d grimaced. She felt bruised everywhere. It was rough sex they’d had, that’s the way he liked it, and she’d gotten used to it, but that rough? She looked down and saw great big splotches of colour on her skin, purple, red, and black, as though some mad artist had painted her.
“What the fuck?”
Looking around her, she was struck by how silent it was. Without her giggling to fill the air, her cries, her screams, it was nothing less than eerie. Screams? Helen swallowed. Yes, she’d screamed, but they’d been screams of delight, hadn’t they?
Quickly, she padded over to the window. The storm was long over, but the sky was still grey, the horizon too, barely defined. In what part of Williamsfield was The Egress? She tried to remember the journey again, but she couldn’t, not one single thing.
She needed her cell. Where was it? Spying her clothes on the floor, no doubt lying where they’d been ripped off, she knelt and started rifling through her jacket. Panic started to get a stronghold. She wanted to call her parents, let them know where she was, let someone know. That longing to hear their voices as desperate as the longing she’d had for Carl when she’d first met him. Outstripping it even. There was something wrong here, something very wrong. She shouldn’t be as bruised as she was, she shouldn’t ache as much, and her head, it was as if it was going to explode.
There it was! Her cell, she’d found it.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she prayed it still had some battery left, if not, she’d have to find her charger. Where would that be? Had she even brought her backpack up to the room with her? Again, she looked around. It didn’t look like it.
Please, please, have some battery left.
Miracles of miracles, it did – twenty per cent, but that was enough. She’d try calling first, if they weren’t in, she’d send a text. Perhaps she’d even head home. She was tired of travelling suddenly. She could leave her car at the airport and fly, sort out retrieving it later. It would save so much time. California – where the sun always shone, where the people were her people. She might find Carl exciting, but she wasn’t into sado-masochism, not in the bright light of day, not when she’d sobered up. The things he’d done to her, it was only now becoming clear. Shame began to flood her.
Her hands were shaking as she punched in numbers, almost completing the dialling when she heard movement in the bathroom – a kind of shuffling. She wasn’t alone after all. Carl was still with her and about to come back into the bedroom at any minute.
Still clutching her cell, she jumped into bed, unable to face him. She’d pretend to be asleep still, give herself a few minutes to think what she was going to say to him, an excuse as to why she needed to leave – soon, today, in the next hour, as soon as it were possible. But she needed to think first; her mind had gone blank, fear clouding it.
The sheet over her, she screwed her eyes shut. He’d left the bathroom and was in the room now, still shuffling, grunting too; strange noises for someone as agile as Carl, but she daren’t look, she daren’t let him know that she was awake; that the spell he’d cast over her was broken. She didn’t want any fuss, no goodbyes, she just wanted out. Maybe he did too, he was gathering his clothes and he was leaving. Her heart leaped at the prospect.
Just a sneak peek, she thought. I’ll open one eyelid. If he catches me, so what? I’ll tell him straight, I’m leaving, thank him for his time… for the bruises…
An eyelid opened, scanned the room, coming to rest on the man in front of her.
How she stopped from gasping, from screaming out loud, she’d never know. It wasn’t Carl; it was someone old, someone hideous, his back stooped as he zipped his pants, his hair: white hair, mere strands plastered across his head. Perhaps she had gasped, because the man turned and stared at her.
“Helen!” he said, as if thrilled to see her. “How are you, darling? Oh, what is it? Whatever’s the matter? Don’t you like what you see? I admit I’m not looking my best, but that’s your fault; you’ve worn me out. I feel as though I’ve aged a thousand years.”
Instead of answering, she backed up against the headboard, still clutching the sheet, trying to cover herself. She didn’t know this man, she didn’t! He wasn’t Carl!
The old man chuckled. “I can see you need time to yourself. I’ll leave you now, but I’ll see you downstairs, there’s a ballroom, breakfast is served there. Don’t be late will you? I hate to be kept waiting.”
Turning from her, the man left, leaving her quivering with terror. She remembered the cell. It was beside her on the mattress. Grabbing it she redialled her parent’s number, surprised she was able to as she was shaking so much, desperation driving her on.
The line connected.
“Hello, hello, Mom, Daddy, can you hear me? It’s me… Helen.”
“Hello, who’s this? Is someone there?”
It was her father’s voice, her dear father, but what was wrong? Couldn’t he hear her? “Daddy, it’s me. I’m… I’m at this hotel, The Egress, near Williamsfield, in Pennsylvania. Something strange is happening. I think I need help. Oh, Daddy, I do, I need help.”
“Hello, hello. I’m sorry I can’t hear you, there’s too much interference on the line.”
“DADDY!” Helen screamed, just as the line went dead. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
The battery was draining fast but there was still a few percent left. She’d text where she was instead; ask them to send help. Her mind on the old man again, she shook her head in denial. There was no way that was Carl, no way.
Daddy, this is Helen, I need help. I’m at…
The cell died.
For a second she could only stare at it and then, fury overcoming her, she threw it against the wall; shut her eyes as the screen shattered.
Once again, time passed in a daze.
She didn’t know when she finally summoned up the courage to leave her room. It could have been hours later; it could have been the next day. It was dark though, both outside and inside the hotel, only a row of red lights in the corridor leading all the way to the elevator, which was waiting for her, its doors open; a light in there at least.
After pressing the button f
or the lobby she stood still, the elevator creaking and spluttering before finally starting to move. He’d said not to keep him waiting, that he hated to be kept waiting. Would he hurt her some more because she’d done exactly that?
Finally she reached the lobby. It was dark too, with no one at reception.
Leaving the elevator, she seized her chance and made her way over to the entrance instead of the ballroom, only skidding to a halt when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye: a shape, a shadow.
“Carl?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
“SURPRISE!”
It wasn’t him; it was a woman who’d shouted, tall, beautiful, and pencil-thin. It might be dark, but she could see her perfectly, her close-cropped blonde hair, ice-white in colour, a smile on her face, but a glacial smile, nothing warm about it at all. There were other figures too, but none that she recognised, not even the tall blond man that stood beside the woman, although certainly there was something familiar about him. It was that smile of his, a wolfish smile, the same smile that Carl had. That the old man in her bedroom had. That same horrific smile…
“Where d’ya think you’re going?” It was the woman, her Southern-tinged voice cruelly taunting. “You can’t leave, none of us can. Are you stupid or something? Surely you realise that by now?”
No, no, no.
The woman took a step forward and gestured towards the entrance.
“There’s nothing out there for you, not anymore. Perhaps the basement is safest. He won’t go down to the basement, will you, Edward? You don’t like it down there, it reminds you too much of where you came from, doesn’t it? The depths, the pits, the slurry, the shit at the bottom of the sewer. Funny you don’t like it, that you shun it, it’s so fucking funny. Go there, Helen, you’ll be safe there. He won’t claw at you there.”
The man she’d called Edward stepped forward too, his eyes not on Helen, but on the woman beside him. Raising his fist, he smashed it into her face, no doubt bruising her too.
No longer rooted to the spot, Helen turned and ran in the direction she’d come from, trying to get as far away as she could from these people. The basement… Could she trust what that woman said? Was it true she’d be safe there? What choice did she have? Finding the stairwell, she smashed open the door, almost tripped as she flew down the stairs. The darkness welcomed her, seemed to stretch out its arms to hug her close. There were arms, so many of them, hands that were eager, that were grabby. So many people, some on beds, others were standing, greeting the new resident.
What is this place? Who are you?
It was a morgue, she realised. And these people, like her, were dead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Caroline almost doubled over as Helen’s hand fell away. At the same time the lights came on, throwing everything into sharp relief. Helen was gone but the gurneys were still there. A morgue? This was once a morgue? And what had happened to Helen? Had Carl or Edward, or whoever he was, the old man even, killed her? Beaten her to death? And if so, was it before she reached The Egress, or after, in her room on the eleventh floor? There were still so many questions crowding her head, so many answers that she needed before she could draw any conclusions about what was happening.
Something on one of the gurneys moved, something covered by one of the sheets. There was more movement from a bed further back and then another to the left of her.
My God, the room’s alive!
Or if she were to believe Helen, it was very much dead.
“David! David!”
The lights were on, he’d got what he wanted, and now they had to get out of here.
But it’s safe in here, remember? Edward won’t follow; he doesn’t like it in the pits.
He could still reach her though; he’d already proven that by invading her mind. No, she wouldn’t hide, not like Helen. She’d go mad if she stayed in the basement a minute longer than she had to, especially with those… those things writhing in front of her.
“David!” she screamed again, turning and running to where she’d left him. She half expected him to have been spirited away or an old, old man to be in his place, stooped and naked, with white hair plastered in strands across his head, but thankfully it was just him, looking from side to side, blinking, as if he couldn’t quite believe that there was light again. Reaching him, she said, “You did it, you fixed the electrics!”
“I… I didn’t,” he replied, still bewildered. “They just came on.”
“Okay, but it’s a good thing, isn’t it? You wanted there to be light. But now we have to leave, we have to go back upstairs and walk out of that door. I don’t care what the weather’s doing, about our coats, about anything. We’ve just got to get out of here.”
He didn’t argue this time. “We do.” Looking beyond her, he said, “What’s that noise?”
Noise? Could those creatures be making their way towards her? As quick as she could, she tried to explain. “This was once a morgue, and in that room over there are still the gurneys they used back then.”
“Yes, that’s right, it was a morgue.”
For a moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. “You knew?” she finally managed.
“This was where the city morgue used to be, on the outskirts of town. You were the one who prompted me to find out, when we were looking at the photos in reception. You pointed to the construction shot, and you said you wondered what had been here before. This was going to be the new centre of the city, this hotel, so they moved the morgue into what was going to become the old town area. They were going to switch it all around. As we now know, the death of the architect’s daughter and all the shit that went down afterwards meant none of that ever happened. The new downtown idea was abandoned.”
Still she was incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but… I thought it would freak you out.”
“Freak me out?” she yelled. “More than I am already, you mean? You know what, it might have helped me piece together more quickly what’s happening here.”
“I was trying to protect you,” he explained.
Remorse flooded through her. “I know, I know you were but, Christ, no wonder people thought the place was cursed.”
“Caroline, what is happening?”
“I… I…” Should she tell him about Helen, about what had happened to her? She would, but not now, not with those things behind her. When they were out of here, when they were long gone, she’d tell him then. She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go, quick.”
She started to pull him, fearing resistance again, but she needn’t have worried. He soon took the lead, pulling her instead, up the stairs, through the doors and back into the lobby, both of them coming to a standstill, breathless from the exertion, but also because of something else.
The lobby, the entire length of it, was busier than she’d ever seen it. So many people were milling about, and in the floor space just in front of the lobby desk – no longer carpeted but covered in the fancy tiles she’d seen in the black and white photos – couples were dancing to music played on the piano, elegantly gliding along the floor, others more lively, their heads thrown back in laughter. Only a very few were in modern dress. Instead, the women wore tea dresses and the men suit trousers and jackets. Above them the chandeliers blazed more fiercely than ever, and on tables dotted around, in dramatic Grecian-style urns, there were plants that were more dramatic still. She glanced over at the lobby desk – still in situ – and sure enough the clock with its oak surround was on the wall above, ticking away. Grand. It was all very grand; as grand as originally intended. Dragging her eyes to the left, the doors to the ballroom were wide open – people were dancing in there too, whirling around and around, including two figures she no longer had to struggle to recognise: her mother and father, the newlyweds.
She started pointing frantically. “Look, David. That’s my mum and dad!”
He looked to where she was pointing but instead of answering, he frowned.
“David, look, it’s them. Oh my God, it’s them! Let’s go to them, they might be able to help us. You can see them, can’t you? You can see everyone that’s here?”
Still he didn’t reply.
“David!” she said, her elation dwindling. “Tell me what you can see.”
“Shadows, shapes. But they’re fading.”
“No, they’re not shadows, they’re not shapes, they’re people, as real as you and I.” She swallowed before continuing. “Can you… can you hear the music?”
“There’s no music,” he replied.
She turned her head from side to side, her eyes frantically searching. “There they are! There’s Edward and Tallula. Surely you can see them.”
The pair were leaning casually against a far wall, each with a glass in their hands, a cocktail of some sort, glancing their way every now and again, their heads, as usual, close together and whispering conspiratorially in between bursts of laughter. She had to look away, not wanting to witness further how their confusion, terror, and upset delighted them. “There’s Althea too, and Marilyn’s dancing with John. They’re so sweet, aren’t they? I know they’re troubled, but I don’t think they’re bad people, not at heart. I’m so glad they’ve found each other, that they can comfort each other. Don’t tell me you can’t see them either.”
David squinted, as though he were trying to see something, as if he wanted to please her with the correct answer. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Elspeth! There’s Elspeth!” Caroline’s voice had risen. “You have to remember Elspeth!”
“Caroline, I think I was imagining things when I mentioned shadows. I don’t know where everyone is, but the way ahead is clear so we need to take advantage of that.”
The Eleventh Floor Page 24