by Drew Brown
“Goodnight then, sir, ma’am,” the barman replied, tucking his tip into the breast pocket of his jacket and smiling his thanks. Juliette took a moment to prepare herself and then rose from the bar stool, slowly taking her weight back onto her high-heeled feet. Budd reached out to steady her.
“Thank you, Monsieur Ashby. I feel quite drunk.”
“You look quite drunk, peaches,” Budd said. He scooped down to pick up his rucksack and then he placed his other arm around Juliette’s shoulders, holding her body tight to the side of his.
Together, they set off towards the bar’s exit.
Out in the corridor, they were immediately faced with the bank of elevators. To the right were rows of expensive souvenir shops, although each one had long since closed for the night. A mauve-suited attendant asked which floor they required and, after Juliette answered, he pressed the upward button. Moments later, a bell chimed and one set of the elevator doors opened.
Before Budd realized it, they had climbed the intervening floors and were stumbling out onto the level of Juliette’s suite. They proceeded around to the left and Budd marveled at how thick the blue carpet felt beneath his feet. The cream walls were liberally decorated with paintings and artwork, which were each illuminated by spotlights that shone down from the ten-foot high ceiling of ornate plaster. There were twelve-inch deep covings, carved with images of animals and birds, running along the entire length of the passageway.
No natural light entered the corridor, as the guest suites were located around its outside, but shimmering chandeliers hung at regular intervals. Following the shape of the building, the corridor ran in a square around the central core of the hotel. It was in this central section that all of the hotel’s amenities were situated, different ones on each level.
Budd did not know what facility occupied Juliette’s floor, and nor did he care. His attention was not on the obvious splendor of the hotel, but instead captivated entirely by her. He watched as she slid her hand into a tiny pocket that was sewn into the seam of her dress. She pulled out a keycard and guided him towards one of the doors.
“I guess this is where we say goodnight, sweetheart.”
Juliette put the keycard into the swipe-machine and then pushed open her door. She looked from side to side down the corridor.
Nobody else was nearby.
Carefully, she extricated herself from Budd’s arm and stepped through her doorway before turning back to face him.
She looked him in the eye.
Budd smiled at her and removed his Stetson. “Goodnight, missy,” he said.
Inside the doorway, Juliette’s hands had disappeared behind her back. They started at the top and gradually got lower. In the quiet of the corridor, the sound of the zipper being operated was strangely loud. Budd kept his eyes locked on hers, not daring to look away, almost hypnotized by the large, brown, reflective pools of her irises. The red dress started to slip, falling from her body; before her chest was revealed, Juliette turned and walked further into her suite, her tanned skin almost luminescent in the unlit room.
Budd watched her move away, observing her young, taut body, naked but for her black high-heeled shoes and a pair of delicate red panties. She rounded the corner of her suite’s entrance hall, disappearing from sight. Budd remained still for a moment, his Stetson grasped in his hands, a large, unabashed smile on his face.
From inside the suite, Juliette called softly, “Please come in, Monsieur Ashby.”
Budd stepped inside and closed the door.
You don’t need me to say what happened next, do you?
You do?
Well, all right, but only because it’s important to the story, no other reason. Hell, I’ll even edit it for T.V., too. I wouldn’t want you to think I was boasting…
10
Budd let his hands explore Juliette’s body, feeling the fine film of sweat that covered her skin. She was on top of him, her back arched so that her face was tilted towards the ceiling, her small, pert breasts pushed forward. He clasped her around her waist and guided her down onto her back, gently kissing her neck as he positioned himself between her legs, running his fingers up her well-toned thighs.
Inside the bedroom all of the lights were switched off, but the moon’s pale radiance and the electric glow of the skyline flooded in through the windows and a pair of glass balcony doors to light up their bodies. In the blink of an eye, the glow of the built-up horizon turned to darkness.
London was blacked out.
The two lovers didn’t notice.
THE FIRST DAY
11
Juliette sat up and swung her legs off the bed so that her feet rested on the carpet. She turned her head to smile over her slender shoulder at Budd, and then got up and walked to the passageway that led to the bathroom.
Having watched her leave, Budd settled back on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling, enjoying the blissful moment for as long as he could. What had taken place was impossible; he had friends whose children were older than Juliette was.
I knew there could be no future in it. Still, I was having a great time and was happy to go with the flow.
Told you I wouldn’t brag…
After a few seconds, Juliette reappeared from around the corner, her silhouette much brighter than before because she had wrapped herself inside a white dressing gown. Budd propped himself on his side to look at her, his lower half concealed within the bed sheets.
“The lights do not work, Monsieur Ashby,” Juliette said. To reinforce her words she repeatedly flicked the switch for the bedroom light. Nothing happened.
“Must be a brownout. You know, a power cut. Nothing to worry ’bout.”
Juliette returned to the bed. Budd rolled onto his back and she rested her head on his chest. Her fingers explored his abdomen until they found a three-inch scar on his left-hand side. “How did this happen?”
“Shrapnel, sweetie, back when I was a chopper pilot in the Marines.”
“You were in the army?”
“The United States Marine Corps, to be exact.”
“When?”
“Came out shortly after the Gulf War. The first one. When the Raggies still had a few tanks.”
“How old are you, Monsieur Ashby?”
I knew it’d only be a matter of time before she asked that little question…
“Forty-nine. What ’bout you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Wow,” Budd said, stroking her hair. “I’ve just made love to a beautiful woman who’s less than half my age. Trust me, at twenty-four, that sounds creepy, but once you’re in your forties, you’ll look at twenty-year-old studs in a totally different light.”
“Do you really think that I am beautiful?” Juliette asked, stirring from her position to kneel up, placing one leg on either side of Budd’s chest. Her hair was loose and full flowing, dropping forwards to touch the edges of her mouth.
Budd untied the knot of her dressing gown belt. He slid his hands inside and delicately gripped her waist. “You have no idea,” he whispered.
12
Budd was woken by faint light coming in through the windows. The sun had risen a little over the horizon, although the dark clouds that filled the sky obscured the majority of its efforts. He reached over to the bedside cabinet for his wristwatch. The time read one o’clock, but he quickly noticed that the second hand was not moving.
The watch had stopped.
“Piece of crap,” he said quietly, and discarded it back to the bedside table.
Being careful not to disturb Juliette, he climbed out of bed and then readjusted the sheets so that they covered her up to her shoulders. He retrieved his black boxer shorts from the carpet and pulled them on, conscious of a chill in the air.
For the first time, he looked around the large hotel suite.
The centerpiece of the room was the set of double doors that opened out onto a balcony. The thick glass panes were rimmed with metal and it was
from here that much of the dawn light entered. There were also two other rectangular windows, one at either end of the same wall. To the left of the balcony was the king-sized double bed, two chests of drawers, two wardrobes and two bedside cabinets, while on the right was a marble-topped coffee table, a glass-fronted drink cabinet and three two-seater leather sofas arranged around a gargantuan flat-screen television.
I wasn’t born rich, but I’m pretty sure that, given the chance, I could’ve coped with the lifestyle…
Budd walked around the bed to the passageway that led to the bathroom and the suite’s entrance, where Juliette’s red dress remained crumpled in a small heap. The section was sheltered from natural light and he paused to hit the light switch.
Nothing happened.
He went back to the bedside cabinet and picked up the telephone receiver, intent on calling down to the hotel’s reception.
There was no dial tone. The line was dead.
As he stood there, contemplating what to do next, his eyes wandered to the balcony doors. What he saw captured his attention and he replaced the receiver. He crossed the suite and undid the lock, then opened the doors and stepped onto the balcony. The air was cold, but he did not notice. He looked around, unsure of what to make of the scene sprawled beneath his feet.
For as far as he could see, which was a considerable distance as Juliette’s suite was on the twenty-second floor of the hotel, there was not a single electric light visible. The buildings were black and the streets between them were in near darkness, barely lit by the faint light of the cloud-covered early-morning sky. There was no activity.
Nothing moved.
All was still.
Cars stood idle, many of them straddled on sidewalks or crashed against buildings. Others waited at intersections, waited and waited, never moving on.
Even from such a height, Budd was sure that there were no pedestrians on the sidewalks. The streets were empty. Nor was there any activity on the Thames; the wide stretches of the river were empty of all moving boat traffic on the long loop of running water that past the New Millennium Hotel. A rolling bank of mist and fog moved along the watery surface, creeping onto the land.
Looking back up at the skyline, Budd saw columns of smoke from several places as unseen fires burned. Other than the noise of the wind, the balcony was silent. No sound drifted up from the streets below.
The cityscape was dead.
Budd left the balcony, instinctively locking the French doors as soon as he was inside. The moment he did, a series of small, green-colored lights lit up on the floor, shining through the carpet and guiding the way to the suite’s entrance.
Juliette roused on the bed. She sat up and yawned happily, stretching her arms. “Were you getting some fresh air, Monsieur Ashby?”
“Not exactly,” Budd answered. He sat on the foot of the bed and looked at Juliette. “I’m having a nightmare.”
“A nightmare? About what?”
“The end of the world,” he said with a chuckle. He pinched the skin on his forearm.
Juliette watched the action and a puzzled expression formed on her face. “You are awake now, Monsieur Ashby.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I am awake, too.”
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you go out on the balcony and tell me you’re not part of my nightmare.” Budd leant over and turned on the bedside cabinet’s lamp. The bulb did not light. “There’s only emergency power.”
“That does not make this a nightmare, Monsieur Ashby. There is just a problem with the electricity.”
“When I was a kid, my folks used to drag me to church every Sunday. There was this woman who worked in the local bar. Her husband died, so she took a second job to earn a little extra money for her kids. You know, one of the two jobs you can do on your back. And she couldn’t fix a tap. Anyway, she always came to church, rain or shine, but everyone shunned her. Even the good ol’ Rev had nothing to say. I grew up thinking sex was bad, something to feel ashamed of. I guess that’s why I’ve always had nightmares when I’ve made love to a beautiful woman, you know, some sort of repressed feeling of guilt.”
Juliette smiled sympathetically and then reached over to stroke the side of Budd’s face. “If that is true, Monsieur Ashby, then it is a sad story. But this is not a nightmare. I am awake, too.”
Just for the record, that story is true. By the time I was thirteen, I spent every sermon trying to look at her, imagining how great it would be to take advantage of the services she offered. I felt as though my pipes could use a good seeing to. But between my comic-book collection and trips to the arcade, my paper route never quite left me with enough moolah for a call out, so to speak.
I thought it best not to tell Juliette that bit. You know how touchy women can be ’bout that kind of thing…
Budd took Juliette’s hand and led her to the balcony doors. “If we’re awake, then what the heck’s goin’ on?”
Juliette gasped.
13
Budd put on his brown pants and blue sweatshirt, and then tightened his boots and placed his Stetson on his head. When he was done, he sat on the edge of the unmade bed and let his attention switch between looking out across the vacant skyline and watching Juliette as she dressed.
“What has happened out there?” Juliette asked as she rummaged through her wardrobe for something more suitable to wear than her evening dress. She chose a pair of close-fitting black tracksuit pants, socks, gym shoes, and a red long-sleeved T-shirt that she eased over her body. She wore no bra. Glancing in the mirror, she pulled her brown hair into a short ponytail and secured it with a band. Finally, she put on a black, biker- style leather jacket that tucked in around her narrow waist.
“I don’t know. I’m still hoping this is a nightmare.”
“So am I, Monsieur Ashby.”
“Do you have a cell?”
“A what?”
“A mobile phone?”
“Yes, it is in the bedside cabinet.”
Budd clambered over the bed and opened the drawer. Apart from the standard-issue bible, the sleek mobile phone was the only item inside. He took it out and held down the power button. When it had finished loading, the screen indicated that there was no signal. He moved to the door, hoping for more luck, but he guessed the French words that appeared on the screen meant that there was no network coverage.
“It doesn’t work,” he said and tossed the phone onto the ruffled bed sheets. “Let’s get moving.”
Juliette followed Budd to the suite’s front door, slowly tracing the course of the green emergency lights. He knelt down by her red dress to retrieve the suite’s key-card. He handed it to her and she tucked it into her pants pocket.
Next, Budd picked up his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. He gripped the door handle. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Budd turned the handle and tugged the door inwards, revealing the pitch-black corridor outside. The darkness was tangible, appearing to have enough substance for him to be able to reach out and touch it. The windowless hallway was absent of natural light and the emergency lights did little to help. The line of green bulbs continued out of the room, down the center of the corridor, vanishing as they rounded the left-hand corner that led back to the elevators. Although they guided the way, the bulbs were not bright enough to offer any useful illumination and merely formed a pale green glow that tracked across the floor. Whether the lighting was poorly designed, or it simply lacked the correct amount of power to work as it was supposed to, Budd couldn’t tell, but as he stepped forward, glancing uselessly left and right, he felt as though he was blind.
From out in the corridor came a sound that halted Budd in his tracks. He turned towards what he thought was the source: around the corner and off towards the elevators. While he replayed the sound in his mind, trying to establish what it had been, the same noise came again. He was sure that it had a metallic ring to it, but there was no clink of metal on metal.
“Back up, princess. Is there a flashlight in the suite, maybe some candles?”
“None I have seen.”
“Is it worth a second look?”
“No, Monsieur Ashby, I am certain.”
Budd grimaced. With his right hand he reached back for Juliette. He felt her delicate fingers wrap around his own. “Don’t let go,” he whispered, unsure why his voice had lowered in volume. It had been a subconscious decision.
Juliette nodded, her white teeth showing faintly in the gloom as she smiled half-heartedly.
Budd started into the corridor, following the green emergency lights. In the distance, the thud sounded again. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the faint glow beneath the carpet, but he still struggled to see more than the vague outline of the walls and floor. Each step he took was filled with caution and, after a while, he realized that he was holding his breath.
He exhaled gently.
The thud sounded again. Budd estimated that it was taking place at intervals of about five or six seconds. He took another few steps.
The thud struck out once more.
“What is it?” Juliette asked, tightening her grip on his hand.
“I don’t know.”
After a few more paces, the thud repeated.
Step by step, they approached the left-hand turn in the corridor. They continued towards it, staying close to the inside wall.
Budd peered around the corner in the hope of seeing something.
The thud rang out.
There was a narrow strip of light, perhaps six inches wide and seven feet tall, 200 feet or so further along the corridor. As he watched, the bright light started to expand in width. It flooded out into the corridor, illuminating the floor and the opposite wall. The gap continued to widen, spreading sideways until it spanned six feet. At that point it started to shrink, contracting much quicker than it had grown. When it reached six inches, where it had begun, the thud sounded out.