The Haunted Halls

by Glenn Rolfe

  “Meghan,” he said. “C’mon, are you okay?” He reached down and put a hand under her head–there was a large egg-shaped bump, but no blood. “Meghan, Meghan. Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey.” Jeff helped her up. She was unsteady, but otherwise seemed okay. “C’mon.” He led her through the door to the lobby, around the front desk, and into the back office.

  “Are you okay?” Jeff said, holding Meghan’s hand. She sat next to the stack of magazines that always occupied on end of the black futon.

  “I, I saw someone,” she said. He followed her glare over his shoulder.

  “What do you mean? Who’d you see?” Jeff pulled her forward as he sifted his fingers through her black hair looking to see if she had suffered more damage than he had thought. She was lucky she hadn’t cracked her skull on the concrete floor.

  “Do you have any water?” she said.

  “Yeah, sure. Hold on.” Jeff got up and went through another door to the right of the futon. He returned with a bottle of water, a couple of pills, and an ice pack. “Here, put this on your head.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “And take these. They won’t touch the headache you’re probably gonna have, but it’s better than nothing.” Jeff handed her two Tylenol. He watched her toss the pills back, and guzzle down the cold water. She replaced the cap, set the bottle on the floor between her bare feet, and returned the ice pack to her head.

  “I probably look like an idiot, huh?” Meghan said.

  “No. I don’t think you could look like an idiot if you tried,” he said, blushing, but not breaking his gaze.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so…weird. I haven’t felt like myself these last few days,” she said.

  He felt her grip tighten on his hand. His heart revved up. He worried his hands were going to start sweating.

  “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here, but–” Meghan began, sitting up straight, looking him in the eyes, “–I hope we get to spend some time together.”

  Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed him. The taste of her cherry chap stick, the smell of her hair–something fruity, definitely not the hotel shampoo–she was intoxicating. Their mouths opened, allowing the sweet kiss to reach its full potential; it was soft, slow, and perfect. He placed his right hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer.

  Ring, ring, ring.

  Jeff made like he was going to get up. She gripped him tighter, kissed him harder, and slid a hand to the thigh of his dress slacks. He gave up any notion of answering the phone, and fell further into their moment.

  …..

  Ring, ring, ring.

  “Come on, Jeff. Fucking pick up,” Rhiannon said. She had pulled into the parking lot of the 7-11 over by the traffic light the green Subaru went sailing into. Three cop cars and two ambulances arrived on the scene to tend to the unfortunate. She watched the Subaru with the intensity of a sniper waiting for his mark, having to know if the old man and the strange girl had survived. She watched as the EMT’s pulled the old man out, his face was a mask of blood–he did not move. Neither the EMT’s nor the officers on the scene had gone near the passenger door.

  Rhiannon hung up the cell phone, slid it in the pocket of her red pea coat, and headed toward the accident. She approached the closest officer whose badge read: Gilmatt.

  “Excuse me, Officer Gilmatt,” she said.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away, please. This–” Gilmatt started.

  “I saw it happen,” she said. “I saw the whole thing happen. I was coming down the road right behind that green car.” She pointed to the mangled Subaru at the center of the four-car mess.

  “You witnessed the accident occur?” he said, suddenly appearing interested in what she had to say.

  “Yes, that green car went flying past me. I was slowing up for the light, but that car went flying by like a maniac. I don’t know if he thought he was going to make the light, or if he lost his brakes, or what.”

  Officer Gilmatt produced a notepad from his breast pocket and scratched down some notes.

  “Is the driver…dead?” she said.

  “I’m afraid so. An elderly gentleman. It looks like he may have suffered a heart attack or a stroke, which would explain why you didn’t see him slow down.”

  “What about the girl?” Rhiannon said.

  “The girl?” the officer said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I, I saw a girl in the passenger seat when they went past me.”

  “There was no one else in the vehicle, ma’am, just the gentleman.”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “No, no. That’s not right. She was in there,” Rhiannon said. She stepped off the sidewalk and rushed over to where the battered Subaru sat tangled with a blue Blazer.

  “Ma’am! Ma’am!”

  “No, no…this can’t be,” Rhiannon said, stopping before the scene.

  Officer Gilmatt grabbed her by the arms and directed her back toward the parking lot of the 7-11. “Ma’am, I’m going to need some more information from you–”

  Rhiannon pulled herself free and made a beeline for her car. She climbed in, threw the key into the ignition, and backed out without looking, nearly causing a collision of her own with a silver pickup pulling in.

  “Hey! Watch where the fuck you’re goin’,” yelled the man behind the wheel of the pickup.

  She only half heard him as she threw the car into drive and hooked a right down Champlain Street. She slipped her phone from her pocket and tried the hotel again.

  …..

  “I can’t do this, I can’t,” Jeff said.

  Meghan sat back, crossed her arms, and looked away.

  “I want to, believe me I want to, but my manager could come walking in through that door any moment.” It was true, however unlikely. He had called his front office manager after Rhiannon left for the hospital, but had been unable to get through to her. He left a message about what happened with Kurt and the elderly couple, but as far as he knew she had yet to return the call.

  “I’m sorry,” Meghan said, wiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Ring, ring, ring.

  “I have to get that,” he said.

  Meghan sniffled and nodded as she reached for the discarded ice pack.

  Jeff stepped out the door, and behind the desk. His attention was stolen by the two gentlemen sitting at a table in the lobby. One was Kenneth McGowan . The other was the big guy from room 231. They were both staring at him. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a bad feeling that they were after something.

  He picked up the phone on the seventh ring.

  “Thank you for calling the Bruton Inn, this is Jeff speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Jeff,” Rhiannon said.

  “Rhiannon? Where are you? Are you okay?” he said.

  “He’s dead,” she cried.

  “What? How? Wait–where are you?”

  “He–” she tried. “He’s….”

  “Are you on the road right now?” Jeff said.

  “Yes.”

  “Do your parents live up this way?

  “No, they live in Portland.”

  “What about friends?” he said.

  “My friend Michele is gone away to school in Oswego.”

  “Okay. That’s all right. I’m here. Pull over if you need to collect yourself, all right?”

  “I already have–twice,” she said.

  “That’s good. We don’t need to lose you, too,” he said. “Listen, I was thinking about staying the night again here, you’re on tomorrow, why don’t you just come back here if you don’t want to stay by yourself, we can get a room with two beds,” he said. Jeff couldn’t help but wonder if Kenneth and his new friend were eavesdropping on his conversation. They were whispering to one another and grinning like they knew something no one else did.

  “Yeah, I think I’d prefer that to my empty apartment,” Rhiannon said, sniffling on the other end
of the line. “I’m not too far out. I should be there in a little while. I’ll talk to you when I get there.”

  “Okay, be safe. See you in a bit.” Jeff hung up the phone, locking eyes with the big guy accompanying Kenneth. Uncomfortable in the presence of the dynamic duo in the lobby, he stepped out from behind the desk, glanced down the hallway, then toward the front doors. Satisfied that he was not needed, he returned to the back office.

  Chapter Three

  After a minute to clear his thoughts, Timothy Laymon swam back toward the diving board and climbed out of the pool. He stood up and looked back to the spot in the water where the two beautiful women had just played with him. Scanning the room for either, he came up empty. He returned to his seat between the two Jacuzzis and found his pants were missing.

  “Great,” he said.

  All of the girls that smiled at him when he arrived earlier were now shooting daggers his way instead.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” said a brunette stepping into the hot tub.

  “Nothing, I was just leaving. Sorry.”

  He walked down the two steps to the first level of the room, making his way to the front corner where the towels were kept, and picked one up. The thing looked like a little kid’s towel. He used it to wipe down his body, giving up on his original plan to wear it to his room for fear of his junk hanging out, and deposited it in the used towel bin by the door.

  “You’re up,” said the blonde in the bikini that had handed him the Bud Light.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” the blonde said.

  “You just said something to me.”

  “In your wet dreams maybe.” She laughed as she walked back to a big, square-jawed guy with spiked black hair.

  Timothy turned, leaving the warmth of the pool room behind him.

  He was shocked by the coolness of the hallway. He shivered as goose pimples busted out on the backs of his arms. Then he noticed the sight at the end of the corridor. The amazing dark-haired girl from the pool stood, waiting. She was down by the stairwell on the east end of the building holding his pants–a devilish smile playing across her full lips.

  “Missing something, handsome?”

  “Ah, yeah. I could probably use those. How did–”

  “Come and get ‘em.” She waved them out to her side like a matador.

  Timothy started down the hall. The beautiful girl darted up the stairs. He broke into a run, chasing after her.

  He climbed the stairs, listening for her footsteps, but heard nothing. He rounded the corner toward the second floor hallway, and there she was. She slammed him to the wall behind the door and put her mouth to his with the intensity of a rocket set to explode. He gave himself over to her. She pressed her perfect body up against his; his wet underwear poking at her nether regions.

  “Come with me,” she said between kisses.

  He moved his lips to her soft neck, kissing and nibbling her flesh.

  She grabbed him by the waistband of his underwear and pulled him around the corner and down the hallway.

  A man passing by in the opposite direction wearing a dress shirt and slacks gawked at the girl as they passed. Timothy grinned. The slender woman next to the man was not so impressed.

  “Nice, Kevin. Looking at other women on our anniversary,” the woman said.

  “Honey, what? No…”

  “What’s your name,” Timothy said to this beautiful mystery girl. She stopped them outside the door to room 211.

  “Shhh.” She opened the door and pushed him inside. “I want you to fuck me, Timothy.”

  “Huh? Uh…yeah, yeah. Hell yeah, I can do that,” he said. He grabbed the straps of her swimsuit and peeled the wet fabric off, exposing her naked perfection.

  She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers before sliding down his body, grabbing his waistband with her teeth, and dragging his boxers to the floor. She slithered back up to his erection taking him into her mouth.

  Timothy was as high as a kite in a flawless summer sky. This unbelievable woman had chosen him over all the douchebag frat boys down at the pool. He laughed at the thought even as the beauty blowing him brought him closer to ecstasy.

  She finished him off sucking down every bit of his seed. Rising back up, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “My name is Sarah.”

  “Well, Sarah, thank you for that.”

  “I know you,” Sarah said.

  “Oh yeah? Where from?”

  She turned her back and pressed her ass against him. “I knew Shannon.”

  Timothy backed away from her, fear and anger pooling together in his clouded mind. How could she? No way, nobody knows about that.

  Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed and twirled a finger through her bouncy brown curls. “I know all about that,” she said, as if he had spoken aloud.

  “Fuck you.” He looked around the room for his pants.

  “Oh, we’ll get to that, but first, I want to talk about Shannon.”

  “I don’t know who the hell you are, or what the fuck you think you know, but I think I need to leave.” He reached down for his boxers, and felt her tongue in his ear.

  “She deserved it. She was, after all, the one who fucked somebody else,” Sarah whispered. Her voice played through his head like the song of the pied piper; his fear and anger being led away. “She was the one who fucked that mustached loser. You had every right to smash her head in.”

  “Yes,” he said, barely hearing himself.

  “She even brought him home to your bed.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re the same, you and I,” she whispered.

  He looked at her, feeling desperate and alone.

  “Oh yes, I used to know lots of guys who would tell me they loved me, then turn around and nail the first thing that smiled at them. And my father was the worst of them all.”

  “I would never do that to you,” Timothy said.

  “I know, I know. That’s why I chose you. We’re the same.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Sarah guided him to the bed and pulled him down on top of her. “Fuck me, Timothy. Let’s help each other feel good again.”

  He felt himself grow hard and slipped inside of her.

  Chapter Four

  Rhiannon drove like a mother rushing her child to the emergency room–on edge, yet determined. She had no idea what was happening tonight. Who was the strange girl at the hospital? What was she doing in Kurt’s room? Had she really been in the car with the old man? What the hell did it all mean? All these questions riddled through her mind at warp speed and then cycled back unanswered as if the train of queries was an endless loop.

  She raced down Route 5, heading back to the hotel. She considered going home, but she was too frazzled to sleep, and her TV and Mr. Mittens, her cat with the extra thumbs, wouldn’t listen. She desperately needed to talk to someone. Jeff had offered to be there, and at the moment, he was really all she had. She wasn’t sure how or why, but she just knew he would believe her when she told him about the crazy shit-storm she’d just been through.

  …..

  “I don’t want to be alone right now. Come upstairs with me,” Meghan said. Her eyes danced between brown and black.

  “I can’t,” Jeff said, denying the change in eye color. “I’m the only one on right now. I’m waiting for someone–” he paused, realizing he hadn’t mentioned what happened to Kurt.

  Meghan pulled herself from his arms. If looks could kill, Jeff would be an extra from The Walking Dead.

  “What is it? Do you have a girlfriend you failed to mention?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Then who is it?” She crossed her arms.

  Jeff rose from the Futon, placed his hands on his hips, and hung his head. “It’s my friend, Kurt–the goofy kid that works here in the afternoon?” He saw her indifference and took it as uncertainty. “The guy with the fro of blonde hair? Sings while he works?”
>
  “What about him?”

  “He had to be taken to the hospital today after–” Jeff hesitated, not sure he should tell her about the couple that had died in the hallway “–after he started his shift. He fainted. One of my co-workers went to the hospital to check on him. She’s supposed to stop in on her way back.”

  “Well, then I guess I’ll just go back upstairs.” Meghan stood and headed past him, going straight to the door.

  “Meghan, wait.”

  She stopped and glanced back at him. “Promise me one thing,” she said.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Promise you’ll come and check on me later?” Her eyes flashed to black, then back to normal. It happened so fast, Jeff convinced himself he’d not seen it.

  “I promise.” He walked her out of the back office and handed her the ice pack.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips before he could respond.

  He watched her walk away before returning to his nightly post behind the desk. Waiting to for Rhiannon, he noticed that the odd couple, Kenneth and the big guy, had vanished. His bad feeling returned in spades.

  Chapter Five

  Eric stood behind the door to the stairwell, waiting for Meghan to step through. Before she could scream, he clamped one large hand over her mouth and clenched the other around the back of her neck; her ice pack fell to the floor with a soft thud. Dragging her up the stairs while she kicked and struggled, he sneered.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, he flung her into the wall next to the door, covering her mouth and easily pinning her in place as he glanced down the hall for other guests. The corridor was clear.

  Without a word, he hauled her back down to room 209.

  …..

  Meghan’s mind felt corrupted. Strange currencies of offsetting emotions fought for control over her senses. One moment she feared for her life, horrible thoughts of why this man had been waiting for her and what he planned to do. The next, while still quivering on the outside, inside she was cool as a winter’s night on the verge of a storm; calm and ready for the forthcoming surge of power.