The hotel filled with tension as the leader of the three men stepped through the front door and into the hallway with the air of ownership. His chin pointing upwards, breathing deeply and slowly through his nose. Adam showed them to their rooms and we all waited nervously saying nothing of substance in a circle around one of the dark wooden dining tables. Every now and again one of us would go up stairs to get something, just to check that they hadn't left their rooms and to make sure that they weren't investigating.
Roger and I made a fire to cook pots of tomato soup on. Roger said nothing and neither did I. We set fire to two chairs and I sat on the wall looking towards the setting sun. The little one appeared out into the car park and set fire to half a cigarette over the flames and tried to talk to Roger, which dissatisfied him and he stood next to me and told me what a sweet place this was, and told me where he'd been in Bristol, and then corrected himself and told me where he'd been living in Bristol. “The beds are much nicer here, you know?” I agreed with him that the beds were nice and went inside to start pouring tins of cheap, acidic tomato soup into a large pot, and he followed me, and talked at me the whole time, watching my hands, watching me open the cans, watching me pour the soup, watching me carry the pot outside, all the time talking at me.
The other two appeared and the seven of us sat down on one large round table for supper. I placed a bowl of the lurid orange soup in front of everyone, and the little one began to eagerly spoon it into his red mouth.
“Stop.” shouted the man with the enormous head and he slammed his fist on the table causing the bowls and glasses to jump, and then he toned down his voice. “Don't you think we should say a few words first.”
“Yes.” The little man meekly responded.
“We thank you lord for our health and we thank you Lord for blessing us with this bounty.” He said and then looked around the table and grinned.
I barely ate any of the soup, it was revolting, and my stomach was full from smoke and apprehension, I spooned tiny amounts from the bowl to my mouth in fear that in some way my not eating might enrage the man sitting opposite me.
Half way through his soup, the leader looked directly into Adam's eyes, watching him eat, and when Adam realised, he met the man's gaze. “I think you have been lying to us.”
“I'm terribly sorry, but what do you mean?”
“You've been telling us a pack of lies.”
“I'm sorry?”
“You think I’m stupid don't you? The lot of you think I’m stupid? He said angrily, glaring at each and everyone of us individually.
“I'm sorry you think that, but I assure you, I haven't lied to you?” Adam lied again.
“Yes you have.”
“Sorry, but, do you mind telling me what I have lied about.”
“I went into that room you gave me on the third floor, and you know what I found out.” His voice was terrifyingly clam.
“If you would like another room, we can easily arrange that, won't take more than five minutes.”
The man slammed his fist on the table and screamed, “Let me finish!”
“Sorry.” Adam said, managing somehow to remain calm.
His voice retreated and he was even more terrifyingly calm. “I was on my bed, admiring the majestic view when I decided I wanted a drink, so I opened the mini-bar in the corner of the room. You know what I found?” He paused, “It was fucking cold!”
Adam quickly responded. “We had power until you came, the hotel has, or had, I mean, back-up power in case of power cuts.”
“You think I’m fucking stupid” He shouted again. “I know you're lying to me. Back-up power ain't gunna last five weeks.”
“We charged them with one of the cars, as an experiment to see if we could, you know, power the place.”
“You know what else. You know what else really gets to me?” He said. “I heard footsteps from the room above me. Now either there are people hiding up there, or those so called dead guests and whatever it is you call the things that crawls out of them, well what are you telling me.” The man's voice thickened, “That those things up there, they've started to fucking wear shoes and have learnt how to walk!”
“One.” Adam stuttered. “One of the rooms above you was empty, we were taking furniture out of there for the fire.”
“Okay then. So you won't mind if Johnny here, goes up and checks for himself?”
“I will show him, I have the keys. I will show your friend all of the rooms on the top floor and he will be able to attest to the fact that there is nothing to be found up there.” Edwin said towards Adam and glanced at me in a way that implied a secret meaning, as if he had telepathically given me some instructions, but I didn't receive them, I didn't have a clue, I could barely focus on what was happening in front of me and my heart was beating behind my eyes and deafening me.
Edwin and the little man, Johnny left us in silence and the enormous man continued to hold his spoon above his bowl and stare at Adam.
Their steps on the marble stair case sounded out through the dining room and still the man sat unmoved staring at Adam. I tried to have a sip of water, but was too nervous and held the glass to my mouth feeling the water rest against my closed lips. The man's friend continued to drag soup to his mouth and occasionally released a gruesome slurp as the lurid orange liquid bubbled and drained through yellow teeth.
The sound of steps on the marble stair case began again, coming closer and I couldn't bear to look at the doorway, couldn't bear to look at the man who was potentially about to explode and leap across the table, grabbing Adam by the neck, crushing his tiny pointed head in one of his enormous hands.
Johnny walked into the room with Edwin close behind him and he continued right up to the table, and the man without relinquishing his gaze from Adam calmly spoke.
“So, Johnny.” He paused. “What are these people hiding on the top floor.”
Johnny stuttered and muttered ums and looked over his shoulder at Edwin who was now holding a gun to the back of the man's head and another into Johnny's back.
“We didn't want any trouble, but we are going to have to ask the three of you to leave.” Edwin said.
“And why would we do that?”
“Because currently I am holding a gun to the back of your head, and another at your friend.” Edwin said and Johnny's jeans started to turn dark blue and urine dribbled down his shoe and puddle on the floor.
“Well haven't we got ourselves a valiant hero. Have you ever even fired a gun, boy.” The man said, still fixated on Adam.
“As I said before, we do not want any trouble. Please can you get in your car and drive away.”
“No.” He paused and grinned. “As I said before, have you ever even fired a gun? Boy!”
“I served for four years in the territorial army, I would suggest that I have fired more guns than you and your friends put together. Now. This is not important, what is important, is that you leave here, tonight.”
The man grinned and shook his head and then wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin, placed it gently next to his bowl and began to slowly stand up. “Well then fellas. It looks like our nice meal has come to an end and we are no longer welcome.”
Edwin took a step back to give space to the two men sitting down, still holding the guns firmly pointed at the leader and Johnny, and then walked them to the front door and the four of us stood in the open doorway and watched the headlights disappear along the coastline.
19th August
The mundane progression of life after the evening spent with the three men took me by surprise: Edwin continued to patrol around the hotel, keeping himself busy, fixing taps, turning off mini-bars and removing unneeded electrical equipment. Adam retreated to his yacht in the day time, he was trying to teach himself Biology and Chemistry, apparently. Roger hacked at organs by the gate and dumped the remains on the coastline somewhere, we had all concluded that is was no longer safe to burn them and inadvertently create a signal to the outside world th
at we were here. The others questioned me over and over again about the men and Edwin and supper and every little detail that I had forgotten or had failed to grasp at the time. It was frustrating, my inability to convey to them the tension around the table and the sincerity of it all.
Rosie continued to ignore our kiss, but it didn't annoy me, and, if I let it, when I let it, it felt trivial and I left it behind. Instead I got annoyed at the world, there was so much potential, I had been so excited about what was on offer, where everything was so near perfection, where it felt as though I now had purpose, that I now had the opportunity to live by my own ideals and by my own dictate, in a matter of hours, three men had shattered the sanctity of my sanctuary, and I hated them for it, and I hated the world for compounding shit upon shit, and I withered below smoke rings in armchairs and windowsills.
It was dusk and I was in a windowsill longing outside, smoking and Sally sat in an armchair across the room, reading loudly and choking out a phoney cough and tutting. I let it go on for as long as I could, watching her get increasingly annoyed, probably thinking I was stupid for not picking up on her signals. I enjoyed her pain, and then she asked me to open the window and smoke outside. So I unlatched the metal bar at the bottom of the window and swung it open. She didn't say thank you. It was hotter outside, and the heat formed a bubble around me and absorbed into my cheeks. Roger was outside the main entrance with an axe over his shoulder and Guy was talking to him, enthusiastically hanging onto every mute word. The thought jolted through me, the image of Roger swinging the axe into Guy, and before I had time to savour it, I felt guilty and said to myself that obviously I don't actually want that to happen, but I continued to stare at him with black thoughts.
Roger then flipped forwards onto the floor. Guy stood over him for a second and then ran inside, ran into the room where Sally and I sat.
“Roger's been shot. I think he's been shot.”
“What?” What I replied with stunted shock.
“What's he on about?” Sally said in a dismissive tone.
“Roger.” He said, shifting his head left and right quickly between the two of us. “We were just out there talking, and something shot him. He just fell to the floor and there is blood all over the back of his shoulder.”
Edwin came into the room as if telepathically sensing the commotion.
“Edwin, Roger's been shot. Just there.” Guy said pointing at the wall in Roger's direction.
We all ran to the entrance and looked at him, lying face down on the floor. He was groaning, his face was looking away from us and blood covered his right shoulder, seeping through the blue threads of his shirt.
“We need to help him.” Sally said looking at Edwin.
“We can't go out there.” Edwin said firmly.
“What do you mean, we need to help him?” She said.
“If anyone goes out there, chances are, they will get shot too. It could be a trap or they are just planning on shooting anyone they see, either way, we can't go out there.”
“But what can we do?” Guy said.
“Get a rope, there should be some in the maintenance cupboard.” Edwin said to Guy, pointing down the hallway. “Go now.”
“Roger.” I shouted. “Roger, can you hear me?”
Roger groaned back and twisted his head so that he was now facing us. Edwin explained to him that he would need to loop the rope around his uninjured arm and head, which, when it came to Roger actually having to do it, looked unbelievably painful, and he gritted his teeth so hard that it looked as though they might shatter.
We dragged him inside, smearing red blood across the gravel, and in the hallway the blood began to pool over the white and black marble tiles. Edwin checked the wound and decided, on the basis of the exit wound that at least the bullet was no longer inside Roger. He cut down the back of Rogers shirt and cleaned the wound with tissue and a vile of clear medicine, sticking an enormous white plaster over it, which began to turn red as soon as it was on. We turned Roger over, and he crunched his teeth again. Pieces of gravel were glistening in dark red blood all over Roger's shoulder. Edwin picked them out, and Roger crunched harder and his face tensed into a painful scowl. Eventually Edwin cleared out the wound fully, sticking a wide plaster over the wound and quickly wrapping a roll of bandage around and around his shoulder, and began to wipe and scratch away at the black blood that had crusted on his cheek, neck and chest.
Like never before, and for all of his efforts against it, Roger resembled weakness, our weakness. He was now propped up in an armchair, passed out but still in pain. His bandages had begun to turn pink in places, his pale skin and veins were visible through is black stubble. Rosie sat next to him, compassionately holding his hand in hers. The fire was burning but the flames left him cold. Following Edwin's orders I marched about the house closing curtains and shifting oppressive pieces of wooden furniture in front of common windows. I made sure to arch my body, crawl and dash around windows before I had poorly covered them up. Soon it was dark outside, but it was impossible to tell as we hid in our windowless cave. Once we felt we were safe, we discussed what to do about Adam. He was still in his yacht, assuming he was still alive; we had no way of contacting him, sooner or later he would row to shore to join us for supper, sooner or later he would ostensibly be lying dead somewhere outside. Tom suggested we radio him on his boat using the hotel's emergency broadcast system, but none of us knew how to work it, or what frequency he would be on, or if he even had a radio switched on and we decided it was too much of a long shot. Roger still sat in the armchair, passed out and Edwin replaced his blood soaked bandages. It was gruesome and I didn't look. Rosie tried to talk to me, I just hugged her instead and tried to make my eyes communicate some form of hopelessness that I wasn't sure myself if I was experiencing. The room felt lost, Adam and Guy sat on the floor with their backs in between corners of wall. Edwin then clapped his hands and rubbed them together standing in the middle of the room with everyone's attention.
“I'm going to swim out to Adam. It is the only hope we have?”
“No Edwin. You'll get shot.” Rosie replied sternly. “You are not going out there.”
“I will go out of the back, and climb down onto the rocks. They won't be able to see me.”
“What if they see you swimming?”
“They won't. It is pitch black outside, I will be impossible to spot once I am in the water.”
“And what then, what if they come for us when you're gone?”
“You stay downstairs in the kitchen with a gun trained on the door until I get back. They know we have guns, assuming it is those three men, they won't risk coming in here.”
“How do you know that? Maybe there are more of them now?” Rosie said desperately. “You don't know.”
“You're right Rosie. I don't know, but if I don't warn Adam...”
“Why does it always have to be you, can't someone else go out there?” Rosie said and looked around the room with tears begging to form in her eyes.
Knowing Edwin would not let me go, I was about to offer, but Guy put his shaking hand up and just about managed to utter enough words to imply that he would go, and he obviously knew that Edwin wouldn't let him, I hated him more than ever, and Rosie smiled at him, and she didn't even look towards me, presumably her contempt for me was so great that she couldn't even bear to set her eyes upon the coward who had plied her with red wine and taken advantage of her in the hallway upstairs. Of course Edwin insisted that he alone should go and then led all of us except Roger down into the kitchen and handed out two guns.
We waited in the kitchen in silence, listening with dread filled anticipation for the sound of footsteps above us. Al nervously tried to talk but we shushed him with conspicuous eyes and frantic faces.
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, then twenty and we began to relax through boredom, arrogantly sitting on the small white tiles surrounded by stainless steel kitchen monuments, thinking we were safe. Except for Rosie who was quietly sobbin
g in the corner next to me and I told her that Edwin was going to be all right, she didn't acknowledge me and kept crying softly into her palms.
One footstep above cut through the room and we all looked up towards the ceiling. Then another, then another, Al started to inhale and exhale deeply, his chest exaggerating each breath. Guy was sitting against the wall opposite the door, he was shaking, the gun aimed at the door in between both of his hands was rattling. His eyes were so tightly squinted with fright that it was difficult to see if he had them open at all, and his lips were wide with each corner curled down and white spittle collecting at ether side.
The footsteps briefly disappeared but the tension didn't. Al was becoming more and more frantic, he looked like a man about to throw up, and Guy was still shaking with fear.
Sally whispered, “They've found him. They've found him.”
“Shhh, be quiet.” Tom nervously replied to her needless statement.
“They're going to kill him.” She whispered back, somehow managing to get across the words in an I told you so tone. She hadn't told us so.
“Shh!” He replied abruptly
The footsteps began again, louder, coming closer. The door at the top of the stairs clicked and Al let out a yelp in between heavy breaths. One by one the steps slowly descended the stairs, the thuds reverberating through the kitchen.
The Days After Page 11