The Inn Between

by Marina Cohen

  Quinn and Kara made their way around the tables to the opposite wall, where a huge buffet stretched the length of the room. Quinn’s greedy eyes took it all in. There was every type of meat imaginable—lamb, ribs, turkey, chicken, and a whole pig roasting on a spit. Salads, rice, pasta, and potatoes filled bushel-size silver bowls. There were trays of pickles, dips, and hors d’oeuvres; apples sautéing in butter-brandy, fresh fruit, and mountains of desserts dripping with chocolate and cream. People piled their plates with all sorts of goodies.

  “You see,” said the little girl. “It’s a grand party. We’re so glad you could join us.”

  Quinn stood for a moment, searching the crowd for Emma and Josh. No one looked even vaguely familiar. Some of the dancers had wild grins on their faces, others were laughing uncontrollably. They wore strange clothes, from different time periods, as though this were some kind of costume ball.

  Kara was searching, too. It was possible Josh and her parents were here, hidden somewhere in the crowd.

  “Emma,” muttered Quinn, searching each and every face.

  She felt a cold hand touch her cheek. She looked down at the little girl, who—although a lot younger—suddenly reminded her of her sister.

  “You can stay here,” said the girl. “Stay with me. You can call me Emma, if you like. We can sing and dance and play forever.”

  Ice prickled Quinn’s heart. Yes, she thought. I could stay here. Why not? It was a great place and everyone was having so much fun. And she and Kara would be together. Forever. Quinn would never have to return home to the neighbors who stared at her in silent pity, to the school where everyone talked around her in hushed whispers, where no matter what she did or said the teachers didn’t give her bad grades anymore. Or to her parents—the people who seemed to forget she was hurting as much as they were.

  “Shrimp?” said Kara, picking up a particularly fat one.

  Quinn felt a drop on her head. Then another. And another.

  She stepped aside and searched the mirrored ceiling for the leak. When she couldn’t find one, she looked back at Kara’s shrimp.

  It was gray and alive and wriggling in her hand.

  23

  QUINN KNOCKED THE SHRIMP TO THE GROUND.

  “Hey!” said Kara. “Why’d you do that?”

  Quinn felt another drop. Above her the ceiling began to swish and swirl. It wasn’t a great mirror at all, but dark, swampy water, like a giant murky pool.

  She watched in horror as a black, wraithlike shadow scaled the far wall. It dove into the water ceiling and glided the length of the pool, one end to the other. Quinn recognized its shape immediately—it was what she’d seen swimming at the bottom of the hotel pool.

  The pools were connected. The bottom of one was the top of the other. Something lived between the two worlds. Whatever it was, it could reach up and drag unsuspecting swimmers down.

  Quinn’s head began to spin. Nothing here was what it appeared to be. She stared wide-eyed at the little smiling girl. She was not Emma. She was nothing like Emma.

  Quinn grabbed hold of Kara and steadied herself. Then everything else around her began to transform.

  The music, once fun and melodious, had no rhythm, no tone. It was like metal grinding on metal. It hurt her ears. She cupped them, pulling up Kara’s hand with hers, but she couldn’t block it out.

  The people continued to dance, but now Quinn saw they weren’t a fun, happy crowd at all. They looked more and more like a frenzied mob, their movements angular and awkward, like wooden marionettes with someone pulling their strings.

  On their faces, what Quinn had thought were smiles were grimaces of pain. What she believed to be laughter was actually screams of agony. It was like someone was forcing them to dance. To dance and dance and never stop.

  The buffet changed as well. The pickles turned into slugs, and the rice into a pile of wriggling maggots. The meat she had thought looked delicious was moldy green and rotting, and she was sure that what looked like potatoes was an entirely different horror.

  But all this didn’t seem to sway the guests, who filled their plates with the disgusting, decaying food. They stuffed their faces mouthful after mouthful like they, too, couldn’t stop.

  Quinn watched as one woman bit off the head of a shrimp and ground the shell between her teeth. A man shoveled a spoonful of maggots into his mouth, strays dripping from his lips and crawling down his chin.

  Quinn’s stomach lurched. She was going to be sick. The only thing stopping her from collapsing into a heap was one single, all-important thought—they had to get out of this place. Right away.

  She grabbed Kara’s hand and pulled her close. She wasn’t sure if Kara could see what she saw. “Don’t touch anything,” she hissed. “And don’t say a word.”

  The little girl eyed Quinn and Kara. In the glow of her candle, she smiled a wide smile, and for the first time Quinn could see her little teeth were yellow and razor-sharp and her lips and tongue were black as night. She giggled. It was the most chilling sound Quinn had ever heard.

  Without thinking, Quinn snatched the candle from the girl’s hand and, gripping Kara, sprinted for the door. She raced through the crowd, weaving in between the crazy guests, who bumped and slammed into them as they tried to pass.

  “Wait. Don’t leave. The party’s just getting started.” The little girl’s airy voice echoed over the music.

  They ran without looking back, through archway after archway, until they reached a corridor that seemed to lead upward. Everything around them had changed as well. Quinn knew when she heard Kara gasp that she was beginning to see it, too.

  The doors in the hallway were not mahogany—they were rusted cast iron. Loud banging filled Quinn’s ears—people screaming, desperate to get out. Some doors opened a crack, as if held back by chains. Scabbed and bloody arms reached out, clawing for them.

  Kara stifled a scream and pressed herself close to Quinn. Together they wove though various passageways, around and around, up one section and down the next, through one crossroads and then another. They ran for some time but did not reach the lobby.

  Quinn came to a dead stop, bending over to catch her breath.

  “We’re lost,” said Kara between gulps of air.

  The candle flickered in Quinn’s trembling hand. She stared at Kara and nodded. Then over her shoulder she saw it. Beyond the endless rattling doors and the clawing hands, glowing in the darkness was a pair of yellow eyes. It was the ghostly girl and she was moving toward them at a steady pace.

  Frantically Quinn pulled Kara toward the opposite end, but just beyond the candle’s glow stood a shape, etched out of darkness. Quinn’s heart jammed so far up her throat she could scarcely utter a sound. One word squeezed from her tight lips. “Him!”

  At the opposite end of the corridor stood the man with the ball cap. He’d managed to find them and was running toward them. Quinn stood frozen to the spot, searching one way, then the other.

  The glowing eyes had grown larger and the girl emerged from the darkness, her white gown fluttering in tatters around her, and stretched out her tiny hands. She was inches away, about to dig her claws into Kara, when Quinn felt herself being scooped up, lifted into the air by a big, muscled arm that wrapped itself around her waist. She had no voice to scream. Instead she hung there, clinging to the candle. Kara flopped beside her like a rag doll as the man carted them off at lightning speed.

  The candleholder slipped from Quinn’s hand, but Kara managed to scoop it up before it fell to the ground. Finally, they burst through the last archway and were back in the main lobby.

  The front desk was bleak and decayed. And the frames of the French doors were sagging, the glass cracked. The knobs and hinges were streaked with rust. The animal heads—now mutations, with horns and eyes where there shouldn’t be—squealed and cried.

  Mold grew like thick black blankets, draping from parts of the ceiling and walls. Between the sheets of fungus were clusters of mushrooms, some with caps as bi
g as Quinn’s hand. Like a hideous wave rolling toward them, the mold was spreading quickly. If they didn’t get out soon, they’d drown in it.

  “Look!” said Kara, aiming the candle toward the end of the lobby.

  A doorway of soft light had slid open in the wall. It was the elevator, and Sharon was motioning for them.

  “Hurry!” she shouted. “Move!”

  The huge man bolted toward the elevator, carrying Quinn and Kara. The little girl’s laughter echoed throughout the lobby. She moved toward them with feet that no longer touched the ground.

  The man dove into the metal cage, still holding the girls. He dropped them and Kara tossed the candle out into the darkness. It exploded in a fiery ball as the gate sealed shut and the elevator kicked into motion.

  Quinn shuddered. The pale face with the sharp teeth and black lips disappeared into the flames, her voice still ringing in Quinn’s ears.

  “Come back anytime. I’ll be waiting.”

  Sharon looked at them and sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “What kind of place was that?” yelled Quinn.

  “And what was that … thing?” said Kara.

  Sharon looked deeply and steadily into Quinn’s eyes and then Kara’s. Quinn could tell the woman was genuinely concerned.

  “Some questions are best left unanswered,” said Sharon.

  Quinn and Kara stood closer as the elevator zipped up what felt like only a floor or two. The man gripped Quinn’s wrist.

  The pillowcase filled with the rest of the pizza and the water bottles still sat in a heap on the floor of the elevator where Quinn had dropped it. She eyed Kara, then the pillowcase. Kara understood immediately. Kara picked it up and slung it over her shoulder.

  They weren’t done running.

  24

  PERSEPHONE STOOD OUTSIDE the elevator. As soon as Sharon slid open the iron gate Persephone began scolding them.

  “What were you two thinking? Do you have any idea?” Her eyes were wide and her hair a mess. She looked frazzled and wild. It was the first time she wasn’t wearing her perfect smile.

  Quinn looked up into the crazy man’s eyes. He still clutched her wrist. She exchanged glances with Kara. Kara’s chin bobbed once, letting Quinn know she was ready. She was focused. It was time to leave Inn Between.

  Kara swung the pillowcase with all her might, striking the man on the side of the head. He let go of Quinn and yelped. Together they pushed past Persephone, making a beeline for the front door.

  “Stop!” shouted Persephone.

  “Wait!” said Sharon.

  Aides was standing outside, but luckily he was facing away. Quinn grabbed the pillowcase from Kara in case she needed it. She tucked her chin and burst through the door, bulldozing past the huge man before he had a chance to react.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Come back!”

  “You can’t leave!” yelled Persephone, who had reached the door. “You can’t leave yet!”

  Side by side, Quinn and Kara ran blindly into the dark desert dust. They followed the path that led away from the hotel. All the while the pillowcase thumped against Quinn’s back like a sledgehammer. Running with their hands tied was awkward, but she and Kara were a team, and they managed to train their crazy legs and get their bodies to move as one.

  Persephone, Aides, and Sharon kept calling for them to return. But Quinn ignored their calls and continued to run until she and Kara were swallowed by darkness. The voices faded into the distance.

  “Keep … going…” breathed Quinn. “We … can’t stop … until … we’re sure they’re not coming.”

  But Kara was slowing.

  The hotel with its lit windows and high roof disappeared behind hills of gravel and rock. Ahead, the orange sun was sneaking over the horizon. They’d be easy to spot in daylight.

  Quinn kept checking over her shoulder. There was no one there, but she just couldn’t push the idea from her mind—something had followed her out of the hotel.

  The farther they got, the stronger Quinn felt. They were going to be okay. They would make it to the diner, and Not-Norm would help.

  “The bracelet—” breathed Kara. “It’s cutting into my skin. Can we take them off?”

  Quinn could see crisscrossed rings of bright red wrap around Kara’s wrist. She remembered the dull aching pain all too well.

  Surprisingly there were no such rings around her own wrist. “No. Not until we’re safe. We need to stick together and it’s the only way to be sure.”

  “But we’re away from the hotel,” said Kara. “We’re okay now.”

  Kara was right. But it all seemed too easy. Like Persephone and Aides had let them go. Quinn wouldn’t feel safe until they reached the interstate. Maybe not until they were back at Not-Norm’s and calling the police.

  They slowed to a brisk walk. Quinn stared gloomily at the alien landscape—the bleak mounds of rolling gravel. The rising sun melted over the terrain and the dust began to glisten gold again. Patches of creosote appeared, telling Quinn they were getting closer to the interstate.

  Kara rubbed her wrist. The skin was breaking. The bruises on her arms had spread. In the morning light, her face seemed pale and her eyes dark and sunken. Quinn wondered if she looked as bad as Kara. She didn’t feel bad, though. In fact, she felt pretty good. Better and better by the minute.

  “I need some water,” said Kara. “Just a sip.”

  Quinn took out one of the pop bottles they’d filled with water and they each had a sip. It was lukewarm and tasted like medicine. Maybe it was Quinn’s imagination, but she thought it smacked of mold.

  “No one’s following us,” said Kara. “They’d have caught us by now. Let’s stop for a rest. Just a short one.”

  Kara was right. If they had been chased by a car, the girls would have been caught by now. Even if they had been pursued on foot, with their hands tied they’d have been no match. Still, Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling she hadn’t seen the last of Inn Between.

  They left the path and climbed over a huge rocky hill. Tucked safely on the other side, they sat for a rest. With the sun beating down, the creepy crawlies had slunk back into hiding. Still, Quinn kept a sharp eye out for anything slinking or slithering.

  “What happened to my parents? To Josh?” said Kara. “Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know,” said Quinn. “But Persephone was right about one thing. You’ll see them soon. I’m sure of it.”

  Quinn pulled Kara to her feet. “Come on. We have to keep going.”

  They walked for hours, easing along the gravel road. The heat hit them from both ends—the sun pressed down from above and the sand from below. Quinn could feel her body beginning to boil.

  They’d taken a few more sips of water, emptying one of their two reserves. Kara was getting weaker. Though Quinn felt surprisingly strong, it took all her strength to hold Kara upright.

  It was past noon when they settled into the pizza. Though it tasted like cardboard, Quinn chewed her slice, making each mouthful count. Just the thought of the disgusting buffet made the old pizza seem like a treat.

  The hills began to look alike. Quinn searched the distance for any sign of the interstate. She saw none. By late afternoon, Kara had reached her end.

  “I can’t go on any farther,” she said. “I need to rest.”

  They settled down for a short break in a thin patch of shade behind a hill. Kara rubbed her wrist and ankle.

  They sat for some time in silence. The sun was beginning to descend. The ride in from the interstate to the hotel hadn’t seemed this long, though Quinn recalled they’d circled around a few times. Still, by her calculations they must have walked over ten miles already. The last two or so had been slow going. Kara needed to stop frequently, and Quinn let her rest. Though she kept a suspicious eye out, nothing was following them. At least nothing Quinn could see.

  Kara closed her eyes while Quinn kept watch. Far off in the distance, black dots circled. Turkey vultures. Just what
they needed. Quinn watched their swaying, swooping motion, just to make sure they weren’t going to dive-bomb them again. Their movement was relaxing. Kara had fallen asleep. The evening air cleared Quinn’s head. It smacked of rain, though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The creosote, Quinn thought, as she inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and was drifting off, too. But then she heard it and startled awake.

  It was back. The hum.

  25

  QUINN SHOOK KARA GENTLY. “Wake up. Time to go.” But Kara didn’t respond and her eyes stayed shut. Panic zipped through Quinn’s veins. She shook harder. “Kara. Come on. Please.”

  Kara’s eyelids fluttered and opened. She looked at Quinn and smiled, but then her eyes clouded over. It was like she couldn’t focus. Like she was looking past Quinn at some distant point beyond.

  “I feel thin,” said Kara. “Like smoke. Like I could blow away.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Quinn. “Please don’t.”

  The look in Kara’s eyes frightened Quinn. It was the same look she’d seen in the face of the old man in pajamas. In Joe before he rode the elevator. Kara was fading fast and there was nothing Quinn could do to stop it.

  “I can’t lose you, Kara. You’re all I have left.”

  “Go get help,” said Kara.

  “I’m not leaving you. You’re going with me. Or I’m staying. Just like that time in the tree.” Quinn tried to drag Kara to her feet. “Come on. We’re close now. Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear the hum?”

  The last time Quinn had heard the hum they were on the interstate, heading into the bright lights. It meant they must be close to the road. Close to the diner.

  “Kara,” said Quinn, tugging at her arm. “You can do it. We’re almost there.”

  Twilight had cast its spell over the landscape. The air was the same hazy gold it had been when they’d seen the bright lights. Soon it would be dark and the beautiful yellow-orange sphere of the sun would be swallowed by the horizon.

  Quinn shaded her eyes. That’s when she saw him.