Nevertheless, he misjudged where he was, and found he had wandered into the Twilight Lounge. It was pitch-dark in there, but he knew where he was, because of the sharp, faint smell of urine. He stood for a moment just inside the door and heard a rustling noise, like paper being slowly crumpled, then someone sighed, and he thought he heard liquid dripping. A wheelchair creaked. They’re waking up! Danny thought, and hurtled off without bothering to shut the door behind him.
When he found the Television Lounge it was unoccupied. The big set in the corner was still on, filling the room with jumpy silver light and swirls of romantic music from the ancient black and white costume drama that was showing. Danny noticed the clock on the video player below the TV said 01:47. In the morning, that was. He’d never been awake at that time before that he could remember. It wasn’t surprising there was nobody about, but why weren’t his grandparents in their room? In the past Danny had often had a feeling that grownups did things after their children had gone to bed that they never talked about. It had only ever been a vague suspicion before, but now the idea played on his mind. Where were the adults . . . what were they up to? He would have to find out.
Whenever he had gone in and out of the hotel before there had always been someone at the reception desk, but now even that post was deserted. It seemed that the only people other than himself in the building were the ancient residents in the Twilight Lounge and, young as he was, Danny knew he couldn’t expect help or advice from them. They had their own problems.
His only hope of finding his Gran and her medication was to contact a member of staff, and ask them to take him to her. Then he remembered he had seen a big sign that said
STAFF QUARTERS
Staff Only Beyond This Point
PLEASE
on a door at the rear of the hotel. Surely, he would find assistance there!
He ran down the silent corridor towards the kitchens, found the door, and saw with relief that it was half-open. Beyond it, grey-carpeted stairs led down to the basement. He could her music thumping somewhere below, so someone must be awake down there. He glanced again at the off-putting sign on the door, then ventured cautiously onto the stairs. He felt that what he was doing was probably wrong, but guessed that if people were cross with him for venturing where he should not go, they wouldn’t do him any harm, and would take him to his grandparents just to get rid of him.
Everything in the staff quarters was smaller and shabbier than on the floors above. The corridors were narrow, illuminated by dim, unshaded yellow bulbs, and the drab carpets were worn and hard. He passed lots of numbered doors, some of them split and cracked, as though the locks had been forced, or they had been punched or kicked. He kept walking, without trying to rouse anyone who might be beyond them, because he could tell, from the increasing volume of the music, he was getting closer to its source. In fact, when he turned the fir st corner, he walked right into it. Two doors, one marked STAFF and the other RECREATION, stood open wide and he found he had gatecrashed a party in full swing.
There were about two dozen people in the long, low-ceilinged room, and most of them were sitting at a couple of trestle tables covered by white paper tablecloths. The air was murky with what at first he thought was smoke, then realized was a thin damp mist, like fog.
A couple were dancing, away to one side, and a girl in a black, tight, silky outfit twirled somewhat awkwardly to the music, alone in the centre of the available space. She stopped when she saw Danny, and stared at him as though he were an apparition. He recognized her as the girl who had brought him tea in bed each morning, and at once began to feel uneasy.
The girl came and crouched down in front of him, on tiptoes, with her knees bent. She stayed like that for a while, without speaking or moving, weighing him up with her eyes. The calculating quality of her gaze chilled Danny’s blood. He wanted to speak, but his lips had gone stiff and his tongue felt like leather. He was aware that other people in the room beyond had become aware of his presence, and were also watching him. Someone with an old man’s voice gave a creaky laugh that was echoed by a woman’s shrill, mirthless cackle. A man, shouting over the music, said something he didn’t catch, then most of them laughed. Danny was just thinking of running off when the girl reached out and took his left elbow in her hand. Then she said sharply, “What are you doing here?”
As she waited for his answer her thin fingers massaged the bones of his elbow and her thumb pressed painfully into his inner arm. He mumbled something about his grandparents that was inaudible to the girl, who shook her head to indicate she could not hear him.
Then, desperately, he shouted, “I’ve lost my Gran. I want someone to help me find her.”
As he did so, the rock music tape that had been playing ended abruptly, and he found himself shouting into total silence. His voice sounded like a scream. It frightened him.
The girl moved her head back slightly under the impact of it. She rose up again, still holding Danny’s arm, and pulled him further into the room towards the tables. A man on a bench moved to one side to make way for him. The girl, by manipulating his arm, forced him to sit in the vacant space. The man next to him gave him a toothy smile. It was Kelvin, the moustachioed nurse who had rescued him from the people in the Twilight Lounge at the start of the holiday. He still looked reasonably friendly.
Danny recognized a few of the faces of the people seated around him. To his horror, he saw, opposite him across the table, the man in a waiter’s uniform – the one with the strange, sliding locomotion, who had tried to lure his grandfather away, and who Danny had run literally right into. The man looked very solid now however, and seemed amused to find Danny in his present predicament.
Danny licked his dry lips and tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye by looking down at the paper cloth on the table in front of him. It was bare except for dishes of nuts and crisps, a couple of big cut-glass decanters almost full of what looked like tomato juice, and a quantity of glasses containing drinks of this liquid. The people around him lifted these glasses to their mouths from time to take a sip, then their eyes would roll and they pursed and smacked their lips with almost ecstatic satisfaction. It was obvious they relished their refreshments.
Danny liked tomato juice himself, but he couldn’t understand why anyone should make such a fuss about it. It was nothing special. Last Christmas his father had drunk lots of it with vodka, and there had been a row between his parents when his Dad had fallen from his chair when they had guests round, but there was no sign of any vodka on the tables now. Yet the people at the party, if that was what it was, seemed to think tomato juice was the finest drink in the world!
The man opposite him, the one dressed like a waiter, poured a fresh glass of the liquid and handed it to Danny. The drink had a funny smell, not a bit like tomato juice, that Danny detected as soon as he had taken the glass, and he looked at it suspiciously. He raised it to his lips and sniffed. As he did so, the girl, who still had hold of his arm, increased the pressure of her grasp on his elbow.
Danny saw, out of the corner of his eye, that the girl’s face was flushed and excited and . . . hungry-looking. The tip of her tongue appeared briefly against her upper lip, and her brow arched up as her eyes stretched wide. He could tell she wanted him to try the drink. She wanted him to try it very much. And so did all the other people. They were all watching him with sharp, intense anticipation.
Danny held the glass a couple of inches from his mouth. His hand was not quite steady.
“What is this?” he asked. “It’s not tomato juice, is it?”
“Did we say it was?” someone said. “Did anyone say it was?”
Everybody shook their heads.
“It’s a fine drink,” the girl said softly. “A rare old vintage. Something you won’t have tasted before. But once you’ve tried it, you’ll want more of it. There’s no doubt about that.”
“I don’t like the smell,” Danny said nervously.
“Never mind that. It’s not the tas
te or the smell that matters, it’s what it does for you,” the girl insisted.
Danny said nothing.
“It won’t harm you,” someone said. “We drink it all the time, and look at us. We’re lucky here, we get plenty of it.”
“The fine old stuff,” the girl repeated, almost singing, as though she was quoting a popular song, “the rare old vintage.”
Danny lowered his mouth to the glass and took a sip. The drink was thick and flat and metallic and slightly warm. It was neither good nor bad. He drank some more, and found he was suddenly thirsty. He emptied the glass slowly and put it down.
“Well?” asked the girl.
“It’s okay,” Danny said, unenthusiastically.
“Would you like some more?”
Danny was a polite boy. “Not at the moment, thank you,” he said, and for some reason most of the people seated around him started to laugh. It was relaxed, good-humoured laughter. Danny noticed the girl had released her hold on his arm at last and, when the laughter had subsided, he repeated his request to be taken to his Gran. Someone made a joke that made no sense, about taking Gran to Danny, then Kelvin got up and told Danny it was too late to disturb Gran now, but he would take him back up to his room in the service lift. Danny would have to sort his other problems out in the morning.
To Danny’s surprise, the entrance to the lift was at the back of the room they were in. Kelvin went and leaned on the button and, high up in the hotel, the lift lurched and groaned as it begun unsteadily to descend. When it arrived Kelvin had trouble pulling the slightly rusty, cage-like bars of the metal outer door open, then cursed as he bent to tug up the inner door that rose and slid back somewhere at the top of the lift. A cloud of the cold, steamy looking mist Danny had noticed earlier wafted out of the lift shaft, surged across the floor, then floated up towards the ceiling on a cushion of warm air.
Danny saw at once that the lift was not empty. The huge brass-bound box he had seen so many times before was in there, taking up most of the space.
It had been pushed up tight against one wall and there was just a narrow gap vacant to one side of it. Kelvin motioned to Danny to get in beside it. Danny shook his head and backed off a little way. He saw that the lid of the box was now in place, but could tell it was loose, unsealed. The dry wooden structure had finger-wide splits in it, and its sides were warped and slightly concave. In places, the wood had sunk away from the brass to reveal sections of the ancient, primitive nails that held it together. The seaweed that had been growing on it had shrunk, withered and turned colourless, like old wreathes in a graveyard.
Kelvin gave Danny a look that the boy recognized as the expression Todley Bay people sometimes put on their faces when they wanted to smile. It was probably meant to be encouraging, but Danny thought it had an impatient edge to it. Kelvin was in a hurry. Probably he wanted to get back for more of the red juice before the others drank it all.
Kelvin said, “What’s the matter? Get in. I’ll get you to your room in no time.”
Danny pointed to the box. “What’s that?”
“This?” Kelvin stepped forward and thumped the lid of the box with his fist. “Nothing for you to worry about, anyway. Not for a long time, I shouldn’t think. You needn’t trouble yourself about that.”
“Is it empty?”
“I expect so.” To placate Danny, Kelvin lifted the lid slightly, and peered inside. He took a long, hard look.
“Are you sure,” Danny insisted nervously.
“Well,” Kevin said, lowering the lid, “it’s not quite empty, but don’t go bothering yourself about that.”
“What’s in there?”
“If you really want to know, sonny, I’ll show you. I’ll lift you up so you can take a look inside, if you think it’ll make you happy. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I don’t want to see inside. I don’t want to go near it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“You don’t have to like it, son,” Kevin said, now definitely irritable, “but if you want me to show you to your room, you’re going to have to ride up with it. So get in.”
Danny waited for a long moment, and stared at the box. Something could be hiding in there, observing him, staring back at him through the cracks in the sides. But, if there was, he didn’t feel it was necessarily out to harm him, it could be that it was just . . . curious about him. If there was anything in there, it wasn’t him, Danny, it was after – or so, for no clear reason, he began to believe.
He decided to test his theory, since he could see no other option, and stepped quickly into the lift before he could think about his situation any more. He suddenly wanted to get to bed more than anything else he could think of.
Kelvin followed Danny onto the floor of the lift, shut the outer gates, pulled down the inner door, squeezed in along the side of the box beside the boy, and pushed a button. A stump of fluorescent tube set in the roof flickered and almost died. Something high in the building squealed as it took the strain. The sheet metal panels on the walls creaked all around them, and the lift juddered – hesitated – lurched – then began to rise slowly, swinging slightly from side to side because it was out of balance.
Danny kept as far away from the box as he could in yellow-green gloom that was almost darkness, and gulped to relieve his dry throat and mouth, that now seemed to be full of imaginary dust.
Kelvin saw him swallowing air, and said, “What’s the trouble?”
“I’m very thirsty,” Danny admitted.
“Well, yes, you will be. It’s only to be expected. But you’ll get used to it. That’s the way it is.”
“I don’t understand,” Danny complained.
The lift shuddered to a halt.
“You will,” Kelvin said, and stooped to pull up the door. He said something else as he tugged aside the doors of the metal cage, but Danny couldn’t hear him over the clanging of the iron bars. Kelvin stepped onto the corridor and pointed to a door a little way away that Danny recognized at once as his own, leading to his room.
“You get to bed now,” Kelvin ordered, “and don’t go looking for your Gran any more tonight.”
In his room Danny drank at least a pint of water out of the tap at the washbasin. It was warm, and tasted slightly ferric, like the drink he had been given in the basement. He realized then that he hadn’t felt at all ill since he had taken that crimson drink. In fact, it had made him feel very good – he was almost glowing with health inside. But he was tired out.
He flung himself into bed and slept at once.
Someone was moving quietly about in his room. Danny knew from the quality of the light it was early morning, so assumed the girl had let herself in to deliver his tea. Good, because he still had a thirst like an ache in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to talk to her, however, for obvious reasons, so kept his face under the quilt.
Then, whoever was in the room sat down on his bed. Someone big and heavy. He knew this, because the whole bed sank in the middle, whereas it had only dipped slightly when the girl had perched on it on previous occasions.
A big person had come into his room, uninvited, and was sitting on his bed! An image of the bear-like man carved into his mind and filled him with fear. He’s come for me, or he’s come for the box, or he’s come for both, Danny thought, and he nearly stopped breathing.
Then the someone cleared his throat and said, “Danny, I know you’re awake. It’s me, don’t worry.” It was his father’s voice.
Danny sat up with a jerk. “Dad! What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
His father’s face was crumpled and tired, and his usually immaculately combed hair stuck up in bristles in a dozen places. His eyes looked sore and the flesh below them was flaky and grey. He was wearing his best suit over a white shirt that looked grimy at the collar, as though he’d worn it one day too many, and his tie was loose and askew.
“Danny, I’m sorry, but the holiday’s over. Something’s happened, so your mother and I came dow
n here overnight. The car broke down. It’s been very difficult, but we’re here now, so . . .”
“Has something happened to Grandad?” Danny asked, thinking he could see the light. “Have they got him then? Has he disappeared?” He jumped out of bed, went to the sink, and drank more warm washing water from his tooth-mug.
His father looked confused. “No, he’s okay. Your mother is with him now. It’s Gran, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to know . . . I’m sorry Danny, but she passed away, during the night.”
“Passed away?”
Realizing the euphemism was above and beyond Danny, his father explained that Gran was dead.
Three hours later Danny, his parents, and Grandad were waiting in the hotel foyer for a taxi to take them to the station. The manager of the establishment, a razor-thin, crop-haired woman in a black and white check blouse and grey suit, was commiserating with his mother, who was crying softly all the time that she was speaking. Danny heard part of the conversation, but didn’t understand much of what was said.
“—terribly sad time – everything done that could be done – first-rate staff who are used to dealing with death – see it all the time -we’ve taken care of the body – leave everything to us – unfortunately, another guest in extremis, even now, as I speak – and so young, just a girl – but of course, we prefer to deal with older people – the more mature person – ripe old age is our speciality – you understand?”
The manageress sounded as though she had been reading from a publicity handout and had suddenly discovered that the last page was missing. She took a dive into sudden silence. Her sympathetic expression, set in stone, seemed only to affect her face below her eyes, which were empty and uninvolved. She and Danny’s mother were seated on two gold-painted chairs, facing each other almost knee to knee.
“It was meant to be a break for them both,” Danny’s mother said, glad of a silence to break. She pushed her nose into her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “She only had six months to live. That’s what they told her, and she was so worried about leaving my father behind. He has Alzheimer’s disease, so she was hoping to find somewhere here in Todley Bay where he could spend what time he has left in comfort. He could last years. She wanted to leave him in good hands.”
The Mammoth Book of the Best of Best New Horror Page 27