Dansk Bay Hotel

by Matthew Cornachione

  “You've got nothing? No permits, licenses, repair receipts, floor plans? You must at least have the title.”

  “Mm, I did once, but so much has happened since then. It is lost to time.”

  Oh, thank you, Nigel. That was just the out I needed.

  “Well, that's it, then,” I said, standing up. “If you don't have the title, we can't do business. Touravista will only work with someone who has a legitimate claim to their property.”

  “Oh, dear, um... Well, it must be that there is a record of it somewhere. I will call my associates; they will find it. Too late today, of course, but I am certain I can have it for you tomorrow.”

  I eyed Nekker carefully. Sweat beaded on his forehead, highlighting a receding hairline. He wiped his pudgy hands on the front of his shirt. The man came across as borderline incompetent, but from the look of his office, he did some things right.

  No, I suspected the truth was much harsher. I'd met businessmen like Nekker before, men who cut every corner possible to maximize their personal haul. Up here, isolated, he was unchecked, able to do whatever he wished without scrutiny. But, what was he hiding?

  I didn’t know yet, but I was more certain than ever that there was something wrong with the hotel. Likely the seed of the local superstition. Nekker wouldn’t share his secret outright, but that didn’t matter. I had the upper hand in this negotiation, especially since I was more than happy to walk. I pressed harder.

  “That's your last chance to give me something solid. I don’t care what you have to do. Call your agent at home. Either way, I’m out of town on the next train tonight. You have until then.”

  “I understand your concern. But, Kyle, I cannot disturb my agent at home. That is not good for business. Please, wait until tomorrow. You will see that everything is in order. My hotel is a good purchase.”

  I eyed him. His eyes darted, his hands fidgeted. He was definitely worried. But, his back held tall, rigid. Despite his nervousness, he wasn’t going to budge.

  “Fine. But show me the title first thing tomorrow. Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Of course. And please, let me make this up to you. I have a lovely guest cabin reserved for my esteemed colleagues. You will have a wonderful night.”

  Before I could respond, Nekker dug through a desk drawer. He pulled out a small golden key and handed it over. “The key to your accommodations! Just follow Main Street past the hotel and up the hill. Your cabin is the second on the left.”

  “Uh, thank you, Mr. Nekker. But, this won’t affect my final price. We have a hell of a lot of work to do to get that place looking decent.”

  He nodded, and I headed to the door. As I set my hand on the knob, Nekker called after me.

  “Oh, and Kyle, have a safe evening.”

  Chapter 7

  Rain fell outside. Not hard, but a steady drizzle. I stood in the warehouse lobby, surveying the dreary weather. The storm looked like it was here to stay. Everything was going from bad to worse.

  Fortunately, I'd come expecting it to be wet. I set down my bag and pulled out a poncho. After draping the garment over my dress outfit, I picked up my bag and ventured into the rain.

  A fishing boat motored into the marina, but I kept my distance. I was done dealing with the weird Dansk Bay folk for the day. What I needed was a good night’s rest and a stiff drink. No bars here, but one place might help me out.

  Thea’s trading post looked especially welcoming when I reached the main intersection. I stepped under the eaves and pushed the door open.

  The little bell chimed again, and, once again, Thea bustled out. This time, she stopped and stared when she saw me. Her eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent.

  “You didn’t listen to me,” she said at last.

  How did she know? It didn’t matter. “I have a job to do.”

  “Not for long.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you are in more danger than you realize.”

  “Look, let’s cut out all this talk of spirits. It’s a creepy building, sure, but it’s just a building. I’ve done this a hundred times. You’re making something out of nothing.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? But, of course, what could I know? I’ve only lived here all my life.”

  “I didn’t mean--“

  “No matter. After all, you came here for food, not wisdom. That’s what I’m good for.”

  “Thea...”

  She hustled off to the back aisle, ignoring me. I thought that was the end of it, but after a moment she emerged with a small food basket.

  “Turkey and artichoke soup with rosemary sourdough. Mind that you eat it before it goes cold. And, although I don’t approve of alcohol, one beer on the side.” She led me over to the register.

  “Thank you, Thea. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Please understand, this is how my job works.”

  “I understand more than you’d believe.” She looked up at me, hard gaze softening. “I think you understand more than you give yourself credit for. This isn’t your first spirit encounter.”

  Was she talking about the time with Lena? No, she couldn’t possibly know about that. Thea was fishing, and I wasn’t going to bite.

  “You’re right. It isn’t. Because, I haven’t had any. Look, I really do appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself.”

  “I hope so. I sense strength in you, though it is buried within layers of weakness. Perhaps you will find it in time.” Thea pushed the basket across the counter. “Dinner is on me. I hope I’ll see you for breakfast.”

  Instinctively, I started to insist on paying, but her tone stopped me. I could tell it was more important to accept her kindness. “Thank you, Thea. Of course, I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

  “You take special care.”

  I nodded, picked up the food basket, and slipped back into the rain.

  I strode down Main Street. The Dansk Bay Hotel loomed to my right. It looked especially ominous in the rain. My stomach knotted and my hands clenched, but I continued past.

  The road swept upward, and I climbed a steep hill. By the time I reached the top, I was breathing hard. A dense growth of evergreens swallowed the sky as I passed into a forest. Off the road, I spotted a smattering of secluded drives. Following Nigel’s direction, I started down to the second one on the left. I couldn’t see the cabin from the road, but soon the trees parted to reveal my accommodations.

  Before me was a picture from a storybook. Forget the hotel—I had half a mind to buy this cabin from Nekker. We could rent it out for a premium to high-end guests. This was a gorgeous two-story log cabin, complete with moss on the ceiling. Fresh pine scent was amplified by the rain. And lights were already on inside. If I was in a better mood, I’d have called this a lovely getaway.

  As it was, I noticed that the trees blocked everything else from view. The cabin was truly isolated. I wasn’t sure yet if that was going to be good or bad.

  Inside, I found a cozy layout that matched the cute exterior. A radiator drove away the wet chill, and a bank of lights kept the single large room bright and cheery. A plush bed sat in one corner. Up on the second level was a small office with a huge skylight.

  I dumped my bag by the bed, then climbed up to the office and pulled up a chair at the hardwood desk. I’d just eaten lunch, but I was still ravenous. The stress was getting to me. I downed Thea’s dinner. Delicious.

  My mind was racing. I needed to distract myself with work. I pulled out my tablet, but found there was no wireless here. What a shocker. No matter, I had hard copies on a few more of Regina’s prospects. I spread them out on the desk and dove in.

  I made notes as I went. The lodge in the Rockies sounded nice, but transportation could be a challenge. I definitely wanted to visit the villa on the Florida coast. The strange igloo building in Oregon might be a bust though.

  My eyelids grew heavy, but I kept at it anyway. Still a few more to review…

  Sometime later, I
startled awake, face pressed to the wood desk. I blinked away the sleep and peered outside. Gray skies had darkened to a deep twilight. Despite the craziness, I’d actually fallen asleep.

  As I stood, my bladder protested. I climbed down to the main room and soon found a major drawback with the cabin: no toilet. I checked out the window, and, sure enough, there was a narrow wooden shed. A genuine outhouse.

  I put on my poncho and stepped out onto the covered front porch. The rain had slowed. I slogged along the footpath to the outhouse. No crescent moon on the door. Disappointing. Inside actually didn't smell too bad, probably because no one used it on a regular basis. I finished my business quickly all the same.

  It was on my way back to the house that I saw it.

  Bobbing around the corner was a transparent head. The details were vague, but I could see the wrinkled complexion, the thin wisps of hair. And the eyes. Eyes that stared straight into mine.

  I screamed. It just came out. I mean, not a full scream, just a shout really. The sort a brave man might make if he was a little surprised.

  It opened its mouth and screamed back. The sound was muted, barely a low moan, but the intent was evident. Then, it floated toward me, deliberate.

  I staggered backward, trying to get away. I turned, grasped at the outhouse door. Missed the handle. Then I got it, pulled the door open, slipped in. With nowhere else to retreat, I pressed against the back wall. My hands shook as I cowered. My breath came sharp and ragged.

  Outside, the moan grew louder. It evolved into something coherent. Words. Over the sounds of my quivering, I made out the ghost's voice.

  You have entered my domain. Now you shall join me in fulfilling my great purpose.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Let yourself go.

  The voice cut off, and the ghostly visage pushed through the outhouse door. Knees to my chest, I scrunched into the back corner, hands covering my chest. I could actually feel it now, a tangible tingling in the back of my neck. The spirit shouted again and came at me.

  As it got closer, a sense of wrongness settled over me. Almost as if my very soul was under attack. I waved my hands at it. No effect. Nothing I could do. Terror welled up.

  This must have been how Lena felt, at the end.

  I closed my eyes and held on to her memory as unconsciousness closed in. My heart swelled with sorrow, and I whispered a silent apology for all I’d done wrong.

  Suddenly the tingling on my neck vanished. The air lightened again. My soul relaxed, safe for the moment. Still, I sat with my eyes closed, too afraid to open them, ever again. I didn't want to see any more.

  Eventually, I chanced a look. Nothing. I was alone in the dark outhouse, light rain pattering on the roof. My hands were clenched and my cheeks wet. When had I started crying? How long had I sat there, a pathetic quivering wretch?

  I forced my arms to unravel. My hands trembled, but obeyed. I pressed a palm against the wall and rocked forward, standing up. Weak legs shook, but held. I was alive and, as far as I could tell, unharmed.

  I stumbled back to the cabin, locked the door behind me, and climbed up to the loft bed. I didn't even take off my poncho, nor my shoes. I couldn't think straight anymore. All I could do was curl up and tell myself that everything would be okay in the morning. Everything had to be okay.

  Chapter 8

  I dreamed of Lena. There we were together, back in Boston Commons, following the Freedom Trail. We diverged from the beaten path to explore a “haunted” tunnel network. At that moment, we were holding hands, laughing, and smiling. We even turned off our flashlights for a private kiss.

  Then we both saw it. A white cloud, somehow light even in the dark. It let out a piercing wail, chilling me to the bone. I ran.

  I thought Lena was behind me, wanted her to be, but I reached the sunlit exit alone. I waited. She never came out.

  Police cars materialized, sirens flashing. An officer led me inside, and there she was, lying still. Not dead, yet not really alive anymore. She was a body breathing, but no mind to go with it.

  She probably slipped and fell on the way out, the officer said. Damaged her brain. Except she had no bruises. And I’d seen that white cloud.

  I woke up with a start, the guilt I’d felt that moment as tangible now as ever. Years of rationalizing it away had done nothing. I’d abandoned her to her fate. To what I now firmly believed was a ghost.

  I blinked and shook my head, clearing the awful memories. The early morning sun filtered through the window, illuminating the cabin and clearing my mind. Past mistakes notwithstanding, I was in a bad place now. If I didn’t watch out, I had a feeling I’d end up just like her after all.

  I didn’t fully understand what the hell was happening around me, but one thing was obvious. I had to get out of town. No hotel, no job, was worth this. I’d make up some excuse for Regina later. That was a problem I could handle.

  All my follow-up plans with Nekker faded as I hurriedly stuffed my pack. I tossed my dinner basket and beer bottle into the trash can, slung my bag over my shoulder, and pushed out the door.

  My hands trembled as I scanned the front porch and the outhouse. If the spirit could get me here, then nowhere was safe. Could ghosts appear outside in the day? I had no idea. For now, at least, everything was clear. I hurried down the road.

  I passed back through town and up the hill to the train station. Nothing jumped out at me. No one tried to accost me. So far so good.

  Cresting the hill I spared a glance for the run-down mini-mart. Still a mess. Last time I’d see it. My heart lightened as I finally reached the train platform. It was clean, modern, familiar. Not a part of the nightmare in town.

  I walked to the automatic ticket kiosk. The screen lit up and I pressed the button for one adult ticket on the next train. I dug around for my credit card, but before I found it, a red box showed up on screen:

  Train service to Dansk Bay temporarily suspended. Please check back later.

  What the hell? I navigated back to the main screen and tried again. Same message.

  I pulled out my phone. There was a customer service number on the kiosk. I tapped it in and held the phone to my ear. Silence stretched. I looked at my phone screen and saw the little “No Service” indicator in the top left corner.

  A knot grew in my stomach. I jabbed at the poor phone a few more times, willing the call to go through. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I had to try. Again, nothing.

  Now feeling full-on sick to my stomach, I stepped back and swiveled my head back and forth. I don’t know what I expected to find, some sort of help maybe, but no one was there.

  Rationalize this thing. Dansk Bay was a remote town. They probably lost train service all the time. And, cell service. There had been a storm. Maybe the cell tower had fallen onto the train tracks. No one would be able to fix it right away; a technician would have to come down from Anchorage. Not a big deal, right? They’d get to it soon.

  I wasn’t convincing myself, but hey, it could happen.

  My thoughts drifted right back to the evil spirit. If this thing could block the trains, what else could it do? I didn’t want to find out.

  So, how else could I get out? There was no road, but maybe a boat? I could hitch a ride with the fishermen. But, could I trust them? Were they all in on this?

  Thea. She’d know. She’d seen all this coming, I was sure. She could set it right.

  My mind made up, I set off back to town. This time I couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the ocean view. I knew on some level that it was pretty, but now I felt the taint of evil across the scene.

  A couple minutes later, I burst into Thea’s shop. “Thea, are you here?”

  Silence. I waited, listening to my own ragged breathing. My arms trembled as the quiet dragged on. Then, just before a full panic set in, the back door opened and Thea emerged.

  “You’re alive.” Her wise old eyes stared into mine with disbelief.

  “Um, yes, of course. But I saw—“

  “
The spirit.” She nodded her head. “That’s why I’m surprised you’re here. You’re either lucky or strong. How did you stop him?”

  “Stop him? I didn’t do anything. It...he just left.”

  “That’s not like him. Are you sure you didn’t do anything special? What was your last thought?”

  “I was thinking of...of someone.” I didn’t want to talk about Lena right now.

  “You care about her.” Thea smiled. “He cannot handle compassion. There might be more hope for you than the others.”

  “Others? What others?”

  “Oh, you’re a smart man. Evil has reigned here for a long time. I’m sure you can put it all together.”

  A chill ran down my spine. “How many?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t keep count. It’s better that way.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You wouldn’t have listened.”

  Damn it, she was probably right. But, still, I wish she’d said something.

  “But some must have survived, right? Some got away?”

  Her eyes met mine. “None yet. But, you’ve survived an encounter so maybe you’re different.”

  “I want to be. I need to get the hell out of here. The train is out of commission. Can you get me on a boat or something?”

  “That won’t work. The fishermen are all too scared. None will cross him.”

  “Seems like you’re too scared yourself.”

  That earned me a glare. I mean a serious glare. I felt my heart tighten as Thea stared me down.

  “Don’t presume to know my mind.”

  I held up my hands. “Okay, I crossed a line. Sorry. But, there’s got to be a way for me to get home alive.”

  “Hmph. Me, I’d just walk. Only thirty miles to the next town as the train runs. You might be able to make it before night.”

  Thirty miles? I’d been exhausted after a 5k last year. “I can’t make that.”

  “Well, there is one other way. Of course, I doubt you have the fortitude.”

  “Tell me. I’ll try anything else.”