Dansk Bay Hotel

by Matthew Cornachione

  Chilled, I knew it was time to leave the cabin. I grabbed the journal; it would be evidence if I ever escaped Dansk Bay. Otherwise I’d sound like a crazy person.

  But, even with this new knowledge, I was stuck. Nekker was dead, Thea wouldn’t help. I didn’t know where else to turn. Walking the train tracks to the next town was beginning to sound like a better and better idea.

  I left the study, heading back through the cabin. Now that I wasn’t fleeing a spirit, I could see how old the place was. All the wood in the kitchen was splintered and grayed, the cabinets sagging, the refrigerator an ancient vintage. Dust covered everything.

  Well, almost everything. In the living room I noticed a break in the dust, a trail leading into the front bedroom. Someone, or something, else had been in here recently.

  My heart rate picked up again. I didn’t think that the ghosts could disturb dirt. It had to be a live person and I guessed only one person would live in such a creepy old cabin. Here I was, right in the middle of his lair. I knew I should get the hell out.

  But, I had to know for sure who it was. I needed hard evidence.

  Stepping into the room, I saw I was alone. There was little here, just a tidily made bed, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. And another journal.

  I set the old journal down on the bed and picked up the new one. The pages in it were crisp, clean. I opened it, flipping to a random page.

  4-3-15

  They cannot be trusted, no no no no no no. But they are needed, yes. How can that be? How can all this be? Oh, but they will know the truth. Soon, so soon. This time, yes, this time, I am sure.

  Rambling. Some entries were completely incoherent, lacking real words or punctuation. Unnerved, I thumbed through quickly. Nothing jumped out until I got to the latest page, marked with yesterday’s date.

  7-15-15

  New blood. The Nekker has brought it to me. Time, yes, it is time. Have waited so long. The new formula will work! It must. Tonight.

  7-16-15

  I could not touch it. How can this be! Harvested the other subject. Too early, but cannot wait any longer. No choices left. One last test, then I am free.

  The Nekker has failed. But he will not hurt me again. And the new blood will be harvested. I will be set free.

  My blood froze. Through the ravings, I could pick up enough. Nekker had been in league with the murderer and, as far as I was concerned, got what was coming to him. But the murderer was still after me.

  Then a creak came from the floorboards behind me. I spun around just in time to watch a rod smash into my face. The blow sent me to the ground, nose smarting. I raised my arms overhead to defend myself, but it wasn’t enough. The rod smashed into the top of my head and the room disappeared.

  Chapter 15

  To my surprise, I woke up.

  Much less to my surprise, my head hurt like hell.

  I blinked, clearing the fog from my vision. Aside from the head injury, I was pretty sure I was okay. Well, sort of.

  Metal cuffs tied my wrists and ankles to a surgical chair mounted in the center of a windowless room. Dim fluorescent lights illuminated the concrete walls. The surroundings were drab, but all too familiar. I was back in the Dansk Bay Hotel and, if my guess was right, in the basement laboratory.

  I twisted my head, trying to see behind me. Bad idea. Pain shot through my neck, crawled across my skull. Damn, I hadn’t felt pain like that since I broke my leg in high school. I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth until the worst passed.

  With a deep breath, I opened my eyes and looked around again, this time more slowly. I spotted a few benches with vials and other chemical equipment, but most of the room was empty. Except there, on the far wall to my right, a heap of blankets by a fireplace. A bedroll? My captor was nowhere in sight.

  I exhaled; I was in it now. Why had I ever thought it was a good idea to stalk a murderer? True, I now understood exactly what was going on in Dansk Bay. Nekker had drawn people to town to serve as test subjects for a madman. It sounded like the madman had almost perfected the WWII elixir. I’d seen the effects firsthand. Unfortunately now I was going to help him complete that twisted dream.

  Worst of all, I was alone. Thea had been an ally, but she’d made it clear this was my battle. All the other townsfolk were either too scared or too oblivious. And who could blame them when their own sheriff was in league with the madman? Or was the madman.

  I looked back to the chemical vials and my chest tightened. At this point it didn’t matter who the serial killer was. I knew exactly what fate awaited me if I didn’t get free.

  Tensing my muscles, I pulled at the restraints with all my might. Of course, none of them gave. I tried again, shaking them back and forth. Most didn’t give, but the cuff around my right wrist was ever so slightly loose.

  Even with some serious wiggling, my hand stayed stuck. I checked again, making sure I was still alone, then pulled harder. Metal dug into my flesh, eliciting a grunt, but I didn’t let up. Finally, my hand slipped out, leaving an unhealthy amount of skin behind.

  My eyes watered at the pain, but I bit my tongue and fought through it. Pain was better than death. I unlatched the cuff on my left wrist. In another few moments, I had both ankles free. I was out.

  Behind the chair, I found a stairwell. I hustled up it as fast as my head would allow and found the backside of the sturdy basement door. Like the front, it had a metal wheel and I tried to turn it, hoping to open the door. Unfortunately, it was barred shut.

  There wouldn’t be another exit; this had once been a prison. Still, there could be a spare key down here. I saw an inviting keyhole on the back of the door. Now I needed to find its match.

  Back down the stairs I went. I circled the room, checking everything, starting with the bedroll. I pulled the sheets back and found not a bed, but a pile of charred bones. The odor of burnt flesh filled my nostrils. The massive fireplace next to the bones was still warm. I could put the pieces together. I gagged, but had nothing left to throw up.

  My last threads of composure dissipated, panic surging forward. Before I lost it completely, an image of comatose Lena swam to mind.

  That triggered a new emotion: fury. Fury at myself for abandoning her, fury at those WWII scientists and my government for condoning such an atrocity. But, above all, fury at the evil that still lived here today. The evil that had destroyed a town and wanted to destroy me.

  Somehow, that was enough to keep me here, to keep me fighting. I had to end this. I owed it to Lena, but, most of all, I owned it to myself.

  Then I heard a clatter from down the hall, followed by muttering. I wasn’t alone after all; the murderer was here.

  Beside the roll of bones was an iron poker for the fire. I wrapped my hands around it, calmed by the feeling of solid metal. I’d never been much of a baseball player, but I could swing the poker hard enough. Hopefully.

  I scampered across the room and pressed my back to the wall by to the chemical bench. I edged around the corner, peering down the hall. Light came from a side room at the end. Muted shuffling echoed across the concrete. The heart of the evil was in there. I could end this.

  My body disagreed. My throat stuck, and I couldn’t draw a breath. I pulled back and doubled over, gasping. Finally, I relaxed enough to suck in a mouthful of air.

  I knelt there on the floor, trembling, poker in my left hand and blood dripping from deep gouges on my right. Who was I kidding? The man or woman in there had killed dozens, maybe hundreds, of people. I was a glorified hotel inspector in enough shape to climb three flights of stairs. What chance did I have?

  Then I saw it, my hope. Resting on the corner of the chemical bench was a silver key. It was an old-fashioned type, large circular handle with a thick shaft. I’d bet my life, literally, that it opened the basement door.

  I clutched the key in my right hand, the poker in my left. Looking back and forth between the two, the choice was obvious. I knew who I was. As quietly as possible, I set the poker down.

&n
bsp; Immediately, my body relaxed. My shoulders lightened, my throat opened. This was the way. I’d do what I’d always done; get help. I could get out of here, take off down the train tracks, and report this all to someone back in Anchorage. I didn’t have to do this myself. That would be suicide.

  I whispered an apology to Lena for that day, all those years ago. I could have acted then, but hadn’t. She might have been okay. But, more likely, I would have ended up like her. Better to live with regret.

  I climbed up to the door and tried the key. It fit, and I turned it, a heavy clunk sounding outside as the locking bar slid aside. Relief flooded my system and I turned the wheel. The deadbolts slid into the concrete and clicked into place. I pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway of the hotel.

  Then I ran.

  Chapter 16

  My head pounded and my hand screamed. I ignored them. I had to get out. Seconds later, I reached the hotel’s back door and burst out into the rain. It was pouring now, and I’d been stripped of my poncho, but hell, getting wet felt good at this point. Meant I was still alive.

  I tore down the driveway and into town. Sparing a sideways glance at the sheriff’s office, I turned up the road to the train station. And, the thirty mile walk to the next town. Through heavy rain. Way better than fighting a murderer. I was done here.

  “I’m sorry, my friend.” The voice was a whisper, but I heard it clearly and stopped. There, on the porch of the trading post, was Thea.

  Despite my terror, I stopped. “Wait, what are you sorry about?”

  “I thought you would overcome him,” said Thea. “Thought you’d find your inner strength. I was wrong.”

  “Oh I found it. I found the strength to get the hell out of here.”

  She shook her head sadly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What does that mean? You know, you set me off to face him in the first place. Are you going to send me back in now?”

  “No. I truly wanted you to live. But, there’s nothing I can do now. Your fate is sealed.”

  I furrowed my brow. She wasn’t talking any sense. I could walk down those damn train tracks. It had been her idea in the first place.

  Then, I heard a door open and looked to my left. Emerging from the sheriff’s office was Clement. He stopped at the street, hands on hips, and looked at me. Then he nodded and walked into Lucy’s.

  Wait. Wasn’t this all his doing? If it wasn’t him, then who was in the hotel basement?

  “I’d guess you have about twenty seconds left.” Thea’s voice cut through my confusion.

  “Left until what?”

  Thea didn’t respond, just shook her head and pointed to my feet. I looked down. My Oxfords were soaked and ruined, but at this point that didn’t matter. What was she looking at?

  Then, I finally saw.

  I’d heard that the brain fills in gaps with what it expects to find. That it can deceive itself when it believes it is for the best. When I saw my glowing feet hovering above the ground, I realized that my brain had deceived me.

  Strapped down on that chair, I’d been worried that the madman would shoot me up with the elixir to separate my mind and body. He already had. I hadn’t escaped anything; I’d fooled myself into thinking I had. My body was still strapped to that chair.

  I wasn’t about to leave town. I was already the next victim, the next ghost.

  “No! Thea, save me. End this.”

  “It will end soon enough dear.”

  With a shout I spun, intending to race back to the dungeon. It was too late. Even as I turned, the whole world blanked around me. Everything went dark, and then I snapped back awake. I was in my body, lying on my side in the dirt.

  And, found myself staring at him.

  Dark eyes stared at me from a withered husk of a face. Before me was a wiry man, easily in his late 90s. Wrinkled skin covered thin, but muscular arms. He wore nothing but a ripped pair of cargo pants. I could count the ribs on his scrawny torso.

  No one had picked up Friedrich’s mantle; he’d kept at it himself. Somehow, the scientist had survived all these years, driven to perfect his elixir. He’d tested it on innocent men and women. And, himself.

  I’d read the journals, I knew what happened to anyone who drank too much. I imagined the madness had claimed him long ago. Friedrich probably didn’t even know why he was working anymore.

  This whole town existed solely to feed his twisted goal. Nekker, the sheriff, even Thea and the fearful townsfolk. They all helped sustain him in their own way. Through aggression, fear, or indifference. Now I was going to pay the price.

  “Yes, very potent that batch. I nearly have it now. One more subject should do it.”

  I thought back to his journal. Just one more subject. I’d seen that in several entries. Success was always around the next corner. But, I got it now. Friedrich was never going to perfect his elixir. He was just going to keep killing until the day he died. And the townsfolk knew that day was coming soon. No one lived forever.

  I tried to lash out, but my arms and legs were firmly bound. I struggled, kicking up dirt into the air. It blacked out my tiny room and I started coughing. Then I realized it wasn’t dirt. And I wasn’t in a room.

  “Wait! Please, let me out of here!”

  Friedrich didn’t even look at me, he just stepped back and closed the grate. A moment, later I heard the hiss of gas, the click of the ignition. Then, a wall of flame.

  Epilogue

  Regina Townsend closed her Internet browser. The article was nothing new, but still sad.

  It said the same thing as the police report. Nigel Nekker and Kyle Ressler had been murdered in Dansk Bay. Nekker was bludgeoned in his house, Kyle’s body had never been found. The local sheriff had conducted a thorough investigation. In the end, a transient fishing hand had been to blame. Dansk Bay’s fishing captain mentioned the poor boy had been unstable, but no one suspected he was capable of murder. The transient was on the run, but there were no leads.

  Regina looked out the window and sighed. Forty floors below, busy people filled the streets of San Francisco. Down there folks lived and died every day. Murder, awful as it was, happened. But, people almost never died in this line of work.

  Bad business any way you looked at it. Kyle had been a good employee, a decent man. No one deserved an end like that. Should she have listened to his objections? Called him back home?

  But, how could she have known? No, Kyle had a job to do and so did she. Bad things happened, but she couldn’t blame herself. It was time to move on.

  With Nekker dead, the Dansk Bay Hotel would be hung up in probate. Regina could probably get it for free, but now it was toxic. Double homicide turned off the tourists. Fortunately, there were plenty of other choices; it was a big world.

  She marked the Dansk Bay file “CLOSED.”

  About the Author

  I am a PhD student at the University of Utah. I currently study astrophysics and, though I usually write science fiction, I occasionally dabble in horror.

  When I’m not writing or studying I enjoy a hike or bike ride with my wife, daughter, and our husky. I also love to read, cook, play video games, and play soccer.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. I’ll have more works coming out soon. You can check everything out at my website, www.cornachionetales.com, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook. Happy reading!