Black Hotel

by Renee Wakefield

  ‘Tell me what you see.’

  Jack struggled to get a grip on anything. Time as he knew it was losing all meaning. His mental process falling to pieces.

  Movement behind Charlotte captured his attention. A figure. Rising up slowly. It was another Charlotte. Her doppelgänger.

  ‘Tell me what you see.’

  ‘I… I see you.’

  ‘It’s you.’ Charlotte said.

  ‘It’s you,’ Jack repeated.

  Charlotte’s double appeared angry. Furious. She pulled something from behind her back. A samurai sword. The sword chinged softly as she drew it from its sheath. Charlotte’s double hurtled towards the frightened Jack.

  ‘I see you!’ Jack yelled. ‘I see you!’

  Charlotte’s double rushed at Jack. Raising the sword. Poised to strike. He closed his eyes tight, flinching away. Frozen with terror. It took a few moments for Jack to reopen his eyes. When he did Charlotte’s doppelgänger had disappeared.

  ‘It’s you,’ Charlotte said again.

  And with that, her double was back. Rising up again. Taking out her sword. Running at Jack. And again. And again. Stuck in a loop.

  Jack squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to open them again. Hiding behind his eyelids. He was somewhere else again. He could feel it. But where?

  He opened his eyes a crack. He was in a bathroom. He breathed a sigh of relief. The cool air calmed him. This was okay. Actually no! Not okay! Not okay at all!

  Amanda’s blood coated the walls, splattered everywhere. Don’t look in the bath. Oh God. He didn’t want to see poor Amanda cut to pieces again. Not like this. He squeezed his eyes back shut.

  Jack found himself in the hotel corridor. Moving. Moving. He glanced behind him. There was someone there. How long had he been running away? Maybe forever. He ran faster.

  ‘Ja - ck … Jaa - cck .’ The taunting voice was back, slicing through Jack’s skull.

  ‘Leave me alone.’ Jack screeched.

  ‘Tell me what you see, Jack.’

  Jack hurried along. Running. Desperate. From nowhere a blood-curdling scream shook the hotel. Jack bounded down the Grand Staircase. Halfway down he froze.

  Merch was there. In the lobby. With Nicolette. They were carrying something. No, someone. Charlotte. Nicolette had her under her arms, Merch had her legs. Charlotte was a dead weight. Completely non-responsive. What were they doing? Merch spotted Jack on the stairs and waved him away frantically. Don’t come down here! Go! Go! No good could come from coming down. Desperate and confused Jack backed away, back up the stairs. He slunk off, freaked out.

  Nicolette’s voice cut through the quiet. ‘Something is wrong!’

  Jack blinked, finding himself back in Room 8. Back in his seat. Back in Charlotte’s vice-like grasp. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were blocked, only allowing the shortest and sharpest of tiny breaths. The more he tried, the harder breathing became. The drink. All of this. It had to be the drink. They’d poisoned him. Why?

  ‘Something is wrong!’ Nicolette screamed once more.

  Charlotte was old and sick again. The control panel beeped crazily. Nicolette bounced to her feet.

  ‘It’s you,’ whispered the old, sick Charlotte, before slumping in her seat.

  Nicolette dashed over to her sister. All too much for Jack. Finally free of Charlotte’s grasp he ripped the electrodes from his head and stumbled out the door, still unable to breathe properly.

  Jack lurched into the corridor, everything a blur. His head not right. The demented magician materialised right in front of him.

  ‘Hiya, Sport.’

  BANG!

  He flattened Jack with a punch right to the bridge of his nose. The blow reverberated throughout every inch of his body. Blinding pain spurted through him. He scuttled backwards. The old man stood watching him. Not moving.

  Jack scrambled to his feet and took off.

  With no idea where he was, Jack stumbled along. It was as though the hotel had been redesigned by MC Escher. Nowhere led to where it should. Everywhere led to the same place. There was nothing behind some doors. Everything behind others. The day staff appeared, lining the walls. Laughing derisively at Jack. The fake ghost appeared, rattling its chains.

  Jack kept moving faster and faster.

  Footsteps filled the air. Not people footsteps though. An animal? Jack managed to flatten himself against a wall just in time. Something enormous brushed past him. A horse. Colonel Black riding past on his horse. The horse reared on to its hind legs. Colonel Black raised his hand, ready to attack an invisible enemy. The horse charged forward. They both disappeared around the corner.

  Jack kept moving. He couldn’t seem to move fast enough. What was wrong with his legs? They didn’t want to work. He had to move now. Moving was more important than ever. Someone chased him. Something. A figure.

  Jack scurried along, barely able to hold back the tears.

  ‘ Ja - ck …’

  He managed to move faster but so did whatever was following him. He turned to catch a glimpse of his pursuer. Searching. It was him. Another Jack. His doppelgänger. Jack hid, trying to quieten his breath. His double looked everywhere but didn’t manage to find him. Jack turned back and ran the other way.

  ‘ Ja - ck … Ja - ck …’ The taunting voice was getting louder. Closer. Jack stumbled. Terribly afraid. Not coping.

  ‘Ja - ck… Ja - ck…’

  His breathing became even more laboured. Thinking seemed impossible. Yet that was what he needed. To think. A moment or two of clear thought.

  Jack forced himself to stop. He closed his eyes and did his best to inhale a deep breath. It helped. Despite the dark, Jack realised he knew this place. The hotel kitchen. Jack’s eyes searched. There was a low cupboard under the sink. He had little time. His pursuer would soon be upon him.

  ‘Ja - ck…’ The voice grew louder.

  Jack reached down. He wrenched open the sliding door, pulling out an array of pots and pans. Sending them clattering loudly to the floor. Quickly! Hurry!

  ‘Ja - ck…’ The taunting voice was almost upon him.

  Consumed by his terror, Jack dived into the cupboard. He slid the door closed behind him. It was no easy task squeezing into the small space. Somehow he managed.

  ‘Ja - ck…’

  Footsteps. They were right there.

  ‘JA - CK…’

  He squeezed his eyes tight.

  ‘JACK!!!’

  So close now. Tighter. Tighter.

  Jack bit his lip hard. Blood trickled into his mouth. Metallic and bitter.

  Desperately he prayed that he would be okay. That he wouldn’t be found here. Please, no. Please!

  Oh no. The footsteps stopped. Right outside the cupboard.

  Jack made a grab for the door. He had to keep it closed. Too late.

  The cupboard door flew open…

  Without the door there to hold him in place Jack tumbled out. Into the hotel kitchen. Bright sunlight filled the room. Jack tried to look up, his eyes struggling to adjust to the bright light.

  A figure stood over him.

  Hector.

  ‘Jack? What on earth … ?’

  33

  Hector’s disappointment

  Jack stood sheepishly against the wall in the staff room with Hector. He very much liked Hector and had no desire to lie to him. At the same time telling him the truth could be somewhat tricky. How do you explain what has gone on when you don’t have the complete picture yourself?

  Jack’s mind was a mess of jumbled fragments. He vaguely remembered a great many bits and pieces, but no sense of the whole, therefore, no real idea of what had actually occurred. And doubted he would any time soon. He felt marginally better than he had last night at the worst of it but his brain remained a mushy fog.

  Was it the drink? The machine? Hypnotism? He struggled to assign any part of the experience to any cause. And what had happened to Merch and Charlotte and Nicolette? Were they still in the hotel somewhere?


  Hector’s disappointed glare wasn’t going away. Did Jack look as bad as he felt? Was he supposed to speak first? Jack worried if he spoke first he would lose. Lose what, he wasn’t sure. But the one who talks first always loses, don’t they? That sounded right.

  ‘You can’t do shit like this,’ Hector said finally. ‘I can’t cover for you, especially not with the Expo coming up.’

  He looked to Jack for a response but got nothing.

  ‘I mean, yeah, it’s a cruisy job, but there are rules. I thought you got that.’ He shook his head.

  Jack could feel the disappointment radiating off Hector. He hated it. He realised he wanted Hector’s approval. He didn’t want to let him down. He didn’t want to lose his job either, not like this. Not now. No matter how messed up last night was Jack still needed to know what was up with Black Hotel. He sensed he was getting closer to something. Some sort of answers. God, what did happen last night? And where —

  ‘Jack?’

  He came back to the moment. Realising Hector was still speaking he managed to nod.

  ‘You’re lucky I was first in today. If that was Miss Daniels… I mean, she likes you and all, but she would have called the cops.’

  Call the cops? Why? What had Hector found? What had happened to the hotel? And Charlotte and Nicolette and Merch?

  ‘Miss Daniels would probably have fired us both. Right there on the spot. I can’t afford to lose this job, man.’

  ‘No more slice,’ Jack managed to mumble. He felt as though he should input something but judging from Hector’s expression, that may not have been it.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just… meant… Maria…’ Jack stammered very quietly. ‘She wouldn’t like me anymore if … if I got you fired.’

  ‘Is this all a joke to you?’

  Jack shook his head. Silence lingered in the air. That’s it, Jack decided. He’s going to fire me. Jack had been let go plenty of times before, never from a job he actually liked though. Finally:

  ‘Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy here. Don’t make me. Do you have anything else to say?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jack mumbled in a raspy voice.

  Hector shook his head. ‘What the hell happened here last night?’

  Good question. Jack shuffled through variations, trying to find some appropriate version of the truth. "Two ghost hunter’s daughters hooked me up to some sort of machine, got me to drink some weird concoction, possibly a hallucinogen …" And that was the coherent part of the story.

  Fortunately, Hector went on before he had to answer. ‘And how on earth did you end up in the kitchen cupboard?’ And Jack saw it. That hint of amusement in Hector’s eyes. Maybe he wasn’t going to lose his job. Maybe he was going to be alright. ‘I come in, you’re not at your desk. I would have never found you if the pots and pans hadn’t been everywhere.’ Hector laughed. ‘You’re one-of-a-kind, my friend.’

  Jack stared down, examining his feet. Feet. What had he done with his shoes?

  Hector sighed, weighing up his options. Eventually, he went on. ‘Tell you what. Hang around for a bit, help me move some stuff for the Expo, and we will forget about it this once, okay?’

  Phew. Jack nodded meekly. ‘Thank you.’

  Jack relaxed, but only momentarily. He had no idea what condition the hotel would be in. He didn’t think he had done anything to the hotel itself, but nothing would have surprised him at this point. A vague recollection of Colonel Black riding through the hotel on his horse replayed through his mind. He dearly hoped he hadn’t done something stupid to Colonel Black’s painting.

  Plus there were the security cameras. Much of what occurred took place in Room 8, where he assumed the privacy of the guests would prevent there being any cameras, but he had been elsewhere in the hotel too. Hector would eventually see the footage. How would he explain his behaviour or the presence of Merch, Charlotte and Nicolette?

  Jack gingerly followed Hector to the lobby. To his immense relief, Black Hotel appeared okay. At least, the lobby did. Colonel Black remained in his position on the wall. The portrait made no attempt to talk to Jack either, which he took as a positive sign.

  There didn’t seem to be any mess or damage. Room 8 could be a whole other story. With luck, he’d get to check it out before Hector suspected anything.

  Hector and Jack moved down the rickety staircase to the basement.

  ‘We need these in reception.’ Hector said, pointing out some trestle tables which lay up against a wall. ‘You’re right about my Maria. She’d never forgive me if I fired you.’

  They manoeuvred some disused pieces of furniture out of the way to make a clear path for the tables. Rearranging was a little like a puzzle. The basement was so full of broken tables and chairs and other junk extracting the trestle tables was a major challenge. Jack was very little help.

  ‘She always asks how you are going. I’ll tell her I found you hiding in the kitchen cupboard this morning. She’ll get a kick out of that. You weren’t hiding from ghosts, were you?’

  Again, there was no clear answer to Hector’s question. Maybe? The previous evening was taking its toll. Jack needed to sit but didn’t think he could ask for a break quite yet. They grabbed the first of the tables, shifting towards the stairs.

  Jack backed his way up the staircase, Hector following carrying the other end of the table.

  ‘It’s weird, man, this being pregnant thing. Maria likes to say we’re pregnant. She’s the one who is pregnant. Not me. I’m not crazy. I can’t say that to her though. She’ll claim I’m not being supportive."

  The table was cumbersome, particularly upstairs.

  ‘The pregnancy is doing strange things to her brain. She can be pretty volatile at the best of times but at the moment, it’s nuts.’

  Jack searched his brain for a response. Anything. Trouble was he didn’t have much experience with pregnant woman.

  They somewhat awkwardly manoeuvred their way through the door and into the lobby.

  ‘She just needs this baby to come out. But then we’ll have a baby. Strange times. Who knows? She might even go more crazy once the baby is here.’ Hector gave Jack a funny look. ‘Are you okay, man?’

  Jack must’ve looked as bad as he felt. He managed a nod. What would be the best strategy if he sensed a vomit coming? Say something? Try to hold it in? Drop his end of the table and run?

  ‘And I’m on edge the whole time. Whenever the phone rings, I think this is it, she’s gone into labour…’ A chirpy tune buzzed from Hector’s pocket. ‘Speak of the devil… Just a tick.’ They placed the table down. He answered his phone as he wandered away. ‘Hey, honey.’

  Alone again, Jack leant up against the reception counter and sucked in a deep breath. Immediately he began to feel a bit better. He sank into the familiar peacefulness of the lobby. It calmed his soul. He contemplated attempting to move more tables on his own or setting this one up. Maybe he should wait. He inhaled in another deliberately large breath.

  A slight noise drifted through the quiet. The squeaking.

  Jack looked up. Amanda sat at the top of the stairs, playing with her car. Jack couldn’t help but smile. Just as the lobby gave Jack a pleasant feeling, Amanda’s presence soothed him. He observed her playing happily. He’d much prefer to see her like this. He resisted the memory of the blood and gore of the bath. The little girl chopped into pieces.

  ‘Hey, Amanda.’

  The little girl froze, looking at Jack with fearful eyes. She bolted away, replicating the action Jack had seen many times before.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ said Hector as he returned. ‘No baby. A reminder for me to buy milk on my way home.’ The two of them shuffled back down the stairs.

  They crossed the small distance from the steps to the wall and picked up the next table.

  ‘Do you know that little girl?’ Hector asked. Jack’s brain struggled to keep up. ‘The little girl playing on the stairs. You just said hello to her.’

  ‘You can see her?’<
br />
  ‘Of course I can see her. I checked her and her Dad in an hour ago. First walk-in guests we’ve had since forever. Her Dad’s a bit weird. Strange little guy.’

  But Jack wasn’t listening. He dumped his end of the table and bolted up the stairs.

  ‘Jack?’

  34

  Amanda

  Jack dashed through the lobby and up the Grand Staircase.

  ‘Amanda!!’

  Inside Room 8 Amanda’s Dad stood at the entrance to the en suite, his face awash with a strange mania. His mobile phone jittering slightly in his hand. His little girl playing on the floor in front of him. Driving her car in little circles.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  In the corridor Jack pounded on the door. ‘Amanda!!’

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Hector arrived and grabbed him, wrenching him around. ‘What the hell are you doing?! You can’t —’

  ‘The key!’ Jack screamed. ‘We have to get in there!’

  Hector stared at his workmate like he was nuts. ‘No, Jack. They’re guests. We can’t—’

  ‘Fine.’ Jack wasn’t getting through to Hector. Plan B. He took several steps back and launched himself into the door.

  CRASH!

  He slammed into it hard, with his hip and shoulder. All his might.

  Any hope the door would split off its hinges were swiftly dashed. All that resulted was a sore shoulder.

  Hector watched, dumbfounded. ‘Jack. We have to respect the guests’ privacy.’

  Shouldering the door wasn’t going to work. Jack stepped back and gave the door an almighty kick.

  CRASH!

  All his energy. All his effort. All the stress and confusion of the last few days balled into one powerful strike. The result was equally as painful and unsuccessful. The door stood firm. Now his leg and his shoulder ached.

  Hector stared, mouth agape. He yelled at Jack, trying to physically force him away from the door.

  A scream rang out from inside Room 8. A little girl’s scream. A scream that chilled them both to their core.