The Eleventh Floor

by Shani Struthers

  Her heart started banging against her chest wall, as if seeking an escape of its own. “It’s not empty,” she whispered. It was far from empty. “David…” She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to ask. “What about me? Can you see me clearly?”

  “Caroline, yes!” His movement swift, he grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes brighter than any chandelier. “I can see you, I can hear you and I can feel you.”

  She stared back, angry that tears were blurring her vision. She wanted to see him clearly too. “We have to leave.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we do, right now. This is one hell of a place, but don’t worry, I’ll manage to get the car started, yours, or mine. We’ll be in Williamsfield soon enough, then we can find ourselves somewhere to stay there until you catch your flight home. I’ll finish work on this Helen case and then I’ll come over, I promise. I’ll come to England. This isn’t the end.”

  She nodded. “It can’t be the end, not for us, but… Helen’s dead.”

  He reared back slightly. “Dead? How do you know?”

  “Call it a gut feeling.”

  His jaw clenched, briefly he screwed his eyes shut, his agony at her fate etched all over his face. “I told you, that was my gut feeling too.”

  “She did come here, we know that, because of Althea’s register.”

  “Althea?” Confusion reigned once again. “You just mentioned her. Who is she?”

  She shook her head, unable to believe her ears. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  “Caroline, we can talk about everything later. While there’s no one here we need to take advantage, come on.”

  “But, David, do you even know why we’re running? Why we’re leaving behind our clothes, our belongings, my passport even?”

  There was the slightest flicker of memory in his eyes, an echo, and then it was gone. Fear gripped her, darker and colder than anything she’d encountered, at the prospect that soon she’d become an echo too, that despite what they’d said, what they’d declared, it was the end – but it was also a kind of beginning, for her anyway. Another beginning.

  Together they walked, the dancers parting before them, and only her able to witness their movement. For once she wanted the path in front of her to run on and on, as it had done so many times before at The Egress, for it to never end. She wished that they’d get lost on their journey for all eternity, defying the fates that sought to part them. But all too soon they reached the main doors. She peered outside, at the whiteness of the land.

  “It looks better out there, doesn’t it?” said David, so much hope in his voice. “Sure, the ice is going to be a bit treacherous, but if we take it slowly we’ll make it into Williamsfield.”

  If we take it slowly…

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you, David?”

  He turned to her, his hope almost blinding. “Honey, don’t worry, I won’t do anything to put us in danger.”

  She gripped his hand harder. “I want you to be safe.”

  “We will be, I promise.”

  Standing on tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his, savouring how soft they were, the clean soap and water smell. “Thank you,” she said, having to force herself to withdraw.

  “What for?” He looked part amused, part bemused.

  “You showed me what life should be like.”

  “Caroline—”

  “Here, let’s get this door open.” Releasing him, she placed her shoulder against the glass and pushed, David joining in and helping her. “I’ve got it, David, it’s not as bad as it was before. You go first.”

  “Okay. God, it’s cold. We haven’t got our coats,” something else that bemused him. “Why haven’t we got our coats, Caroline?”

  “Because there was no time,” she answered, stepping backwards, not forwards.

  His face crinkled. “No time?”

  “That’s right, it just… ran out. Take care, David.”

  “I’ve told you, I’m going to be careful.”

  “And believe.”

  “Believe in what?”

  “In me at least.”

  “Caroline?”

  Before either of them could say another word, she closed the door on him, swiftly sliding the bolt at the top into place, as well as the bolt at the bottom.

  Immediately David began banging on the door, his fists hammering away at the glass. “Caroline! Caroline! What do you think you’re doing? Hey, come on, let me in! Caroline?”

  Again and again he struck the glass, but there was less and less strength behind each blow. What did increase was the puzzlement on his face, almost comical if she had the will to laugh. She cried instead, tears racing down her cheeks, to splash on the floor below.

  “Caroline!” Still he was calling her name but he’d stop soon, she knew that.

  Someone had come to stand by her – Althea, gliding on silent feet.

  “I’m dead, aren’t I?” Caroline said, not turning her head to the side, still staring at David.

  “Yes,” Althea replied.

  “And David isn’t?”

  “I suspect he had an accident like you did, and was in a coma.”

  “But now he’s waking up.”

  “Yes, he’s beginning to wake up.”

  Chapter Thirty

  She was waking too, but to a different reality, just as Helen had done. The light David had wanted so badly must have been the light in the hospital, and the wires he was complaining of in the basement were those he was attached to.

  Her eyes still on David, he was faltering over her name, just as she’d predicted, looking to his left and to his right, up and down, clearly wondering what he was doing here, outside a hotel, in the snow, in the middle of the night, banging on a door, shouting.

  “He’ll think it’s a dream,” Althea stated.

  “And me,” she whispered. “Will he think I’m a dream too?”

  She paused. “Maybe, maybe not. I think the memory of you will run deep.”

  As David scratched at his head again, turned, and wandered away, Caroline’s heart – if it could be said that she still had one – seemed to convulse. She couldn’t drag her eyes away to look at Althea, not yet, but she had to ask. “How did I end up at The Egress? If I crashed my car, surely that’s where my body is, out there, on that highway.”

  Althea placed a hand on her arm. “You lost control, your car span, not into a bank of snow – that was just what you told yourself. It was a metal gate. Your death was sudden, wholly unexpected. When death is like that it can take time to accept. You were young and there was so much you wanted to do still, and so you carried on, you forced yourself to, arriving at The Egress, because that was where you intended to go.” She took a brief pause before continuing, allowing what she’d imparted to sink in. “The snowstorm, it’s not as bad as the one in 1950, despite all the scaremongering, but that’s what you’d heard on the radio and that’s what your subconscious created – a barrier between you and a world that you knew, deep down, you no longer belonged to. In a way it’s a safety mechanism, you were giving yourself time to adjust, but there’s only so long you can fool yourself for.”

  Although she was listening, Caroline continued to stare outwards at the receding figure, refusing to take her eyes off him. “Are you telling me that what happened between me and David wasn’t real either?” He was becoming so small, a distant figure, soon to be consumed by the surrounding landscape. How am I going to manage without you? She knew grief well enough, but this was it at its ultimate. “It felt real,” she managed. “So real.”

  “Darling, look at me. Take my hand, and squeeze it.”

  “What?”

  “I said squeeze my hand.”

  David had gone. He’d disappeared.

  Choking back a sob, she reached out, blindly at first, but soon felt Althea’s fingers wrap around hers.

  “Squeeze, Caroline, harder. I’m not as frail as I look.”

  She tried her utmost to obey.

  “What can yo
u feel?” Althea asked.

  “Erm… flesh. I can feel flesh.”

  “And warmth?”

  “Yes, you’re warm enough.”

  “Because I’m real too. You’re real. There are so many of us at The Egress that are real. Caroline, just because you’re dead, doesn’t mean it’s over. Death isn’t the end.”

  “It’s the end of something.”

  “Caroline, please, will you look at me. One leg of the journey’s over, that’s all. Another awaits.”

  She only half turned. “But I’m stuck here, at The Egress.”

  “No, you’re not,” Althea denied.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re beginning to. Come on, let’s move away from the door, and sit down.”

  “But David…”

  “You know he’s not there anymore.”

  No, he was on the road to recovery.

  Althea had to guide her away, Caroline stumbling blindly otherwise. Her head rising just a little, she pointed towards the ballroom. “In there… my parents.”

  Althea stopped to look. “Darling, I said many of us at The Egress are real, but there are plenty of shades too, or shadows as you call them. A part of them lingers still; their hearts possibly, but not their souls. That’s the difference you see, your soul is here.”

  “So my parents…”

  “Had a magical time, didn’t they, on their honeymoon? They laughed, they loved, they danced, and they conceived their first child. Experiences like that are special and they tend to imprint themselves on the atmosphere, playing on a loop over and over again. As much a part of the building as bricks and mortar, they define the building and make it special too.” After walking a few more paces, she seated both of them on a small sofa. “But not all memories are good, of course. This is neither heaven nor hell, but it can feel like both at times.”

  That was something she’d already thought. Taking several deep breaths, Caroline tried to compose herself. “Does this hotel even exist? In the world I left behind, I mean?”

  “Oh yes, yes, despite its rather… sorry reputation. It still exists and we exist right alongside it. In the ‘real’ Egress, people check in and out on a daily basis, the numbers not great, you can’t expect them to be as we’re off the beaten track, but still people come. I tend to think they always will. The shadows you see? They’re not all made up of the dead.”

  A glimmer of wonder tried to skirt around despair. If she was to believe what she was hearing, the shadows and the shapes were a mix of the living and the dead. She remembered interrupting David when he was speaking to someone, someone that had seemed vague to her, one of the people that hadn’t quite stood out – a shadow. “David could interact with the living as well as the dead, because he had a foot in both worlds.”

  Althea nodded, a semblance of relief in her smile.

  “And he could also connect to the Internet, whereas I couldn’t, because literally, he was connected to the outside world, whereas my connection had been severed.”

  Again, Althea nodded.

  “But not all memories are good, as you said,” Caroline continued, explaining in brief the dreams she’d had, and what she’d experienced in the corridor outside Althea’s room.

  “That’s right, they’re not all good, but what you saw in your dreams, maybe even in the corridor, is most likely to be facets of your own personality; the demons in your head, if you will, seeking release. The shadow side of you, all the thoughts and the feelings you’ve accumulated which never entirely sat well with you, which in death rise to the fore.”

  Again Caroline had to breathe deeply. “But the emotions, they were so… powerful.”

  “Which is why we suppress them, because they’re exactly that. They’re our driving force.”

  “The architect’s daughter, what about her?”

  Althea nodded, clearly expecting some reference to her. “Ah, the architect’s daughter. Now there’s an example of emotions running high.”

  “Is she an imprint or is she real?”

  “Oh, she’s real enough. She can’t move on. Won’t move on, poor girl. She insists on reliving the moment of her demise, over and over again.”

  “What’s her name?” Caroline asked.

  “Martha Bergstein,” Althea answered.

  She’d been the very first entry in Althea’s ledger, the girl with no tick beside her name. “And the second architect, the one who was murdered?”

  “Ronald Greaves.”

  “You ticked his name off,” she responded.

  “Because he left The Egress, straight away, despite the shock of his death. Some do, some don’t. Darling, when you die, you have a choice: you either accept what’s happened to you, or you don’t. Greaves clearly did. Others simply carry on, trying to live. If that’s the case, if that’s you, and you passed either at The Egress or it was your intent to come here, then here is where you’ll find yourself.” She stopped to consider her words. “I have to say, The Egress does tend to attract rather a lot of lost souls, but then there’s always been death here, and where there’s death there’s an attraction of sorts. It opens up a gateway.”

  “What about Helen?” Caroline asked. “She’s not just a shadow.”

  “No, she isn’t. I wish she’d come up from the basement and stop being so afraid.”

  “Did she die here?”

  Althea shook her head. “I gather she was driven somewhere nearby, beaten and raped. Her body’s still out there probably, lying in a shallow grave. Maybe when it’s found she can start the healing process, and emerge from the darkness that hides her.”

  Caroline swallowed. “Was it Edward who murdered her?”

  Althea glanced briefly over at Edward. “No, not him, but certainly he represents that type of person, and when she reached the hotel, he took advantage of her too.”

  “Who is he?” she said, glancing in his direction too. “Surely, you’re not related?”

  “Related?” Althea shrugged, her nonchalance surprising Caroline. “In a way we are, but not how you think. We’re opposites, Edward and I. We preside over what happens here. We’re the managers, as you call us. It’s a pity, but we both have to be on duty.”

  “Why?”

  “As the material world is balanced, so is the spiritual world. That’s the rule.”

  “The rule?” Tallula had mentioned something about that; it had angered her.

  “Ah, Tallula,” Althea said, even though Caroline hadn’t spoken her name out loud. “A woman who has never played by the rules. But I don’t make them, and neither does Edward, nonetheless we have to abide by them. It’s the natural order of things.” Leaning forward, Althea stared into Caroline’s eyes. “Darling, this is my job, to be here for souls such as yourself, and to temper other souls, those that would align themselves with Edward. We can interact with you – Edward a little too enthusiastically on occasion – but what we won’t do is interfere. We won’t force you to understand what has happened to you; it’s something you have to come to terms with yourself. Tallula said there’s no way out of here, that we’re trapped. I know you’ve felt that, so many do – Marilyn, John, and Elspeth too, but you’re trapped by your own volition. Even Tallula. Free will is something that carries on. With Tallula, it’s fear of retribution, consequences to actions. In other words, she’s frightened she’ll have to experience all the suffering that she heaped on people while she lived, and in a sense, she will. But she’ll learn from it too, that’s the thing, and she’ll grow in spirit, but she can’t see that, not yet. She doesn’t want to. And so she clings to Edward, believing he’ll protect her, but of course he can’t. He has no real power, not in that sense. But one thing he will do is have fun with her while she remains, like a leech, he’ll bleed her dry.”

  Edward and Tallula had finished their drinks and had joined the others on the dance floor, less than a hair’s breadth between them. She stared at Edward – a man of many faces, a trickster, as devilish as they come, but stil
l he was bound by rules. At least at The Egress he was.

  “What happens if there are no rules?” Caroline asked, trembling at the idea.

  “You’re right to tremble,” Althea replied. “Without rules, there’d be no order at all. That’s why ritual is so important, for new guests especially, it provides an anchor, and without it we risk being cast adrift, falling deeper and deeper into chaos. Do you know something? He may threaten, he may rail against me, but even Edward’s afraid of that and ultimately, that’s why he obeys. Beneath it all, he’s a stickler for home comforts.”

  “What about the others?” Caroline asked. She didn’t need to elaborate, Althea would know who she meant.

  “I suspect Marilyn will go soon, now that she realises her husband isn’t here.”

  “Where did she die?”

  “At home, she hanged herself, hence the knotted bed sheet you found. She’d sit for hours in 1102 tying and untying it. As you know, she made her way here because this is where they spent so many anniversaries. All of you have a connection with The Egress.”

  “Perhaps me more than most having been conceived here.”

  Althea agreed. “Yes, perhaps you more than most.”

  “What about John?” He’d always intrigued her.

  “Ah, John,” Althea leaned back into the sofa. “Now, he did die here, that’s his connection, he drank himself to death on one of the living floors, in room 508. After his death, Raquel put him on the eleventh floor, in the room next to me because I wanted to keep an eye on him. By the way, I must apologise for Raquel, for the persistent air of boredom that surrounds her – she is bored, you see. Despite her relatively modern appearance, she’s been here almost as long as me; she’s seen so many come and go. It could be that she’s done her bit, and that she needs to move on too. Back to John, he thinks he’s as bad as his father, the father that abandoned him and his family, and maybe he is… Certainly he followed suit, but alcohol is a terrible addiction and it does seem to run in families, alcohol and drugs, as in the case of Elspeth, a woman who once spent a very happy family holiday here as a child; the last time she was ever truly happy, I think, and that’s why she returned. Hopefully she’ll go soon as well, once her mind’s a little clearer. Doing as Martha does, dying over and over again, it can be soul destroying.” She shook her head, apologised once more. “I’m digressing again. John keeps writing that he’s sorry, scrawling the words over any piece of paper he can get his hands on, but, at the moment, that’s all it is, just words. He craves his family’s forgiveness – for leaving them in a time of crisis. His younger child, Ben, is ill you see, gravely ill – but first he needs to forgive himself, for not being a rock, for having crumbled. Only then can he find release.”