by Amy Cross
***
“Going somewhere?”
Startled, I turn and find that the girl from reception is now right behind me. She wasn't there a moment ago, I swear, but it's as if she somehow managed to sneak up behind me while I was standing here trying to get my head straight.
“I'm sorry,” I stammer, taking a step back, relieved that I didn't drop the tray. “I didn't hear you coming over.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“I'm delivering something to a room,” I explain, before stepping aside. “Please, you can go first.”
“I don't want to go first.”
“I'm very sorry,” I reply, forcing a smile, “but I really think...”
My voice trails off. I want to walk away, but I still can't quite remember where I'm supposed to walk to. I've had mornings like this before, of course, when I'm ridiculously clumsy and stupid, but this feels like something a little different. It's as if all the thoughts in my head are jumbled together, as if someone pulled out all the drawers in my mind and scattered the contents everywhere. Now I'm not sure what goes where.
“Which room are you heading to?” the girl asks, before looking at the nearest door. “117?”
“No.”
“118?”
“No, I -”
“119?”
“I -”
Suddenly I realize that she's right. Of course she is. How could I have been so stupid? I look along the corridor and see the door to room 119, and then I look back down at the tray, and then I turn to the girl again.
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound calm and firm. “Is that your room?”
“Absolutely not,” she replies, before leaning against the wall and crossing her arms against her chest. “Please, don't let me stop you. You have work to do.”
“Of course,” I mutter, before turning and heading toward the door.
And then I stop again, as I realize that – again – I've somehow forgotten where I'm going. I remembered a moment ago but now, as I look at the doors to the different rooms, I feel as if the crucial information has simply dribbled out of my mind and left my head altogether. I glance around at the various doors – there's room 118, and 120, and 121, and 122 – but they don't seem quite right. I look again, still feeling as if I've forgotten something important.
“119?” the girl says.
I turn to her.
“Isn't that where you're going?” she continues. “Room 119.”
“Yes,” I say, and now I can tell that I sound flustered. “I know that. 119.”
I turn to go over to the door.
“Nice badge, by the way,” the girl says suddenly.
Glancing back at her, I struggle for a moment to work out what she means. Then, slowly, I look down at the badge I found on the carpet earlier, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I finally understand.
“A goldfish, huh?” she continues. “Fan of them, are you?”
“I just found this,” I explain. I pause for a moment. “It's funny, though,” I add. “We had goldfish when I was younger. I always wanted a puppy or a kitten, but my father said they were too much work, so I ended up with a goldfish. His name was Robert, and I used to sit and talk to him. I guess that's weird, huh?”
She smiles.
“I'm sorry,” I add, suddenly realizing that I probably shared way too much with this complete stranger. “I should deliver the tray.”
“Sure,” she replies. “I know what people can be like if their breakfast's late.”
I turn again to walk away.
“They act,” she continues, “like it's the end of the world.”
Freezing suddenly, I'm overcome by the feeling that something about this whole situation seems strangely familiar. For a moment – just a fraction of a split second – I remember standing outside in the yard at the back of the hotel, surrounded by pouring rain. The sky was filled with the darkest clouds, and an icy wind was blowing, and I remember slowly turning around and...
Slowly, I turn around.
“Have we met before?” I ask the girl.
“Have we?” she asks.
“That's what I asked you.”
She hesitates, as if she's not quite sure how to answer.
“No,” she says finally, and then she takes a step back. “Sorry, I didn't mean to bug you. I just thought your badge looked cool, that's all. I'll let you get on with things.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, even though I'm still not quite over that sense of deja vu.
I turn to deliver the tray, but then I realize I've forgotten once again which room placed the order.
“119,” the girl says behind me. “Sorry, just in case you didn't remember. You said you were going to room 119.”
Staring at the door to 119, I hear the girl's footsteps hurrying away. I take a deep breath, trying to stay focused, and then I step forward. And in the blink of an eye, I suddenly realize that I've completely forgotten what I'm doing here.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Sorry,” Dad says over the phone, “but she's still not back. She's going to call me from a payphone when she wants me to go and pick her up. Stephanie, why -”
“It's nothing,” I mutter, trying to hide the fact that I'm frustrated. “I just wanted to ask her about something, that's all.”
For a moment, I think back to the sight of Mum in the corridor upstairs. She screamed at me, as if she was completely terrified, and then she vanished. As I take another deep breath, I happen to glance down and see the goldfish badge on my chest.
“Do you remember Robert?” I ask suddenly.
“Who?” Dad replies.
“Robert. My goldfish.”
“Well...” He pauses, and then he chuckles. “Of course I do. I haven't thought of him for a long time, though.”
“I think of him,” I reply, as a shiver passes through my chest. “Not a lot. Just for a few seconds, every now and then. I remember him. Funny, isn't it? He's been dead a few years now, but he still just pops into my head from time to time.” I look down at the badge again. “It's as if -”
Suddenly I freeze as I see that there's something dark on the badge. It takes a moment before I realize that it's caked in blood.
“As if what, darling?” Dad asks.
“I -”
“Hang on,” he adds, “I think your mother just got home.”
I stare at the badge for a moment, shocked by the glistening blood, and then I hear a crackling sound over the phone.
“Stephanie?” Mum says, sounding a little bewildered. “Is that you? Has something happened?”
I turn, shocked to hear her voice, and then I look down and see that the blood is gone from the badge.
“Stephanie?” she continues. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I stammer, as I try to get my thoughts together. “I just... I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I had a nightmare, that's all.”
As soon as I've said those words, I know how dumb they sound. Still, I guess a nightmare is a better explanation than telling the truth. The last thing I need is for Mum to start worrying about me. I was considered to be a 'difficult' child, I had to go and see therapists for years, and I know that Mum and Dad worried when I moved halfway across the country to take this job. They didn't understand that I needed something new, something to get me out of my bubble.
Wincing, I reach down and touch my belly. I just felt a sharp pain, but it's gone now. Nothing to worry about.
“Don't let bad dreams get you down,” Mum says airily. “We all have them, Stephanie. A few nights ago, I had a dream where -”
“Did anything happen last night?” I ask.
“What do you mean, dear?”
“Last night, did you feel anything strange?” I continue, as I realize that something bad happened recently. I don't remember what, exactly, but I have this overwhelming belief that Mum and Dad were in danger last night. “I don't know,” I stammer, “but -”
Suddenly I let out a gasp as I feel anothe
r sharp pain, this time on the right side of my belly, just below the rib-cage. I take a step back, almost dropping the phone. The pain is gone already, but it's still echoing through my body.
“What was that?” Mum asks. “Are you sure you're okay, darling? Why don't you think about taking a weekend off and coming to visit us? It's been so long since we saw you.”
“I can't get away from work right now,” I tell her. “There's too much to do here, and -”
In an instant, the pain comes again, but this time I also see a brief flash of light. Dropping the phone's receiver, I take a step back, and now the pain lingers for a moment, twisting in my chest before starting to spread down to my waist. I can hear Mum's voice speaking over the dangling receiver, but after a moment I drop to my knees as I feel a series of sharp, painful impacts slicing into my gut.
“Please,” I whisper, “help me...”
Instead, the pain continues.
It's as if I'm being stabbed by an invisible knife, and every few seconds I see the glint of light catching against a blade. I can smell blood, too, filling my nostrils, and I think I can even taste blood rushing up into the back of my throat. I tilt my head back and let out a pained gasp, and now there's a sensation of hands on my shoulders, holding me down. All I want is for the pain to end, but instead it's getting sharper and stronger, ripping through my belly with such intensity that I can barely even think anymore.
And then, finally, it stops.
I can still hear Mum's voice somewhere nearby, shouting at me from the phone, but for a moment I can only wait in terror for the knives to return. My head is still tilted back and my eyes are shut, but then I slowly lean forward and begin to open my eyes.
Suddenly a knife slices up into the bottom of my jaw, and blood sprays from my mouth as I feel the blade's tip being driven straight into my brain.
I slump forward, landing hard against the floor, and then the pain begins to fade. For a few seconds I don't dare move, but then I open my eyes and see the phone's receiver still hanging down just a few feet away. Then, slowly, I sit up and look down at my chest, and I see that there's no blood at all. No cuts. No damage. The whole attack seemed so real, but it must have been in my head all along, and now I'm left breathless on my knees with the memory of the pain still singing in the back of my mind.
“Stephanie!” Mum's voice shouts from the receiver. “Say something!”
Dazed, and slightly shivering, I reach over and pull the receiver closer. My hands are trembling, and it takes a few more seconds before I can even begin to find my voice.
“I'm fine,” I stammer, although I immediately know that my voice sounds weak. Mum won't be convinced. “Sorry, I just had a dizzy spell, but I'm fine now. Things have been kind of stressful here, but it's okay. It's going to be okay.”
“You're worrying me, Stephanie,” she replies. “Do I need to come down there? I can get your father to drive me.”
“No, don't do that,” I tell her, figuring that Mum's intervention would make everything worse. “I'm going to be fine.” I look back up, and then suddenly I see that there's a figure standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light of the pantry room.
It's her.
It's the girl I've seen several times this morning.
Except, somehow, I know her name.
“Hannah,” I whisper.
“What did you say?” Mum asks, sounding exasperated. “Listen, Stephanie, I really can't sit here and ignore the fact that something seems to be wrong. Your father and I are going to come and visit you. We'll only stay for a few hours, but we're going to drive down and check that you're okay. It's too late to set off now, but we'll be there first thing in the morning. You can't stop us doing that. We're coming, whether you like it or not.”
“I'm okay,” I murmur, and then I reach over and hang the phone up, before getting to my feet. “I'm fine.”
Hannah steps toward me, and when I finally see her face I realize that I have seen her before today. Lots of times. In fact, memories are flooding into my mind faster than I can possibly process them, to the point that my head is starting to hurt. Finally, as Hannah starts speaking and tries to reassure me, I put my hands on the sides of my head and I scream.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I suspected that this might happen eventually,” Hannah says a short while later, as we kneel facing one another in the pantry. “No system can loop endlessly forever. There's always going to be entropy. The edges are getting tattered.”
“I don't understand,” I stammer, still struggling to deal with the rush of memories. “How can I have lived this day before?”
“Maybe it was leaving this world that triggered the break,” she replies. “On the previous loop, we ended up in the Great Library.” She furrows her brow. “I distinctly recall being eaten by a Forbidder, and let me tell you, that was not nice. Those things don't exactly have the finest-smelling breath. After that, everything's a bit of a blur, but I think my consciousness was slurping around in the Forbidder's belly for a few hours, until the reset finally happened and I found myself back here at the hotel, dealing with another move on that infernal chessboard.”
She furrows her brow.
“I suppose,” she adds, with a hint of disgust in her voice, “that's better than the alternative. There's really only one way out of a stomach, and I was not looking forward to that.”
“Please make this stop,” I continue, leaning forward and putting my hands back on the sides of my head. “I can't handle all these thoughts. All these memories.”
“You just have to trust me,” she says, “and wait until -”
“I can't wait!” I snap. “It hurts! It actually hurts to remember all of this, it's like my head is filling up and it's going to burst and I don't know what to do next!” There are tears running down my face now. “I saw George die out there in reception. I heard people scream. Just now, I felt a knife going into my body over and over again, I tasted blood, I felt -”
“Don't fixate on that,” Hannah says firmly, with a faint smile. She almost seems amused by my panic. “It's not -”
“It's not worth it!” I shout, and now my voice is shaking with rage. “Tell me something. Last night, when the world was ending, where were my parents?”
I wait, but she's simply staring at me now. She's no longer smiling.
“I assume they were at home,” she says finally. “They were doing whatever they'd usually be doing. We've had this conversation so many times already, even if you don't remember.”
“And then what happened to them?” I ask. “When the world was being destroyed, I mean.”
“Stephanie -”
“What happened to them?” I yell.
“They would have had the same experience as everyone else,” she says cautiously. “I don't know exactly what it would have been like, but that doesn't matter. They -”
“It matters to me.”
“They would have woken up again this morning, right as rain. And anything they experience during this loop will end up being forgotten, and they'll go on with their lives. Just like you will, and the rest of the world too. I promise. After all, that's why I was sent here. To fix all of this.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “What exactly are you, anyway?”
“I work for... complicated people,” she replies. “I ran into a little trouble while I was trying to help someone at a school. I managed to call in some favors and fix everything, but I had to pay a price for that. I ended up here, with no resources and no back-up. At first I thought it was a prison, but then I realized I was trapped inside a puzzle. For some reason, my bosses decided that I had to be the one to un-knot this twisted moment in time. I imagine they must have tried every other possibility first. I'm something of a black sheep in the department.”
I open my mouth to ask again why any of this is necessary, but then I realize that there's no point. Hannah's infuriatingly short on direct answers, and I doubt I'd understand even if she genuine
ly tried – for the first time – to explain the situation. Still, this whole nightmare is starting to feel completely hopeless, and Hannah's attempts at reassurance aren't working at all. If anything, she's making the whole thing seem even worse.
“I have some new theories to try today,” she says, before getting to her feet. “Just stay calm. Don't panic. I'll meet you back down here in about an hour. Who knows? Maybe today's the day I finally figure it all out.”
She smiles, just a little, and then she turns and walks away.
“This is hopeless,” I whisper, as I look down at my trembling hands. “I can't let the world get ripped apart, just for me.”
Closing my eyes, I feel more and more memories rushing into my mind. I've experienced this day over and over and over, and now it's as if I know full well that there's no chance of escape. What if this day ends like all the others, and tomorrow I've forgotten again? What if this is the only day when I'll remember, when I'll be able to make my own choice about how to fix this problem? Hannah's great, and I'm sure she's trying her best, but by her own admission she hasn't made any real progress after living this day more than a thousand times. What if this nightmare only ends when I decide what happens next?
“Stephanie?”
Startled, I look up and see George standing in the doorway.
“Are you okay in here?” he asks.
Wiping the tears from my face, I get to my feet.
“Sure,” I say, sniffing back even more tears. “Everything's fine.”
“You sound -”
“I said I'm fine,” I tell him, a little more harshly than I'd intended. “What is it? What do you need me to do?”
“The man in room 119 sent a message down to the desk,” he replies. “He said his breakfast hasn't shown up yet. I thought you were going to take it to him.”
I take a deep breath.
“Forget it,” he says with a sigh, “I'll -”
“No,” I snap suddenly, stepping toward him. “I'll take it.”
“You said that before.”
