Escape From Hotel Necro

by Amy Cross

  Eleven

  “Katie, are you coming?”

  “Just a moment,” I reply, as I stand in the bathroom and stare at the pills in the palm of my hand. I've been doing this for several minutes now, and I still can't make up my mind.

  If I take the pills, I'll be obeying my doctor's instructions. I'll be being a good patient. But I'll also messing with my body, and that has consequences. For once, I want to actually give Jason what he wants in bed, and I figure there can't be that much harm in skipping a single dose. I'll get right back on the pills in the morning, and no-one will ever know that I did anything wrong. I mean, there's some logic to that plan, right?

  I swallow the oblong pill, but then I slip the round pill into my toiletry bag. I'm pretty sure that's the pill that's been causing me problems in the bedroom, and I'm willing to give it a miss for just one night. Jason would be furious if he found out, but he won't find out.

  “Katie?”

  “On my way,” I reply, turning and heading out of the bathroom. I guess there's no turning back now.

  Twelve

  I cry out as the wave of pleasure hits my body, and as the pleasure finally explodes and I climax for the first time in months. I pull Jason tight, almost as if I'm trying to pull his entire body into mine, and I press my crotch against him as tight as I can manage. I want the moment to last forever, and for a few seconds I feel as if it might. Finally, however, the intense ecstasy starts to fade, and I'm left panting breathlessly and still squeezing Jason so that I can enjoy the full comedown from that amazing high.

  “Wow,” Jason says finally, “did you...”

  His voice trails off.

  “Oh yeah,” I gasp. “Couldn't you tell?”

  “Sure, I just...”

  I look up at him, and I can see the confusion in his eyes. At the same time, there's a faint smile on his lips, and he's starting to look pretty pleased with himself. In any other situation, he'd be suspicious, but... Well, I love Jason very much, and I guess he's too relieved to really question how I did what I did.

  “I told you it'd happen if we just stopped stressing about it,” I remind him. “You didn't ever doubt me, did you?”

  “Of course not,” he replies, although he's clearly still a little shocked. “I mean, no, never. I guess I just wasn't expecting it. It kind of... came out of the blue.”

  “I aim to surprise,” I say, reaching up and gently moving some sweaty hair from across his forehead. “You know I love you, don't you?”

  “I love you so much,” he says, and then he starts kissing me gently.

  He's still inside me as I pull him tight, and as the kiss continues. I feel a little guilty for not having told him exactly how I managed to achieve an orgasm tonight, but I guess the ends justify the means. He's clearly so happy that we both climaxed, and it feels good to have avoided the usual faint air of being a letdown. Although I have to admit that I'm once again starting to feel exhausted.

  I think I'm going to sleep very well tonight.

  Thirteen

  “Okay,” a voice says in the distance, breaking through the haze of sleep, “are you ready? Lift on my mark. One. Two. Three.”

  Fourteen

  My eyes blink open, just as a long electric strip light passes my field of vision from top to bottom and then disappears from view. Beneath me, some kind of metal trolley bumps slightly over an uneven floor.

  “So then I told them,” a man's voice says nearby, “I just want to transfer to some other role. Anything'll do, I just want a challenge. Like, a proper challenge. Not one of those fake challenges that people really want when they're just pretending they want a challenge.”

  Another strip light briefly appears, and I realize that I'm flat on my back and that I'm being wheeled along a corridor. I try to blink, but now I find that I can't even move my eyelids. My first thought is that I must be in a hospital, that something awful must have happened, but after a moment I realize that the ceiling above me looks strangely grubby and dark, and low too. What kind of hospital looks like that?

  “What did they say?” another man asks.

  “What do you think they said?” The first man sighs. “They don't give a damn. Eventually I just backed off and decided to stick with what I've got now. And that's the whole point, dude. They won't lift a finger to help you, so don't even try. You want to move to another division? Fat chance. You'll stay where they put you and you'll be grateful for that.”

  Suddenly there's a bumping sound, and I realize I'm being wheeled through a set of open double doors. The trolley shudders slightly as it hits the frame.

  I try to open my mouth and ask what's happening, but for some reason I can't seem to move my body at all. I can feel my jaw, but it seems to be far too heavy. I try again and again to make it move, and I can feel my flesh twitching, but it's as if the bone itself is made of lead. Then, when I try to sit up, I find that the rest of my body is the same. I can't move at all. I swear, I feel as if my skeleton has become impossibly heavy and firm, leaving my flesh to struggle vainly in a desperate attempt to move.

  “I thought there'd be some possibility of advancement,” the second man grumbles as they continue to wheel me along the corridor. “I mean, I think I'm doing a pretty good job. Don't they want good workers to stick around? Or are we just totally expendable?”

  “We're hired grunts,” the first man says firmly, “and don't you forget it. Hold that one open, it's a fire door.”

  The trolley stops for a moment, and I hear a brief creaking sound before I get going again. Someone grunts nearby, and I suddenly find myself in a room with a much higher ceiling.

  “I don't know what it's like where you're from, but back home in Malta there's not much decent work. Not work like this, anyway. That's why I came to Italy.”

  I try again to move, but I can't so much as turn my head. I can't even blink anymore, and I'm starting to panic as the trolley is swung around and then stopped. A moment later I hear a clicking sound behind my head, and then suddenly a man's face appears directly in front of me, staring straight down into my eyes.

  “Ms. Johnson?” he says with an expectant grin. “Wakey wakey. Time for night two.”

  He waits, and after a moment his grin fades a little.

  “Ms. Johnson?”

  He hesitates, before turning and looking at someone I can't see.

  “You gave her the jab, right?”

  “Of course. Back in their room.”

  The man looks back down at me, and then he gently taps the side of my face. I can feel the tapping sensation, even though I still can't move even one inch of my body.

  “Ms. Sinclair,” he says firmly, “this is Doctor Strickland. Can you hear me? Ms. Sinclair, if you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Anything.”

  I try to cry out, but again I can't move a muscle. I'm starting to really panic now, to think that I have been in an accident. What if I'm badly hurt? What if I'm paralyzed? And what about Jason? Where's my husband?

  This Doctor Strickland guy watches me for a moment longer, and then he places two fingers against the side of my neck, as if he's checking for a pulse. He seems increasingly worried.

  “What's wrong?” one of the other voices asks. “We did exactly what you told us. We did it the same as we always do. If it isn't working, that's not our fault!”

  “She doesn't seem to be responding this time,” the man murmurs. “That's odd. She was fine last night, she was a perfect specimen. You saw that for yourselves.”

  He briefly disappears from view, before returning with a bright light which he shines straight into my left eye.

  I try to cry out, to ask what's happening, but I still can't move my mouth. Even my tongue feels heavy, as if it's made of lead.

  The man shines the light into my other eye. The brightness is uncomfortable, but now I can't even blink.

  “I don't understand at all,” he says finally, as he sets the light aside and furrows his brow. “If she's taken the right pills, which
she has, she should be responding by now. She should be up and about, and ready to get started.” He turns and looks over his shoulder. “Please don't take this as me doubting you, gentlemen, but would you mind showing me precisely where you administered the injection?”

  I hear a labored sigh, and then a finger touches my left leg.

  I try to flinch and pull away, with no luck.

  Another finger touches the leg.

  Am I naked?

  “Okay,” the man says, “I see the two puncture marks. One from last night, and then this fresher one must be tonight's. I can only assume that this is some freak result.” He leans over me again. “I'm reluctant to administer another dose, in case there are complications. The precise quantities are carefully regulated, based on factors such as body mass and age. Can someone please go and fetch her husband? I believe he got started early, in room five.”

  I hear footsteps walking calmly away, as the man continues to peer into my eyes.

  “The lights are on,” he mutters, “but nobody's home, are they? I'm dreadfully sorry, Ms. Johnson, but on this occasion we seem to have failed you. On behalf of everyone at Hotel Necro, I can only offer my profuse apologies. And I promise, I will get to the bottom of this mishap.”

  Suddenly there's the sound of someone screaming in the distance. It's a woman, I think, and she seems to be in absolute agony. Doctor Strickland, however, doesn't react at all, and instead he seems more interested in examining me. Was the scream real? Did he hear it? Or was it somehow just in my head?

  “This has never happened before,” he continues finally, clearly mystified. “I don't like it when my process throws up unexpected results like this. I don't like not knowing why something is happening.” He leans even closer to my face, until I can feel his breath. “Ms. Johnson,” he whispers, “are you in there? If you can hear me, give me a sign.”

  I try to scream at him. I strain every sinew in an attempt to let out even the faintest of murmurs. Nothing comes. He must be able to see what I'm doing, however. I'm pushing so hard, I find it impossible to believe that there's no sign somewhere on my face. With all this effort, and I not managing to move at all?

  Sighing, he steps back, just as more footsteps enter the room.

  “What's going on?” a familiar voice asks. “What's wrong with Katie?”

  It's Jason!

  He's here!”

  “There's nothing to worry about,” Doctor Strickland replies. “Mr. Johnson, I'm afraid that – for whatever reason – the process has failed us this evening. Due to the sensitive nature of our work here, I'm reluctant to press on and administer another dose, so I'm left with no option but to end your wife's session. Only for tonight, you understand.”

  “You can't end it!” Jason says angrily. “Do you have any idea how much I paid for this?”

  “Suitable recompense will be worked out by the office,” Doctor Strickland explains, “but I'm sure you wouldn't want me to jeopardize your wife's health. Mr. Johnson, are you sure that she took all her medication?”

  “Of course I'm sure.”

  “Is there any way she might have missed one or -”

  “I made damn sure that she couldn't do that!” Jason says firmly. “I even checked each time. Don't try blaming us for your failings, Strickland. If your so-called process hasn't worked tonight, then that's on you and you alone!”

  “Mr. Johnson, I -”

  Suddenly there's a loud crashing sound, as if something has been shattered.

  “Mr. Johnson,” Doctor Strickland says calmly, “I understand that you're frustrated, but there's really no need to take your anger out on my equipment. I am very sorry, but your wife will be unable to participate in the process tonight. However, you are of course most welcome to continue. We have plenty of rooms available all through the night and I'm sure you'll find something that will take your fancy.”

  “What's the point of me doing it alone?” Jason asks.

  “It would be different, of course, but I'm sure that a man of your great intelligence would be able to come up with some... interesting variations.”

  There's a pause, and then I hear Jason sigh. A moment later, he leans over me and peers into my eyes.

  “Jason!” I try to scream. “What's happening? Get me out of here!”

  Nothing happens, however. My eyes are stinging from the dust that has fallen on them, and I still can't even blink.

  “She's not awake, is she?” Jason asks cautiously.

  “No, she can't be,” Doctor Strickland replies, as he too leans into view and stares at me. “She's unconscious, even though her eyes are open. Obviously the pills have only partially worked tonight, which is why I was wondering whether there's a possibility that she could have missed one. I'd still like you to double-check that there aren't any pills left in the bathroom, but I suppose it's also possible that one of the pills was faulty in some manner. I'll have the batch double-checked.”

  “This is completely unacceptable,” Jason snaps, looking over at him.

  “I agree,” Doctor Strickland says, still staring down at me, “but I can assure you of two things, Mr. Johnson. First, this will not happen again. Your third night will go like clockwork. And second...” He leans even closer to me. “I assure you, I will find out what caused this to happen tonight.”

  Fifteen

  “What?”

  Startled, I open my eyes and sit up in bed, and for a moment I feel completely confused. I barely even remember who I am, and it takes a moment before I realize that I'm at the hotel with Jason. My breathing is rapid and frantic, and when I touch the side of my face I find that I'm sweating profusely. After a moment, my fingertips brush against my scar.

  Next to me, Jason rolls over.

  “Honey?” he says groggily. “Are you okay there?”

  I hesitate, before turning to him. A crack of morning light is breaking through the gap in the drapes, and I can just about make out Jason's confused face staring up at me.

  “What's wrong?” he continues. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  “A...”

  I pause for a moment as I try to remember the crazy dream that woke me up. As the seconds pass, fragments of the dream fall back into my thoughts, although it's not easy to figure out exactly how they all fit together. I'm getting flashes of images, of people leaning over me and talking, and after a moment I remember how it felt to be completely paralyzed. I was trying to move and I couldn't budge an inch. There's something else, too. I was scared.

  “Katie?” Jason says. “What is it?”

  Suddenly he touches me on the shoulder, and I instinctively let out a shocked gasp and turn to him.

  “You're trembling,” he continues, sitting up in bed. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and this time – although I feel sore and achey all over – I don't pull away. “You're not sick, are you?” he asks, moving his hand up and touching my forehead as if he's checking that I don't have a fever. “You seem kind of cold and clammy.”

  “I...”

  Again, my voice trails off as I stare at him. My mind is racing and I can't quite work out what's happening, although already that crazy dream is starting to fade a little in my thoughts. Some of the details are becoming less distinct, and after a moment I realize that it really was just a dream. I force a smile and run a hand through my messy hair, and I tell myself that I'm just being an idiot. It was just a very real, very freaky dream, the details of which are fading with each passing second.

  “It's nothing,” I say finally. “You were right, I just had a bad dream.”

  “What was it about?”

  “I... Nothing,” I lie, figuring that there's no point troubling him with the full nitty gritty. I force a smile, hoping to put him at ease. “I don't know what's wrong with me, I think maybe I was more exhausted than I realized. Maybe coming here has been my first chance to really relax in ages, and my mind must be...”

  Must be what?

  Completely loopy?

  I already remember
very little of the dream, but I think I was tied down and I couldn't move, and people were talking all around me. There was a scream in the distance at one point, and Jason was there, and...

  And there's no point going into all these details, because it really was just a dream.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” I say finally, as I climb out of bed. I immediately feel really stiff in my legs and arms, but I guess I must have simply slept a little funny. Is it possible that, while I was dreaming about being tied down, I was actually struggling a little in real life? “I'll only be a couple of minutes.”

  I wince a little as I half walk, half limp through to the bathroom. Once I'm in there, I lock the door, and then I head over to the sink. I run some cold water and splash plenty on my face, hoping that I can wake myself up a little. After a moment, however, I suddenly remember one of the voices that I heard in my dream:

  “Please don't take this as me doubting you, gentlemen, but would you mind showing me precisely where you administered the injection? Okay, I see the two puncture marks. One from last night, and then this fresher one must be tonight's. I can only assume that this is some freak result.”

  I remember someone touching my left leg.

  I hesitate for a moment, before looking down and examining the same spot myself. At first I don't see anything, but after a few seconds I realize that there seem to be two very small needle marks. I turn around to get a better view of that patch of skin, but now the marks aren't there at all. The more I examine my upper left leg, the more I realize that the supposed 'puncture marks' might actually just be spots. It's difficult to be sure, but I'm certainly not convinced that they're anything more sinister.

  I mean, they can't be needle marks, can they?

  The dream was just a dream, and I need to keep my head straight.