Escape From Hotel Necro

by Amy Cross

  “What are you waiting for?” Jason asks.

  Option three is more extreme. I could just say that I want to keep Maria alive for a few more hours, and then I could try to sneak away. If there's some kind of back door to this place, I might be able to get out of the building and go to fetch help. I guess I'd just have to trust the police, but I'm sure Hotel Necro isn't that powerful and all-seeing. Is it? At some point I have to trust someone. Then again, I keep coming back to that earlier thought about all the powerful connections that these people must have. There must be a reason why they've been able to stay hidden for so long.

  “Katie? Why are you waiting?”

  “I'm not,” I reply, before turning back to Maria and holding the knife up.

  “I'm going to kill you!” she sneers, with pure anger in her voice. “You think you've got me, but I'm gonna rip your heart out!”

  I move the tip of the blade onto her chest, while hoping that Jason will think I'm simply taking my time. I have three plans and I need to just pick one of them. My mind is racing, however, and I feel paralyzed by indecision. Why can't I just decide?

  “You can totally do this,” Jason says, stepping up closer behind me and reaching down to hold my wrist. “Don't hold back, Katie. Forget about all your inhibitions, all your ideas of what's right and what's wrong. Access your deepest, most primal desires.”

  The knife's tip is still pressing against Maria's chest.

  “You dumb bitch,” she says firmly. “Wait until I get out of this thing. You're dead!”

  “I...”

  My voice trails off.

  I need a plan.

  Now.

  “Okay,” Jason says after a moment, “I tell you want... I'll help you.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly he forces my hand forward, driving the knife straight into Maria's chest and plunging it through her heart. I feel the blade scrape against her ribs, and I stare in horror at the knife's handle as I hear Maria let out a shocked gasp.

  Looking at her face, I see that her eyes are wide open and her bottom lip is trembling. For the first time since I saw her tonight, she's no longer struggling against the restraints. She tries to say something, but then I feel Jason twisting my hand, forcing the knife to turn until the blade once again scrapes against her ribs. Finally, a faint gurgle erupts from Maria's lips and a line of blood starts running from her mouth and down over her chin.

  “I know what you were planning,” Jason whispers very quietly into my ear. “I just saved your life, Katie.”

  Thirty-Three

  Opening my eyes, I see the ceiling of the hotel room. I blink, surprised by a crack of light that's running across my field of vision, and then I hear a snorting sound nearby.

  Turning to my left, I see that Jason is fast asleep.

  I sit up, and I immediately wince as I feel a flicker of pain in my head. I feel pretty dazed, as if I've barely slept at all, and for a moment I'm not entirely sure what happened. The last thing I remember is coming to bed and -

  No.

  No, I remember something else.

  Suddenly it all comes rushing back. The rooms beneath the hotel. The blades. Michelle's smile, and Dan with the figure on the rack.

  And Maria.

  In my mind's eye, I replay that final moment over and over again, and I remember the feel of the blade slicing straight through her heart. Everything after that is a blur, but I vaguely remember Jason leading me out of the room and whispering to me that I had to stay quiet. After that...

  After that, I think I was given another pill, something designed to knock me out. I remember Doctor Strickland telling me that I'd wake up in a few hours' time with no recollection of anything that had happened. He asked me if I'd enjoyed torturing and killing Maria, and I told him that I had. I asked him what would happen to her body, and he mentioned something about a furnace. I'd still been under the influence of the medication at that point, whereas now...

  Now I remember everything.

  I turn and look at Jason, but he's still asleep. Overcome by a sudden sense of shock, I clamber out of the bed and hurry through to the bathroom. I shut and lock the door, and then I turn and slide down to the floor. I want to scream, but somehow I manage to hold back. I clamp my hands over my mouth, holding the scream inside as I start sobbing.

  I was completely heartless.

  I didn't care about killing any of those people last night.

  I even enjoyed it a little, at least at first.

  Putting my head in my hands, I let out a pained, silent scream that feels as if it lasts forever. It's as if my entire body is about to shake apart, filled with rage and grief. I spent several hours down there in the basement of Hotel Necro and – while I felt little to no guilt or horror at the time – now all of those emotions are coming flooding into my system. I skipped the oblong pill because I wanted to remember, because I thought I had a duty to know exactly what happened at this place. Now, I'd give anything to have all these memories go away.

  How can I ever live with what I did last night?

  “Katie?” Jason calls out suddenly. “Are you okay?”

  Sniffing back tears, I get to my feet.

  “I'm fine,” I reply, although my voice sounds anguished. I take a deep breath as I see my teary-eyed reflection in the mirror. “I'll be out in a minute.”

  That's when I remember the cameras. Jason told me that there are cameras everywhere in the hotel, even here in the bathroom. I look around, but I don't see anything. Still, is it possible that someone just saw me having that mini-breakdown? If they did, they might realize that I remember everything. Then again, they might not be monitoring the footage in real-time; it might be more a case of storing events so that they can be watched later. In which case, I might still be safe. The most important thing is that I have to seem normal when we check out.

  I head to the sink and wash my trembling hands, and I tell myself that I have to hold myself together until we get home.

  You can do this, I tell myself. You're going to get away from this place and then you're going to make sure that Hotel Necro gets shut down. You're going to make the place world-famous, and the people in charge are going to pay for their crimes.

  First, though, I need to be able to walk out the door without arousing suspicion. Without looking like I'm about to scream.

  Looking down at my hands, I see that they're still shaking. I have to find a way to hold them still, so I focus on trying to calm down.

  “Katie?” Jason says, and then he knocks on the door. “Are you gonna be much longer? It's just, I kinda really need to pee.”

  “Coming,” I reply, and I'm shocked by the fact that I seem to be pulling myself together.

  There'll be time to sob later. Right now, I'm going to leave Hotel Necro and I'm going to bring this whole horrific place crashing down.

  Somehow, my hands stop shaking.

  I dry my eyes, and then I open the door and head out into the room.

  “Are you okay?” Jason asks.

  “Very,” I reply, forcing a smile. “What time do we need to leave for the airport?”

  “Ten,” he says, and he watches as I walk over to the wardrobe. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I tell him, before glancing over my shoulder and seeing him standing in the doorway. “Didn't you say that you need to pee?”

  “Sure,” he replies, and he heads into the bathroom and shuts the door.

  I take a deep breath, and then I open the wardrobe and start taking my suitcase out. I know that there are cameras watching my every move, and I can't take the risk that at some point someone from the hotel is going to take a look at the pictures and start watching me. That's the best case scenario right now. I need to appear completely calm and relaxed, and somehow I manage to do just that as I set my suitcase on one of the chairs. I never really had myself down as someone who could fake this kind of thing, but right now I'm doing pretty well. I'm surprising myself. Maybe there's a little o
f the pill still in my bloodstream.

  One thing's certain, however. I saw at least three people die last night, and I'm going to make sure that they're the last people who ever suffer at Hotel Necro.

  “So there's a car picking us up later,” Jason says as he emerges from the bathroom. “Our flight's at three, but I figured we should get to the airport a little early. Don't worry, I've managed to book us into a nice little lounge, so we won't have to sit around in some noisy cafe with all the riff-raff.

  He steps up behind me and kisses the back of my neck.

  “What was that?” he asks after a moment.

  “What was what?” I reply.

  “You shuddered just now. When I kissed you.”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “I swear you did.”

  Even though I feel nauseous, I turn to him.

  “You're imagining things,” I say, before leaning closer and kissing him on the lips. I hate doing this, but right now it's all part of the deception. I need him to think that I'm fine.

  “Wow,” he says once I've pulled away from the kiss. “Are you sure you don't wanna go again before I take a shower?”

  “We'll save that for when we get home,” I tell him. “Go on, you shower first. I need to do some packing.”

  Thirty-Four

  “I trust your stay was enjoyable?” Henri says as he folds the itemized receipt and slips it into an envelope.

  “It was great, thank you,” Jason replies, before glancing at me. “Wasn't it, honey?”

  “I think it's been the best vacation of my life,” I lie, somehow managing to smile. I never knew I could be this good at putting on a front. Is the pill still working a little, or am I just this steely? “I hope we can come back again next year.”

  “We would of course be most happy to have you,” Henri says, just as a car horn blares outside the front door. “And if I'm not very much mistaken,” he adds, “I believe your ride is here. Do you need any help with your bags?”

  “We're fine, thanks,” Jason says. “Thanks again. Hopefully we'll see you again soon.”

  “There is one more thing,” Henri adds, sliding a card and a pen across the desk. “Would you mind filling out this brief survey? It's just so that we can try to be even better in the future. Our aim is to constantly improve the experience we provide for our guests.”

  Jason hesitates, and then he takes the pen. I desperately want us to get out of here, but I guess Jason's worried about arousing any suspicions.

  “I don't see why not,” he says stiffly, as he casts me a brief glance. “Don't worry, honey. This'll only take a moment.”

  Hearing footsteps, I turn just in time to see Dan carrying some suitcase outside, while Michelle stops and looks at the sculpture near the window. Realizing that Jason's going to be busy for a couple of minutes with the survey, I wander over to Michelle and stop next to her. For a moment we stand in silence, as I try to think of some way to start this conversation. But even if I find a way, what is it that I actually want to say?

  “It's funny,” she says finally, with a strange, faraway tone to her voice, “but I feel very rested after my stay here, even if I feel as if my sleep was... interrupted somehow.”

  I swallow hard.

  My mouth feels so dry.

  “Do you remember your dreams from the past few nights?” I ask, keen to check whether she's aware of what we did down in the basement area.

  “Dreams?” She stares at the sculpture for a moment, as if she's trying to remember. “I don't know. I feel as if I definitely had dreams. Big dreams. Important dreams. Dreams I should remember. At the same time, I don't remember what they were about, or what happened in them. It's like having lots of empty picture frames on the walls in part of my mind. Is that strange?”

  “Maybe they were upsetting dreams,” I suggest.

  Is it possible for me to somehow make her remember? Even if that's possible, is it something I should do? I can't help but think that maybe I should let her have her peace.

  “Then I suppose I shouldn't try to think about the dreams, should I?” she replies. “Not if they're upsetting. After all, if I don't remember them now, what good would come from forcing myself?”

  “Maybe they're important,” I suggest.

  She turns to me, and I swear I can see a hint of sadness in her eyes. Even if she took all the pills during her stay, I'm sure that some fragment of a memory must still be in her mind somewhere. She was doing awful things last night, she was torturing and killing people. Is it really possible that she's going to go back to her normal life and carry on as if everything's fine?

  Hearing a faint rattling sound, I look down and see that her hands are trembling slightly, causing her bracelets to shake. After a moment, however, she gets the trembling under control.

  “That just happens sometimes,” she tells me. “It has for years.”

  “When did you first come to Hotel Necro?” I ask.

  “Oh, I'm not even sure anymore.” She hesitates. “Can it really have been almost twenty years? Time really flies, doesn't it?”

  “Darling?” Dan leans back inside. “The car's packed. Let's go.”

  “It was nice to meet you,” Michelle says, shaking my hand. “I'm sorry we didn't get to talk more, I think it might have been... illuminating.”

  She turns and heads to the door, following her husband out, although at the last moment she glances back at me. For a fraction of a second, I wonder whether she might suddenly scream that she remembers everything, but she simply looks at me with desperately sad eyes and then she disappears from view.

  “I'm done,” Jason says stiffly, coming over to join me. “I'm sorry about that, but I thought I should... Well, you know. Best to do what they want.”

  “Let's go,” I reply.

  With that, we both start wheeling out cases toward the door, although I can't help glancing over my shoulder and seeing that Henri is watching us leave. He offers a little wave, and I give him a faint smile before heading out after Jason.

  Even though I'm out of the hotel, I won't feel entirely safe until I'm back on home soil.

  Thirty-Five

  “A two hour delay,” Jason says with a sigh as he looks up at the board in the terminal building. “Great. I guess we should just go through to the lounge.”

  He turns to me.

  “I hope you brought a good book,” he adds, “because we might be here for a while.”

  “Let's go,” I say, turning and heading toward the security area.

  “Are you sure you're okay?” he asks, hurrying after me. “You've seemed a little stiff all morning.”

  “I'm just tired.”

  “Didn't you sleep well?”

  I glance at him, and for a moment I wonder whether he's testing me.

  “Let's just get through security,” I say with a sigh. “You know how I get at airports. They're always such stressful places, even at the best of times.”

  We walk on, heading toward the security screening area. After a moment, however, a man in a dark suit steps past us, and we briefly making eye contact. I keep walking for a few more paces, and then I stop and turn to watch the man heading away.

  “Honey?” Jason says cautiously. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I reply as the man disappears into the crowd, “it's just...”

  My mind is racing, but deep down I already know that I'm right. I hesitate, and then I turn to Jason as a flicker of fear bites into my gut.

  “You're going to think that I'm crazy,” I tell him, “but I think I just saw the barman from the hotel.”

  “The barman?”

  “From the bar downstairs,” I continue, trying not to panic. “You know, the bar in the basement. I talked to him last night, just for a few minutes, and I swear he just walked past us.”

  Jason hesitates, but I already know that the man will be lost in the crowd by now.

  “Why would he be here?” I ask. “Jason? Is this a bad sign?”

  “No,
” he replies, but I can tell that he's worried. “You might be wrong, Katie, there are so many -”

  “I'm not wrong,” I say firmly. “It was him.”

  “Sure, but -”

  He stops suddenly, and then slowly he turns to me. There's a strange look in his eyes, as if he's been struck by some new realization.

  “How do you even remember the barman?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to make an excuse, but in an instant I realize that I've just slipped up.

  “Jason, I...”

  “Damn it!” he hisses, grabbing me and pulling me aside, away from the crowd. “What did you do, Katie?”

  “There's no way they can possibly know,” I tell him.

  “What did you do?”

  “I skipped the oblong pill!” I snap. “I remember everything!”

  “How did you skip it?” he asks. “This doesn't make any sense. I saw you swallow them both last night!”

  “I managed to keep it in my mouth,” I reply, “and I spat it out in bed, but no-one can possibly have seen. I needed to know what was happening, Jason. I felt so cold and blank while we were doing those things to those people, I felt as if I wasn't really myself. But it was me, wasn't it? I tortured Maria! I killed her! But if I didn't remember that, then I don't think I'd be so determined to expose the truth about that place!”

  “I can't believe you'd be so stupid,” he says, as he looks around to check that nobody's listening to us. “I told you what you had to do, Katie! I told you to take the pills and to just get through the night. It was simple!”

  “I had to know!” I say firmly. “I had to remember what I did!”

  “And what now, huh?” he asks. “Do you feel better for knowing?”

  “I'm going to bring that place down,” I tell him. “That's what matters.”

  He stares at me as if he can't quite believe what I'm saying.

  “When we get back to New York,” I continue, “I'm going to expose Hotel Necro and all the terrible things that happen there. I don't care what you think, Jason, I refuse to ignore what they're doing. They're murdering people! We murdered people and it's been going on for years! How many people have died?”