Escape From Hotel Necro

by Amy Cross

  “You don't get it,” he replies. “Do you seriously think they'll let this happen?”

  “Once we get to America, they can't stop us!”

  “Where did you put the pill?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After you spat it out, what did you do with it?”

  “I tucked it down between the bed and the wall.”

  “And then what?”

  “They won't find it,” I tell him, although I'm starting to realize that I should have retrieved the pill this morning. The past few hours have been so crazy, and maybe I haven't quite managed to get my thoughts straight. “Not before we get out of here, at least. Will they?”

  “And you didn't do anything suspicious after you woke up?” he asks.

  “Like what?”

  “Anything, Katie! Anything that might make them realize that you broke the rules of that place!”

  For a moment, I think back to my breakdown in the bathroom.

  “We have to get out of here,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me across the terminal building, heading toward the exit. “They're obviously onto us. You have no idea who you're messing with, Katie. This is an international organization with links in every country. They're ruthless when it comes to shutting down anything or anyone that might blow their cover, and they have actual governments on their side.”

  “You're acting as if they're above the law! Let's just get on the plane and -”

  “There's no way we're getting on that plane,” he says as we hurry outside and head toward the taxi rank. “We'll leave our bags there, that should mean it takes longer for them to realize that we're skipping town.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away from here. Somewhere. Anywhere. I'll book us some fresh tickets from another airport once we're on the way.” He stops at a taxi and leans down to speak to the driver. “How much to take us to Geneva?” He takes his wallet from his pocket and pulls out a wad of notes. “Five hundred euros,” he continues, reaching into the car. “Geneva! Will you take us?”

  The driver says something in Italian.

  Jason hands him the cash and then opens the rear door.

  “Get in!” he says firmly.

  “Jason,” I stammer, “why don't we just -”

  “Get in the goddamn taxi!” he snaps, while looking around as if he's worried that at any moment we'll be spotted. “It's our only shot! They'll be looking for us here in Turin, at least for now. That should give us enough time to get over the border to Switzerland, and then we just have to pray that they don't track us down until we're out of here. After that...”

  His voice trails off, and for a moment he seems utterly at a loss for words.

  “After that,” he adds, “I'll think of something. I don't know what, but something. Now get in the car!”

  Shocked by the urgency in his voice, I climb in, and he immediately slams the door shut. I'm trembling with fear, but at the same time I figure that I just need to listen to Jason and wait until we're safely away from this city. I'm starting to realize that this Hotel Necro place is a really big deal, but at the same time I know I can't stop now. And as Jason takes his place beside me, and as the taxi pulls away and joins the flow of traffic, I tell myself that I just need to stay strong for a little longer.

  Once we get home, everything will be alright. And I'm going to make sure that the whole world knows about the horrors of Hotel Necro.

  Thirty-Six

  The radio announcer continues to babble on as we drive along a country road. I tried asking the driver to turn the sound down, or to turn the radio off altogether, but I guess he didn't understand. Either that, or he just didn't care.

  “We're booked on a new flight,” Jason says after a moment, as he continues to tap at his phone. “We leave from Geneva tonight. Hopefully we'll be in the air before they're able to track us down.”

  “So we'll be back home soon?” I reply.

  “If everything goes according to plan. We're relying on them not moving fast enough to catch us, but we might get lucky.” He checks something else on his phone. “What the...”

  “What's wrong?” I ask.

  He hesitates, before tilting the phone so that I can see the screen. I see a video of a plane on a runway with smoke coming from its engines, and I spot the headline on the news story.

  “A plane was grounded?” I ask. “Where?”

  “Where do you think?” he replies. “That's the plane we were supposed to be on, Katie. Apparently it suffered some kind of technical failure right before takeoff. Convenient, huh? Obviously some important people were still worried that we might somehow use that flight to get away.”

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head, unable to believe that any of this is possible, “that can't be right. It has to be a coincidence.”

  “At least they didn't just blow it up,” he says. “I wouldn't put anything past these people.”

  “They wouldn't do that,” I tell him. “They couldn't! How could they take stop a whole plane from taking off, just to get to you and me?”

  “These people don't know how to do things quietly,” he replies. “I already told you, they have connections everywhere. Right now, our only chance is to outrun those connections. It'll take time for them to figure everything out. Even these people can't cover every airport in Europe, not simultaneously, so we just have to hope that we get lucky.” He sighs. “Why couldn't you have just done what I asked, Katie? Why did you have to break the rules?”

  “I wanted to do the right thing,” I tell him, as I struggle to hold back tears. “I wanted to help.”

  “Help who?”

  “I don't know! Anyone! I thought I couldn't just walk away from all of this, I thought I could put it all right. What's happening at that place is monstrous. When I decided to come to Hotel Necro, I didn't really understand what I was getting myself into. I mean, I can't have done. I'm not the kind of person who'd want to get involved with something like this, am I?” I wait for an answer, but he's checking something on his phone. “Am I, Jason?”

  “This isn't the way to Geneva,” he mutters, as he examines a map. “We're heading in totally the wrong direction.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He glances at me, and I can see that he's worried.

  “My friend,” he says, leaning forward and tapping the driver on the shoulder, “I want you to drive us toward -”

  Suddenly the car speeds up, and a clicking sound indicates that the doors are being locked.

  “He's taking us out into the middle of nowhere!” Jason says, clearly starting to panic. “This is an ambush!”

  “How?” I ask. “They couldn't have set this up so fast!”

  “Looks like they did,” he replies, before lunging forward and grabbing the driver, trying to pull him away from the wheel. “I'm sorry, buddy,” he continues, “but I'm afraid I need to take over!”

  The car skids across the road, first one way and then the other, as Jason and the driver fight for control. Realizing that we're in danger of crashing, I try to get my safety belt undone so that I can help Jason, but at that moment the car spins wildly and slides straight off the road, hitting a ditch before starting to roll. The windshield shatters, showering us all with glass. I scream as I'm tipped upside down, and the car rolls several more times before finally coming to a rest on its roof. The whole violent event is over in less than half a minute.

  For a moment, hanging upside down, I remain completely still. I have no idea what to do, but a moment later I hear an agonized cry.

  Looking over at the driver, I see that he's struggling with his legs, which appear to have been crushed as the front part of the car was damaged. There's blood on his hands, and he lets out another cry as he tries desperately to get free.

  Turning to Jason, I see that he's trying to get out from the belt that's holding him in place. I reach over and help, and he does the same for me, and then we manage to get one of the side doors open. As the driver continue
s to gasp in pain, I follow Jason out of the car, and then he helps me stumble to my feet.

  “They're everywhere!” he gasps, limping slightly as he leads me away from the overturned vehicle. “We have to get as far away from Turin as possible.”

  “We have to go to the police!” I tell him. “We need help!”

  “We can't trust the police. They'd probably just hand us straight back over to those bastards.”

  “If we can't trust the police, what are we supposed to do?”

  “First we need to survive,” he replies, “and then we can figure out where we're going to get help. We'll be -”

  Stopping suddenly, he looks past me, as if something concerning has caught his eye.

  I turn and see a small dot in the sky, and at that moment I realize I can hear the distant hum of a small plane getting closer. I tell myself that this can't be anything to do with us, and then I remember that old film with the guy being chased by bad guys in a plane.

  “That can't be them as well, can it?” I ask, taking a step back. “Jason, there's no way...”

  “Get down!”

  He pulls me away from the vehicle, and we duck down in the ditch. Looking up, I watch as the plane flies toward us. I keep telling myself that this situation is surreal, that none of this can actually be happening. And then, just as I start to wonder which way we should run, the plane veers off to one side and heads away, finally disappearing into the distance. I keep waiting for it to return, but finally the distant hum is no more.

  “It wasn't them?” I ask, turning to Jason.

  “Maybe not,” he replies, as we get to our feet and clamber back out of the ditch, “but we still need to be careful. Katie, I -”

  Suddenly a gunshot rings out and Jason collapses.

  Shocked, I turn just as the taxi driver aims at me. He pulls the trigger, but this time the gun only clicks impotently. He tries again, and then he throws the gun in a rage. Still trapped in the wreckage, he lets out a cry of anger.

  “Jason!” I gasp, dropping to my knees and rolling him over, only to find that there's a bloodied wound on his chest, close to his heart.

  He tries to say something, but there's already blood running from one corner of his mouth.

  “It's going to be okay!” I tell him, as I try to figure out what to do next. “I'm going to get help!”

  He reaches up and grabs my shoulder, and then he pulls me closer.

  “I love you,” he gurgles, barely able to get the words out. “Katie, you have to run and keep running. Promise me you'll get as far from here as...”

  His voice trails off.

  “I'm not leaving you!” I sob.

  “You've got to get away!” he says, as he pulls his wallet from his pocket and slides it into my hand. “Take out cash, use cash as much as possible. Get to another country and take a flight home, as fast as you can. Then you have to keep your head down! You have to hide!”

  “I can't do that!” I tell him. “This madness has to end!”

  “Promise me!” he gasps, reaching up and touching the side of my face. “You're all that matters to me now, Katie. I love you so much, I always have. You're the best person I've ever met. You have such a good soul, never let anyone ruin that. I'm just so sorry that I...”

  He hesitates, and then he lets out a long, slow gasp.

  “No!” I shout, shaking him hard. “Jason! Come back!”

  I set him flat against the ground and check for a pulse, but his heart doesn't seem to be beating.

  “Jason!” I yell, shaking him again. “Don't leave me! Jason! I need you!”

  Thirty-Seven

  The only sound comes from my own feet, half walking and half dragging as I stumble along this endless, desolate road. I'm in the middle of nowhere, several miles now from the car's wreckage, and I feel as if I'm going to collapse at any moment.

  Once I realized that Jason was dead, I just wanted to curl up and die right next to him. In some ways, I think that would have been the better option. Instead, however, I somehow managed to get to my feet. I checked the car and found that the driver had passed out, probably due to all the blood that he'd lost. He might even have been dead, but I didn't check. Maybe I should have pulled him from the vehicle and beaten him for what he did to Jason, but somehow I lacked the energy.

  And Jason's words were ringing in my ears then, as they ring in my ears now:

  “You've got to get away! Get to another country and take a flight home, as fast as you can. Then you have to keep your head down! You have to hide!”

  So here I am, shuffling along a barren road, with not even a plan for what I'm going to do next. I know that I have to run, that I have to get away from this madness, but the shock of Jason's death has left me in a kind of daze. It's as if, deep down, I'm too scared to feel anything. I can only think about Jason, and about the fact that I didn't have time to say much before he died.

  I didn't even tell him how much I loved him.

  Suddenly, hearing a distant humming sound, I turn and see that a car is coming this way. I stop and watch as it come closer, and finally the vehicle pulls up next to me. There's a family inside, or at least I assume that they're a family. There's a man at the wheel and a woman next to him, and a little boy in the back seat.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asks cautiously, as the car's engine continues to run.

  “I...”

  I hesitate, before reminding myself that I have to keep going. For Jason.

  “I need to get to an airport,” I tell them. “Any airport. Almost any airport.”

  “Well,” she replies, “we're on our way to Nice. There's an airport there.” She pauses. “Can we give you a ride?”

  I hear a faint, muffled murmur coming from her husband. I think he's trying to get her to change her mind, and I don't blame him. I probably look pretty rough and crazy, standing here at the side of the road, and the boy in the back seat is staring at me as if he's a little scared.

  “Did something happen to you?” the woman asks.

  I swallow hard.

  How could I even begin to explain? They'd think that I'm crazy, they'd probably take me straight to the nearest police station. Hell, that's probably what I'd do if our roles were reversed.

  “A ride to the airport would be cool,” I say finally, even though I feel bad for interrupting these people. I just need to move faster. “Thank you.”

  I open one of the doors and climb into the car, and there's an awkward silence as I pull the door shut and wait for us to get moving. I'm very much aware that the kid is uncomfortable, and that the husband is angry at his wife for inviting me. Still, he starts the car again, and I tell myself that everything will be fine so long as I can just get home. That's all that matters now. I need to get home and then figure out a way to let the world know about Hotel Necro.

  “We're on vacation,” the woman says, turning and smiling at me. “We're from Wakefield, Virginia, but we're here to see Europe for six weeks.” She pauses. “This is going to sound strange,” she adds after a moment, “but have we met before? I can't place it, but you look kinda familiar.”

  “I... No,” I say, trying to seem as normal as possible. “I don't think we have.”

  “Huh.” She stares for a few seconds more, and she seems really convinced that she recognizes me. “I guess you must just have one of those faces.”

  “I guess I must.”

  “So are you lost or something?” she asks. “This road doesn't seem like it really goes to or from anywhere major. To be honest, we only came along this way because we got lost.”

  “We didn't get lost,” her husband says.

  “We got lost,” she says with a smile.

  “My car broke down,” I tell her, but in my mind's eye all I can see is the sight of Jason's dead body. I want to scream, but I don't dare. My husband died in my arms and I can't even tell anyone. Not yet.

  “Huh.” She pauses again. “So, at the airport...”

  “It's a rental,” I r
eply, and again I'm surprised by how good I am at this lying business. “I'll tell them. They can go get it.”

  “That's cool. I guess it's their fault if the thing died under you.”

  “I guess.”

  She stares at me, as if she has a million other questions, and then she turns and looks ahead as her husband silently drives us along the road. I'm pretty sure that even the wife is having a few regrets now. Sure enough, a moment later I catch my own reflection in one of the mirrors, and I see that I look pretty rough. At least there's no blood on me.

  “Do you mind if I put the radio on?” the woman asks finally.

  “Go for it,” I reply, relieved at the thought of having something to fill the silence.

  She switches the radio on, and some kind of rock music starts blaring from the speakers. That's fine by me, because it helps to drown out the thoughts that are rushing through my head. I feel as if I'm on pause, as if I've had to freeze all my emotions. They're still there, waiting to burst out once I'm safe, but right now I have to keep them contained. I'm not safe yet, but once I get home I'm going to find a way to make the world see what's happening at Hotel Necro. That's all I care about now.

  Thirty-Eight

  “Thank you,” I say again as I step back from the car. “You've been so helpful.”

  “Have a good trip!” the woman replies, but her husband is already easing the car away from the side of the road, rejoining the traffic. He seems to be in quite a hurry.

  I've got a feeling that they're going to be having a conversation about picking up weirdos from the side of the road.

  Turning, I start making my way toward the airport's departure hall.

  ***

  “Passenger Leyton Jones, traveling on flight WA015 to Athens, please make yourself known to staff at the Wellingford Air desk. That's passenger Leyton Jones to the Wellingford Air desk, please.”