Black Hotel

by Renee Wakefield

  Jack climbed the stairs. He knew the discomfort occurred outside Room 8 but what if he took a step to the left or the right? Would the feeling disappear? Where was the boundary?

  He crept along the corridor outside the room. He stood for a few moments before coming to the conclusion over-indulging in Maria’s sugary slice might be interfering with the results. He had difficulty distinguishing the very specific outside Room 8 feeling from the eaten too much brownie feeling. After a few minutes of pausing and sensing, he decided he’d have to try again at some other point in time.

  He ambled back towards the stairs when…

  THUD.

  The noise came from Room 8.

  Tentatively Jack crossed over to the room’s entrance. He eased his ear up against the door. Jack listened intently, but there was nothing more. Had he heard something? He thought he had, but maybe…

  Back in the reception booth, Jack decided he had definitely had enough brownie, at least for now. And his ingenious plan of moving it to the floor wasn’t helping. He needed to shift it to another room altogether. As long as the brownie remained easily accessible, it would be eaten. This left Jack with two choices. He could eat it all now, which probably wasn’t the smartest idea, given that he already felt decidedly sick. At least then it would be gone. Or he could hide it somewhere else. Jack was trying to think of a sensible spot, when he remembered the hotel had a kitchen.

  He shoved one last piece of brownie into his mouth and carried the remainder of the slice in its plastic container to the kitchen fridge.

  The dining room remained dark and shadowy as Jack moved through.

  ‘Help me.’

  Jack froze, surprised by the woman’s voice. Very soft. Barely there. He stood very still. Had he just heard that? The silence roared in his ears as he strained as hard as he could to listen. There didn’t appear to be anything else. He was about to move when:

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Don’t let me fall.’

  Jack hurried over to the light switch. The overhead fluoros crackled to life. He looked about.

  Tables and chairs sat still in the quiet, waiting for patrons who might never arrive. But there was no woman whispering to him.

  Jack looked down at the container in his hand. Had Maria spiked his brownie? Snuck in some sort of hallucinogen? An aural hallucinogen? That was a thing, wasn’t it? Jack vaguely recalled hearing about something like that. Like LSD except for the ears. He couldn’t remember what it was called. Although Maria spiking the brownie didn’t seem terribly likely. Besides, the drug he was thinking of only affected the pitch of music from what he could recall; it didn’t make you hear a woman calling for help. Still, you could never be too sure…

  Jack waited for the night to end, keen to talk to Hector yet not entirely certain what to say. Accusing Maria of spiking the brownies with a low dose of an LSD-like substance didn’t seem the best approach. Assuming that she hadn’t, the noises were something to do with the hotel itself.

  Hector made his way in early the next morning.

  ‘Hey, Hector.’

  ‘How was the brownie?’

  ‘Excellent. Delicious. A little rich.’ Jack watched Hector’s expression closely, seeing if it gave anything away.

  ‘Yeah, well, you’re only supposed to eat one slice at a time.’ Hector glanced about for the container. ‘Don’t tell me you finished it off.’

  ‘Nah, there’s still some in the fridge.’

  ‘I wouldn’t leave it in the kitchen if I were you. The day staff are jackals. If they find it, they will devour it pretty quick.’

  Jack nodded. Possibly poisoning the new bellhop was one thing, but Jack couldn’t imagine Maria would risk doing that to the rest of the staff. ‘You’ve done the night shifts a bit, yeah?’

  ‘More than you could possibly imagine.’

  ‘You ever hear noises?’

  ‘What kind of noises?’

  ‘Just, umm, noises. Strange noises.’

  ‘Inside the hotel or outside? I am always surprised how little I hear. No traffic or anything. It is mostly an industrial area. Guess there’s not too much reason for cars to drive around here at night. When the hotel was first built, it was only fields and farms apparently. Hard to imagine that now.’

  ‘Yeah, suppose,’ Jack replied, preoccupied. ‘No, I was meaning more noises inside the hotel.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well.’ Jack wasn’t sure exactly where to start. ‘Sometimes I hear like a squeaking. I thought maybe a small creature or something in the pipes. Not sure.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Right here in the lobby.’ He watched as Hector went quiet, gazing about. ‘Oh, it’s not there now.’

  ‘A squeaking, you say?’ Hector shook his head. ‘That comes and goes? No, never heard anything like that. Was that all?’

  ‘No… I thought I heard something else. Upstairs. Last night.’

  ‘What kind of a something?’

  ‘I don’t know, like a thump. Or a bump.’

  A smile teased the edges of Hector’s mouth. ‘I think you need to be a bit more specific. Was it a thump or a bump?’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘It’s your story.’ Hector’s expression settled somewhere between amusement and concern. ‘You scared of the dark, Jack? I guess I should have asked that before you started.’

  ‘No, the dark is fine.’

  There was always the option of explaining that it was a good deal more than thumps or bumps, it was the feeling Jack got when he was upstairs, outside Room 8, but considering that the entire thing remained a garbled mess in his mind he wasn’t sure he would be able to explain it in a way that made any sense. And any mention of hearing a random woman’s voice in the dining room would make him appear completely insane.

  Hector’s smile broadened. He slapped Jack affectionately on the back. ‘It’s good to have you on board, Jack.’

  13

  Whispers

  The noises refused to go away, becoming even more pronounced a couple of nights later. Jack sat at the reception booth. The hotel was peaceful and quiet, lulling Jack away to dreamland as he sat at the reception booth. He was trying to read, battling his heavy eyelids. He kept losing the thread of the paragraph or dropping the book completely… until a piercing scream ripped through the lobby.

  Jack sat up, suddenly very awake. Had he actually heard that? Or was it the onset of sleep encroaching on reality?

  ‘Hello?’

  Silence was his only reply. Jack eased off his chair and crept about. He couldn’t see anything unusual. His ears strained, trying extra hard to pick up even the slightest sound. Nothing. Other than his pulse ringing in his ears.

  Jack checked the dining room on the off-chance it was the same woman whom he had heard last night. If it was, she wasn’t saying anything else.

  Still somewhat unsettled, Jack sat back in the booth and returned to his book. There can’t have been a scream. Same as the woman’s voice and the thump. Therefore he must have imagined it.

  Jack continued with his reading. Quickly though the book had its same somniferous effect. Jack’s lids drooped … until voices dragged him back. His eyes shot open. Someone was whispering. No doubt about it. He could definitely hear whispering.

  ‘Is anyone there?’

  As usual, there was no response. He glanced up, hearing footsteps now as well. Jack focused on the sounds. They were emanating from upstairs.

  Jack exited the booth and crept ever so slowly up the Grand Staircase following the sounds.

  He paused in the upstairs corridor. The noises were louder here and appeared to be coming from Room 8. Butterflies clustered in his stomach. Jack became aware just how isolated he was. If there was someone here, in the hotel with him, someone who meant him harm, he was stuck. He was alone with nobody to help him. He wasn’t much of a runner. Anybody could catch him before he made it to the front door if it came to that
. No, he was being silly. Room 8 was empty. He knew it. All the rooms were empty. There were no guests in the hotel.

  And yet…

  Striving to feel confidence he didn’t have Jack crossed to Room 8 and put his ear to the door. Someone moved about inside. Something or someone.

  Perplexed, Jack tried to decide on the best course of action. After a few moments, he inched his hand forward.

  KNOCK, KNOCK.

  ‘Hello? Is someone there?’

  Immediately the noises disappeared. Jack waited. He put his ear to the door again. He could make out the faintest of whispers. Jack’s heart leapt about in his chest.

  ‘I can hear you,’ Jack informed whoever it was, injecting his voice with confidence.

  The whispering stopped. Jack reached forward and tried the handle. Locked. The old-fashioned keys favoured by the hotel meant the doors all had old-fashioned keyholes. Jack crouched to put his eye to it. He prepared himself, expecting to see a shape or a person swish past. Nothing. No movement. His limited view revealed a shadowy room. No people.

  Jack watched and waited for a long time. Nothing more came. No sound. No movement. He stood. No point lingering here all night. He arrived at the stairs when:

  THUD.

  The unexpected noise sounded like something heavy falling and made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand up. Definitely a thud, he decided, not a bump or a thump. In case he had to identify the sound for Hector in the morning.

  SMASH!

  Glass shattering. This was quickly followed by another scream. All from Room 8.

  No more messing about. Jack tried the handle again, to be sure. Not surprisingly the door remained locked. He bounded down the stairs.

  At the booth he snatched the key for Room 8 and sprinted back up, taking two steps at a time.

  Jack approached Room 8. He was aware that if he thought too much about what course of action to take, he might lose his nerve, so he tried to act as swiftly as he could. He thrust the key into the keyhole and threw the door to Room 8 wide open.

  Shadows hid much of the room. Switching on the light revealed nothing out of the ordinary. A plain, old-fashioned hotel room. Two single beds stuck out from the wall to his right. Opposite them sat a writing desk and an old armchair.

  No smashed glass.

  No people thumping or bumping or thudding or screaming.

  No suggestion as to what might have caused the noises.

  Jack crossed to the en suite. He turned on the light. Same thing. An old-fashioned bathroom, with a large bath. All in keeping with the hotel. Very elegant. White tiles and white walls. Standalone tub. No people though. No hint here as to what could have caused the noises either.

  Exiting the en suite Jack glanced about Room 8, both perplexed and somewhat relieved. He had no idea at all what he would have done if there had been someone in the room. At the same time, he had undoubtedly heard something. He switched off the lights and locked up.

  Jack shuffled down the Grand Staircase and to the reception booth. He returned the key to Room 8.

  He waited, listening intently. There was nothing else.

  After a time he returned to his book, and it was as if nothing had even happened.

  14

  Energy

  Hector found Jack waiting in the lobby the next morning and stared at him expectantly. Jack wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘What is it this morning? Every time I see you, you keep me amused with some fun question or weird Jack-ism. Just wondering what today’s is.’

  ‘No, sorry. Nothing new really.’

  Jack did consider asking Hector about the noises again, but he had tried that yesterday. Too early to be into repeats. He may well ask Hector about the noises again when he had more of a handle on what he was asking about.

  ‘You believe me yet?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘That I like the job and I’m going to hang around.’

  ‘Believe you? Yes. Make head or tail of you? Not even close.’

  Jack spent the rest of his day figuring out a plan of attack. He had no intention of sitting passively. He was a man of action. He had undoubtedly heard something. More than once. The noises and sounds of the hotel were a mystery, one that he was going to solve.

  It was possible that part of the issue stemmed from sleepiness. The scream had occurred when he had been drifting off. Jack had experience with over-tiredness playing tricks on his mental state. Not to the extreme of hallucinating noises but nevertheless, he couldn’t discount it entirely as a factor. His body clock hadn’t yet fully adjusted to the night shift. He managed to some sleep during the days, but he certainly wasn’t getting a full eight hours. Luckily sleepiness was a simple fix.

  On the way to work, Jack stopped in the 7–11, stocking up on more energy drinks than could possibly be healthy for a single person. He decided six should do it, so he purchased eight, to be sure. He dropped the pile on the counter in front of the clerk.

  The last of the day was disappearing behind Black Hotel’s impressive façade as he arrived. No sign of Mrs Hector which was a pity. Maybe he could pretend he intended to quit. See if that would elicit more brownie.

  Hector was ready to go. ‘Have fun, all right?’

  Jack smiled and waved, which was a mistake. The movement of his left arm resulted in a slight movement with his right arm, the one holding the bag. The tremor extended down to the bag causing a couple of the cans to clang together.

  ‘What’cha got there?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Jack awkwardly swung the bag behind himself, in an attempt to conceal it. The cans collided resulting in an even louder clunking sound from the bag.

  Disappointment washed over Hector’s face. ‘Dude, this is a cruisy job, but you’re not allowed to drink.’ He marched over and gestured to Jack to open the bag. Sheepishly Jack did as he was instructed. Hector’s expression quickly shifted as he saw the multiple energy drinks.

  ‘Sorry. I thought.’ He chuckled. ‘I assumed it was alcohol. We had a guy who used to… Anyway.’ His mind changed mid-sentence. Distracted. ‘That’s a lot of energy. What are they all for?’

  ‘I,’ Jack stammered, his cheeks warming up. ‘I just want to make sure I stay awake tonight.’

  ‘Tonight or for the next month? How many of those things can you drink in a single session?’

  ‘A few. ‘

  ‘Man, I don’t think I could even stomach one these days. Way too sweet.’ Hector shook his head. ‘Every time I think I’ve got you figured, you make less sense. Chuck them in the fridge if you want to keep them cold.’ He waved goodbye, still somewhat bemused. ‘Have a fun shift.’

  With everything quiet and still Jack went over his plan for the evening. It was simple. The idea was to make certain to be awake for any strange noises or experiences that may occur and thus rule out tiredness as a factor. If he was successful in isolating the unsettled feeling from upstairs and pinpointing exactly what he felt and why, all the better.

  As he strode about the familiar sensation returned. As though he had the run of the hotel. The slightly jittery mix of caffeine, sugar and God knows what else hitting his system only enhanced that feeling. He paced around aggressively clutching a can and moving like an overweight ninja. He explored everywhere, opening doors, moving in and out of rooms. No sleepiness tonight. He checked every possible nook and cranny downstairs, saving the upstairs until last. Nothing appeared out of place. But there were no unexpected sounds either.

  ‘Noises, where are you?’

  Ninja Jack climbed the stairs. Nothing going on up here either. All the rooms closed and quiet. He stalked to Room 8. The room was still and the door locked. He placed his ear against the wood and was met with only silence.

  ‘Ha.’ Jack said out loud. ‘Too scared for ninja Jack.’

  He headed back down the stairs as the first initial hit of adrenaline wore off. He was somewhat disappointed. What was he goin
g to do now? Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through thoroughly. There seemed to be little chance of falling asleep now.

  Jack needed a different approach. What had lured the sounds out previously? Perhaps if he was still. During the last few shifts it was when he was still that he seemed hear the sounds the clearest.

  He stood very still and waited.

  Sure enough after a few moments the lobby sound returned, nibbling at the edges of the quiet.

  The squeaking.

  Jack focused all of his energy on the sound. It was definitely a soft squeaking.

  From his usual position in the centre of the lobby, Jack attempted to isolate the source of the sound. His eyes drifted as he turned in a circle, from the booth to the main entrance. The noise wasn’t coming from either of them.

  Nor did it appear to be emanating from the lounge area.

  Turning, turning. His eyes landed on the Grand Staircase. A bolt of shock struck him.

  There was someone up there.

  Not a shadowy, disappearing figure that you might only glimpse out of the corner of your eye. And not noises that came and went. An actual person. A little girl about 10 years old.

  ‘Okay,’ Jack mumbled quietly to himself, not daring to take his eyes from the child. She wore an old-fashioned dress and played with a small toy car, wheeling it slowly around. As she piloted the vehicle along the carpet and up onto the banister the wheels let out a squeak. The squeaking noise he had been hearing.

  Jack watched her play, transfixed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The little girl had to be a ghost. Had to be. There was no other explanation for it. She couldn’t be there. It wasn’t possible. Yet she didn’t seem like a ghost either. Not that he had any idea what a ghost should look like. All of Jack’s preconceived ideas of ghosts came from television and movies, and while he didn’t expect a ghost to look like Slimer from Ghostbusters or be translucent or anything, he was struck by the ordinariness of this girl. Aside from the slightly old-fashioned dress, she could be any a little girl from here and now.