Black Hotel

by Renee Wakefield

‘Day staff.’ Hector walked away. Jack chased after him.

  ‘But… Why? What…’

  ‘You remember I asked you about trains? When you first started here?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, the place up the road is having their annual model train Expo soon. It’s the one time of year the hotel actually has some guests. So we’re getting ready.’ He said all of this like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wandered away, leaving Jack a touch perturbed.

  Jack sat in the reception booth, somewhat self-conscious. It was as though all the people had invaded his space, which was silly. They had probably all worked here longer than him. Still, this was his time and they were encroaching. Plus, they all appeared busy, walking in and out, engaged in various activities. The more he thought about it, the less sense things made. Didn’t they have all day to do this work? The hotel had no guests yet. What possibly could have made them anywhere near busy enough that they had to stay late? Maybe they were all scamming Miss Daniels. Getting paid unnecessary over time.

  After a while Jack became aware someone was watching him. He gazed around the lobby. Over near the couches a maid seemed to be cleaning. She was quite young. Mid-to-late 20s, with a short, pixie haircut. The maid’s outfit was the equivalent of Jack’s bellhop attire. No mistaking her for anything but a maid. Except the maid wasn’t cleaning so much as she was watching Jack. Watching him with worried eyes.

  Jack looked away self-consciously but soon found his eyes drawn back to the maid. This time she made no effort to hide her staring. Her eyes pierced Jack. She gave a subtle flick of her head, indicating for Jack to follow. Jack mouthed “Me?” and looked about to see who else she might be talking to and immediately felt foolish. There was nothing behind him except hooks and room keys. Of course she meant him. She flicked her head again and slipped open the door to the rickety stairs down to the basement.

  Jack followed. The single naked globe gave the staircase and storage area a slightly sinister feel.

  The maid waited at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting with her hands. A nervous twitch. The crowded storage area was dim and full of old junk. Tables, chairs and whatever else was no longer in use. The maid’s eyes darted about, making sure that they were alone.

  ‘Stop asking questions.’ Her voice hurried and urgent.

  ‘Sorry… What?’

  ‘Just stop it! If you want to stay out of trouble.’ Message delivered, the maid turned to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ spluttered Jack. He grabbed her arm to stop her going, but instantly let go. He wasn’t in the habit of grabbing young women, conscious of how it may look. Down here, alone, only the two of them. Last thing he needed was to be accused of harassment. But he didn’t want her to go. Not without further explanation. The maid sighed heavily but stopped.

  ‘What do you —’

  ‘I can’t be seen talking to you,’ she hissed.

  ‘Miss Banks.’

  Hector’s voice cut through the quiet from the top of the stairs, making both of them jump. The maid froze. Her terrified eyes tore into Jack.

  ‘Please return to work. Leave Jack alone.’ There was something different about Hector’s voice. A previously unheard sternness. The maid shot Jack worried look, before hurrying past him and away up the stairs.

  Jack followed. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Don’t waste your time with that one, Jack.’ Hector forced a smile. ‘We might not have any guests, but she is not being paid to stand around.’

  Don’t waste your time on that one? What could that mean? Jack watched Hector walk away, intrigued.

  Returning to the reception booth, a charge of excitement ran through Jack. His mind spun in a million directions. “Stop asking questions. If you want to stay out of trouble.” The maid knew something. Something Hector didn’t want him to know. Could she finally offer him a glimpse behind the curtain? The clue that he had been searching for as to what the heck was going on here at Black Hotel? His mind continued in overdrive, ripe with possibilities.

  He waited in the booth, perched on the edge of his seat. What he needed was another opportunity to speak to the maid. Obviously, he couldn’t simply walk over and talk to her. He had to get her alone. That wasn’t going to be easy.

  Three of them engaged in the watching game now. Jack and the maid watched each other, while Hector eyed both of them like a hawk. Why was Hector suddenly acting so funny? Had he been lying all along? Jack chose action. He marched up to Hector.

  ‘Hector. What is going on?’

  ‘Jack, we can’t have this conversation every two seconds.’ Exasperation ripe in his voice. ‘I told you already. We’re getting ready for the Expo.’

  ‘Yeah, but —’

  Someone came down the Grand Staircase. He whispered urgently in Hector’s ear. Hector exhaled loudly. From what Jack could ascertain Hector was wanted upstairs. Perfect.

  ‘Jack, go back to your desk and stay there.’

  Jack did as instructed, at least the first part. The moment Hector was out of view he jumped off his seat and charged out of the reception booth.

  Only now the maid had gone too.

  She couldn’t have gone far. Jack completed a quick search, no idea how long he had. Hector could be back at any moment.

  He found the maid out the back by the dumpsters, sucking on a cigarette. Jack hurried up, energy and excitement getting the better of him. The maid reacted to seeing him, trying to walk away.

  ‘Wait. Please.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you.’ Her voice full of fear.

  ‘Why?’

  She looked away.

  ‘Why can’t you talk to me?’

  ‘They’ll see.’ Her worried eyes studied Jack. ‘You should be more scared.’

  ‘Scared? Scared of what?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘The Hotel. Everything.’ The maid chewed her bottom lip.

  ‘Just tell me,’ Jack implored. ‘What’s going on?’

  The maid shook her head. She butted out her cigarette and walked away.

  ‘You came to me. You obviously wanted to tell me something. Tell me. Maybe I can do something. Help.’

  The maid hesitated. She fought with herself, unsure. Finally: ‘You’ve seen it too, haven’t you?’

  ‘Seen what?’

  ‘The thing,’ the maid replied. ‘Roaming the halls.’

  Confusion and intrigue battled for dominance of Jack’s mind. The maid grabbed him by hand, dragging him back inside. They snuck through the hotel making sure they weren’t seen by the day staff.

  ‘Where are we —’

  ‘Shush!’ They arrived at the door a few down from Miss Daniels’ office. One of the locked doors Jack had stumbled across this room in his travels.

  ‘Hide.’ The maid ordered, pushing Jack into the shadows. She knocked at the door.

  ‘Yeah?’ came a voice from inside.

  The maid entered the room. Jack strained to listen.

  ‘Hector wants to see you. Now,’ the maid told whoever was inside. No chance the person inside would buy that. Surely. Her voice sounded too unsure. Nervous. But after a moment or two a male exited. He didn’t spot Jack.

  The maid reappeared and dragged Jack in, slamming the door behind them. They had entered a security room of some sort, out of step with the rest of the hotel. Some AV equipment and several old monitors. The monitors showed different views of the hotel. The equipment had all seen better days but was much more modern than the rest of the Gothic hotel.

  ‘We don’t have much time,’ the maid said hastily. Her hands trembled. Whatever it was, whatever was going on, it had scared her good. She leaned in close, examining the monitors. ‘Sometimes you can see it.’

  Jack followed her lead, no idea what he was looking for.

  ‘Sometimes you can see it on the screens…’

  They waited. The quiet hum of the machine the only sound. The images warped and crackled with
static. Everything felt ominous and creepy and yet incredibly exciting as well. Answers, Jack hoped. Finally some answers. Some sort of explanation. ‘Come on, come on…’ the maid muttered. They waited and waited… Then:

  ‘There it is!’ shrieked the maid, pointing.

  Goosebumps exploded all over Jack’s body. More at her reaction than anything else, her sudden outburst startling him.

  And then he saw what she was pointing at.

  On screen was one of the hotel’s corridors. Right outside the rooms upstairs. And moving down the hall was what looked like a bad Halloween costume — a person covered in a white sheet, two holes cut for eyes. Carrying a thick, heavy chain and jumping about theatrically.

  The maid managed to hold it together for a moment or two more. ‘Look. Look. The ghost!’ But try as she might she couldn’t contain herself, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

  Jack walked down the corridor and out into the dining room to find all the day staff waiting for him, all in on the joke. They clapped and cheered Jack happily. Hector stepped out of the pack and pointed in mock terror.

  ‘Oh no! There it is, Jack!’

  The “ghost” clomped in, clinking his chain. ‘Woo! Wooooo!’

  Everyone laughed, looking at Jack expectantly.

  Jack raised a hand in acknowledgement. ‘Good one. You got me.’

  The small crowd of hotel staff cheered and laughed and clapped. Stepping over with a broad smile the maid gave Jack a consoling half hug. ‘Sorry.’ she said in a jovial, non-apologetic manner.

  Joke over, the day staff dispersed. Hector slapped Jack light heartedly on the back.

  ‘I don’t think they’re taking me very seriously at work.’ Jack told Merch as they drove to a nearby shopping centre that night.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Just a hunch.’

  20

  A Real Person

  Soon after the ghost sighting, Jack was the only one left in the dining area. He sat at the long bar which ran along the far wall of the room. The sequence of events had left him in a contemplative mood. Hector emerged with two beers and handed Jack one.

  ‘Thought we weren’t allowed to drink.’

  ‘You’re not allowed to get hammered. Stevo, one of the guys who used to work here, he was an alcoholic. Wasn’t good for all concerned.’ Hector settled in a seat alongside Jack.

  ‘Everyone hung around just for that?’

  ‘We work in a hotel with no guests. It’s fair to say the day staff are quite bored.’

  ‘The maid was… believable.’

  ‘I know, right? She’s an actor. Aspiring actor. She really got into it. Course she had to. If she hadn’t sold it, if you didn’t believe her, the whole thing wouldn’t have worked.’

  ‘You sold it too.’

  ‘Ha. I’m no actor.’ He downed a swig of his beer. ‘Don’t give us too much credit. It’s your imagination. We merely stoked the flames.’ He shot a sideways glance at Jack. ‘You’re taking it well.’

  ‘It was pretty funny.’ They sat in silence for a few moments. ‘Can I ask you something? Do you ever get sick of being yourself?’

  ‘Not really. But I can understand how you might,’ Hector replied.

  ‘Gee, thanks. Why?’

  ‘You give that impression. Like it’s exhausting being you.’

  Jack chose his words carefully. ‘There are people who say things, you know, like generally. And everyone believes them. Like it’s gospel. With me it’s the opposite. I reckon if I told people a fact, a fact they knew with 100 percent certainty to be true, if I told them that same fact they’d start to question it.’

  Hector chuckled. ‘It’s not no one believes you. No one believes in ghosts. There’s a difference.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘Sure. If I told you I saw a unicorn on the way to work, what would you think?’

  As much as Jack wanted to say he would believe him, he knew he wouldn’t.

  ‘Also it’s because you’re not a real person.’ Hector continued.

  ‘What you mean? I’m a real person, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’re a… different type of person.’

  ‘Different to what?’

  ‘Real people. You give the impression of someone who isn’t ready to accept reality. You, you’re what, 40?’

  ‘I’m 38,’ Jack asserted, offended.

  ‘You’ve got no wife. No girlfriend. No prospects. You work here.’

  ‘You work here.’

  ‘Totally different. I have a job. It’s no great job, but it’s a job. You drifted in off the street. We weren’t even advertising. You’re a dreamer, Jack. Dreamers are a special breed. You actually remind me of Miss Daniels.’

  ‘I remind you of an 80-year-old woman?’

  ‘Totally. It’s not an insult. I would love to be a dreamer, like you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure. For about five minutes, at least.’

  When Jack thought of entrepreneurs he generally thought of self-made people with many different businesses and even more business ideas. Merch was an entrepreneur, of sorts, even though he only had one idea and one business. Merch owned several vending machines, located in car parks of shopping centres in relatively close proximity to their apartment. These machines could be found at the bottom of escalators, the last retail opportunity after the shops, but before the cars. Jack could never understand why people used them, given there was a supermarket with lower prices just a few steps away, but Merch’s machines did a brisk trade. Merch didn’t have to do a whole lot to keep them going, other than keep the machines stocked. The business, if you could call it that, was never going to make him a fortune, but it was enough to keep Merch going and happy. He could always expand if he wanted to, but that meant more travel, which didn’t interest him. As it was Merch made his own hours, of which there were few, affording him plenty of free time.

  Jack joined him occasionally for the restocking runs, to keep him company mostly or if, like tonight, he needed to talk. Merch plonked the box full of chips onto the floor and set about unlocking the vending machine. Jack leant against a rogue trolley, berated by his thoughts as he idly watched the door swing open.

  ‘Hmmm, Burger Rings were popular this week.’ Merch ripped open the box of chip packets sitting on the concrete beside him. Jack often wondered why the machines were not vandalised more than they were. Then again, the machines were inside and the car parks were reasonably busy until they were locked up at night.

  Jack grabbed his one packet. Merch allowed Jack one packet of chips per box, which seemed like a fair deal. If there weren’t rules, Jack could easily eat Merch out of business.

  ‘Am I a real person?’

  ‘Maybe I need to stock more chocolate bars and fewer chips...’

  ‘Merch?’

  ‘Sometimes you’re a real person. Why?’

  ‘Something Hector said at work. He thinks I have an inability to accept reality.’ Jack’s tone indicated what a ridiculous statement he found this to be.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s true.’

  ‘What? I have no ability to accept reality?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘So you don’t believe me either? About the ghosts?’

  ‘I believe that you believe it.’

  Jack huffed. ‘Well, what about you? If I’m not a real person, neither are you.’

  ‘You can’t compare us,’ said Merch, still focused on the box of chips. ‘There is no comparison.’

  Jack considered his skinny friend. Was that true? He always felt the two of them to be much the same. Were they so different?

  ‘I mean, besides me being heavier and having a beard…’

  ‘We’re not talking about physical traits.’

  ‘Exactly. Then we are even more alike. Surely. We’re the same age. We lived together.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m settled. I’m doing my thing and it’s working.’ Merch filled all of the empty slots with new chip packets.
/>   ‘What am I doing?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Phhffttt.’ Jack kicked at an invisible spot of dirt on the floor.

  ‘I think it’s a comfort thing. I’m happy with who I am. I’m doing my thing. I am comfortable in my own skin.’

  ‘I…’ Jack started. He wanted to claim he was too, even if he was fully aware it wasn’t true.

  ‘You’re striving,’ Merch went on. ‘Nothing wrong with striving. It’s just not where I’m at.’

  The next few days Jack’s thoughts followed that well-worn path that he had ventured down so many times before. Why he wasn’t like everybody else? It wasn’t fair. He was wired differently. It’s just how he was. Why couldn’t he simply be like everybody else? A job, a house, a family… The answer was no different to what it was every other time he’d had this argument in his head. He had absolutely no interest in being like everybody else. He couldn’t go to the same job with the same people day after day after day for the rest of his life. And so he was stuck. And generally he quite liked being different, it was just challenging sometimes.

  All of this bounced about Jack’s head as he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Out of nowhere he had an epiphany. That was the key. Find a way to be himself and be happy. He jumped to his feet.

  He found Merch busy in his bedroom. Busy intricately painting a small model soldier. The work was detailed and fiddly and one Merch had done many, many times before, as evidenced by the numerous similar model soldiers adorning the room.

  Jack strode up. ‘Something is going on at this hotel.’

  ‘I know. You told me,’ Merch’s brush delicately licked the figure he was holding.

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t care what anybody says. I’m going to find out what’s going on. That’ll show you. Show all of you.’

  ‘Sounds good, buddy. You do that.’

  21

  Investigations

  Jack left Merch to his figures and strode out, full of purpose. But where to start? That was the question. He needed information. He began his search with the Internet, finding out whatever he could about Black Hotel. There wasn’t a lot there, only a few bits and pieces. It was as though the hotel had never submitted to the digital age.