Black Hotel

by Renee Wakefield

  Through the crack in the door Madam Targ’s figure could be seen gliding up the stairs, heading straight for the bedroom.

  Jack had no time to react to Charlotte’s death. Merch grabbed him, whisking them both into the wardrobe. They just managed to pull the door shut as the bedroom door opened.

  Madam Targ entered the room. Her legs showed no sign of moving beneath her long flowing skirt, giving the impression she was floating. Jack and Merch watched her through the slatted door of the wardrobe.

  ‘Oh, my poor little Lotte,’ Madam Targ exclaimed quietly. ‘Vhat have they done to you?’

  Why couldn’t Madam Targ hear them? Jack’s heart was beating loud enough to be heard three blocks away.

  It only took a moment for Madam Targ to realise there was something very wrong with her daughter. More than the physical appearance and ageing. Merch and Jack watched Madam Targ slump onto the bed.

  For a moment there was silence before a wail of the most unimaginable grief air filled the air. A guttural, animal-like scream of agony.

  Jack could do little except watch on, uncomfortably aware he was witnessing what should have been a very private, intimate moment. The wail went on and on for several minutes.

  Finally, Madam Targ managed to drag herself away from her daughter’s dead body. She glided towards the doorway… And froze.

  Her eyes drifted slowly around the room, her gaze lingering on the pile of books on the floor.

  Jack’s heart tried to escape his chest, pounding to break free.

  After a long stare Madam Targ’s head snapped suddenly from the pile of books to the wardrobe.

  The boys hunched, paralysed, Madam Targ’s stare slicing into them through the slatted door.

  From the depth of Madam Targ came another wail, although this one was born out of fury and anger rather than grief. The wail escalated to an ear-splitting screech.

  The boys watched in terror. No way out.

  The wardrobe door flew open, entirely of its own accord. Exposed, Jack and Merch screamed.

  Without a second thought the two of them bolted past Madam Targ and out the bedroom door, Jack clutching the book.

  They burst out of the bedroom and down the stairs, taking several stairs at a time. Desperation surging through them. Desperate to get out.

  Madam Targ was right behind, still seemingly floating. She didn’t appear to be moving quickly but they couldn’t shake her. She muttered as she pursued them, cursing them in some lost language.

  Confusion peppered Jack’s mind. How the hell did they get out of here? The house was enormous and confusing. Where was the window they had entered through? Should they jump off the roof? Where were the stairs to the bottom floor? In the dark the rooms looked all the same.

  ‘We are going to die! We going to die!’ Merch screamed as he ran.

  Faster and faster they went, still unable to find a way out.

  Doors slammed mysteriously in front of them.

  Exits were locked and wouldn’t budge.

  Frozen animals snarled.

  Ancient relatives scowled down from the walls.

  And Madam Targ floated in pursuit, cursing them.

  Yep, we are going to die, Jack agreed, echoing Merch’s screams. He had often wondered how his life might come to an end but never guessed it would be like this, at the hands of a crazy lady whose daughter he had inadvertently killed, trapped in a Gothic mansion.

  Something grabbed him… No, he was just caught on a cat’s paw. The black taxidermied animal hissed at him, frozen mid-snarl. Jack grabbed the cat without slowing.

  They belted down another set of stairs, finally at the bottom level.

  ‘Merch, this way! Jack yelled, leading them into a sedate dining room.

  He hurled the cat with full force as he ran.

  SMASH!

  The dead animal shattered through a large window. In an unparalleled feat of dexterity he managed to jump up onto the window seat and launch himself through the window as it exploded about him. A fantastic move which probably felt better than it looked, but, whatever, was still pretty good. He even stuck the landing, hitting the grass and continuing to sprint for his life. Merch was right behind him.

  The two of them puffed hard as they sprinted ran up the driveway and onto the street.

  Finally, they made it to their car. They slammed the doors. Jack and Merch grinned at one another like idiots, a heady mix of adrenaline and nerves. The boys began to catch their breath.

  SLAM!

  Madam Targ’s fist whacked the driver’s side window. The tall lady was a terrifying sight, looming over the car, still cursing at them.

  ‘Get out of here!!’ Jack yelled.

  SLAM!

  Merch crunched the little hatchback into gear and the two of them took off into the night. Jack watched Madam Targ get smaller and smaller through the rear windscreen. He sighed with relief.

  Jack looked down. He was clutching the ancient book from Charlotte’s room.

  38

  The Oak Tree

  Jack slumped on the couch, distraught. Merch sat alongside him, flicking through the book from Charlotte’s room.

  ‘Three dead. You’re certainly racking them up.’

  ‘Three?’

  ‘Amanda. Her dad. Now Charlotte. Nicolette tried to warn you, but you went ahead anyway.’ He fanned the book. ‘And this? This is a big bust.’ He closed the cover, tossing the book to Jack. ‘Told you it was incoherent ranting. This is a kid’s book. Nothing.’

  Jack hadn’t moved. The adrenaline had long since worn off leaving him exhausted.

  ‘You okay?’

  Jack didn’t respond. Merch got up, leaving him. Jack grabbed the book. Non-traditional fairytales, nursery rhymes and poems filled the pages. The illustrated children leered at him from the accompanying pictures. Creepy smiles plastered across their faces. What was Charlotte possibly thinking? She probably wasn’t thinking, just dying.

  He tossed the book aside and sighed. He did his best to ignore the voice in his head that agreed with Merch. The voice that was calling him a murderer.

  That night Jack stared at the shadows clustering on the ceiling of his room. Strange to be home at this time of the evening. He would usually be at the hotel. What would he be doing now if he was there now? Was there anything going on, or was it all quiet? He desperately needed to sleep. It had been forever since he slept properly. Despite how tired he was, he didn’t feel remotely sleepy.

  The events of the last few days spiralled through his mind. He felt bad for Amanda and angry at her father. She was only a little girl. She didn’t deserve to be collateral damage in her father’s war with his ex-wife. He felt bad for Charlotte too, although she had at least had a choice. Whatever they’d done at the hotel was her suggestion, so it wasn’t wholly his fault. On the one hand, he seemed to have made progress with the unexplained happenings at Black Hotel, yet he still had absolutely no idea what was going on. Very frustrating. Whatever was happening it was leaving a trail of dead bodies and destruction. Jack tossed and turned, hoping a different position might lure sleep. No luck. His mind was far too wired.

  Jack switched on the bedside light and grabbed Charlotte’s book. He flipped the pages with dead eyes, not expecting to find anything. It occurred to him he didn’t recognise a single story or nursery rhyme. Turning the page he found something…

  Someone had scrawled ‘Jack’ on one of the pages. His name, written above a poem.

  THE OAK TREE

  Remember tomorrow - you and me

  When we sat under - the oak tree

  And reminisced - so merrily

  About all the things - that will be

  Jack read the poem aloud several times, desperate to make sense of the words. ‘Remember tomorrow…’ he repeated. ‘Remember tomorrow.’

  ‘Merch, Mech!’ Jack burst into Merch’s room, clutching the book. ‘Wake up! Look, look!’

  Merch glanced sleepily at the page. ‘Jack.’

 
; ‘Yeah, not my name. The poem.’ Merch read the poem, still none the wiser. ‘They’re premonitions,’ Jack sprouted excitedly.

  Still half asleep Merch wasn’t following. ‘They were ghosts yesterday.’

  Jack paced. ‘Charlotte was right. It’s all in my head.’

  ‘Right. How does that help?’

  ‘It changes everything. Everything.’

  Merch recognised the urgency in Jack’s tone and sensed he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep for a while. If he had to be awake, better to do it properly. They adjourned to the kitchen where Merch could at least make a cup of tea while he listened to his friend’s rambling.

  Jack hopped about, excitement preventing him from sitting still. ‘I think I have to do what the poem says.’

  Merch retrieved the tea from the cupboard. ‘We don’t have an oak tree.’

  ‘Not that literally. Remember tomorrow. Reminisce about all the things that will be. What if these things are premonitions? And the premonitions are like a puzzle.’

  ‘So what you were so convinced were ghosts aren’t ghosts, they’re premonitions?’

  ‘Yeah, like memories … that haven’t happened yet.’ Jack thought some more. ‘If I can put the pieces together, I might be able to stop them.’

  Merch shot him a sceptical look. ‘What if you’re the problem?’ That halted Jack in his tracks. ‘Think about it. You’re the one haunting the hotel. You brought Amanda… And her Dad.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Who said anything about fair? I’m not saying it’s your fault, but Amanda and her Dad wouldn’t have been at the hotel if he hadn’t found the brochure you dropped. You brought them.’

  ‘You brought Charlotte,’ Jack grumbled back.

  ‘That’s not what killed her.’ Silence filled the kitchen. ‘I’m merely pointing out — you don’t go back to the hotel, maybe that’s it. Problem solved.’

  Jack pondered this. He shook his head. ‘I’m not going to wake up one morning and discover the hotel burned down and I did nothing.’ Jack struggled to articulate his view. ‘I could have saved Amanda. I’m not making that the same mistake twice.’

  ‘Or maybe that’s exactly what you’re doing.’

  A thought struck Jack, the pieces falling into place. ‘It happens during the Expo…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fire. The hotel burns down when there are guests. There are only guests when the railway enthusiasts hold their Expo.’

  ‘So, when is this Expo on?’

  39

  The Dakes

  Brimming with purpose Jack and Merch approached the hotel. More focused than usual.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘We have to evacuate the hotel.’

  They strode inside, passing a few people milling about the hotel’s entrance.

  The murmur of a dozen conversations filled the lobby. Far busier than Jack had ever seen. Not exactly crawling with people, but given how quiet Black Hotel usually was, there was a crowd inside. The crowd was mostly made up of nerdy late middle-aged men. Only a couple of women. All being model train enthusiasts, they had a distinct look about them. Some of the enthusiasts proudly donned engineers caps.

  Jack and Merch negotiated their way through.

  Hector manned the front desk, the strain from the guest influx evident. ‘Jack. What happened to having a few days off?’

  ‘Yeah, I was, but listen. I need to talk to you.’

  Unfortunately, listening was about the last thing on Hector’s mind as he juggled a multitude of tasks all at once.

  ‘Little busy right now, Jack.’ Hector beckoned over the next in line, a portly middle-aged gent in a powder blue engineer’s cap. ‘How can I help you?’

  Jack stepped in front of the customer. ‘Hector… This is important.’ Hector flashed an apologetic smile to the guest and tried to focus on Jack. ‘Something terrible is going to happen at the hotel. A disaster.’

  Hector appeared to be listening but wasn’t. ‘Okay. Great. Can you take care of it?’ He turned back to the portly man in the queue. ‘Sorry about that. Can I help you?’

  Jack took a step back, deflated.

  ‘Don’t think he’s listening, buddy.’ Merch offered.

  ‘Plan B.’

  By contrast Miss Daniels listened intently from behind her desk. ‘Everybody could be in danger. So we need to evacuate the whole hotel. As soon as we can.’

  Miss Daniels nodded slowly.

  ‘We’re worried everyone might die,’ Merch added.

  ‘Well, not everybody, but some people, certainly, yeah.’

  Miss Daniels nodded again. ‘Interesting. Very interesting.’ She stood. ‘Follow me please, gentlemen.’

  They walked into the staff corridor, Miss Daniels leading the way. She stopped and pointed up. ‘Who can tell me what that is?’

  ‘The roof.’ Merch asserted confidently.

  ‘The thing on the roof. The round white thing with the little red light.’

  ‘A smoke detector.’

  ‘Very good, Jack, very good!’ Like he was four years old again.

  ‘Miss Daniels.’

  ‘And this thing here,’ she pointed to a fire extinguisher on the wall, ‘is a fire extinguisher.’

  ‘I know —’

  She ploughed on over the top of him. ‘Do you know who put them there? Do you?’ Her eyes went wide for extra emphasis. ‘The fire department.’

  ‘Miss Daniels.’

  ‘So, you and your little friend don’t have to worry yourselves about fires. We’re very safe…’ She gave Jack an affectionate tap on the cheek and a broad smile.

  ‘Miss Daniels. I know you think I’m simple. But, something terrible is coming. People are going to die.’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘You’re young, Jack, why are you so fixated on death? I’m old. I’m the one who should be worried about dying.’ She reached up and tapped him lightly on the cheek again. ‘Stop worrying so much about death. You’re going to miss your life.’ Miss Daniel marched off down the corridor.

  ‘That went well,’ Merch said. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Hector appeared, frantic and frazzled. ‘Jack. You’re still here. Great. Can you give us a hand?’

  Jack changed into a spare bellhop uniform and joined Hector so the two of them could man the reception booth together. A backlog of guests who had all arrived at once clogged the lobby. The sudden influx of people was hardly enormous, but for Hector who wasn’t used to guests, it was overwhelming. The stress evident in his jittery manner.

  Hector handled most of the check-in duties. Jack assisted however he could, generally doing whatever was necessary, but mostly by carrying luggage to the guests’ rooms.

  Merch even pitched in by carrying a few sets of bags. When not needed Merch planted himself in the lounge area and watched it all unfold with great interest.

  The whole thing felt like playacting to Jack. Pretending to be a bellhop. It was fun, meeting all the guests, finally seen the hotel in action. He forgot all about the impending fire.

  Jack waited at the reception booth for Hector to finish dealing with Mrs Dake, a large, formidable woman, accompanied by her slight husband, Mr Dake.

  ‘No, Mrs Dake. That was Room 6 you didn’t like last year.’

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Dake,’ Hector replied in an exasperated voice. ‘Room 15 was the room you liked.’

  ‘Well, I don’t agree, but I suppose we shall see soon enough.’

  Mr Dake rolled his eyes at Jack. Jack grinned back.

  ‘Jack, please take Mr and Mrs Dake’s luggage to Room 15,’ Hector instructed.

  ‘Certainly.’ Jack said with a broad smile. He grabbed the cases and immediately struggled with the weight. What could these people possibly have in their bags? They were only staying a couple of nights, and yet it was as though Mrs Dake had packed bricks.

  ‘So, Mr Dake, is this your first
model railway Expo?’

  Mr Dake chuckled. ‘No, sir! I’ve been a member of the Association for 27 years now.’

  ‘Wow, 27 years…’ They moved up the Grand Staircase. ‘That’s a long —’

  ‘Bellhop,’ Mrs Dake interrupted. ‘Where do I know you from?’

  ‘I am not sure. I don’t believe we’ve met.’

  ‘I think you are wrong. You look extremely familiar. Last year’s Expo, perhaps?’

  ‘Nope. I wasn’t working here last year.’

  They trundled along the upstairs corridor.

  ‘I know your face from somewhere.’

  Mrs Dake seemed familiar as well, but Jake was reasonably sure they’d never met. ‘You’ve probably met someone who looks like me. Faces are all pretty similar.’

  ‘What utter nonsense.’

  ‘Here we are,’ announced Mr Dake opening the door to Room 15. Jack struggled in with the cases.

  ‘What are you most looking forward to with the Expo?’ Jack asked Mr Dake.

  ‘Well, I always —’

  ‘We are going on the steam train tour on Sunday,’ Mrs Dake interrupted again. ‘What time does that leave?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask someone at the Expo.’

  ‘I’m asking you.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Why not? You’re the bellhop.’

  ‘Yes, but I have nothing to do with the Expo.’

  ‘I would like you to find out for me. I need to know as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Jack said with a grin. Dealing with the Mrs Dakes of the world would be a trial if you had to endure them day after day. But as a one-off Jack found the experience kind of fun.

  Mr Dake offered Jack a tip, but Jack waved it off with a smile and headed back downstairs.