The Haunted Halls (6 page)

Chapter One

“Wake up,” the voice whispered in the dark.

Somewhere in his opiate-induced slumber, Kenneth McGowan shuddered. His dreams were no longer the wonderland of adventurous, childlike imaginings they had once been. In those happier dreams, he had watched himself climb mountains made of Legos; he had ridden an elephant through a city where the streets were crammed with characters from
Mary Poppins
,
Star Wars
, and
The Never Ending Story
; he had played Cowboys and Indians with childhood friends he’d never had. Once, the dreams were his friends, but not anymore. In the time between when his mother abandoned him here in July and this cold October evening, something sour had burrowed its way into the lone solace he had known from his real world of shame. The dreams, no longer holding his hand, had begun filling with vile scenes of overdoses, rape, and death.

In tonight’s little vision, the attack from Uncle Wes had been relatively easy and expedited. After the act was finished, Uncle Wes exited Kenneth’s hotel room. Then, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen brought him a small wooden TV tray of pretty turquoise pills and a bottle of water. Unable to make eye contact, even in his own dreams, he thanked the girl, taking the pills and bottle of water from the tray she had left while watching her saunter away into the bathroom. He threw the pretty blue-green capsules into his mouth, unscrewed the cap from the water, and closed his eyes as he washed the remedy down. He pulled the plastic bottle from his lips and sucked in a mouth full of warm saline water. His squinty eyes burst open to find that he was submerged in the hotel pool. Panicked, he thrashed his scrawny limbs, helplessly reaching for the surface above, only to descend further from the light and the promise of oxygen; there was something, or
someone
pulling him. He looked down to find the gorgeous pill delivery girl naked, her breasts jiggling as he attempted to jerk his legs from her grasp.  His lungs, taking in more of the warm, salty water, threatened to cave in upon themselves. Ready to quit and give in to death, he found the cold dark eyes of the beautiful dark-haired devil at the pool’s concrete floor. As his lungs quit and his heart slowed, he heard her soft voice, whispering to him from somewhere in the depths.

“Wake up.”

Kenneth opened his eyes surprised to find it was still daylight; the constant pill-popping had made a mess of his body’s internal clock and its ability to keep track of time.
She
was standing at his bedside, calling him from his sleep, from his nightmares.

“Hello, Kenneth,” the angel said.

He opened his eyes to find the gorgeous pool creature from the dream standing before him. Dark curls hung down over a body that belonged in one of his cousin Jarod’s girly magazines. He thought he was still asleep.

“Who are you?”

“I am anyone you want me to be.”

As if to show that she was speaking the truth, he watched in awe as her long brown curls straightened, changing color before his eyes, turning from a dusky earth tone to dirty blonde; the small pale lips of her mouth curled downward at the corners, giving her a permanent melancholy look. Cold blue eyes welcomed him home.

He reached his hand out to her. “Mother?”

“Yes, dear,” she said in the soothing voice he remembered from his youth, as opposed to the smoker’s rasp she had developed in the years since. “If that is who you desire, that is who I am.”

He took her hand, gently at first, like that of a tender child in need of the slightest reassurance that she was there with him in a room full of strangers. A change broke over him, his grip on the over-tanned hand tightened. Something more mature passed through his drug-hazed contemplations.

The angelic girl with the long brown curls hanging over her bare breasts, returned. He stared hungrily at the delicious fullness and wicked promise of her grin. Her dark eyes, now gazing into his, were in a constant state of transference, seemingly changing in easy fluid waves from brown, to black, to something darker, and back again. This impossible display was mesmerizing. The angel pulled his salivating mouth to her chest. He was
hers
.

…..

Somewhere in the fog that had settled in beyond the hotel lobby’s front doors, a phone rang on and on like a broken record inviting Jeff Braun to come out and set it straight. He wasn’t sure what else was hidden within the thick ground cloud that seemed to be alive. So many awful things had already emerged from the endless dispenser of oddities; a seven-foot-tall blond bombshell dressed in a skintight red latex suit; a boy that didn’t speak, but barked–and Jeff understood every word; a centaur whose human half was a large-breasted pregnant woman with lactating nipples–the droplets of mother’s milk still lay glistening before him on the front desk. There were others as well; a teenage girl with a terrific body wrapped up in a form fitting white dress that looked as though it belonged on some Hollywood red carpet–her face pockmarked and oozing a yellowy puss from several pulsating cysts. The parade of bizarre characters had him on the edge of sanity. And now, that incessant ringing–almost as if it were the fog itself calling to him.

Jeff Braun opened his eyes, the fog-dream of idiosyncrasies collapsing and fading from his half-awake mind; the phone next to his head was ringing. He reached out for it, remembering he had stayed at the hotel. “Hello?”

“Jeff? Sorry to wake you, but we have an issue down here.” It took him a few seconds to recognize the voice of his co-worker, Rhiannon.  Jeff looked at the alarm clock beside the phone.

7:02

“Yeah, what is it,” he yawned. “I’m not in until Midnight. What’s going on?”  He got up from the bed, stretching out of his sleep.

“Kurt had to be taken to the hospital.”

“
What?”

“Kurt’s on his way to the hospital. Get down here–there’s more and I don’t wanna talk about it on the phone.”

Within a few minutes, Jeff was dressed, and at the front desk.

“So what the hell happened?” He followed Rhiannon into the back office and closed the door behind them.

She looked shaken as she paced back and forth. “I was coming to see Kurt, and you know, apologize for our strange date last night. And as I came in through the front doors, I see him down the hall, sitting on the floor with this person in his arms. There’s this old lady standing next to him, and she goes flying back into the wall, like she’s been shoved or something. I started running toward them, and that’s when I see Kurt just crumble to the floor.” She brought a sleeve-covered hand up to her eyes. “Kurt wouldn’t answer when I called out his name, and when I got down there, he-he didn’t look good. I was getting up to call 911, when the EMT’s came rushing in past me.”

“Holy shit, is he okay?” Jeff plopped down in the chair in front of her.

“They said they didn’t know. They couldn’t tell what was wrong with him.”

Rhiannon stood and took her red pea coat from the swivel chair beside him as she wiped more tears away from her eyes.

“I’m going to drive over to the hospital and see how he’s doing. Sorry I had to wake you up,” she said.

“No, no, don’t worry about that.”

Rhiannon swung her coat on, passing him on her way to the office door. She opened it, and without so much as a glance back in his direction, started for the lobby exit.

“Rhiannon,” he said. He watched her turn back looking like she was on the verge of devastation. Stepping around the front desk, peering down the hallway, Jeff said, “Where are the two guests Kurt was helping. Are they okay?”

“The paramedics said they were both dead.”

A chill ran down Jeff’s spine. His thoughts drifted back to June when they had found the body of one of their guests floating in the pool. Management had said the guy drowned–plain and simple.

“I-I gotta go,” Rhiannon said.

“Of course, yeah, call me when you get there. Let me know how he’s doing.”

She disappeared out the doors. Jeff glanced down the hall wondering what the hell had happened.

Chapter Two

Christmas week, 1983

The disposal of Sarah’s sugar daddy had gone just as she said it would. Christina had helped her load the bloody body of Gordon Kilpatrick onto a mobile luggage cart before heading downstairs and successfully distracting the old guy at the hotel’s front desk. Sarah never told her what she did with the body; Christina never cared to ask. In the days and weeks that followed, she was amazed, and somewhat frightened at how quickly things seemed to return to normal. She had been certain her sleep would be forever haunted by the killing, but the dreams never came. In fact, she thought of that violent day less and less; the passing days had a neat way of making the details fade.

Since then, things had been somewhat calm, almost
normal
. The two girls were getting along famously and having a blast running wild throughout the hotel. They would go for late night swims, inviting cute boys to sneak out of their rooms after their parents had gone to bed and join them well after the pool was supposed to be closed. They spent mornings sleeping until noon, and then made their way down to the fitness room where they would get the married men all hot and bothered. That’s where she met Jason.

Jason Perry was a short, stocky but handsome man in his early thirties. He told her he was on vacation from his job at the fire department back in Dorchester, Massachusetts. He was staying at the hotel with his wife and two little boys.  Christina and Jason flirted with each other for most of the week; in the fitness room, down at the pool and now, here at breakfast. He confided in her that part of him wished he had come alone. The admission sent her blushing all the way over to her table in the back corner of the dining room. Sarah, who had been watching them all week, started in as soon as her paper plate hit the tabletop.

“Tina, you should get that hunk to come upstairs. He’s totally into you.”

“Ah, I don’t know.  That feels…
weird
,” she said.

“Come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to get those muscly arms wrapped around you. I mean, just look at him.”

And she did. Even watching him from across the room playing with his two adorable little boys made him that much more attractive. Christina knew it was wrong, the guy was married, but she couldn’t deny that she was crushing on him pretty hard. Against her better senses, serving her own desire for affection, she waited for him to refill his coffee cup, and shied toward him.

“Hey,” she said, saddling up next to him at the coffee station.

“Hey,” he said.

“I was wondering. If you aren’t tied up all night with the family, maybe you could stop by my room. You know, just to hang out for a bit before you guys head home.” She read the nervousness in his eyes. “I mean, if you wanted to, maybe you could say you needed to come downstairs to work out or go to the store for something.” She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this, but after initiating the offer, the last thing she wanted was to be rejected.

She watched him glance over her shoulder toward where his family was seated. “Yeah, yeah I think I’d like that. What time should I stop by?”

“Honestly, whenever. Whatever works for you.” Christina couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“There it is,” he said, grinning in return.

“There what is?”

Jason lowered his voice, leaned in closer and said, “That gorgeous smile. How can I say no?”

Christina, getting momentarily lost in his beautiful hazel eyes, felt the heat flooding her rosy cheeks.

“It would have to be later though, like eight or nine,” he said.

“Sure.”

She watched his eyes light up as Sarah strode up on the other side of him and whispered something in his ear. A mix of jealousy and fear wrestled within Christina’s guts as she watched her roommate stare at Jason like a starving wolf eyeing a piece of fresh meat. She was certain that she had just made a huge mistake.

Just after 9 pm, there was a knock at the door.

Sarah charged past Christina to get to the door. Christina’s bad feeling about where this would lead crawled over her fading excitement like a spider over a sleeping baby.

She watched Sarah step aside to let the nervous looking man in. He was already wiping the sweat from his palms on the thighs of his blue jeans. He gave Christina a modest nod. “Hey Christina, Hi Sarah.” 

“So did you go with the workout, or are you at the store right now?” Christina jumped up next to Sarah.

“Actually, I’m meeting an old friend.” A handsome sparkle gleamed behind his gleaming eyes.

Christina started to say something else as Sarah stepped in front of her. She watched as Sarah stripped off her t-shirt and jumped on Jason like some horny slut from a porn flick. It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to process what was going on.

Tits hanging out, Sarah wrapped her long legs around Jason who made only the feeblest attempts to pull his face away before quickly giving in, melting like butter as Sarah shoved her tongue down his throat. She only stopped to turn and bark at Christina, “Jesus Tina, get out of the way.”

Christina retreated in defeat, flooded with an awful sense of déjà vu watching the salacious act unfold before her. Jason’s face was flushed pink, but his once nervous eyes were now hungry flames desperate to be stoked into full roar. Sarah undid his jeans and slipped them down to the floor, crawling back up to take his exposed manhood in her mouth.

“Oh my God,” he said.

After a minute of getting him worked up, Sarah rose, and then hauled Jason down on the bed with her, spreading her legs for him. “Give it to me,” she said, tearing at his broad back.

Sarah slipped a hand under the pillow by her head and produced something shiny. Christina snapped out of her dead end daydream. Jason’s thick, muscled back tensed. His
ohs and yeahs
came faster. Sarah swung her arm up; Christina blinked at the flash of light reflected from the object in her hand. Jason’s roar of ecstasy was interrupted–Sarah slid the straight razor across his throat. Blood gushed from the split skin like water from a spilled paper cup. Jason’s face went pale. He sat up, gurgled out in an incoherent sentence and dropped back down atop Sarah lurching and twitching until he fell still.

“What the hell are you doing? Why? Why?” Christina rushed to the bedside, already in tears.

Sarah slithered out from beneath the man, her face and chest covered in blood, murder weapon in hand, and hellfire burning in her eyes. “Stop right fucking there. I swear to hell, I will gut you next.” The threat hung between the two girls as Sarah smiled under a mask of blood.

Christina bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to purge the gut-wrenching feeling and the guilt that accompanied it to the porcelain god. She wanted to get the sickness that was Sarah Ford out of her system before it set in and took hold. In between her heaving, she cried for what she had done. She cried for the life she had just helped to destroy. She mourned for the wife that was now widowed, and the children now fatherless. Her moment of depthless sorrow was cut short by the horrific series of sick wet thuds–like the sound of mud slapping blacktop–coming from the room beyond the closed door.

She rose to her feet, wiping vomit and saliva from her mouth with the bottom of her t-shirt creeping toward the sickening sounds.  Placing her hand on the bronze knob, unaware that she was holding her breath, she pulled the door open wide just as Sarah buried something shiny into the bloody mess on the floor. Blood splatter rained down over Christina’s bare feet. A scream worked its way up from the bottom of her eternally damned soul, tearing through the room like a the wail of a chainsaw.

Before she could stop, she was tackled off her feet by the psychotic girl with the meat cleaver in her hand. They landed hard on the floor. Christina’s breath shot from her lungs halting the scream–the back of her head smacked the solid tub behind her. Stars danced before her horrified eyes as she fell back into oblivion.

When she came to, Christina found herself lying on the bed. Fresh blankets, the second set Sarah had now bought at K-Mart, now covered the scene of the crime. Sarah sat at the end of the bed smoking a cigarette, watching another episode of
Three’s Company
. Christina wondered if it had all been some sort of bad dream. She tried sitting up, but was hit by a wave of light headedness and nausea that dropped her back onto the fluffy pillow behind her.

“I wouldn’t try to go anywhere if I were you,” Sarah said. “You’ve probably got a concussion.”  Sarah turned her corrupt eyes toward her. “And don’t worry about your admirer–I disposed of him myself.
Every last bit of him
.”

The psychotic look in the girl’s eyes confirmed Christina’s worst fear–she was stuck in an unholy union with this devil in the land of blood and murder. She knew what she had to do.

Present Day

Dressed more for a party than a man heading for a dip, Timothy Laymon strutted down the hallway like he was Brad
Fucking
Pitt. He wasn’t sure where his newfound confidence was coming from, but he liked the way it fit. He stepped up to the elevator and hit the down arrow before turning to check his look one last time in the floor length mirror on the wall across from the elevator doors. Dressed in a dark blue button up shirt, and a pair of black jeans, he double-checked his freshly shaven scalp. There were already fresh sprouts of hair growing where such a thing shouldn’t be possible. The elevator arrived with a
bing
. He finished tying his canvas shoes and stepped in.

The interior of the elevator, although quite warm and a bit too stuffy, was a very appealing blend of stainless steel and mahogany–it was beautiful. Before the doors slid shut, a large hand appeared in the dying crack of light. Timothy stepped back, allowing room for the guest to enter as the stainless steel door slid open. This man stood well over six feet tall and must have weighed around two hundred and fifty pounds. He was dressed in plain black shorts, a black t-shirt, and bare feet. It wasn’t just his size that was intimidating, it was his eyes. There was darkness in them. Darkness that made Timothy drop his own nervous gaze down to the maroon carpeting sporadically patterned with gold lobsters. He dared a glance out of the corner of his eye, and wished that he hadn’t. The towering figure flashed a crooked grin.

The elevator descended to the ground floor, and the
bing
sounded again. Timothy felt swallowed by the dark shadow cast, both figuratively and literally, by his companion. He stepped out of the too-cramped space, alleviating the heaviness of the moment then headed left, toward the pool area. His new shadow followed.