At one in the morning, the boys were halfway to the hotel again. Jack slowed down and commented to Stephen, “I wish this hotel had a ‘save game’ feature, so we wouldn’t have to do all the beginning stuff every time.” Jack swung his dad’s extra golf putter as he walked.
“I just wish we had headlamps, so we wouldn’t have to carry these flashlights,” remarked Stephen.
“Yeah, that too. It takes like almost two hours to get through everything and then we’re going to have to worry about turning right around,” said Jack.
“Yeah, but I like the nighttime trips,” said Stephen. “Seems more fun.”
“Me too,” said Jack. “It’s electric.”
“Like Halloween or something.”
“Exactly,” said Jack.
In front of the new button, Jack was ready to try the putter. He held it with both hands. He gripped the shaft just below the rubber handle. Jack was on his knees and Stephen crouched behind him — slightly hunched over in the small passage. He had the blade of the putter lined up with the hand drawn on the switch.
“Do it,” said Stephen.
Jack stifled a yawn and pressed the putter to the sensor.
Nothing happened.
“Damn it,” said Jack. He pulled out the putter and dropped it on the floor. He slumped back against the wall. “I’m tired, and it’s the middle of the night, and we can’t even get past this stupid thing.”
“We could go back to the pole,” said Stephen, reminding Jack of the other passage they had dismissed as too dangerous.
“We don’t know how we’ll get out if we go that way,” said Jack.
“We could try putting our hand in this thing and then wedge it open so it won’t close,” suggested Stephen.
“Are you going to try that?” said Jack. “I’m not.”
“Well this thing doesn’t respond to something conductive,” said Stephen. “We know that.”
Jack frowned and bent his head, grasping it with both hands. Stephen sat down and leaned against the opposite wall. Jack had set his flashlight down on the floor. Now it lit his face from underneath and produced a frightening visage.
“Why don’t we go dig up a body and cut off the arm?” asked Stephen. He had intended to break the foul mood with humor, but succeeded only in giving himself goosebumps.
“Nah,” said Jack. “Wouldn’t work.”
Stephen wondered if Jack was seriously considering his joke as an option.
“I think maybe it’s heat,” said Jack. “Maybe whatever touches it has to be conductive and at body temperature.”
“We could go experiment with the other panel,” offered Stephen. “The one in the white room.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea,” said Jack, brightening at last. “C’mon.”
Jack led the way back through the ducts, up the stairs from the spiral room, and through the attic. As usual with the white room they had to approach slowly — it was so bright that it took a while for their eyes to adjust. They knew from experience that if they rushed into the white room they would be squinting back headaches for several minutes.
Stephen was about to follow Jack down the ladder when he heard a faint squeaking noise from the corner of the attic. “Hey, Jack,” he called.
Following his light, Stephen approached the corner of the room. Jack joined him as he discovered a mess of shredded paper and gypsum concealing a dozen pink baby rats.
“Gross,” said Stephen.
“That gives me an idea,” said Jack. “Do you have that old sock?”
“Yeah — why?” asked Stephen.
“Just give it,” said Jack.
Taking the sock from Stephen, Jack turned it inside out and put his hand inside. He reached into the nest and grabbed three of the tiny animals. Jack pulled back his hand quickly and turned the sock inside-out, creating a bag of rats.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked Stephen.
“I’m thinking the switch needs something conductive and warm,” said Jack. “Maybe even living.”
“That is seriously twisted,” said Stephen.
“We’ll see,” said Jack picking up his flashlight and bag. “What if it works?”
Jack put the end of the sock between his teeth to free up his hand for climbing down the ladder.
“Dude. That’s sick,” said Stephen. Still at the top of the ladder, Stephen looked down at Jack with a sock full of rats in his mouth. He pretended to wretch.
Jack remained serious. “Just bring that putter down here,” he said.
When Stephen joined him in the white room, Jack sat down on the floor and laid out his supplies. He started by tearing off a long hunk of duck tape and sticking it to the blade of the putter. Then, Jack carefully shook one of the baby rats from the sock and twisted the end of the sock again so the others would stay put. The baby rat wiggled around on the floor and squeaked. It was about as big as Jack’s thumb.
Without picking up the rat, Jack rolled it towards the duck tape. Soon, the rat was stuck to the tape which was stuck to the putter. Jack pulled the tape around until the rat was in contact with the metal of the putter and he wrapped the tape to make it secure.
“See?” said Jack. “Rat on a stick. Cool, huh?”
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and just count this as sleep-deprivation. There is nothing cool about a rat on a stick.”
“Relax,” said Jack, “it’s just a rat, and I’m sure it will be fine.”
Jack stood up and carried his dad’s putter over to the panel in the wall. He glanced at the struggling rat, and then carefully inserted it into the hole. When the rat touched the switch, the plastic gates closed and the trap ladder started to descend at the end of the tripwire hall.
“Yes!” said Jack. He beamed at Stephen.
“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” said Stephen. “Hey, how do you know it’s the rat that tripped the switch? What if this switch could have worked with just metal?”
“Oh, that’s true!” said Jack, still elated. “We have to try without.”
When he pulled the putter and rat from the hole, the plastic gates withdrew and the sound ceased.
Kneeling, Jack peeled the tape from the end of the golf club. The tape came off the metal easily, but the rat stuck to the tape. Jack grabbed the ends of the piece of tape and pulled them apart. The fragile skin of baby rat began to tear as Jack attempted to pull off the tape.
“Oops,” said Jack. “That’s not good.” He sat down with the injured rat and tried to remove the tape without hurting it further.
“Forget it,” said Stephen. “You can’t get that tape off. He’s going to die.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Jack. He put set the rat aside and grabbed the putter again.
“You’re just going to leave it there?” Stephen was amazed.
“I’ll put it back in the nest when we go back up,” said Jack.
“Oh, like that will help?” asked Stephen.
“Well, what else can I do?” Jack returned to the switch and tried to activate it with just the putter. “Nope, doesn’t work with just metal,” he said.
Stephen took another look at the pitiful rat and then walked over to the switch with Jack. “Let me try something.” Stephen took the putter from Jack. Instead of trying to use the putter to activate the switch, Stephen turned it around and put the handle between the two plexiglass plates that would collapse to trap the wrist of the person pressing the panel.
“If we can just stop the things from closing, we won’t get hurt,” said Stephen. He held the putter with his right hand and reached past with his left to touch the switch. When he touched the panel the gates attempted to close, but were thwarted by the handle.
“See?” asked Stephen. “We can just block the things so we don’t get cut.” He removed his hand and the gates withdrew again.
“No — it didn’t work,” said Jack. “Do it again.”
“Why?” asked Stephen.
“Just check it out,” Jack reached past and put his own hand on the switch, the gates were again blocked by the putter handle. “No noise,” said Jack.
“What noise?”
Jack pointed with his free hand — “We should be hearing the ladder dropping. I don’t hear anything.”
“Oh, so you think that the thing isn’t actually activated unless the plastic gates close together?” asked Stephen.
“Yup — exactly,” said Jack. Keeping his hand on the switch, Jack pulled the putter from between the gates, allowing them to close. As soon as they touched, Jack and Stephen heard the ladder in the hall start to descend. “So there’s no choice. It has to be warm and conductive and the plastic gates have to close.”
“Assuming the switches are the same,” said Stephen.
“Right,” said Jack. After a pause, he said, “Let’s go try it.”
“What about him,” Stephen pointed at the baby rat stuck to the tape.
“I’ll put it back in the nest,” said Jack.
“That’s terrible. What if more of them get stuck to it,” objected Stephen.
“Okay then, I’ll put it outside,” said Jack. Stephen was just staring at him. “What do you want to do?” asked Jack.
“Maybe if we soaked the tape in water we could get him free,” said Stephen.
“It would drown,” said Jack. “Besides, it’s already injured, and it probably can’t live away from its mother for much longer.”
“You’re not supposed to just kill baby animals,” said Stephen. “It’s wrong.”
“There’s not a whole lot we can do,” said Jack. “And it’s just a rat. I’ll be more careful with the next one.”
“You’re going to do another one?” Stephen said, shocked. “Knowing that the first one is probably going to die?”
“I don’t know if this one is going to make it all the way back to the other switch,” said Jack. “We can try.”
“This sucks. Maybe I’ll just go back to the house and get some sleep,” said Stephen. He turned away from Jack.
“What? You too?” asked Jack. “Am I the only one that wants to see what’s on the final level of this place?”
“No. Alright, fine,” said Stephen. He grabbed his stuff and headed over towards the ladder to the attic. “Let’s go then.”
“Excellent,” said Jack, picking up the taped rat from the floor. “It will just go in here.” he said to the baby rat as he dropped it into the sock. He paused before twisting the top of the sock again, looking at the squirming, confined, rats.
Stephen was halfway up the ladder and Jack jogged over to catch up.
“I’m going to have to use a fresh one,” said Jack.
By the time they got back to the panel, the baby stuck to the tape had died. Jack attached it to the end of the putter and attempted to use it, but nothing happened. He expected a battle from Stephen at the prospect of sacrificing another rat.
“Whatever,” Stephen surprised Jack.
Jack got a fresh piece of tape and pulled another rat from the sock to attach to the putter.
“Ow! Shit!” yelled Jack. “That thing bit me. I didn’t think they even had teeth.”
He worked on the rat and putter for a couple of minutes, getting everything perfect. “Okay, here we go,” he said. Jack lifted the putter and put the end with the squirming rat into the hole. “Ready?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, sure,” said Stephen. He backed up a half step and put his arms out to brace himself on the walls of the small passage.
Jack slid the putter slowly to the back of the hole and touched the live rat to the center of the panel. The instant the rat touched the surface of the switch, it activated. A loud noise erupted from their right and Jack nearly dropped the putter.
“Look!” Jack said with his eyes locked on the panel.
Stephen crept forward and saw that their fears about putting their hand to this panel were well justified. The plexiglass gates above and below the opening had snapped shut, encircling the putter with their razor-sharp edges. Further along, Stephen’s flashlight reflected off kitchen-sharp blades that had collapsed on the putter as well. The hole formed by these blades was only about two inches in diameter.
“That thing would have cut off your arm,” said Jack, elated. He was nearly shouting to be heard over the racket coming from behind the wall.
“Jesus! What’s that noise all about?” yelled Stephen. Halfway through his last word, the noise abruptly stopped, and his yell hung in the air.
“I think it’s like the first button, outside,” said Jack. “Like a barrier behind this wall just moved out of the way.” He pointed to the wall on his right, back a few feet.
“Well it was a whole lot louder than that first button,” said Stephen.
Jack was still holding the putter in place with his left hand. “Let’s see if we have to keep this here,” he said as he pulled back on the putter. When the rat broke contact with the switch, the plastic and metal gates withdrew, allowing Jack to pull out the putter and rat.
“Wow, look at that,” said Jack. About a foot from the end of the putter, Jack found a cut in the shaft of the club. “Must be where the blades hit it,” he said.
“If this is like the first button, wouldn’t you expect that whatever just moved out of the way is on a timer, and is going to shut again?” asked Stephen.
“Yeah, true,” said Jack. He set the putter down and started examining the wall where the noise had originated. “I know — turn your light off,” said Jack, picking up his light to switch it off as well. The darkness revealed nothing, so they turned the lights back on.
Jack sat down and braced his back against the wall. With this leverage, he kicked at the opposite wall. It sounded hollow, so he repeated his kicks. “Help me out,” he said to Stephen.
Stephen sat next to Jack and they timed kicks at the wall in rhythm. “It’s giving,” said Jack. “But it feels like it’s bouncing on something.”
“Maybe it opens inward?” said Stephen. He reached over and grabbed the roll of tape. Taking about a foot of tape, Stephen wound it sticky-side-out around his hand. He pressed his palm to the section of wall and pulled gently. Pivoting on some internal hinge, the section of plywood came with Stephen’s hand. Once they had an edge to grab, they both pulled and swung the door open. With almost no effort they rotated the the door until it stood completely open, opening to a new passage, but blocking the way they had come.
“Let me pull it back for a second,” said Stephen. “My backpack is back there.” He grabbed the edge of the door with the tips of his fingers and pulled, but it wouldn’t move.
“Shit,” said Stephen. “It won’t close again.”
In their zeal to open the door, they had trapped themselves in a very small area. Their retreat was now blocked by the door they had just opened and the passage ended with the switch they had just activated.
“Looks like our only way out.” Jack pointed to the hole in the wall.
They directed their lights into the new passage. It had the same dimensions, and led off perpendicular to their previous direction. As they looked and pondered their predicament, an unfamiliar noise broke the silence. A loud “clunk” sounded and a set of bars descended one inch from the ceiling in the new passage.
“What the hell is that?” said Stephen.
“It’s going to block the new tunnel,” said Jack.
A few seconds later the noise startled them again, and the bars dropped another inch.
“We better get going,” said Jack. “Unless you want to be stuck here.” He hastily pulled together his stuff and jammed some of the loose items back into his pack. The ceiling was low, and the bars lower, so he slid on his butt through the hole in the wall, past the descending gate.
“C’mon,” he called back to Stephen.
“This seems really stupid,” said Stephen as he shuffled after Jack. “Hey, hand me that putter.”
Jack handed back his dad’s putter, with the squeaking rat still attached. Stephen peeled the rat and the tape of the end and then wedged the putter between the floor and the descending bars. It was too long, so he had to prop it at an angle. The next time the bars descended an inch, they easily dislodged the putter and it clattered to the floor.
“Oh well — worth a shot,” said Stephen. He grabbed the club and they crawled on.
They followed the passage around two corners when Stephen suddenly got nervous — “Hey, how are we going to get out of here? And how do you know there aren’t any traps?”
“I don’t think there will be traps here. We got past the boss part, and it’s usually pretty trap-free after that,” said Jack.
“So you think this is a new level?” asked Stephen.
“Don’t you?” asked Jack.
“Yeah, which leads me back to my first question: got any ideas on how we’re going to get out of here?”
“I’m sure we’ll find something,” said Jack. “There’s a light up ahead.”
Stephen saw it too — ahead, the passage turned right and he saw the corner silhouetted. He felt naked without his backpack. When he reached the corner, Jack paused and furrowed his brow.
“What’s up?” asked Stephen.
Instead of replying, Jack turned the corner and moved out of view. The passage was barely tall enough to crawl through. When he reached the corner, Stephen saw that the plain plywood confines of the passage were colored up ahead. The walls were painted blue, and the floor was black with three parallel white lines drawn the length of the passage. Every few feet the lines were broken by arrows, pointing in the same direction they crawled.
Stephen followed silently. Just past Jack, he could see the source of the light — the passage opened up into the top-side of a drop ceiling. There was an intersection, with passages heading off to the right and left. The white lines painted on the floor split: the center one pointed ahead towards the top of the ceiling and the other two broke off left and right, down the side passages. Light leaked out from various holes and slits in the metal of the fixtures. Compared to their flashlights, it was a wealth of light.
“We’re just above the white room,” said Jack.
“Oh, wow,” said Stephen. “You think?”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “For sure. And that means that this way must go towards the back of the hotel. You know, where we come in?” Jack was pointing down the passage that split off to the left.
“If you say so,” replied Stephen. “I have no sense of direction about this place now.”
“C’mon,” said Jack. “I’ll show you.”
Stephen wondered at Jack’s confidence about navigating these tight confines. As Jack crawled away from the light and down a dark passage, he stowed his concern and followed. They took a left down a long stretch. The series of white arrows painted on the floor continued, but here the walls were painted green. Stephen hadn’t noticed when the color changed.
Finally, Jack announced they were at the end, but Stephen could barely see anything past Jack — the passage was narrow and Jack blocked his view.
“Back up a little,” said Jack.
Stephen heard a creaking sound and then Jack crawled out of the passage and stepped down. Once Jack got out of the way, Stephen saw that Jack was hanging from their rope ladder.
“We’re back at the beginning?” asked Stephen.
“Yup — it’s like we wanted,” said Jack, smiling. “This is like a ‘save game,’ we can go right from the beginning to the white room, or continue on.”
“I didn’t see a way down into the white room — did you?”
“Well, it’s right there,” said Jack. “There’s probably a way. Anyway, I bet the other passage is the one that leads to the next level. So now we can get back to that one right away.”
“Maybe we should take off then,” said Stephen. “Pick this up in the morning?”
“Let’s just go a bit further,” said Jack. “That way if we find out there’s something we need, we can bring it next time.”
“Okay,” said Stephen. “Maybe we’ll find a way to get my pack.”
“Maybe,” said Jack.
Stephen backed away and tried to turn around. The passage was too small for him to turn, so he had to back up until he got to the last turn. Jack crawled towards him the whole time, so they were face-to-face in the gloom of their flashlights. Stephen became uncomfortable looking into Jack’s determined eyes, so he focused on the retreating arrows below him as he backed down the long passage.
When they got back to the intersection, Stephen moved off to the right to allow Jack to go first. Jack headed down the narrow space with the zeal of a kid on Christmas morning. They made several more turns.
“There’s a ladder,” said Jack. “I’m going down.”
As Jack moved out of the way, Stephen saw that the ladder went both up and down from their passage. Jack’s upper-body disappeared when his feet reached the ladder. He climbed down. At his turn, Stephen saw that the ladder only went up for a few feet, but went down quite a ways. Jack had descended almost out of sight by the time Stephen began to climb down.
The passage opened up as they climbed down. Stephen had his flashlight in his mouth, so he turned his head back and forth to discover that the ladder was now hanging from the ceiling in a rather large room. His right foot dropped and found no more rungs, so he pushed away from the ladder to look down. He saw Jack’s face, about at his knee-level.
“You can climb down a little more and then you can just drop,” said Jack.
It was unnerving, dropping into the darkness, but Stephen followed Jack’s instructions. They looked around the big room. The ladder hung above the center of a square room at least thirty feet wide and long. The only good way to make out the black ceiling was to follow the ladder up. It was way up.
“Damn, this is different,” said Stephen. His voice rang a bit in the big room.
“I think this is the center of the place,” said Jack.
Stephen pointed his light at Jack’s face. Something about Jack’s tone had sounded almost reverent whereas before he had only sounded curious. “You really like this place, don’t you?” he asked.
“It’s like being in a puzzle,” said Jack. “I get to figure the whole thing out.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Stephen. He walked over to one of the walls — something was painted on the wall, but he couldn’t figure it out. Walking slowly and stepping lightly, Stephen followed the wall to the right. He looked at all the red and black lines that wove up the wall. He found a paneled door a few feet ahead and a light switch.
“There’s a switch here,” said Stephen. “Should I flip it?”
“Let me look,” said Jack. He approached and brushed past Stephen to see the door and the switch. He flipped his flashlight around and used the butt of the light to flip the switch. Stephen jumped — surprised by Jack’s quick action.
Overhead, dim red lights came on slowly. They looked up and saw that recessed in the black ceiling were dozens of small red lights that cast red circles on the floor in a regular grid.
“This must have taken years,” said Jack.
Stephen followed Jack's gaze to the walls. Lines flowed around, up, and down; at first Stephen thought they just wound randomly around the room. Looking at the whole wall he could see there was something more here. He took a step back and it started to come into focus. He was looking into a giant eye. He turned quickly to his left and saw there another eye staring at him. It was as if he was inches from a giant, carnivorous animal. But the eyes weren’t looking at him. The way they were painted they focused on something farther away.
Stephen felt a chill up the back of his neck and he spun around. More eyes. Diagonally across the room another face was painted on the opposite wall. These were different though — smaller and perhaps younger. Stephen realized that the pattern didn’t end with the bottom of the wall. The painting was enhanced by the spots of light on the floor and somehow the effect formed a whole face that seemed to float, independent of the walls and ceiling.
“Jesus, that’s fucking creepy,” said Stephen.
“It’s amazing,” said Jack. He trotted over and stood at the ladder again. “Come over here.” Jack ordered. “You can see it all from the center here.”
Stephen joined Jack and they took in the full mural. The effect was startling, two faces painted into the corners and yet the perspective was so perfect that the faces seemed to transcend the walls. Between them, in the other corners there wasn’t much light, but Stephen could make out flames and small people who looked to be dancing. The door and light switch that Stephen had found were also in one of these corners.
“Let’s see where that door goes,” said Stephen. He was anxious to get out of this room.
“It might not be so easy,” said Jack. “There’s probably a challenge associated with it.”
“That’s what we’re all about,” said Stephen. “Let’s do it.”
“Nah, I think you’re right, maybe we should head back for the night,” said Jack. “It must be getting early.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Stephen. “Oh, what about my pack?”
“I think we’re going to have to get that next time,” said Jack.
Stephen looked at the ladder. He wondered how to climb it — it didn’t start until his chest. He thought about it for a second and then jumped up to grab the highest rung he could reach. Next, he tried to pull himself up to grab the next rung. He managed to grasp it with his right hand, but he couldn't pull himself up more. Instead he bent his knees and raised his legs up to wrap them around the ladder. He felt his heel hit the back of the ladder and he pushed himself up to the next rung. At the top, he had to turn around to get his torso into the plywood passage.
Before sliding all the way in, he looked down. Jack still stood there, next to the ladder, admiring the artwork.
“Hey,” said Stephen. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” Jack replied. “I’ll be right there.”
Stephen waited a few more moments, but Jack hadn’t moved. “Today?” he said.
Jack looked up — “I said I’ll be right there.”
“C’mon, wake up.”
Stephen woke to Jack shaking him.
“Get up,” said Jack.
“Jeez, what time is it?” Stephen looked at the clock on the nightstand. “What’s wrong — it’s only seven-thirty. That’s like three hours sleep.”
“We can’t skip breakfast and act all tired,” said Jack. “My mom will get suspicious.”
Stephen wondered how suspicious she would be if she could see Jack right now. His face looked haunted by a much older Jack — the rings under his eyes, and fierce, determined stare were a far cry from Jack two weeks ago. To avoid an argument, Stephen decided to acquiesce and threw off his covers.
“Okay,” said Stephen. “Let me go brush my teeth.” He walked over to the dresser and rubbed his eyes. With one eye half open, he reached and opened the wrong drawer — the drawer that Ben had been using.
“Hey,” said Stephen, “You talk to Ben yet?” he turned and Jack had left the room. He thought of how different everything had been when Ben was around; he really missed Ben. Ten more days and he would be going home too. Stephen grabbed his toiletries from his drawer and headed off to the bathroom.
In the kitchen, Jack’s mom was making a large quantity of pancakes and Jack sat at the table.
“Good morning Stephen — sleep well?” Jack’s mom asked.
“Yes, thank you Ms. Randolph,” said Stephen.
“Hey Jack,” Stephen sat at the kitchen table, across from Jack, “have you gotten a call from Ben yet?”
“Nah,” said Jack, “he must have gone somewhere with his mom.”
“So what do you boys have on your agenda today?” asked Jack’s mom.
“Well, if it’s nice, we’d like to go outside,” said Jack. “But it’s up to you, mom. What do you think?”
“I think the weather is supposed to be good, so why don’t you go out and be back by lunch?”
“Okay, thanks,” said Jack.
Stephen took the juice that Jack’s mom offered and took a small sip. It tasted bad against the toothpaste flavor in his mouth, but he held it up to his face while he studied Jack. Stephen couldn’t tell if Jack was being sincere or not. He decided it didn’t matter; Jack's mom looked satisfied.
They ate in silence. Jack’s mom attempted to engage Stephen in conversation about his family, and school, but Stephen kept his answers short and eventually she stopped asking.
Jack finished first and cleared the table. “Thanks mom, that was great,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks Ms. Randolph.”
“It was my pleasure — you’re both very welcome,” she replied.
“You want to go upstairs for a little while?” Jack asked Stephen.
“Sure, Jack,” he followed Jack out of the kitchen and up to Jack’s room.
Jack closed the door behind them and went over to his dresser and opened his sock drawer.
“I want to take some of the letter money,” said Jack.
“What for?” asked Stephen.
“Just in case we have to buy something,” said Jack.
“Like what?”
“If I knew that, I’d probably tell you,” Jack smiled. Stephen didn’t trust Jack’s smiles lately.
“Okay,” he said. “I trust you’ll let me know at the time.”
“Oh yeah — you bet. Let’s get going, we have to be back by noon.”
Stephen packed up Ben's backpack — it was one of Jack’s old ones. It already had a bunch of appropriate gear, so it didn’t take long before he and Jack were on their way. Jack set a blistering pace, just short of a run, but Stephen kept up.
“Hey,” he called up to Jack. “What’s the deal with Ben? Looked like you didn’t want me asking about him in front of your mom.”
“Oh, I heard from him,” said Jack.
“Really? Why didn’t you say so — I want to talk to him.”
“We can call him later,” said Jack. “I didn’t want my mom to get all involved talking to Ben’s mom. My parents both think that she’s a bad mother, and I’m sure my mom will say something to piss her off. I just figured Ben could probably do without that right now.”
“Yeah, but you could have slipped the phone my direction,” Stephen argued.
“I’m sorry. I talked to him while you were asleep.”
“What, you were awake?” Stephen asked. “Don’t you sleep at all anymore?”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “I wish I didn’t sleep. It would sure help out over the school year.”
“Well, let’s call Ben when we get back,” said Stephen.
“No problem,” said Jack. “I’m psyched that we have an easy way in now.” Jack changed the subject.
“Yeah, that’s true,” affirmed Stephen. “What do you think is past that red room?”
“I think we’re almost to the end,” said Jack. “Probably not much further at all.”
“That would be good,” said Stephen. “The hotel is cool and all, but I kinda just want to see how the thing finishes.”
They walked from the woods path to the back of pasture behind the hotel, and Jack stopped when they got in sight of the hotel. Stephen paused and followed Jack’s eyes.
“It’s a big place,” said Jack. “There’s got to be a ton of extra space we haven’t even seen.”
“Do you think it's all crazy puzzles and traps?”
“I think it used to be a hotel way back,” said Jack. “But I think all that stuff was probably stripped out.”
“I wonder if your parents know anyone who stayed here?” pondered Stephen.
“My dad would be more likely to know someone who worked on something, you know, like an electrician or plumber or something,” said Jack.
“We should ask him about it,” said Stephen.
“No way — he would be too suspicious,” replied Jack.
They moved the brush and leaves, uncovering the step ladder and rope ladder and headed up the rocky drainage ditch to the side of hotel. Jack returned down the old grass path and looked for his fishing line trap that he had stretched across the path. He couldn’t find it where he expected to see it, so he backed up towards the hotel, scanning both sides of the path.
Finally, about fifteen feet closer to the hotel than he expected, he found his line cast to one side of the path. He picked up the stick and followed the line to where it should have been tied to the other stick, but he found only a snapped end. Jack glanced back at Stephen who was climbing up the ladder to get on top of the porch roof.
Scouting around, Jack found another stick and tied off the other end. He trotted back down the path and reset it. A sound in the woods grabbed his attention and he looked up.
Everything was still a bit wet from a rain shower that morning. Earlier, Jack had sat on the floor in his room, listening to the rain coming down and waiting for Stephen to wake up so they could return to the hotel. Now that he was finally back at the hotel, the woods distracted him. Across the field, the surrounding forest looked like a wall. The wet trunks of the trees were black and seemed to absorb the weak morning light. Jack backed slowly to the hotel and ascended the ladder to join Stephen.
“Did you see something out there?” asked Stephen.
“Nope — why?” answered Jack.
“No reason, I just thought you were looking at something.”
“Nah, just thinking that I hope it doesn’t rain more. The woods are so wet,” said Jack.
“You want to go first?” asked Stephen.
“Sure,” said Jack.
Stephen held the button for Jack so he could open the hidden door, and then handed the rope-ladder up to him. After he climbed over the edge, Stephen turned around and studied the woods. He heard something out there, like a cough, and he thought that Jack had heard it too. Stephen had also caught a glimpse of Jack surreptitiously resetting his fishing line. He wondered how much he could trust Jack.
Stephen climbed up the step ladder and through the hatch to the rope ladder. Several feet down the vertical passage, he found the secret panel to the vent that Jack had propped open. The transfer was trickier this direction — the ladder kept moving and he couldn’t figure how to push off from the wall.
He heard Jack’s voice from down the passage — “Hey! You coming?”
“Yeah,” called Stephen. “I can’t figure out how to get in the vent.”
“Just jump at it,” said Jack from the dark.
“Yeah, right,” mumbled Stephen. He took off his pack with one hand and shoved it down the vent. Placing one foot against the opposite wall of the shaft, he could push off that foot and slide his torso. He didn't kick hard enough and he found himself half in the vent and half dangling over the edge. Stephen braced his hands against the sides and tried to pull himself forward. His belt caught on the lip and he couldn’t pull himself in. Flailing behind him, his legs didn't reach the other side of the shaft.
Stephen pushed up to wriggle his hips over the lip, but he slipped backwards. He thought about the drop to the room with the anatomical painting. He thought it must be about twenty feet — not enough to kill him unless he landed wrong, but certainly worth a broken leg.
He braced his arms again, but now his muscles heated up and he feared they would start to give out.
“Jack?” Stephen said. “I’ve got a problem here.” He figured it was useless to call — Stephen knew from experience that the vent was too small to turn around in. His left arm began to tremble and his friction-grip was about to slip. Arching his back, he turned his head to see how far back the rope ladder was. Maybe he could grab that on his way down.
A hand shot out of the dark and grabbed his left wrist. Stephen was so surprised that he let go of the wall.
“Give me your other hand!” ordered Jack.
Stephen reached forward and caught Jack’s other hand.
“Pull!” said Jack.
Once he had something to pull against, Stephen could wriggle himself into the vent. He didn't breathe until he had reached safety.
He dug into his bag and got out his flashlight. Jack stared at him when he turned on his light.
“You almost fell,” said Jack.
“Yeah, thanks,” answered Stephen. “How did you know to come back?”
“I just figured.”
“Well good thing for me,” said Stephen.
“For both of us,” said Jack. “It would have been a bitch explaining your disappearance to my mom,” he said.
“Oh, that's your biggest concern? Very funny,” said Stephen.
Jack backed away, down the tight passage. Stephen took a deep breath and waited for his heart to slow before following him. At the next corner, Jack turned and they continued to the ladder.
Back in the room with the red portraits, Jack hardly looked at the paintings. The red lights were still on, and Stephen jumped down from the ladder and turned off his flashlight. He followed Jack over to the wall with the light switch and the door.
“Think it’s a trick?” Stephen asked.
“What, like the door’s wired, or something?” asked Jack. “No, I think it’s just a regular door. I think we finished the puzzles and traps.”
“That would be cool,” replied Stephen.
“I could be wrong, but that last trap was pretty deadly, I mean it could have chopped off my hand. Then right after that we had to trust that next passage not to kill us when the bars started coming down. It’s like he was saying ‘You made it past that, so now you have to trust me,’” Jack said.
“Yeah? So open it,” Stephen said, pointing to the door.
“Okay,” Jack reached forward and turned the handle. He pulled the door open and they saw a long, carpeted hallway. A half-dozen sconces lit the hall and showed them ten doors, five on each side. About halfway down the right wall, a fire-extinguisher hung between two doors.
Mounted on the dark-green wall, next to each door, was a three-digit number. Jack strode down to one-forty-six, the first door on his left.
“Locked,” Jack announced.
“This is really creepy,” said Stephen. “It looks like a normal hotel — like someone could walk out of one of these rooms at any second.”
Jack crossed the hall while Stephen waited from the threshold of the portrait room. Jack checked that door and moved down to check the next. Four doors later he turned and called out to Stephen, “This one is open — come on.”
Stephen looked back to the portrait room. He felt like he was being watched. He stepped into the hallway and shut the door to the portrait room most of the way, but didn’t latch it. He wanted a quick escape route, if he should need it.
Walking down this perfectly normal hallway, it was hard for Stephen to imagine he was still in the same building. Somehow it felt like the hotel waspretending to be normal in this hall, and that made it more sinister. Stephen thought about mentioning this to Jack, but then held back when he saw the look on Jack’s face. His friend appeared enthusiastic about this discovery.
“Ready?” asked Jack.
“I guess,” said Stephen.
Jack turned the handle and pressed open the door. It was spring-loaded and he had to reach into the dark room to open it all the way. Stephen flipped the switch and overhead lights came on, revealing the room.
The carpet was dark tan, and the walls were papered in a mute pattern of light-green and gold. Red curtains covered the entire far wall. Jack crossed to one of the beds and Stephen caught the door before it closed. He took off Ben's backpack and used it to prop open the door and then followed Jack in.
“Hey!” exclaimed Jack. “The remote is glued to the nightstand.”
Jack pressed the power button and the television on the bureau came to life. It showed channel two with the volume all the way down.
“We've got cable,” laughed Jack. “This is awesome.”
“So does your house,” Stephen said. He poked his head in the bathroom and turned on the light. The bathroom had no dust and looked freshly scrubbed. His curiosity was rising and Stephen indulged it by pulling a towel from the rack and smelling it. He took it out to where Jack sat on one of the beds. “I think someone has been here. Recently,” he said, as he held up the towel.
“That’s crazy,” said Jack. “It’s just that nobody has been here to make it dirty.”
“Does your mom leave the guest room made up all the time?” Stephen asked.
“No, she makes it up right before company comes,” answered Jack.
“Yeah, that’s because everything would smell stale if she didn’t.”
“Maybe she’s just lazy and puts stuff off until the last minute,” said Jack.
“I’ve only known your mom a couple of weeks, and even I know that’s not true,” answered Stephen.
Jack thought about that for a second before countering, “Well, maybe the same people hired to replace the money, also keep this room clean.”
“Let’s just hope it’s that simple,” said Stephen. “It seems more like someone knew we were coming.” Stephen sat down on the edge of the other bed and looked through the drawers of the nightstand. He found a pencil, a pen, and a blank notepad. Jack flipped through the channels on the television.
Suddenly, Jack sat up, staring at the TV. Stephen looked up and was shocked by what he saw on the screen — he saw an overhead view of someone strapped down to a reclining chair. They instantly knew they weren’t looking at a regular television show. It looked more like a closed-circuit shot they would see in a convenience store.
“Holy fuck,” Stephen gasped, he glanced at Jack who sat slack-jawed, eyes locked on the video. “That kid is naked. That can’t be cable.”
The boy appeared young — younger than Jack and Stephen, and he was bound to the chair at his wrists, ankles, and around his torso. His painted skin resembled the painting on the wall in the drawing room — he had an anatomical drawing on his skin.
“Nope,” said Jack, “not cable. That’s Gabe Vigue — my neighbor’s kid.”
“What?” Stephen jumped up. “That's the kid who's been missing all this time? He’s still alive — we’ve got to help him.”
“Hold up — not necessarily,” said Jack. “It could just be a tape.”
“Yes, okay, true,” said Stephen. “Let’s go get an adult — one of your parents, or that kid’s dad or something.”
Jack didn’t react to the suggestion at first, then he tore himself away from the video and looked at Stephen. “Wait now. That’s not smart at all.”
“Why not?” Stephen challenged.
“We don’t have any evidence of anything, for one. Except for breaking and entering, we’ve got tons of physical evidence of that,” said Jack. “What are we going to say? We broke into this place for weeks and then saw a blurry overhead shot of a kid on a nineteen-inch TV? Who’s going to believe that?”
“We have to do something, Jack. If that’s the kid, then what if he’s still alive and we don’t help him?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, we’ll try to help him,” Jack reasoned. “Or, if we can come up with a way to prove that he’s here, then we can go get the cops.”
“Alright, but we have to have a deadline,” said Stephen. “I say if we don’t find anything by tomorrow then we have to tell someone.”
“Yeah, okay,” agreed Jack. He leaned over to the remote mounted on the nightstand and changed the channel. He surfed up through the rest of the channels until he looped back around. “Maybe we should watch this for a bit to see if there are any clues.”
“I think that’s a waste of time,” replied Stephen. “How much time do we have before we have to leave?”
“For what?” asked Jack.
“To get back for lunch — your mom said.”
“Oh yeah,” Jack consulted the clock on his phone. “About forty-five minutes.”
“Let’s see what else we can find,” said Stephen.
“Maybe we should split up,” offered Jack.
“No way,” said Stephen.
After switching off the television, Jack stood up and joined Stephen, who headed for the door. Stephen put his hand on the door and then paused. “I want to see something,” he said to Jack. He crossed the typical-looking hotel room again to the curtains on the far wall. They looked like they might hide floor-to-ceiling windows, but when Stephen pulled them aside he revealed a crude brick wall. The mortar was slopped between the bricks and spilled on the carpet in several places.
Stephen caught Jack again at the door and they headed into the hallway. They tried each door, Jack taking the right-hand of the hall and Stephen taking the left. All the doors were locked until they got to the end. Jack’s last door was open. Instead of a number next to the frame, this one said “Vending” and showed an illustration of a glass filled with ice cubes. The door opened out and Jack pulled the handle revealing a small room with several machines, fluorescent lights, and a tile floor.
“Now what?” said Stephen, walking past Jack into the vending room. Jack followed him in and let the door close behind them. “Wait! The door.” yelled Stephen. It was too late, the door closed behind Jack.
“What?” said Jack. He backed up a step and opened the door a crack. “It’s fine — it didn’t lock or anything,” he said.
“Okay — I just want to be careful,” said Stephen.
Together, they looked at the machines. The small room contained an ice machine, a soda machine, and a machine that dispensed snacks, gum, and candy. The soda and candy machines were lit up and the ice machine hummed softly. Jack pressed the lever on the ice machine and a small handful dropped into the basin below the dispenser. Pressing a button on the soda machine caused the display to light up with “1.50” for a few seconds.
“Expensive,” Jack said.
“So, dead end?” asked Stephen.
“Look at the floor,” said Jack.
Black, parallel scuff marks marred the floor in front of the soda machine. Stephen dropped to the floor and pressed the side of his face to the tile so he could see under the machine.
“Help me pull,” he said to Jack. Stephen sat up, braced his feet against the snack machine, and pulled on the bottom of the soda machine. Jack pulled from the left side, about halfway up. The machine slid across the tile: it stood on plastic pads.
When they pulled the soda machine out past the faces of the other machines, they found a large hole in the dusty wall behind.
“Pull a little more,” said Stephen. Jack stood on the left side of the machine and Stephen on the right. They pulled until the machine hit the far wall, but that only gave them ten inches of clearance. Jack squeezed through the gap and then Stephen followed him from his side. The dust on the floor showed a path of many footprints — back and forth through the grime. The wall had an egg-shaped hole, about four-feet high.
They had to pull out their flashlights again.
Jack stepped through the hole first. He found himself in a dirty passage inside the walls. He shone his light around and took in his surroundings.
“It’s like a secret passage,” said Jack. “Almost like the attic space.”
Stephen ducked through the opening and agreed, “Yeah, just like it.”
The passage led off to the right and then turned right.
“We must be behind one of the other rooms,” said Jack.
Light came through a small hole on his right, about shoulder level. Jack crouched down and looked through it.
“What is it, another hotel room?” asked Stephen.
“Yeah, but it’s got a bunch of books in it,” Jack replied.
“Let me see,” said Stephen.
Jack stepped aside and Stephen put his eye up to the hole. It looked like the mirror of the room they had been in before, but from the back. At the far end he saw the inside of a hotel door. The room still had beds, but bookcases took up every other section of wall. About half of the shelves contained hardcover books and the other half had journals.
“I wonder why the light is on,” whispered Stephen. “Do you think someone is in there?”
“Where? In the bathroom?” asked Jack. “You can see the bathroom door is open and it doesn’t look like there’s a light on in there.”
“Shhh. Yeah, but maybe someone is hiding below this hole,” Stephen pointed down to the wall in front of him.
“Nah,” said Jack. “Let’s see where this goes.”
Stephen turned away reluctantly. If he pulled his eye away, he thought he might see someone looking back at him, so he backed up very slowly.
“Come on,” Jack called from up ahead. Stephen rushed to catch up and get back in the protective bubble of Jack’s confidence.
The next ray of light came from the left side. Jack smiled as he looked through the hole.
“Well, what is it?” asked Stephen.
“You look, but I think it’s the room we saw in the video,” answered Jack, excited.
“Really?” Stephen asked. He approached the hole cautiously, not sure he wanted to see what was inside.
Jack was right, it did look a lot like the room from the video: the tile, and the blue counters with white cabinets behind. But he didn't see a chair or a boy, and those things dominated his memory of the video.
“Could be, but it’s hard to say,” said Stephen.
“Well it might not be the exact same room, but at least it seems like that video was probably shot here somewhere,” said Jack.
“So how do we get on the other side of this wall?” asked Stephen. Despite the peep-hole, the walls looked very solid.
“Let’s keep going, I’m sure we’ll find a way,” said Jack.
They found no more peep-holes on that stretch, and soon the passage turned left.
“I bet the portraits in the red room are on the other side of that wall.” Jack pointed to the wall on their right. “And there must be another hallway somewhere that way,” he pointed back to their left.
“If you say so. I’ve given up trying to make sense of this place,” said Stephen.
Ahead the passage turned left again and they saw a brighter light. Through a rectangular opening, the light spilled down at a steep angle.
They could fit through the hole, but a piece of big wooden furniture blocked the way. Getting low to the ground, Jack saw the source of the light: a lamp on top of the piece.
Jack tried to push the obstruction. “Give me a hand,” he whispered to Stephen. Joining Jack on the floor, Stephen pushed and they managed to slide the heavy piece a few inches away from the wall.
“That thing must weigh a ton,” said Stephen softly. “Wait, did you hear something?”
“No, why?” hissed Jack.
“Then why are we whispering?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t know — because we can’t see inside this room?” replied Jack.
“But we’re moving the furniture. If we’re worried about someone being in there, don’t you think he would notice the dresser moving around?” whispered Stephen.
Jack snickered under his breath, but the situation didn't amuse Stephen at all. Stephen was mostly frightened, and a little exhilarated, but not at all amused.
“Let’s just push,” said Jack in a low voice.
On the next couple of pushes, they managed to synchronize their efforts and slid the furniture away from the hole enough to squeeze through. Jack went first, leaving his backpack and flashlight behind, and then moved the dresser away from the wall enough so that Stephen could hand them back. Stephen emerged and found himself in a room that looked identical to the first hotel room they had entered. The only major difference was the blank back wall — instead of hasty brick covered by a curtain, this was just white with a painting of the ocean in the middle.
Jack crossed the room, taking inventory. He poked his head in the bathroom and then came back to Stephen. “Looks empty,” he said.
“Want to check the TV?” asked Stephen.
“Yeah, okay,” said Jack.
Stephen turned on the TV and scanned the channels. This room didn't get the channel with the boy strapped to the chair.
Jack was distracted — not watching to see what happened with the television. He wandered into the bathroom and came out holding a towel. “Someone’s staying here,” he said.
Still flipping channels, Stephen had settled to the edge of the bed. It took him a few seconds to process what Jack was saying. “Wait, what?” he jumped up. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Jesus, don’t freak out,” said Jack. “He’s not here now.”
“Fuck that,” Stephen objected. “He could be back at any second.” He crossed around the bed and then doubled back to turn the television off. He thought about it and then used the tail of his t-shirt to wipe his fingerprints off the remote. “Come on!”
“Let’s keep going,” said Jack. “Just to check out the hall at least. We’re only like two doors down from where that video was shot — we have to go check that out.”
Stephen couldn't fathom continuing on. He started to shake and feel naseuous at even the thought that the killer might walk through the door. “Look, we have to go. That guy could open that door and catch us. Who knows what he did to your neighbor kid, but I don’t want to find out.”
Jack began to protest, but Stephen ducked behind the bureau and moved back into the secret passage. He had almost rounded the corner when Jack poked his head through the hole.
“Hey, can you at least help me move this dresser back?” Jack asked.
“If you’re leaving right now,” answered Stephen. “Otherwise, I’m going without you.”
“Okay, okay,” said Jack. “Let me just put this towel back so he won’t know we were here.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Stephen.
Stephen crossed his arms and waited. After a minute passed, Stephen prepared to leave. He walked over to the hole in the wall and knelt down to look to see if Jack was coming. When he drew close to the hole, Jack popped up on the other side and grabbed Stephen's shirt, startling him.
“You ass,” Stephen said.
Jack giggled and crawled through the hole. Together they slid the dresser back in front of the hole without tipping anything over. Satisfied, they made their way out of the hotel.
Crawling through the small vents, Stephen finally thought to ask about the delay — “What did you do after hanging up the towel? You were gone forever.”
“Oh, I had to know if the other room was open, so I ran down the hall and tried a couple of the doors — they were all locked,” replied Jack.
“Oh shit — get going — faster!” Stephen ordered.
“What?” Jack looked back over his shoulder.
“What if that guy was in one of those rooms? He would have heard you trying all the doors and now he knows we’re in here. Let’s get the hell out.”
“Why would he lock the door to one of the rooms in his own hotel?” asked Jack. “I bet he’s like gone for the day or something.”
Their last few minutes in the hotel that day, crawling through vents, tortured Stephen. He imagined a hand closing around his ankle and dragging him backwards through the tight passages and into the red lights of the portrait room, or into the tile-floored room from the video. He wished Jack would move faster, but realized that there was nothing he could say to speed his friend along. He decided then to never return to the hotel. He knew it would be difficult to convince Jack, but he didn’t give it too much thought. Stephen made a promise that he would never put himself in that situation again.
They got back to the chimney with the rope-ladder and Jack climbed down a few rungs instead of up.
“Where are you going?” asked Stephen.
“I’m going to go get your pack from that vent,” Jack answered. “You go back to the house and cover for me.”
“What am I supposed to say? This is a terrible idea.” said Stephen.
“Just go in through the garage and then run upstairs. Turn on the fan and light in the bathroom, close the door, and then just hang out in my room,” said Jack. “Easy, cheesy. Chances are she won’t even look for me, and if she does just say that you saw me go into the bathroom and that’s it.”
“We’ll get the pack later. Why bother now?” asked Stephen.
Jack stopped Stephen’s argument with a startling insight — “Because I know you’re not coming back, Stephen, and I know that pack has your name in it somewhere. If there is a crazy guy here, you don’t want him to know your name, so I’m going to go get your pack.”
Stephen studied Jack's face before he relented.
“Fine,” said Stephen. He climbed out of the vent and scaled the rope ladder. He wondered briefly how Jack would manage putting away both ladders, but then decided that he didn’t really care. Maybe Jack would just take two trips.
Outside, the sun had finally come out and burned off most of the morning fog. It was getting pretty warm out, but Stephen still felt a chill as he retreated from the hotel. He had to slide down the post of the porch roof so he could leave the stepladder for Jack, and as soon as his feet touched the ground he slinked away, down the gully. Even after making it to the cover of the woods, Stephen still felt the presence of the hotel behind him, and wondered where Jack was at that moment.
He had stood in that thing’s den — where it slept; the thought made him shudder. Stephen hunched his shoulders and quickened his pace.
Back at the house he almost broke from the woods into the yard where Jack’s mom stood, hanging laundry. He dropped down and made himself still, hoping she hadn’t heard his jogging approach. She seemed oblivious, and Stephen quickly realized why: she was talking on the phone using a headset. Cautious of her peripheral vision, Stephen looped wide around Jack’s mom and found his way into the garage. He let himself in and carried out Jack’s plan.
Stephen stretched out on Jack’s bed and tried to look casual. He found a book and spent five minutes skimming the same page. He looked at the words, but nothing sank in — he kept thinking about what could have happened if they hadn’t made it out of that hotel room, and how easy it would be for that crazy guy to follow them to Jack’s house.
Footsteps rushed up the stairs and Stephen relaxed a bit. He closed his book on his finger and waited for his friend to come through the door. He heard the footsteps slow as they approached, but then nobody entered — they kept walking. Puzzled for a second, Stephen bent his head and returned to skimming the pages. Looking up at the clock, he tried to calculate how much time had passed, and when he should expect Jack. In truth, he really didn’t have a good guess as to how long it would take Jack to navigate back to the bag he had left behind.
After another few minutes, a terrible realization dawned on him — Jack had to get up the five-foot ledges on his own. They had only gone through the big maze a couple of times before finding the shortcut, and although Jack had pioneered the technique of jumping up those ledges alone, it still seemed a risky proposition. Stephen imagined Jack missing on his first attempt, and then slipping on his second, and then not having enough energy to get up at all. Every minute that passed convinced Stephen that Jack was now stuck deep inside the hotel. The last thing he wanted to do was navigate those traps alone to try to find Jack.
He heard footsteps pass down the hall again and figured it must be Jack’s mom. The clock changed to twelve twenty-eight as he stared at the digits. He had first looked at the clock seventeen minutes earlier. Jack’s mom kept strict deadlines, and she had asked them to be back for lunch. He wondered how much time he had left until she came looking for Jack; until he had to admit to her that Jack might be stuck in a hotel owned by a kidnapper. He decided, right then, that he wouldn't search that creepy hotel on his own. Jack would get mad, but Stephen would tell Jack’s mom everything that had happened.
Stephen put his book down on Jack’s bed and rose to go find Ms. Randolph. He took a deep breath — he felt a little light-headed and nervous. When he had composed himself, he crossed the room and exited to the hall. The bathroom door was still closed with the light and fan on. Stephen opened the bathroom door and flicked off the switches.
“Hey!” said Jack from the dark bathroom. “Don’t you knock?”
“Oh, sorry,” said Stephen. He fumbled the switches back on and closed the door. He was excited that Jack was okay, but also a bit deflated after working up his nerve. He went back to Jack’s room to wait.
A couple minutes later, Jack strode through the open door.
“Hey — your bag is downstairs,” said Jack.
“Cool — thanks,” said Stephen. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Yeah, took me longer than I thought,” said Jack. He looked at his elbow where a small scrape was still oozing. “Plus I scraped my arm.”
“I think you’ll live,” said Stephen. He regretted his words immediately as an image of the boy strapped to the chair jumped into his head. Based on the cloud that passed over Jack’s expression, he thought Jack might have had the same thought. “Anything else happen?” asked Stephen, attempting to change the subject.
“Nope, just normal stuff,” said Jack. “Hey, it’s going to rain tomorrow and my dad will probably be around all day, so I think we should wait until Monday to go back. Plus I’m way too tired to go back tonight.”
“I’m totally on-board with that,” said Stephen. “We can hang out here for a while and then get some rest.”
“So you changed your mind about going back?” asked Jack. Stephen mused that Jack suddenly didn’t look tired at all; he looked really intense.
“I never said, that,” Stephen said. “You said that.”
“Yeah, but you were thinking it,” said Jack.
Stephen couldn’t argue that point, but didn't want to admit that to Jack. Ben had made a stand about the hotel, and Jack turned on him. Alone with Jack, Stephen felt safer not arguing about going to the hotel.
Neither boy said anything for several seconds. Stephen broke the silence — “Hey, let’s get some lunch.”
Stephen didn't do much on Saturday afternoon and Sunday. As far as Jack’s parents knew, both boys spent the day in the basement, reading, watching television, and playing video games. In reality, Stephen did those things but Jack disappeared for substantial stretches. One minute, they both watched a program about sharks, and then the next, Jack wandered off. An hour or so later, Jack reappeared and settled back down on the couch. He timed his absences when his parents were otherwise engaged, so they were never the wiser.
During one of Jack’s recesses from the television, Stephen headed up to the second floor to pretend to get something out of the guest room. As he expected, he spotted Jack sitting in his room, looking at the computer. When he came back out of the guest room to go back downstairs, Jack had moved on — neither at his computer, nor in the basement. It remained a mystery for Stephen, and Jack walked in twenty minutes later as if nothing had happened.
“Where do you keep running off to?” Stephen asked him.
“Nowhere. Just reading about something on the computer,” said Jack. That was the closest Stephen would get to a direct answer all day.
Jack’s luck ran out midway through Sunday afternoon. Stephen sat alone, watching television when Jack’s mom came down the stairs.
“Jack?” she called when she was still about halfway down the stairs.
“Uh, he’s upstairs I think,” said Stephen.
She paused, one step from the bottom. “Huh. I just came from there. I didn’t see him.”
Stephen smiled and shrugged. “Was he in the bathroom?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said as she turned. “Tell him to come up when you see him.”
“Okay,” said Stephen.
Jack came in from the back of the basement a few minutes later. His shirt looked slightly wet — drops of rain stained his shoulders and chest.
“Your mom is looking for you,” said Stephen. His tone was clipped — annoyed at being left out of Jack’s activities.
“Okay, thanks,” said Jack. He dug through the cabinet and pulled out one of the spare shirts hidden there after the dye incident. The wet shirt went in the dryer and he pulled on the dry shirt as he walked up the stairs. “Be right back,” he said. Stephen flipped through the channels and tried to stop guessing at what Jack had been up to. He wanted to be aloof, and he suspected that curiosity about Jack’s activities and the hotel would only lead him to danger.
A program about snakes had almost captured his full attention when Jack came dashing back down the stairs and flopped down next to him.
“Hey,” said Jack.
“Hey,” Stephen replied.
“My mom wants me to visit my grandparents at the beginning of August,” said Jack.
“Oh yeah?” asked Stephen.
“Yeah, they live down your way kinda — western Mass,” said Jack.
“You’ll have to come to the city,” said Stephen, politely but without much enthusiasm.
“I’m not going down there,” said Jack. “I’ll come up with a reason to not go.”
“How come?” asked Stephen, secretly relieved. The feeling surprised him a little, but he had grown a little scared of Jack since Ben had left.
“I’ve got too much to do here before the school year starts,” said Jack. “I can’t waste any time.”
He opened his mouth to question Jack’s itinerary, but then decided against it. “Huh,” Stephen said instead.
“I’ll tell you someday,” Jack replied to the question that Stephen hadn’t asked.
Stephen tossed and turned that night, his sleep troubled by disturbing dreams. He woke in the middle of the night wondering if he was coming down with a cold. When getting a bad cold he would always have the same dream over and over again, like he was stuck in a loop until his fever broke.
In the worst dream he rode a bicycle down hill and couldn’t find the brakes. The bike had curved handlbars, like his touring bike, but where his bike had levers, this one had nothing but white grip-tape. He spun his feet backwards thinking maybe the bike had coaster brakes like his dad’s antique bicycle. Looking down, he couldn’t see any mechanism to slow himself, and the ground kept streaking by faster and faster.
To make matters worse, the smooth asphalt road gave way to gravel and eventually to hard-packed dirt. He would wake up from the dream just as he steered the bike into a tree or over a cliff. About two AM he woke from this dream and sat straight up in bed. Something besides the dream had woken him up, but he didn’t know what was wrong.
Through the window he saw a thin moon shining between the maple leaves. He thought he saw a shadow move near the foot of his bed, but as soon as he blinked twice, the shadow disappeared. Closing his eyes tight, Stephen slid down in his bed until just the top of his head poked out from under the covers. There might be something in his room, but he decided to ignore it and wait for morning.
Despite his fear, he fell asleep again within ten minutes and returned to the same terrible dream.
Stephen slid halfway out of bed before completely waking up. His cell phone, perched on the end table and plugged into its charger, was ringing its alarm.
He planted a hand on the floor and pulled himself the rest of the way out of bed. His feet hit the floor and he straightened up to grab his phone. Pulling out the charging cord, he flipped it open to read the alarm.
“Meet me near salamander rock. Come right now,” said the display. Stephen shut off the alarm and thought about the message. His clock read seven AM.
The salamander rock part was easy, he remembered that rock. A few weeks earlier, before the hotel adventure, the boys spent an hour trying to catch a salamander in the creek. Ben caught it on a rock which became known as “salamander rock.”
Stephen couldn't guess why Jack wanted to meet him at seven in the morning, or why Jack put the appointment on his phone instead of just asking.
He had to make a quick decision, and thought about the fourth of July. Jack stood up for Stephen, even though they didn’t like each other then and he had no reason to risk his neck. Stephen decided to return the favor and settle up with Jack. He pulled on his pants and got ready to meet Jack in the woods.
Heading down the path, Stephen felt like a bundle of nerves. He felt like he was waiting to take a test and he had forgotten to study. Breath shallow and heartbeat fast he tried not to rush — he wanted to be ready for whatever Jack was calling him towards. Despite his resolve, he accelerated until he heard voices up ahead. He stopped and listened.
“Listen kid,” a raised voice said and then trailed off.
Stephen darted off the path and followed a thicket of pine trees closer to the creek. Hunched over, he could make it under the dry branches. The pine needle carpet let him approach silently. He stopped when he heard the voices coming from the other side of a burm.
“Do you want the deal or not?” someone asked. The voice sounded firm and forceful, but young. It took Stephen several moments to realize that the voice belonged to Jack.
“First you gotta tell us how you got my phone number,” answered a deeper voice.
“I got it from Vigue,” said Jack.
“Vigue doesn’t have my phone number,” said the voice.
“I guess you don’t know what Vigue has,” answered Jack.
“Well, we got half the money already anyway. You don’t want to tell me where you got my number? Maybe we’ll just keep your cash and you can get fucked,” said the voice.
“That’s funny you should say that, Danny,” said Jack. “Because it suggests that you’ve got the upper hand here, and that’s really not the case.”
The conversation stopped, and Stephen wondered if something had happened. He wanted to move forward to get a better look, but he couldn’t judge how far away Jack and the other man stood.
“Yeah?” asked the voice — Stephen guessed it belonged to Danny. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Well, two things: one is that I wrote a letter to Sheriff Kurtwood and told him how he could prove it was you two who killed those dogs and cats.”
Stephen held his breath.
“The second is that one of my friends is over there in the woods, and he runs fast,” said Jack. “You can screw me over, but as soon as you do, he’s going to run back to the house and give my dad the letter and tell him that you guys snatched me from the back yard.”
Stephen could now picture the conversation. Jack was facing off against Smoker and Bag Man and was threatening them. He wondered what Jack could possibly want from these two and why he had revealed that he knew about the shootings.
“See, I told you it was this fucking kid,” said Danny. Stephen heard another gap in the conversation and figured it might be Bag Man talking low to Danny. “Yeah, you don’t have anyone in the woods kid, so you can stop fucking pretending.”
“Hey, make some noise,” yelled Jack.
It took Stephen a second to realize that Jack was talking to him. He wondered how Jack could be sure that he was listening. He thought for a second more and then yelled, “Hey.”
“What the fuck?” said Danny. “That’s it, kid. You’re done.”
“Get ready to run,” yelled Jack. He continued in a softer tone and Stephen had to strain to hear Jack above his own beating heart. “Just wait a second. I didn’t tell the sheriff shit, or else I’d have nothing to tell him now. It was that target-shooting guy that ratted you out. Let’s just do this deal and go our separate ways. I’ll even throw in an extra hundred.”
There was silence after Jack’s proposal and Stephen got ready to run. He knew that Smoker and Bag Man would come for him any second. He started to slip back from his position when he heard Danny’s voice again.
“Okay,” said Danny. “It’s in here. Where’s the cash?”
After a pause, Jack said, “Under that rock, there’s an envelope.”
“What about the extra hundred?” asked Danny.
“It’s in there. Check,” said Jack.
“Alright kid, just remember, we’ve got friends too. If you fuck us over, we can find out where you live and one of our friends might pay a visit to your mom one day when she’s alone,” replied Danny.
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m just a happy customer,” said Jack.
Stephen heard footsteps moving through the leaves. He let out his breath slowly, trying not to make any noise, and slumped to the ground. Danny’s voice receded to his left. Moving right, Stephen wanted to put extra distance between himself and the animal-killers. As the drama faded, Stephen wondered what Jack had purchased.
He looped around through the woods to the west of the trail and made his way back to Jack’s house. He rejoined the trail right where he thought. Around the next bend, Jack waited for him, holding a plastic grocery bag.
“What the hell was that about?” asked Stephen.
“I had to get this,” said Jack, holding up the bag.
“What is it?”
“What do you think?” asked Jack.
He guessed that Jack had purchased a handgun. “I can’t believe you did that. That could have gone really badly,” said Stephen.
“I had the whole situation under control, and we won’t have to worry about those guys anymore,” said Jack.
“What are you going to do with it?” Stephen pointed at the bag.
“I think I may need it by the end of the week,” said Jack. “The kidnapper is going to come back and find that I’ve rescued the Vigue kid, and then he’s going to come looking for me.”
“Oh man, you’re nuts,” Stephen tried to reason with Jack as they walked down the path. “Just time-out on all this crazy talk for a minute. For one, if you think you know the kid is alive, and you think the kidnapper isn’t going to be back until the end of the week, then why not get the police involved right now. You’re smart, I’m sure you can think of some excuse to get the police to search that place.”
“Yeah, I thought that through,” said Jack. “But a couple of things to consider — he might have a way of knowing if the police go into the hotel and he could blow the place up, or escape. I want the kid alive, and I want the guy to go to jail. Getting the police involved now could risk both of those things.”
“No offense, Jack,” countered Stephen. “But we’re just kids. We don’t have any business screwing around with this stuff.”
“I think that’s the whole point,” said Jack, stopping and turning to Stephen. “He’s only letting us get in there because we’re kids. It’s his game to see if kids can rescue another kid. If we get adults involved he’s just going to kill the Vigue kid and move on. I read about these types of guys, they have a code that they stick to, like rules of a game. If you stick to those, they’ll give you a way to win.”
Stephen thought about that; he wanted to save the kid if they could — he wanted to be a hero and help outwit a killer, but knew he shouldn’t be involved and that it was wrong. Stephen considered Jack either overconfident or just wrong about the situation.
“I can’t be a part of this, Jack,” said Stephen. “I don’t think you should be either.”
“It’s okay,” said Jack. “I figured it would be too much for you, and I think I can do it alone anyway.”
“If you’re trying to psych me out, it’s not going to work,” warned Stephen.
That made Jack chuckle. Stephen noted that Jack’s mannerisms and laugh made him seem much older than just a few weeks before.
“I’m not trying to trick you,” said Jack. “But I am going to ask you to do one more thing with me, and then perhaps you should head back south a little early.”
Stephen was greatly relieved. He waited to hear the request.
“I’m going to show you evidence that our kidnapper is out of town for a few days, and I want you to help in the hotel one more time.”
Stephen ignored the request for a moment — fixated on the idea of being safe at home. “What excuse am I going to use to leave early? I’ve already got plane tickets for the thirty-first, and today is only the twenty-third. Those tickets are expensive to change.”
“Don’t worry,” said Jack. “We’ll think of something, I’m sure. But, will you help me?”
“I don’t know — what’s your evidence?” asked Stephen.
“I’ll tell you back at the house,” said Jack.
Back at the house they removed their shoes in the garage and snuck up the stairs to avoid Jack’s parents. As they passed down the hall to the safety of Jack’s room, Stephen noted that lying and sneaking around had become second nature to him.
Jack waved him into the seat in front of the computer.
“First,” said Jack, “look at this.” He leaned past Stephen and pressed a key, waking up the computer.
A CNN webpage appeared on the screen. Stephen scanned the article. It regarded a missing child in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The details of the case included a kid snatched from his pre-school; no witnesses. Then, the article discussed the similarities to the Gabe Vigue case. The police investigated a possible connection between the two. Stephen scrolled back up to the top of the article and saw what he was looking for — the article had been posted just four hours before.
“What if it’s not the same guy?” asked Stephen.
“I found this,” said Jack. He held out a piece of paper folded in quarters and quite wrinkled. Stephen unfolded it and saw the logo of United Airlines at the top of the page. Reading down, he saw that it was an itinerary showing a round-trip schedule from Manchester, New Hampshire, to Albuquerque. The name listed was Patrick Bateman.
“The name is fake,” said Jack. “It’s the name of a serial killer from a movie.”
“So, you’ve got another kidnapping and a plane ticket to the same place,” stated Stephen.
“Yeah — I think it’s pretty clear,” said Jack.
“What if he’s got a partner?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t think so,” said Jack. “These guys always work alone.”
“Okay, so he gets back,” Stephen scanned down the sheet, “on Friday then?”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “And I want to make sure I’ve got everything in place by Wednesday.”
“What do you need me to do?” asked Stephen.
“I need you to go back there one more time,” said Jack. “I need some help moving something heavy, and I want you to watch on the video while I try something.”
“That’s great, so you need help while you do stuff and things? Real clear there, Jack,” said Stephen.
“It’s no big deal, it’s just hard to describe,” said Jack. “Easier to show you.”