She was thinking about Kevin’s toothbrush when the elevator jolted to a stop, nearly knocking her off her feet. The lights dimmed and sizzled like bacon--once, twice--and blinked out.
“Shit.” She squeezed her eyes shut. I should have known this would happen! I should have taken it as a sign and went straight back to the hotel room when the hall lights flickered. Or at least went back and woke Kevin and told him I was going for a walk. But she knew he would have insisted on coming with her since her insomnia was his fault.
“It’s just a toothbrush,” he had said. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“It’s your toothbrush, and you left it in my apartment.”
He shrugged. “So. I’m sure the front desk has some. I’ll just get another one.”
“That’s not the point.” Her shoulders sagged.
He kept his eyes on the floor, shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
She crossed her arms. “How long have you had a toothbrush at my apartment?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “A month or so.” He hesitated. “I was thinking about bringing over a few changes of clothes, too.” He finally looked up, his eyes confused and hurt. “It’s only a toothbrush, for cripes sake. It makes sense for some of my stuff to be there--I’m there more than my own apartment.”
“But it’s not your apartment! It’s my apartment, and I don’t need some man moving in to give meaning to my life.”
“Some man? Is that all I am?”
The hurt in his eyes broke her heart, but he had crossed the line. If she let the toothbrush slide, the next thing she knew he’d be inviting his cigar-smoking poker buddies to come over to their apartment and she’d have to start working her life around playing hostess to him and his friends. No way.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” She bolted from the room and headed for the pool area. She didn’t care much for swimming, but just being around the water always made her feel better: the sounds of laughter and splashing, the golden sunlight, the silver shimmer of the water, the steamy heat that made her feel lazy and sinful and beautiful, all at the same time. After an hour watching twin red-headed girls splash around with their older brother, she started to feel better. When their mother called them out of the pool, she decided it was time she go back to Kevin and finish hashing things out.
Kevin, though, was already asleep when she returned to the room. She crawled into bed beside him, careful to keep as much distance between them as she could. She stared at the ceiling and listened to him snore for almost two hours before she gave up on sleep and decided to take another walk.
***
As her eyes adjusted, she realized the elevator wasn’t completely dark--a whisper of moonlight spilled in through the glass back wall. She walked over and looked out. At this hour, the pool area three floors below was closed and deserted. A pale yellow rhombus of light spilled across the concrete from a set of doors that led to the lobby.
The lights are back on, she realized. So why doesn’t the elevator have power?
She sighed and went back to the control panel and began aimlessly pushing buttons. The rings around the buttons glowed dimly in response to her touch, confirming the elevator had some power, but it still didn’t move. She flicked open the box marked “emergency phone” and scowled--nothing inside but bare wires.
“Nice,” she muttered. “See if I ever stay here again. They’ve just lost a customer.”
Her gaze fell on the red button marked “emergency.” She imagined pressing it, imagined sirens going off all over the hotel, rousing an audience of sleepy guests to witness her embarrassing rescue. That would be worse than being stuck in the elevator: walking past them like a condemned man on his way to the chair as they lined the hallway with their robes clutched around them, their sleep-groggy eyes turned accusingly on her. They would shake their heads and whisper to each other, “We’d still be sleeping if she’d had her man with her. A woman needs a man.”
She decided to wait and use the alarm button only as a last resort. Surely, she thought, someone will need to use the elevator and notice it isn’t working. She slouched over to the glass wall and lowered herself to the floor, her lips pressed in a thin line. I’m not going to cry. I’ll wait it out--someone will notice eventually.
She looked back at the pool, hoping it could work its soothing magic even at a distance, but there was no comfort there now. The warmth and light were gone, replaced with cold, dark corners and twisted shadows. The motion of the water sent shadows flitting through the air like misshapen bats. The damp pool deck reminded her of headstones in the rain. A chill ran up her back, but she refused to let herself wish Kevin was there with her.
Her eyes settled on a dark shape in the deep end of the pool, a shape too large to be a forgotten pool toy. She gasped. What if someone snuck into the pool area after it was closed . . . and drowned? She squinted until her eyes ached but still couldn’t make it out. The fans in the pool area kept the water moving, its surface a constant kaleidoscope of light and dark.
Still far below the surface, the dark shape drifted to one side of the pool. As it neared the edge, a black periscope-like rod broke the surface of the water and twisted from side to side.
What the hell is that? She rose to her knees and chuckled to herself. It has to be kids. They’ve got some kind of underwater thing, and they hid out until the pool closed.
The periscope-thing dipped back beneath the water. The main shape began to grow darker, more distinct. As it crested the water’s surface, a black tendril reached out and slapped against the pool deck, leaving damp splatters wherever it touched.
Her mouth went dry. Not kids . . . . She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened her eyes again, the dark shape was laying beside the pool like someone’s forgotten blanket.
It rippled for a moment, shook water off like a wet dog, and pulled itself into a long, black cable as thick around as a man’s waist. Row after row of centipede legs emerged from its sides and clattered noisily against the concrete. It was still for a moment, and then the legs slowly dissolved back into its body. Its front end twisted and bubbled, sprouted three eyes on stalks. The eyes bobbed around on the thin stalks a few moments before dissolving back into it again. Next came tentacles, slapping against the concrete and pulling away with a sound like fabric tearing. A pause, and then it reabsorbed those, too. Appendages appeared and disappeared, faster and faster, as if the cable was running through a catalog of zoological forms to find one that suited it. None must have, because it stopped morphing and settled into the cable form again. It finally pulled itself into a coil, one tapered end wavering in the air.
She froze as the tapered end swiveled her direction.
It uncoiled and leisurely slithered toward her, its body looping in lazy S-curves. She jumped to her feet and backpedaled until her back hit the elevator door. From that viewpoint, she couldn’t see the pool, or the thing, anymore. She strained her ears but couldn’t hear anything but the ragged gulp of her own breath.
Minutes passed, and curiosity got the better of her. She crept forward, trying to see without being seen. She held her breath and leaned toward the glass wall, her forehead almost touching the glass. The cable-thing was below her, patiently waiting next to the spot where the elevator would land if it descended.
“Hell no!” she huffed. She rushed to the control panel and hit the emergency stop button. If someone wanted to rescue her, they’d have to come get her, even if the elevator was between floors. She wasn’t going to let the elevator slide down and let glass walls be the only thing between her and the creature.
She turned around just as a thick black tendril slapped across the glass. She let out a squeak of terror as it began to slide back and forth, looking for a way in, coating the glass with a clear, greasy slime. Looking through the slime was like looking through an aquarium. The tendril stopped moving and pressed itself against the glass. The underside bubbled, and dozens of tiny pink mouths appeared, filled with rows of sharp, crystalline teeth. They pressed themselves against the glass and pulsed greedily.
She jumped as another tendril smacked against the glass beside the first. She tried to scream but couldn’t draw enough breath.
The second tendril drew back and slapped against the glass again. The whole elevator shook with the impact. She began to cry.
The second tendril drew back again and paused, changed from smooth black to a rough gray, the tip tapering until it was a blunt, hard point. The new claw tip wavered a moment and then pounded into the glass. She yelped. The mouths of the first tendril began to suck more rapidly. Now she could hear them--they sounded like a toothless woman slurping soup.
The claw drew back and struck again. When it pulled away this time, the glass beneath had a quarter-sized chip out of it. The mouths fluttered, nearly a blur.
She groaned and threw her hands over her face as the claw drew back again. She crumpled to the floor, waiting for the tell-tale shattering of glass. But none came--only silence. She dropped her hands cautiously. The thing was still stuck to the glass, one tendril drawn back to strike. But even the mouths were still. Out of the corner of her eye she caught motion in the pool area. Someone was holding one of the pool area doors open, talking to someone back down the hallway, out of sight. Before she could scream for help, the person nodded and disappeared back through the doors again. She watched the pool door swing shut behind him.
She looked back at the glass--the thing was gone. She looked back to the pool area doors just in time to see the creature flatten and slip beneath them.
The sight reminded her of a little girl she had seen in the lobby earlier, slurping a piece of black licorice like it was spaghetti. The thing had slipped beneath the doors just the way the licorice had disappeared between the girl’s lips. She remembered Kevin had commented about how kids shouldn’t have candy late at night because it gives them nightmares . . .
Kevin! That thing is out there with him! She staggered to her feet. She looked at the doors in desperation, her eyes settling on the red alarm button. She decided now it was time to push it.
She flew to the button and pressed hard with both hands. She waited, expecting to hear a distant alarm, but heard only silence. She pushed again and strained her ears. Still nothing. She gave a grunt of frustration and punched the button, again and again, tears blurring her vision. When her hands began leaving bloody prints, she gave up and slid to the floor, exhausted.
An hour later, she woke with a start, certain she had heard a noise. She jumped up and almost pounded on the door in response . . . until she remembered the thing--had the sound been rescuers? Or was the thing back to get her? She strained her ears, her head cocked to one side, but heard nothing. She decided she must have dreamed the noise.
She sat back down to wait again. She glanced at her watch and saw it would still be two hours before dawn would break. Why hasn’t someone answered the elevator alarm? Surely there’s a red light or an alarm going off somewhere. She reached over and punched the emergency button several more times, just for good measure, before settling back against the door again.
She had just started to doze again when a scream jolted her to her feet. She stared at the elevator door and waited for the scream to repeat. When it didn’t, she tentatively stepped forward and pressed her ear against the cold metal doors. Now she could hear sounds--the elevator must have quit at a floor, she thought--and it sounded like someone was destroying the hotel: there were several voices yelling, running footfalls, glass shattering and something that sounded like wood splintering. Something thumped hard against the elevator doors, causing her to nearly trip over her own feet as she scuttled backwards. There was another scream, a pause, and then someone began hammering on the outer doors of the elevator.
She made out two words, “It hurts,” before the voice dissolved into gibberish. There was a final thump, so hard it made the doors inside the elevator shake, and the scream cut off. She held her breath as she listened to the soft raking noise that followed, like someone dragging their nails softly across the door--or some clawed thing looking for purchase to open the doors. She started to cry, as quietly as possible, and let her back slide down the glass wall until she was crouched on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees and cried softly into them.
When she woke again, the elevator was filled with the watery sunlight of daybreak. She heaved a sigh of relief that the elevator doors remained closed and the raking noise had stopped. She struggled to sit up, her back complaining, and saw motion in the pool area. She jumped to her feet, silently praying it was an employee getting the pool area ready for the day.
Her hope was short lived--the thing was back. It slithered across the pool deck to the edge of the water. Her heart skipped a beat as it stopped and lifted its nose in the air, as if finally remembering her. Its nose bobbed a few times, letting her know it knew she was still there, watching it. Then it spread itself into a square and slipped over the edge, into the water.
She collapsed to the floor and let her tears of relief flow freely--the thing had left her alone. Someone will come now, she told herself. Kevin will be looking for me. A tiny, pessimistic voice intruded on her relief: if someone was going to come, they would have already. She pushed the thought away, refusing to think about what might happen if she was still in the elevator when night fell again.