The Life of the Mind

Ch. 1: Inferno

Summery: What if the Hotel Earle was something far worse than Hell? What could possibly be worse than eternal damnation? Barton Fink is about to find out.

A/n: I do not own the Coen Brothers' creations. If I did, I'd be one heck of a happy woman…and Steve Buscemi wouldn't die so often. Poor Steve…. I love you… This takes place during the movie.

Barton looked around himself, dazed. The Hotel Earle, the building he'd called home for the past few weeks, was aflame. Fink watched the flames lick the center of the hallway walls. Why wouldn't it spread? What the hell was happening here? Barton, mesmerized, reached out a hand and allowed the flames to touch his exposed flesh. He could feel the heat of the fire and was waiting for a scream to escape his lips…

But there was no scream. There was no pain. Barton withdrew his hand and held it in front of his eyes. The flames did not ignite his hand. His flesh was unscathed, not even the hairs on the back of his hand had been singed. Something was very, very wrong. Fink looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps.

"Howdy, Bart," said Karl "Madman" Mundt, alias Charlie Meadows. "Leavin' so soon, huh?"

Barton opened his mouth, but he could not speak. His confusion would gain no voice. It was beyond verbal comprehension. Charlie grinned, clutching a sawed-off shotgun in the crook of one arm. He was grabbing on to something with his other hand.

"Hey, watch this," he told Fink. Charlie shoved a young man forward. The man stumbled back two or three steps. Barton recognized him. It was Chet, the desk clerk. Fink stood, unable to move. His body and mind were to separate halves now and his mind was safe and far, far away. Charlie grinned like a kid in a candy store, aiming the gun point-blank at Chet's heart. Barton, still unable to speak, began mentally screaming at the bellhop.

Run! Run! Dammit, he's gonna—

Chet flashed a weak, almost morose grin at Barton, as though he had heard his thoughts. The bellhop sighed audibly, shut his eyes and extended his arms, waiting. Charlie's grin turned darkly sinister. Barton screamed internally as Meadows pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the bellhop's chest. Chet staggered back a bit, shards of bone from his rib cage protruding through both the front and back of his uniform. Fink stared in horror as he saw that Chet's heart was still beating, unfazed and exposed from within the gaping hole in his chest.

"Get back to work, you miserable little worm," Charlie ordered.

"L—leave him alone!" said Barton. Meadows threw an ugly look at the playwright. Chet looked both surprised and amused.

"What's he to you, Barton?" Charlie inquired. "Did you two have a late-night liaison I'm not aware of?"

Fink swallowed the urge to scream. He took a deep breath and looked at Chet.

"I need to check out," he said. Chet smiled menacingly. His teeth were filed to sharp cannibal points.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fink," he said. He grabbed Barton's arms and held them behind his back. Charlie aimed the gun once more. This time is was at Barton. "I can't let you do that."

Fink tried to free himself, but the bellhop's grip was like steel. He turned slightly, looking Chet in the face. Chet's eyes had turned from blue to black with no whites, pupils or irises visible; it was only darkness.

"This isn't real!" Barton cried, struggling against this demon in a bellhop's uniform. "C'mon, Barton, wake up!"

"Ha! This is real, Barton!" crowed Charlie.

Barton shook his head. He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. It just didn't make any sense!

"No! No! This isn't real! None of this is real!" Fink screamed. Charlie sighed as Chet forced Barton to his knees. Meadows then positioned the barrel of the shotgun under Barton's jaw. The playwright felt himself lose control of his hand as his finger found the trigger. "Please, no!" Barton pleaded, tears welling in his eyes. "Please don't kill me. How have I harmed you? Either of you?"

Charlie laughed. He loved it when people pleaded with him. It was highly entertaining.

"If you pull that trigger, everything will be fine. You'll wake up and all of this will be gone," he said. He smiled as Barton shut his eyes, fingering the trigger. "You can trust me, Barton. I'm your friend, right?"

"Please—no!"

BLAM!

A gunshot exploded through the 6th floor of the Hotel Earle. The hellfire that flowed like waves against the center of the hallway walls were extinguished as if by magic, leaving no trace of themselves behind. Charlie Meadows sighed.

"I'm turnin' in. G'night Chet."

Chet nodded. The gaping hole in his chest had disappeared, once again replaced by the diamond-shaped emblem baring the words Hotel Earle. His teeth had lost their demonic appearance and his eyes were blue once more.

"G'night, Mr. Meadows," he said.