THE HOTEL WAWANAKWA: Part Four
A red sneaker lashes out and into a paint worn door, kicking it open with a jarring bang. Splinters of wood and the patina chain that locked it scatter into the cold, vacant room. The violent commotion quickly dies down as the same red sneaker holds the door ajar and a thin, pale girl slithers into the room. Silvery blue eyes smile at the young woman as she gently runs her hand across her partners back.
"Are you trying to wake the dead, Duncan?" Gwen chides, barely looking back so as to conceal her own devious smile.
"Let Chris's lackey's come. I'm not afraid of little girls in bad makeup." Duncan scoffed before looking at her girlfriend's doubtful glare, "present company excluded."
A quick laugh followed from her ebony painted lips, "Wait. Does that mean my makeup is bad… or that I'm a little girl?"
"Well," Duncan smirks, pulling his Goth Queen a little closer to himself, "You're definitely not a little girl."
The pair draw closer to one another, able to feel their heated breath on each other's skin. Their lips only inches away from a gentle kiss until Duncan abruptly pulled away. A disappointed whimper escaped Gwen's lips, prompting a hasty explanation from Duncan, "If we start this… we're never getting anywhere. We already lost Geoff and Bridgette and I give it another ten minutes before they're eliminated."
"I know." Gwen conceded, opening the closet to begin searching for the hidden prize money and/or weapons to thin the competition. Likewise Duncan made quick work of tearing off the already hole filled mattress for anything hidden underneath.
After a thorough turning over of another room, the duo move onto the next room of the hotel. Yellowed paper and debris crunch underfoot as Duncan shifts his weight to deliver another mighty kick to the locked door. Mid-kick, Gwen diverts his attention, requesting a much gentler, less destructive and noisy tactic. With a disappointed sigh, Duncan jiggles the handle of the suite to find out that this door wasn't locked at all.
The room blows out a decades long sigh into their hair, kicking up debris and dust held long within. Gwen sheilds her face from the stale breeze and sheet of old newspaper that blows into her chest. Inside, air continues to whip around wildly in the room, disturbing the single curtain at the window and the remnants of wallpaper peeling away.
"Who left the window open," Duncan chides moving towards the open window.
Peeling the brittle newsprint from herself, Gwen inquisitively examined the antique paper, searching for a date.
"October, 1959..." she reads softly, approaching Duncan, "Guest Drowns Spouse. The sixth reported murder the establishment has seen in a decade. One employee quotes that this hotel is certainly cursed, but that's what you get for building on sacred burial ground."
Before she can recite anymore highlights on the hotel's gruesome past, rough hands reach out to tear the paper from her. Gwen starts, a defiant scowl on her face as Duncan crumples up the paper to chuck it out the window.
"That was rude."
"Come on, don't waste our time with Chris's bullshit. You know he's probably got a hundred copies of that planted all over the joint to try and lure us in."
"Yeah, well I was still looking at it." Gwen frowned, following Duncan towards the next room.
"Hey! I was still looking at that," an almost child-like male voice complained as dark fingers wrench a notebook from his hands. Greedy eyes flipped through a scrapbook collection of news clippings, awards and other miscellany. Sierra sweetly apologized, forgetting how much taller she was than her companion, now on his tip toes trying to view the book.
"Sorry Cody-honey, I just got really excited to see what "evidence" Chris left for us."
"You really think Chris would do all this?" Cody inquires, feeling the chalky texture of the old newsprint and craft paper, "This seems like an awful lot. I mean look, the opening of the hotel… the awards and recognition… the advertisements…"
"But look here, Double Homicide 1953, Suicide 1956, another murder in 1959, and a missing person the next year. Clearly he's trying to validate the haunty-ness of the place."
"Sure, maybe," the shorter brunette hesitated to agreed, "but where's the flair? Where's the wall framed with this hotel's history of murder and mayhem. Where's the blood soaked warnings of "get out." This just seems too subtle for Chris."
"The 5th floor."
"What?" Cody pursed his lip at her enigmatic response.
"The murder and mayhem is on the fifth floor," Sierra confirmed, pointing to the Double Homicide article of 1953. "This is the first murder story in October of 1953, a member of the staff and a civilian were murdered while another employee went missing. Authorities arrest the brother of the missing employee, suspecting the both of them to be involved. She was a maid… well of course, everyone knows the maid did it."
"I thought it was the butler," Cody offered to the popular murder cliché.
Sierra thoughtfully considered his suggestion than responds with delighted but obnoxious laughter. Gradually, he backs away from his overly enthusiastic teammate, stepping cautiously to not trip in the dimly lit hall. Sierra's merriment is abruptly cut short when a seashell shaped scone light pops and bursts nearby. Frowns etch into their faces as they listen when the next light sparks and shatters closer still, than another and another. The duo quickly clutch onto one another as an icy cold breeze snakes down the hall of the second floor.
On the next floor above, Heather inched her way around the corner of the hall, wary of another contestant getting the jump on her. Relief followed when all that hide behind the corner was another vacant hall. Strangely she found herself a little disappointed with the lack of action in her hunt. Despite the threat of "zombie interns", treacherous cast mates, an enticing cash prize and Chris's flair for the dramatic Heather herself felt rather 'unchallenged'.
Stepping towards a nook in the wall, Heather examined a treasure chest like icebox with the rusty scooper and bottle of gin laying beside it. She ran her fingers along the opening before lifting it up in hopes that there was truly wealth within. The snobbish teen immediately let the lid close when all she spotted was leaves, rubbish and a pair of dead mice. Her lips sneered as she turned away from the rodent's coffin, grumbling her distaste for Chris. Her red wedge heels were about to continue the hallway when a realization struck her raven colored head.
"I hate you Chris," she spoke to the air before whirling back to the ice chest and flipping it open again. Within the box, under some leaves and paper was a bright copper colored Derringer and a collection of 2 metallic blue paintball shells. Her tiny nose turned up slightly as she examined the two carcasses lying close by. With a resolved sigh she reached in to collect the goods, chanting a mantra of "I hate you!"
Finally she shot upright, letting the lid slam down again as she held her prize triumphantly. Cackling to herself, Heather stuffed the balls into her short pockets and the weapon into her waistband. Fate was obviously smiling down on this lucky soul today, giving her advantage over the rest of the players.
The Queen Bee walked with a spring in her step as she approached a room she hadn't explored, room 303. Her strides were brisk as she entered, pausing as her dark eyes caught view of a desk and chair in the corner. Seated on that chair was an unfamiliar young woman dressed in a tattered plum and pink swing dress. Her cheeks appeared gaunt, lips a colorless blue and her once vibrant red locks were caked in grim and blood. However, while this mystery girl's appearance was disconcerting, what made Heather audibly gasp was the foul creature kneeling at her side.
It's skin was a pasty green, it's teeth sharp and yellow, clothes torn and dirtied, and it's hair all but gone. A low growl rumbled from the things throat as it eyed Heather like a starving man eyed food. She backpedaled slowly but surely as her rosy lips mouthed, "Ezekiel."
The red head cracked her head sharply to the side, a dead look on her face, but an electric spark in her green eyes. A slight smile formed and disappeared as she spoke in a gravely ton, "Kill."
At that command Ezekiel lunged forwards and Heather hastily darted back into the hallway. With practiced grace and speed she rounded the corner and raced through the corridor. Behind her she heard a loud smack and scuffle of flesh and bone as the inhuman boy crashed into the wall. Fortunately the boy, running on all fours, couldn't turn on a dime like she could, but he was also resilient. Heather screamed as she ran, arms outstretched as the thing called "Ezekiel" continued chase, grunting and slobbering after her. It retrospect, it turned out this game was pretty challenging after all.
Somewhere, on the fifth floor, a horrible gnawing and smacking echoed from within one of the first rooms on the level. A shadow passes along the tattered brown wall, meticulously drawing closer to the wet sounds. A feminine moan creeps out from behind the ajar door of room 506, causing the shadow to linger.
"Mmm, love you so much Bridge," a male voice proclaims, causing the shadow to visibly shutter at the sound. Bridgett hungrily answers, "me too" between kisses with her boyfriend. Both occupants are unaware that a lone figure lurks outside the room they'd taken refuge it. All notions of the challenge, time, location or danger are lost on these two, entangled within each other. Its any wonder how, above all their sloppy wet kisses that Bridgette was able to hear the door to room 506 slowly creak open.
"Geoff," the blonde alerted, pulling back from his affections.
"Mm, what is it babe?" he mumbled while kissing her exposed collarbone. His hold on around her waste is like iron as she tries to wiggle away, her attention now on the door she can hear but not see from her position on the king sized bed.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, eyes glued towards the entryway.
"Here what?"
"Apparently not," Bridgette sighed as she finally squirmed free, her left arm covering her bared chest while her right searched for her sweater. A frown crossed Geoff's face, his back turned towards the door as he watched her scramble to redress. He was about to argue that she was just being paranoid, falling into Chris' game, but hesitated when he saw the curious expression on his lady love's face. Her shoulders raised up as she watched like a terrified doe as a new figure lumber into the room. Her mouth moved but no words came out, but it was still enough to signal Geoff to turn around.
"Really?" erupted the voice of the interloper as he stared at the spectacle before him.
"Hey, I think I know him," Geoff dumbly claimed, right before the intern zombie lunged at the famous party boy.
Bridgette scrambled from the bed and screamed far too late, "Geoff look out!"
She watched in horror as the intern tugged and wrestled her boyfriend to the floor. Geoff's hand reached up, pushing the intern Luca's face to the side while he swatted feebly to keep the broader teen down. Bridgette gawked as Geoff around to crawl away, only to have Luca snatch up his wrist and use his own weight to pin the teen's arms behind his back. Both men glanced up at the half naked blonde, one with a desperate plea and the other a hungry stare.
"Babe! Save yourself!" Geoff begged, only to have his face pushed down into the carpet.
"No! I can't leave you!" she cried over dramatically, even though she'd managed to maneuver herself even closer to the exit.
"Forget about me Bridge!" Geoff's floor muffled voice begged, "Live another day!"
"Hun?" she blinked, leaning down to hear her boyfriend better. The intern, Luca blinked as well, staring intently at her barely covered cleavage as she bent over.
"I said, run away," Geoff tried again, his blue eyes straining to see her.
"Oh, right, I knew that," she laughed, about to stand upright again, when a strong hand snatched her wrist. Bridgette gasped as Luca held her arm tightly and frowned, "You guys make this way too easy."
After allowing a moment for the couple to redress themselves and a call to Chris McClean, Bridgette and Geoff were escorted back downstairs, the next eliminations in the game.