Her hair had become untameable in the humidity and the rain. Stepping out in the downpour with nothing but her black leather wallet to shield her eyes, she saw the towering hotel before her. The sign was lit up all yellow and red on the corner of the street. It was three stories and you had to go inside to enter the rooms.
The lobby consisted of all kinds of trees and ponds and the glass ceiling echoed droplets so loud. Wooden benches with railings painted gold. The occasional bird would swoop down. As she rang out her hair and walked inside she couldn't help but feel like an entree. A server in the wild becomes what is served.
She walked up to the counter and said, "May I please have a towel."
"I'm sorry miss. What's your room number?" Of course. No such thing as hospitality in a place like this.
Charlotte NC is a wildly beautiful place but it's very dangerous. Expensive places like this have to be strict on all policies otherwise they'd lose their merit. Everything felt something similar to cold. Camille was so very alone as she walked away. The chill would be there for sure but what was this utterly icy feeling in her skin? Was someone watching her?
Up a spiral staircase with a similar design to the benches. Around a bend. Through an archway. The shadows were bigger than the places where light hit the floor. Is it possible I've chosen writing over having friends? Is it possible that all life has left Camille's world? Looking back, over the railing, to see that the clerk had gone her mind -for just a second- told her they all had vanished.
The sound of laughter behind her, she turns expecting to see a child running by from one of the rooms but no. There's no one there except her reflection on one of the support beam mirrors. Gold frame.
Who is she?
She turns down a corridor and continues on for a good seven to ten doors before stopping on the number she was given, 472. She goes to knock but the door is adjar. She allows herself inside.
The room is destroyed. Broken glass on the floor. Spilled wine. Feathers are falling. Lucy's guitar is broke in two. James lost a boot. Is this blood on the wall? The entire rolling cart of food is left untouched. Gold.
A light catches her eye, it was a screen fading to black.
She moves the mouse and sees a video waiting to be played. So she clicks the right pad.
Lucy and James are sitting side by side on the bed surrounded in sheet music. They were writing together. Came up with a song. Decided to record themselves singing it. Dear God, why is it full of such sorrow?
There's only one person left to go to. He's not going to be happy about it but it looks like this is how things must go. I can honestly say I wasn't expecting this scenario in the slightest.
She goes out running. Takes no time to explain to anyone where she's going or what happened. She's got to go.
The engine takes a minute to start up but it comes with it's roar as she shifts the gear and takes off down the highway. It takes her five minutes to get away from the city and enter into the back roads. Not even four miles out and she finds the small town Kendall took solace in.
She's just catching him getting back from a jog with his headphones in- she wonders what kind of idiot goes for a jog in the rain.
"Kendall!" she yells at him before he climbs the fire escape.
He turns to look back at her, "What are you doing here Camille?"
"Lucy and James were taken." She cries.
He looks around, and groans. Letting go of the fire escape he walks over the door and begins buzzing himself in. He holds it open for her.
As she walks in he asks, "Did you call the police?"
"No. I came straight here." She admits.
He shakes his head, "Damn Camille. What do you want from me? And where were they taken from. How did you figure this out?"
"Lucy was staying at a hotel in Charlotte." They ascend the staircase and every step feels like an even heavier situation.
Kendall wants to avoid them. Completely. They made their choice.
It's not that he doesn't care. In fact it seems he's the only one who does. It would have been smart for them to just let the police handle this and to have left him alone entirely. Why are they suddenly so interested in him? Why should he bother even letting her into his apartment.
"Look. Go home Camille." He insist, "Call the police. Put out the reports. Stay away from dark allys. Let the government do it's job."
She laughs, "You. The artist. The hippi-stoner. Telling me to put my trust in the government. You're funny Mr. Knight."
Then her smile drops, "Are you helping him?"
"You're telling me you think Logan has James and Lucy? Where's Carlos? Did he get taken back home like he said was going to happen?" As quick of a pivot as that was his sudden interest in Carlos disarmed her. She remembers the way they once looked at each other.
She shakes her head as they finally reach the door to the apartment, "He's at my house."
Kendall freezes, drops his keys, and it registers. He remembers something Logan said to them that last day out there practicing their routine. Something about Carlos. So then it's fear that swallows him whole and it feels like the staircase has become a slide. He's spinning out.
Camille gets him inside and rests him down on the couch turning to shut and lock the door. She shouting questions at him but he can't hear her. All he can register is the idea of Logan with a ten blade saying that phrase over and over, "You glow so much I'll bet your very essence could cure just about anything, litos."
Suddenly the very sound of Carlos' screams start echoing around in Kendall's head. What is this? Surely, it isn't real.
"You know something. Where are they?" She's at his side.
He furrows his brow, "I don't know anything Camille. I'm just not feeling well. Please don't touch me."
His eyes go to a picture he keeps on his fridge. A picture of them all at that Warehouse. They were so happy back then.
He's shaking his head, "No. No. Camille don't you do it!"
She's grabbing her wallet and out the door.
Her tires crunch the gravel and she's parking the car. This time she's using her button up to tie her hair on her head and unsheathing a crow bar from beneath her seat. She walks across the lot and looks up to marvel at the green sheen across the cobblestone walls. The night wind makes noises all around her and she's certain it's the wrong thing when she decides to walk into the building.