4

Something wasn't right.

Alvin had arrived at the Overlook with a fresh sense of purpose, a mission to write an album as raw and real as ever was penned. He and Dave had chosen a room, set up a condenser mic and four-track recorder, and gathered piles and piles of notebooks. At first, the words had flowed out him. Alvin wrote about loss and love, the pressures of fame, and the ephemeral nature of life.

After the first week, though, Alvin found it hard to focus on the stories he wanted to tell. When he lifted his pen from the paper, he found words he didn't remember writing, references to balls and masquerades that weren't at all his style. Once there was an elaborate doodle of an croquet mallet (?); Alvin KNEW that he would never normally draw something like that.

It wasn't just the writing that was off. The sound of the recordings sounded thin somehow, like an old gramophone, though Dave insisted that the mix was perfect. Sometimes Alvin heard a clash of notes, as though another song was playing quietly underneath his own, though it was never there when he tried to show anyone. He was sure he had heard it, though. Something old and slow.

On the day that Simon disappeared, Alvin had been in the lobby, playing ukulele. He had been doing that more often, claiming he needed to practice. In fact, he preferred the lobby's wide open windows to the cramped hallways and rooms, especially with Jack (be nimble, Jack be QUICK) always roaming. He was trying to figure out a ukulele arrangement of a Pendereski song, when he saw the boy, watching him.

Danny. Theodore's friend. Geez, he was a creepy kid. Still, Alvin put on a smile and said, "Hey there, Danny. How's it goin'?"

Danny's dark eyes stared at him. "The hotel stung him."

What kind of answer was that? The kid had a screw loose, that much was clear. "You mean a bee? A bee stung Theodore?"

"No, the hotel. And Simon."

Alvin stood up. "What do you mean, Danny? Is he ok?

Danny mouth hung open and he struggled to find words. Finally he spoke.

"He hurt his brain."

It was Wendy, Danny's mother, who found Simon. They brought his shaking body into the chipmunks' bedroom and tried to get him to respond. But whatever they said or did, Simon would only stare off into space, whispering "I have not any" over and over in a choked voice. His eyes appeared to be seeing things that no one else could.

Wendy was clearly shaken. "Has he done this before?"

"No," said Dave, with bitterness in his voice. "Something scared the bejeezus out of him."

"The hotel," whispered Danny and Theodore, in unison.

"No," said Dave. "Jack. Jack was mad at Simon. He must have done something...threatened him or even..."

(hit him)

"Jack would never do that!" said Wendy. "Not since he got...he's been so good for so long."

"Well, he did something!" snapped Dave. "And now how are we supposed to record Simon's harmonies?"

"I don't care about the stupid album!" yelled Theodore, and Alvin realized that he felt the same. "What's wrong with Simon?"

"I'm going to find out," said Dave, standing up. "Does anyone know where Jack is?"

"He was going to clean your recording studio," said Wendy, "but…"

"I'm going to ask him about what happened," said Dave. "Alvin, Theodore, look after your brother. Maybe read him something from one of his books?"

"I haven't any," whispered Simon.

"Ok, Dave," said Alvin, feeling anxious. He didn't like the idea of Dave confronting Jack by himself, somehow, and was about to say so, but Danny spoke first.

"Don't go."

The voice was harsh and unfamiliar, and it turned everyone's head. Danny had his index finger outstretched and waggling it up and down; his speech was a croak.

"Don't go, Mr. Seville. Don't go to the studio."

It was Danny and yet not Danny. Alvin stared at the child, feeling more unnerved than ever, and had a sudden mental image of the hotel shifting to the shape of a cat. Sure, to humans, cats were sweet and fluffy, but when you were small, you saw clearly their sliver pupils, and their cruel smiles, and their long teeth. Things that seemed harmless could still kill.

All this Alvin wanted to say to Dave, and yet somehow nothing came out. Later, Alvin would replay this moment in his head over and over.

Hours went by. Dave didn't come back.

Alvin and Theodore did everything they could do keep themselves entertained, but it wasn't easy. Simon's shaky whispers filled the room with a constant source of dread, and Danny continued to shift between himself and his creaky-voiced alter-ego. Eventually Wendy took Danny back to the Torrance's room. At Theodore's request, she locked the door behind her.

Finally, Alvin could stand the waiting no longer. "I'm going after him."

"You CAN'T!" said Theodore. "Alvin, you don't know what this place is like! You start to see things that aren't there, you start to feel..."

"I've been here just as long as you have," snapped Alvin. "And if Dave is in trouble, I'm going to help him."

Theodore stared at him, then nodded his head. "Ok. I'm coming with you."

Alvin had not for one second expected that. "Really?"

"Really," said Theodore, though his body was already quivering. "We can't let ourselves be scared."

The two chipmunks slipped under the locked door and scampered through the hallway, which was dark and quiet. The brothers said nothing as they walked, listening to the changing sound as their clawed toes stepped from carpet to wood.

At the end of the hallway, there was a familiar sight. It was the Chipettes, three sisters who were the perennial rivals/crushes of the Chipmunks! Britney, Jeanette, and Eleanor were standing in a line, holding hands. Alvin's heart leapt. Finally, some friendly faces

(?FACES?)

There was something slightly...off about the faces of the Chipettes. Alvin couldn't quite put his paw on it, so he waved to them, a little hesitantly. The three girls waved back in unison, and their smiles grew wider

(The smiles aren't right)

That was it. Their smiles were a little too wide and a little strained, as though they had been posing for a photo for too long. And the eyes of the Chipettes showed no warmth or humor; they stared down Alvin and Theodore like owls, never blinking, never wavering. Britney, Jeanette, and Eleanor opened their mouths in unison and began to speak.

"Come sing with us, Alvin."

Theodore grabbed Alvin's hand, and Alvin knew his brother also sensed that something was wrong. It sounded like the Chipettes... yet in their helium tones there was a undercurrent of menace.

"Come sing with us forever and ever."

The girls took a step towards Alvin and Theodore and now Alvin saw that there was some sort of dark liquid dribbling from their eyes, thick like tar, blackening their cheeks.

"RUN PAST THEM!" Alvin screamed and he and Theodore began racing down the hallway. The girls screamed and began to stretch, extending themselves upward and outward like pulled taffy, their faces elongating into tortured masks. They were clearly trying to keep block the path, but Alvin was determined to make it to Dave. He sped past the trio's waiting arms and for a brief, horrifying second, he felt something cold and wet tighten around his leg. Then he pulled free and was running as he had never run before.

Alvin and Theodore sped round the corner and saw it: Room 237, the room they had set up as a studio. Alvin ran to the door and pounded.

"Dave! Mr. Jack!"

There was no answer. Alvin reached for the door but his paw faltered.

The Hotel got them, he thought. It STUNG them, and if we walk in there, we'll be next.

But Theodore took a deep breath and twisted the knob and the two chipmunks tumbled into the room.

At the foot of the bed was a mangled corpse.