Netherstream - Episode 1: Jane Doe (5 page)

“Search again!” The old man yelled, but with all the drinks in them, the soldiers clearly weren’t up to the task.

Never in a thousand years would his brutish men discover the secret exit out of the gift shop. I couldn’t take credit for it, though. If it weren’t for Twiggy, I wouldn’t have known it myself.

Although it cost a fortune, I bought all of my cigarettes at the gift shop while on duty. As it turned out, it was a worthwhile investment.

“Wanna see a neat trick?” he giggled one day, stoned out of his mind. He’d just sold me a pack of Marlboros with his employee discount, and was desperate to get in my pants.

“As long as it doesn’t involve removing your clothes,” I replied.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this.” He could hardly contain himself. There was no telling how many illegal substances were in him, and although management knew that he sucked at his job, he was personable, and customers kept coming back in droves just to see the walking erection. “All right, now stand over there, like you’re just walking in.”

“What?” I angled my head.

“Come on, girl. You go, girl.” He pointed and grinded his hips.

“Like this?” I retraced my steps, and then walked back in the store as if I’d never been there.

“Why, hello miss.” A surprised look crossed Twiggy’s bugged-out face. “Did you know that we now carry Cinnabon-scented perfume?”

“Huh?”

“No, seriously. Let me get you a sample.” He stepped behind a display as if he were walking down stairs.

Instantly I thought back to Austin Powers, to which he bore a strong resemblance. “Very funny, but I’ve seen that trick before.” I tucked my cigarettes in my purse and waited. “You can come out now.” I tapped my foot.

The gift shop was oddly quiet.

“Benjamin?” I said, knowing how much he hated to be called by his first name. I stepped around the display, but he was gone. “No way,” I gasped, wondering if I was the one who was tripping. Although the gift shop was fully lit and I had the benefit of knowing where he was last, I couldn’t find the little booger.

“Benjamin, are you still there?” I said aloud as two customers walked into the shop. They smirked as if I were going mad, and walked over to the magazine rack. I crossed my arms and waited. This was getting embarrassing. Another came. Then another. Shit, I only had a few minutes left of my break. Where the hell was he?

I covered his ass while he was gone, scribbling down guest room numbers so that he could charge them when he got back. Ten minutes later, he finally showed up.

“Well, hello miss. I flew all the way from Estonia just to purchase a bottle of that wonderful Cinnabon-scented perfume of yours. Ooh, I can smell it now.” He farted on a customer. The customer glared at him and left the shop, shaking his head all the way.

I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him aside. “Get your shit together, dickhead. I’m late.”

Twiggy gasped and put his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t realize that you were expecting. It isn’t mine!”

“No, crackhead. I’ve got to get back to work. You’re a real asshole, you know that?” I turned and stormed away.

“Forgive me.” He fell to his knees and threaded his hands together, ignoring the customers passing by. “Let me make it up to you over dinner,” he pleaded.

But all he got back from me was a singular display of my tallest finger.

On my next shift, Benjamin was remorseful, even a bit depressed. “Please, let me show you my trick,” he begged.

I took my change and considered the invitation.

“I’ll even show you a few other tricks just for being a good sport.” He winked.

“This trick, and only this trick.” I pointed.

With knowledge of the escape route, I thought he would have survived. But no, the doped up dingleberry was chewing on a psychedelic mushroom when death came knocking on his stall door. No doubt he was confused when the zombie bit into him, thinking it was a side effect of the drug. But once it became clear that the corpse chewing on his entrails wasn’t going away, he inhaled the rest of his stash, thankful the drugs could mitigate his departure.

Although his body did not rise again, I couldn’t take any chances. I burned him along with the others that died in the initial wave. “I miss you, Twiggy.” I kissed his forehead before setting him afire, the only kiss from me that would ever grace his face. Perhaps I’d been too hard on him. Certainly the world was less interesting without him.

I closed the panel, and fastened it behind me. It was pitch black inside with barely enough room to breath, a twitchy place to be for those just a tad claustrophobic. I wormed my through and got to my feet, walking side to side like a crab, my knee burning like a motherfucker. The wall seemed to go on forever until I turned the corner and exited out an unfinished patch of drywall.

No one would ever suspect that the drawer that I crawled through was in fact a secret passage to the guest elevators. The front face slid up and was typically locked, giving the impression that it was merely decorative. The false back slid aside and could be easily secured without making a sound, an odd hideaway in one of the most visible parts of the hotel.

At first I could not believe that an unfinished hallway was back here, and there was nothing to suggest that a large hole lingered behind the custom-made cabinets. When I finally located the original floor plans, it was obvious that the builders had improvised in a mad rush to open the hotel. The blueprints called for the gift shop to be located near the concierge desk, and the current site to be a trio of bathrooms along with a row of telephones and an access point for engineers to service the guest elevators. At the last minute, the owner decided to scrap the bathrooms and put the gift shop there instead. Capitalism at its finest.

Rather than converting the extra space into a storeroom or wiring closet, the contractors sealed it off. Apparently they ran out of materials too, and mounted the cabinets over top of the unfinished wall. In the end, no one seemed to notice, and I prayed that the ruse would work just a little longer.

As I limped towards the elevators, bullets punctured the drywall, tossing dust and chalk in my face. General Vax screamed as his men unloaded everything they had into the wall.

Perhaps he wasn't so dumb after all. The only chance he had was to tear the place apart, knocking down every wall until he found me, even if it meant destroying the guest elevators.

Shafts of light pierced through the bullet holes nearby. I groped the musty walls, but could not locate the metal door to the elevators. Damn, I was close…just a few more feet...

Suddenly a fireman’s axe split the drywall. The soldiers stopped firing, and pounded the opening with the butts of their guns.

“Fucking hell!” I screamed as the wall collapsed, and a soldier jumped through. I hurried to the far end of the hall, my elbow dinging the handle of the door. As I grabbed it and turned, the soldier kicked the door shut.

“Let’s go, bitch.” Riggs slammed me against the wall. As he pulled away, I latched my legs around his neck and shoulder and locked them shut. He staggered around, trying to peel me off, his own arm choking him and cutting off the blood to his brain. A second soldier stormed in and struck my wounded knee, breaking my death lock, and sending me reeling in pain.

“That’s enough. Bring her to me,” the general’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Before I could crack another wiseass comment, worn hands reached around and buried my face in the sweet smell of chloroform.

The general’s face was a mosaic of gray hair and pink flesh as I was brought into the light. “Bring her to my quarters. We have some unfinished business to attend to.” He traced a finger across my cheek before the edges of my consciousness ticked shut.

♦ ♦ ♦

The heavenly sound of Moonlight Sonata filled my ears, beckoning me from my slumber. In front of the TV the general stood, trying to figure out how to turn it on. He struck the remote with the palm of his hand, and then hit the Power button repeatedly before it finally clicked on. Surprised that the in-room movies were still working, he cycled through the channels before settling on a pornographic preview of two women kissing, and then being joined by a man. “I’ll get back to you in a minute.” He touched himself, and then turned off the TV.

Leon turned and looked at me, a white bathrobe the only thing covering his filthy, naked body. Likely, this would be his first shower in weeks. I pretended to be asleep while he stepped closer and pressed his manhood against me. “Sleep well, my angel, because you’re going to need it when you wake,” he smiled and touched me with his greasy paws.

He kissed me gently with his cracked lips before departing for a much needed shower. In hopes that I might join him, he left the door slightly ajar and slipped off his robe. Certainly I did not want to be anywhere near him when he unveiled his crusty, old bagpipe, but I could barely move, let alone get out of bed.

My head throbbed and knee felt like it had been wrenched off. The combination of the running water and his wretched singing sprung me from my daze. I turned to one side and noticed a transparent black lace gown on the table next to me, compliments of Spicy Lingerie a block down. “Not in a billion years.” I sat up and looked around the bedroom.

I appeared to be in the presidential suite, the largest and most expensive in the entire hotel. It boasted a full-sized kitchen, a large dining room with a glass table, a living area with a fifty-two-inch TV and wraparound couch, a master bedroom and Jacuzzi bath and an additional bedroom that could be locked out. Typically CEOs, celebrities and royalty stayed here, but now only incompetent dictators fit the bill.

“Rubber ducky, you’re so fine,” the general burst into laughter.

Please…anything but that song. Time was running out, and when he stepped through that door again, I was fucked in more ways than one. He’d rape me over and over again before passing me off to his men. They’d sodomize me; thrust things inside that weren’t meant to be there before slitting my neck. Now was my only chance, if I could only… “Stand!” I pleaded.

I fell to the floor, knocking over the table in the process. I flung the skimpy piece of lingerie aside, and tried to get to my feet. “Damn it, he’s coming for you! Move as if your life depended on it. Get off the floor, now,” I thought to myself.

I’ve read hundreds of stories about people overcoming adversity in a time of crisis. Now it was time to carve out my own. My knee was far worse for wear, and I could barely put any pressure on it. “Fucking crawl, then. Crawl all the way to your castle in the sky.” I willed myself across the floor and pawed at the bedroom door.

As I pulled it open, a soldier with a bandage around his thigh limped forward and pointed his gun. “Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere without a good fucking.” He grabbed my hair. After a moment it dawned on me that he was the sniper from the balcony that I had stabbed when the general invaded the lobby.

Oblivious to the knock at the door, he dragged me back into the bedroom. “Put it on.” He pointed to the scrap of lingerie with his knife.

“I think it looks better on you,” I replied.

As he grabbed my throat, I spit in his face. “I can’t wait to shove this up that tight pussy of yours.” The hunting knife reflected in his dark eyes.

Again the knock came.

“First, you’ve got to get a handle on that big blade of yours, pussy boy,” I replied.

The third knock set him off.

“What the fuck?!” The soldier lumbered out of the room.

The front door swung open, followed by a muffled cry.

The suite was silent, save for the general’s erratic singing. I glanced at the bathroom, and then at the room next to me. The sound of teeth ripping flesh from bone filled my ears. “Thank God,” I whispered to myself. I’d prefer any horror to that ancient douche bag in the shower.

I eked into the other room, told my knee to go fuck itself, and forced myself to my feet.

“Travis, is that you?” I leaned against the wall.

A familiar face peered back at me, and then continued eating. After a few bites, the zombie released the soldier’s limp corpse and stood. He gazed at me, and then caught a whiff of the human in the other room.

I glanced at the phone, labeled 7313. I couldn’t believe it. That dumb bastard had chosen room 313, a miniaturized version of the presidential suite, and the closest thing my server could find to room 1313. Through zombie eyes, 7313 looks a lot like 1313, and although it took Travis six weeks to find, he was right on time.

“There’s something that I need you to do for me, Travis.” My eyes gravitated towards the bedroom.

I commandeered the soldier’s weapons, slipped the lace teddy over the zombie, and tucked him into bed. “Here’s an appetizer for you.” I severed a few of the soldier’s fingers and tossed them under the covers.

Suddenly the water turned off. Not long now. Not long before the general got the biggest surprise of his life.

“Take care, Travis.” I pulled the sheets over him and hobbled out of the bedroom.

As I stepped out the door, my knee gave way, forcing me to cling to Travis’ rolling cart for dear life. This was it, for all the marbles, and I was little more than a doormat to the general’s new whorehouse. Thankfully there weren’t any guards stationed outside, and the east wing was clear as far as I could see. If I could just get to the second floor and crawl into the vents, I would be home free. I licked my dry lips, picked myself off the floor, and rolled the cart around the corner.

The dome mirror mounted on the wall above gave me glimpse of main hallway and guest elevators, both empty. I surged forward, crashed into the elevator doors, and pressed the down arrow over and over again, aware that I was now on camera.

Although there was a stairwell nearby, it did not have access to the second floor. It went straight down to the lobby, where guests could exit the hotel. Certainly there were vents in the walls around me, but I could not afford to get lost in the labyrinth of air ducts, especially in the condition that I was in. My movements had to be precise, or else I was screwed.