Hotel California

The light was steadily fading as he navigated through the unknown topography. His ribs felt bruised and his head hurt. He ran his fingers through his curls and found a bump.

“F**k,” he cursed, under his breath.

He felt angry and stupid at having fallen for the oldest trick in the book, and now his life was probably over.

“No! Think of something positive,” he chided himself and began to play the highlights reel of his life.

He wasn’t exactly a law-abiding person but he still thought of himself as a decent person who had helped people, donated money and volunteered at soup kitchens. He had also almost abandoned his old life and had been momentarily on the path of rectitude until he met her…

“It’s always about a girl,” he thought bitterly, the 1989 Nirvana tune automatically playing in his head.

Thinking of her filled him with both rage and heartbreak and he tried to stop the flow of negative thoughts that were threatening to build up.

“She used you, you idiot,” blamed a voice in his head.

“You fell in love with a conniving, manipulative b***h and now you’ll pay for it.

These thoughts had been going on in his head on and off for a while now and he felt mentally exhausted. It was like a tune playing in his head over and over again.

He shook his head violently as if this would clear his mental space. He closed his eyes for a minute and took in a deep breath. He felt slightly better, it had been drizzling and the air was pleasant with petrichor. As he opened his eyes he noticed his surroundings for the first time. He was following a densely forested hiking path that ran parallel alongside a small stream and, for hours and hours; he had just been walking – trying to get away from it all.

He hadn’t made any plans as to where he was heading and now as the sky changed from orange to indigo, he felt worried. The path seemed to go on endlessly and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go much further, now that daylight had all but faded. He didn’t have anything on him except a bunch of keys and his backpack. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even checked what was in the pack. He felt thirsty…so very thirsty and wondered if he had anything to drink in the pack. He was tempted to drink from the stream but didn’t want to risk upsetting his weak stomach. His hands automatically reached for the side pockets of his pack where he’d normally stow a bottle, but instead of feeling the smoothness of the cylindrical plastic, he found something else.

It was a half-smoked joint. How strange! He didn’t remember smoking any lately and had no idea how it had gotten there, but he didn’t care as he knew this was the perfect thing to vacuum his mind. He wasn’t sure if he had a light on him as he had given up smoking for many years now, but was pleasantly surprised to find a cheap red lighter in the other side pocket. He lit up and as soon as the air was full of the warm smell of colitas. He immediately felt sanguine as the pace of his thoughts slowed down. He was able to take in five drags before the joint was spent. The familiar feeling of tranquil euphoria was already spreading through his body when he felt a draft of icy cold wind in his hair; this wasn’t very odd considering it was the middle of autumn but it still felt peculiar as he had been feeling warm a second ago. Maybe it was the weed. He still wasn’t sure if he was headed towards some signs of civilisation or not, but now as dopamine flooded his system he felt optimistic. He even thought that he might be able to improvise a shelter and imitate those two guys from Dual Survival…What were their names again? “Joe and Matt,” he recalled after pressing his memory. However, he didn’t need to do that.

After what seemed like a few minutes or several, the woods thinned out and the path widened. In the far distance, he could see, what appeared to be, shimmering lights. He felt relieved yet anxious, What if they had taken out an APB on him? His face could be making rounds on all the news channels. But with his faculties dimmed, he decided to throw caution to the wind and walk towards the lights. As he neared, he felt his head become heavy and his vision go a little blurry. His mouth was parched and he felt even thirstier. “Hell!” he cursed. It was the reefer. He needed to be cautious but now he was stoned instead. The lights grew ever so closer and he had this strange feeling, like a moth being attracted to a flame.

After a moment, he could see, what appeared to be a silhouette of a sizeable structure. When he reached closer, he found his way blocked by a high wall that seemed to disappear in both directions. He decided to follow the left side; his mind automatically tracing the closer path to the lights. After a surprisingly long walk, he finally reached the source of the light and was surprised to see that it was a huge flickering neon sign, spelling out the name of the establishment:

“HOTEL CALIFORNIA!”

It looked out of place on an old fashioned but massive metallic gate and he found it funny for some reason. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Do you mind sharing the joke?” said a clear female voice that instantly reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite place it, not in this state.

He looked around until his gaze settled on a young woman leaning on a smaller entrance – obviously meant for people – beside the right side of the gate. She was clad in an azure dungarees-styled dress, several inches above her knees with a cream-coloured full-sleeved t-shirt underneath, and a waist apron of the same shade. He realised that she was a member of the hotel staff, after noticing a name tag on the right side of her chest.

“Keres, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he complimented, unable to stop himself.

“So I’ve been told,” she acknowledged, her light coloured eyes twinkling and a skeleton of a smile dancing on her glossed lips. He studied her facial features – she had a slender, pert nose nestled between prominent cheekbones and a chiselled jawline.

“Well!?” she inquired, interrupting his observations.

“I’m sorry?” he answered, feeling a little confused.

“What was so funny?” she repeated, looking slightly exasperated.

“Oh ok! This,” he said, pointing at the neon sign, “reminded me of something.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, beginning to lose interest in the conversation.

“So, do you want a room at our hotel?” she queried.

“You’re a mind reader,” he responded.

“Splendid! Follow me then,” she purred, turning around with a swish of her untidily tied auburn hair. She walked in through the small gate and he followed her, watching her do a catwalk as if she was swaying on a runway at the Milan fashion week.

The interior compound of the hotel looked eerie; the dim orangish light made the surroundings – which featured numerous statues and overgrown hedges – look sinister. They were walking on a cobblestone path surrounded by grass that had overgrown by several inches. Keres’ shoes made a ‘tapping’ sound as she catwalked ahead.

“Is the gardener on leave?” he joked.

She ignored this jibe and kept walking. The path finally split into two, forming a circular arch, with a kobicha-coloured fountain featuring several gargoyles in the centre. The absence of water in the fountain brought the focus back to his parched throat. Keres walked towards the left side and he followed her. They reached the main entrance and he was taken aback by the sheer size of the structure, which was more suited to be a great house or a manor rather than a hotel – he assumed that is what it exactly might have been several decades ago. The structure, constructed out of what appeared to be imperfectly cut brownish coloured stones, was two-storied and had a rectangular shape, with the slightly arched central portion a little taller than its sides. The roof of the structure was sloped and made up of tiles of a darker shade and featured several chimneys, with the biggest ones in the centre.

Both floors were generously supplied with many French windows but there seemed to be only one entrance/exit, a set of heavy wooden doors featuring a massive knocker. What he found peculiar was that the entire compound looked empty. There were no signs of any people; guests or staff. There were also no cars parked in the compound except a shiny silver Mercedes.

Keres pushed the door and it opened slowly with an ominous creak revealing a brightly lit atrium featuring an assortment of tables and chairs. The interiors of the hotel were surprisingly modern compared to its exterior. The walls were painted in a neutral beige colour and there were several paintings, with many depicting summer. He looked at the ceiling and saw a lot of intricate designs that made him think of a kaleidoscope. At the centre, there was a massive crystal chandelier that was obviously the main source of illumination. There were several doors identical-looking wooden doors, and at the other end of the atrium, he saw a set of white marble stairs that arched in opposite directions but merged above. The space in between the staircases housed the reception. Keres danced in that direction and he followed her. He again found it odd that the entire floor was empty of guests or staff.

“Do I get a discount? It seems to be offseason around here,” he joked.

There was no response again as she went behind the desk, stooped down and retrieved a dusty ledger that looked like it hadn’t been used for a long time. The sight of the ledger again reminded him of his dry throat.

“May I have some water, please?” he asked.

“In a minute,” she said curtly, stooping down again as she looked for something. She resurfaced with an exotic looking fountain pen.

“Ok! Mr……”

“Erkin…..Chaz Erkin,” he supplied.

“Ok, Mr Erkin, please fill in your details,” she said, pushing the ledger towards him.

He opened the ledger and ruffled through the pages till he found the latest one. He was surprised to see a lot of people had checked in today. Keres handed him the fountain pen and he quickly filled in his details.

“Do you’ll accept cards?” he inquired, fishing in his pack for his wallet.

“Yes! But you can pay later when you check out.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

She handed him an old fashioned brass key with a small pentagonal keychain made up of wood. He looked at the keychain and saw the numerical 15 carved on it.

“If you’ll follow me,” she said, turning to the left staircase.

Before he could take a step, the lights went out and everything went pitch black. He automatically reached in his pockets for this phone but he recalled he didn’t have one. Keres somehow navigated her way back to the reception desk in the darkness and he heard her fumbling around for something. She struck a match and he saw her lighting an old ornate silver candlestick holding six candles

“Wow! That looks like an antique,” he commented.

She remained silent again but continued lighting the candles. As he was watching her, he idly rested his hand down on the desk and was startled to hear a sharp tinkle of the reception bell.

“Jesus! That scared the bejeezus out of me,” he said but she ignored his comment again.

The combined flames of the six candles gave off a cosy light and when she lifted the candlestick and headed towards the stairs he got a weird feeling that made him think.

“This could be heaven or this could be hell!”

He followed her up and she led him towards a French door on the left. She pushed the door and they were in a corridor with several smaller doors. She continued walking until they reached the end of the corridor and turned towards the last door on the left. A calligraphic number 15 was clearly visible in the illumination of the candles. Shifting the candlestick to her right hand, she held her other hand palm up and he automatically dropped the keys in her hand. She opened the door and it gave another sinister creak. She went in and lit a smaller candlestick that rested on the night table. The first thing he noticed was a jug of water and without thinking twice he guzzled it down noisily, not bothering to use a glass. After he finished, he felt a little embarrassed as he saw Keres staring at him.

“Sorry, I was parched,” he said defensively.

She remained silent once more.

The room was modest by most standards – there was a queen-sized bed with the standard white bed linens, a small tube television and another table. He could see the outlines of another door in the corner which he assumed was the bathroom. One thing that he found odd was that there was not even a single window in the room.

“Are blackouts common here?” he asked her, wondering why a hotel did not have a backup power supply.

“No. Not common but it happens sometimes,” she replied adding “The generators should be up and running soon.”

She handed the keys back to him and said, “Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You can call the reception if you need anything,” she informed.

“I don’t see a phone,” he chuckled.

She pointed at the nightstand and he saw that there was a white landline in the bottom compartment.

“Oh ok! I didn’t see that. Thank you,” he grinned.

As she turned to leave, he called her and said:

“Keres, Hold on! Will I be able to get some room service? I’m starving.”

“Yes, of course, there’s a menu on the table, below the TV.”

“Can I just order today’s special?” he said.

“Of course, I’ll have it sent to your room,” she said and left.

He felt more tired than hungry but he decided to take a shower before lying down. He headed to the bathroom and though it was much too small, he was pleased to find it clean and well maintained. There was a toilet, a washbasin and a bathtub with a shower. He set a candle on the edge of the basin and went into the shower. The hot water against his skin made him feel much better and he took his time, washing the tiring day off of him.

When he finally got out he felt relaxed and less plagued by his troubles even though the effects of THC had long subsided. He didn’t have a change of clothes so he had no choice but to dress in the same ones. He wondered if he could get his clothes laundered and made a mental note to ask the person who came in with his room service. He put on his light blue boxers and his white t-shirt. He hung his purple summer jacket, and dark blue denim on the clothes hook behind the door.

As he settled in his bed, he idly opened his nightstand drawer and was surprised to find a mini-cassette tape recorder – the ones that journalists used back in the day. There was a small cassette inside and curiosity made him push the play button. He wasn’t sure if the recorder was equipped with batteries but as he pushed play, the device sprang into life and the wheels of the cassette started turning:

“Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place (Such a lovely place) such a lovely face, plenty of room at the Hotel California. Any time of year (Any time of year). You can find it here,” he heard a male voice croak unmelodiously.

Maybe some guest fuelled by liquid courage had recorded this dreadful tune and forgotten all about it. He replaced the recorder back in its place and lay back. He thought about checking his phone again but remembered that he didn’t have it on him. He had disposed of it in a dumpster as he knew mobile phones were trackable. He, however, regretted not getting his burner; it would have been nice to have a phone. He also realised that he couldn’t pay for this room with his card as that too could be easily tracked. He knew he didn’t have enough cash on him. He was in deep s**t and he couldn’t do anything about it. His life in his hometown was over and he could never go back. He was all alone now. This realisation hit him like a wrecking ball and he felt overwhelmed once more.

He was brought back to his surrounding by three sharp taps on his door.

“Room service,” announced a familiar voice.

“Come in,” he choked, trying to keep a lid on his emotions.

Keres came in carrying a trolley laden with covered utensils and a bottle of wine.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looking concerned.

This surprised him as the woman before had acted like a cold hard b***h.

“Yes,” he replied, “Thank you for asking.”

“You seem to be a little sad,” she said, guessing correctly.

Had he imagined everything before or did this girl have dissociative disorder?

He decided to check one more time.

“Yes, you’re right, I’m feeling a little low,” he admitted. “Will you sit and talk with me for a while?”

“I would love to,” she said kindly before adding “but I’ve a lot to do.”

“Just for a little while, it would mean a lot,” he pleaded.

“Okay. Just for a few minutes then,” she said.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking grateful.

“Have you had dinner?” he inquired.

“Not yet,” she replied.

“Then please, join me,” he invited.

“No, I couldn’t,” she hesitated.

“I insist,” he persisted. “At least this way I’ll know I’m not being poisoned.”

“Okay!” she said, smiling warmly.

She uncovered the dishes – a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and peas. There were a couple slices of pie for dessert.

As they ate, he asked her how she had ended up working at this place.

“My dad and mum were employees of this hotel and I’ve known this place ever since I was little,” she explained.

“Oh Ok. Where are they now?” he inquired.

She remained silent, looking tearful.

“I’m so sorry” he muttered.

She began to sob and he squeezed her shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. People are born, they live and they. That’s the cycle of life. Although they’re gone, they live on in the memories of their loved ones. So we should remember the good times and smile.” he said in a soothing voice.

“I’ve been alone for such a long time,” she sniffled and buried her head in his chest.

“You’re won’t have to be alone now,” he said before he could stop himself and as he held her, he felt a strange feeling settle somewhere in his chest. Was it.….love? But how could this be possible, he had just met her and he didn’t even know her last name. He had heard and read about ‘Love at first sight’ but he had never believed in it, not until today. The rational part of him told him that he was being silly but this feeling was so powerful much more than he had felt for her. What was happening to him? As these thoughts raced through his mind, she lifted her head, leaned towards him and kissed him. As he felt the softness of her lips, all his doubts disappeared. He had never experienced anything so profound and at that moment nothing seemed to matter.

Suddenly she broke the kiss but the feeling lingered.

“We cannot do this,” she whispered in a terrified voice before dashing out of the room.

With a million different emotions running through him, he ran after her but she had disappeared in the darkness. He felt a strong urge to follow her but he stopped himself. What would he do or say?

“Get a f*****g grip on yourself,” a voice commanded in his head.

“Remember how you ended here in the first place.”

He forced himself to calm down and think clearly. Maybe it was against the hotel policy to get involved with the guests. Or maybe she doesn’t want to get close to a stranger. Many assumptions were racing in his head when he heard a knock.

“Come in,” he said.

He was surprised but glad to see Keres again.

He approached her but she said in a curt voice: “I’m sorry for my behaviour.”

“Don’t be,” he said in an intimate voice.

“I’m sure it must get very lonely in this place, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not at all,” he said, surprising him.

She reached for something in her apron pocket. It was her purse. She carefully took out a Polaroid photo and handed it to him. He examined it and saw a picture of a young girl dressed in a canary yellow summer dress, dancing with five or six boys in front of a Mercedes Benz CLA.

“See, these are all my friends,” she pointed out in a matter of fact of voice.

He felt a crushing weight on his chest but remarked in a jovial voice: “Wow! you and your friends are all tens out of tens.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Is that the same car I saw parked outside?” he inquired.

“The very same!” she confirmed.

“Well, it was my dad’s and….”

“Now it’s yours,” he finished.

She nodded her head in agreement.

“This was taken in the summer?” he asked.

She nodded again.

“You’ll seem to be lost in the moment,” he said, examining the photo carefully.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I was thinking how some of us danced to remember and some of us danced to forget,” she quipped.

He found this remark a little strange but they didn’t say anything.

He handed her the photo back and she put all the empty dishes back on the trolley and left.

What was wrong with this woman? One moment she was so sweet and caring and the other moment she was as cold as ice. He remembered the kiss and the feeling of her soft lips against his. He felt so drawn towards her but before this feeling settled in his mind, he reminded himself not to be a gullible fool. Maybe he was being led up the garden path again or maybe she was ill or….……

The thought trailed off as he began to drift off into an uneasy slumber.

He woke up with a start, feeling uneasy and restless. He tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t so he decided to order some alcohol to help him sleep. He had forgotten to blow the candles and both of them had burned out. He remembered he had a flashlight in his pack and took it out. He focused the beam on the bottom shelf of the nightstand and looked at the list of numbers printed on a paper below the dial. It just had one number:

180 486 – CAPTAIN

Captain, who the hell was captain? Maybe the person in charge of room service was called captain. He dialled the number and someone picked up

“Hello, Captain! Can I get a bottle of house red sent to my room,” he asked.

“We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969,” a gruff male voice replied and hung up.

He felt irritated as he dialled again and was connected.

“Listen, Captain or whoever the hell you are…..”

“Help me! Help….” interrupted a familiar female voice. “It’s been over a week here since I’ve been trapped and I don’t think I will be able to ever leave this place…..”

“Hello Hello! Keres, are you okay,” he blurted but she went on as if she couldn’t hear him:

“…..They’re always watching my every move. I think I’m going insane or maybe I already have. There are never there but always watching. If someone is listening please help me! Please help me!.……follow the song, follow the song”

The message went on but in an unfamiliar language, he didn’t understand. After a while, he heard a flat male voice intone “Iteration: five, five, seven, one, three, six, zero.”

After that, the woman’s message repeated again.

He heard the message a couple of times more and said to himself: “The number will end with two.”

The flat automated voice went on “Iteration: five, five, seven, one, three, six, two.”

He realised that the iteration was a count of the number of times the message had played again and again. He timed the message and found out that it was roughly five minutes long. He took out a pen from his pack and did some quick math:

86,400 secs a day.

Msg is approx 5 mins long = 300 secs

86,400 (secs in a day) ÷ 300 = 288 (times played per day)

365 (days in a yr) x 288 = 105,120 per year

5,571,360 (times msg repeated) ÷ 105,120 = 53 years

He gasped as he realised that the message had been playing over and over again for 53 years. That meant it was recorded in 1969. As this began to sink in, he heard something…..He could hear some muffled voices singing somewhere. He got out of bed, tiptoed to the door and pressed his ear on it.

“Welcome to the Hotel California…….”

Was he dreaming? He childishly pinched himself but the singing continued. He concentrated on the song and found out that the lyrics had changed slightly.

“Welcome to the Hotel California. Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face They livin’ it up at the Hotel California What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise) Bring your alibis”

What the hell was going on? He remembered Keres had asked to follow the song. He picked up the phone again but it was dead. He got out of bed and opened the door. The hallway was deserted but the singing voices grew louder as if some sort of party was in full swing. He followed the sound and discovered that it was coming from the other corridor, the one opposite to where he was. He felt a little uneasy but he had to find Keres.

He checked his watch. It was almost 3 am. He crossed the merged staircase and made his way to the right section of the building. He opened the door and found the corridor empty but the voices grew louder. Was someone playing music in their room? He followed the singing to its source and his flashlight beam found a door marked:

WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA!

He lightly tapped on the door but there was no response. He tapped again, a little louder this time. No answer again. He decided to be bold and turned the knob. As he flung the door open, the singing immediately subsided and everything went quiet.

He was in a sizable room that made him think of a ballroom in a fairy-tale. The room appeared brightly illuminated but he didn’t see too many candlesticks. There seemed to be more illumination coming from the ceiling and he was startled to see that the ceiling was made up of many small mirrors that made it look like a compound eye of an insect. The room had many sets of round tables with several chairs on the periphery, leaving the empty centre in a circular shape. At the far end of the room, there appeared to be a bar and he could see a figure stretching to reach a bottle in the topmost self.

“Won’t you join me?” invited Keres, placing the bottle on the table.

He moved closer and saw that Keres was no longer wearing the uniform; instead, she was clad in a glamorous full-length, black cocktail dress featuring an off-shoulder design with a thigh slit.

“Are you okay?” he asked her frantically. “I heard your message on the phone.”

“What message?” she said in the same matter of fact voice, pouring pink champagne into a fancy looking glass full of ice.

“What’s going on? Are you in some sort of trouble,” he pressed in a concerned voice looking straight into her eyes.

She ignored his question and said: “Here,” sliding the glass towards him.

“I don’t want a drink. I want answers,” he blurted, raising his voice.

“Oh! Honey, don’t we all,” she murmured.

This was definitely not the woman he had kissed earlier.

“Where are all the people who were singing?” he challenged.

She just smiled mysteriously and this infuriated him and he knocked over the delicate glass full of ice and the pink liquid with his hand. The glass did not break and he noticed for the first time that every inch of the floor was covered with a thick red carpet. She calmly took out a second glass from the counter and poured it with another measure of pink champagne.

“Calm yourself and drink this,” she said in the same composed voice.

He had always hated hearing the words “Calm down” especially when he was angry and this infuriated him even further.

Controlling his temper, he said: “Trust me, this…,” he said pointing at his face, “….is me being calm. You wouldn’t want to see me when I’m not”

She smiled enigmatically again and said: “I know a killer when I see one.”

He was baffled. So she knew. But it didn’t matter, not anymore

“Where are the people?” he asked again through gritted teeth.

“There are waiting for the feast, in the master’s chamber, over there,” she said, pointing at a solid wooden door in the far corner, near the bar.

“What master? What feast?” he barked, feeling irritated.

“Come with me,” she said, stretching her long slender arm towards him. He ignored her hand and she put it down before walking towards the door.

She knocked three times and a voice said: “Come in!”

Candle lights also illuminated this space but the illumination was weaker and he could barely make out the contours of the chamber. The room appeared unfurnished save for a table in the centre occupied by…he did a quick headcount…nine people.

“Please join us,” said the same voice, a middle-aged man looking extremely dapper in a grey suit, pointing at two empty seats opposite him.

They sat down and on closer inspection, he saw that Keres was the only lady in the room; the others were all formally dressed men of various ages. The table was laden with plates, goblets and cutlery but no food. This made him think of the feasts in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

“Okay!” said the same man, “Arm yourselves!”

Everyone picked up sharp kitchen knives and Keres handed him one.

“Okay! Bring her in,” commanded the same man, looking a little apprehensive.

A couple of men dressed in long white robes walked out of the shadows from the corner of the room. They were frogmarching an unconscious figure between them. This person was definitely female as the contours of her body were easily visible in the black cotton dress she was wearing. However, her head was completed covered by a black hood.

“What the hell is happening?” he whispered, feeling completely confounded.

“You’ll see soon enough,” she said.

The two men marched past the table and disappeared into the darkness. A short while later, a light flickered, one of the men had lit a fire torch. In the illumination, he saw that that section of the room looked like a medieval torture chamber with an array of devices to cause torment. He could identify the Iron Maiden and a rack for stretching the body. The two men took their quarry towards the wall, which was equipped with restraints for the limbs as well as the head. After putting the woman in the restraints, one of them picked up a wooden bucket and splashed the woman’s whole body with what appeared to be water.

The woman regained consciousness almost instantly as she gasped and spluttered.

“Stab the Beast! Stab the Beast,” everyone started chanting in unison.

“Let him do the honours,” said someone, pointing at him, and there were nods and murmurs of agreement.

Keres gave him a different knife and he was startled to see that he had seen it before.

“Go and inflict the first wound,” she commanded.

“No,” he said.

“Do it! Do it now,” she said in an assertive voice.

“No, I don’t want to kill anyone anymore,” he shouted.

“You will when you see her face,” she said.

Before he could ask what she meant, one of the woman’s captors removed the hood and it was her….

The memories he had been trying to repress broke all barriers and flooded his mind as if he was watching a movie in 4k resolution. He had been naïve and desperately in love with her. She had told him that it would be their last job and it would be a piece of cake. The job, however, would make them rich…very very rich. How could he have been so greedy and so foolish? The target along with his family had been carefully monitored for months and the plans for the job had been pedantically planned. Just a week before the job, she had insisted on bringing along her buddy, Aldrich as an extra set of eyes.

It was a cold moonless night when they visited the victim’s residence. The alarm system had been disabled and all the keys had been duplicated. Dressed in black from head to toe, the three of them had slipped inside the residence like ghosts. They quietly but confidently made their way to the upper levels of the two-storied house, the interiors of the residence imprinted on their minds. They knew the house would be empty for the night and they knew where the hidden safe was and what was in the safe. The crime would be victimless and they knew that their quarry would never call the police because the item in question was of a sensitive nature and not quite legal. But it was worth a lot of money and they already had a buyer lined up, one of her contacts. They tiptoed into one of the smaller rooms on the second floor and easily located the hidden safe behind the false wall of the closet. They didn’t know the combination of the safe but that was his speciality and the reason why he was there. He carefully took out a stethoscope and pressed his ear against the heavy old fashioned safe. He slowly turned the dial clockwise carefully listening to all the subtle sounds it made. This was like playing the guitar; he instantly knew when he hit the wrong notes…well, the right one in this instance. He heard an audible click and she gave him a light pat on the back. He now turned the dial in the other direction and soon enough he heard another click. One more click and they could retire in luxury drinking mojitos in a Caribbean island until they went toes up. The last click took longer than expected and he could sense their impatience. The last click sounded like Beethoven’s fifth symphony to his ears as the safe opened and he saw the two identical illegal objects. She gave a muffled cry of joy and bent down to kiss him.

Suddenly the lights were switched on and they were horribly exposed. However, they could easily make a run for it as their identities were concealed by their black balaclavas.

“M***********r,” he heard Aldrich curse.

He turned around and suddenly froze. Aldrich, the dim-witted oaf, had taken off his balaclava, presumably thinking that they wouldn’t be spotted, as they had disabled all the CCTV cameras and banked on the house being empty. Now he was staring straight at Mrs White, who instantly recognised him as he had been at the residence several times pretending to be a pest control worker.

“Al..Aldrich,” she stammered, understanding dawning on her wrinkled face.

He didn’t know what to do and before he could decide, Aldrich produced an SP-1 combat knife and sank it deep into the old woman’s belly. The old woman screams were cut short as Aldrich covered her mouth with one of his big hands. He was paralysed with shock and fear and stood there for several seconds as Aldrich masked his face again and began wiping the blood on his knife. There was so much blood and he felt queasy as the life drained away from the poor old woman. However, his queasiness was short-lived and replaced by anger.

“What the f**k did you do that for, you moron?” he fumed.

“She saw my face,” he said innocently as if he’d just been caught stealing money from a piggy bank.

“No S**t,” he blurted.

“I thought this job would be victimless. What the f**k do we do now?”

“We proceed as planned,” she answered in a calm voice.

“I don’t remember us planning to cover up a homicide,” he said.

“Relax,” said Aldrich, “we’ll make it look like a robbery gone wrong.”

The matter of fact tone in Aldrich’s voice made him madder but he tried to put a lid on his temper.

“But before we proceed to do that, hand me the loot,” he demanded.

“Excuse me! Who died and elected you the f*****g Pope?” he said.

“Give me the f*****g loot Chaz,” he threatened.

“Or else what?” he challenged.

“Give it to him babe,” she said.

“What? No! Why should I?”

“Enough of this nonsense Chaz,” he snarled. “Give me the loot or else….,” he waved his knife menacingly pointing at Mrs White’s body.

“I told you it was a mistake to bring this moron along,” he snapped at her.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Chaz,” she leered and he finally understood everything. She had just been using him for his safecracking abilities. She and the moron were obviously a team, maybe even lovers and now they were planning to double-cross him. His suspicions were soon confirmed as they kissed him passionately.

“Do you get it now, my credulous friend,” he mocked.

He was suddenly consumed by such a sense of incandescent rage that he felt something inside him snap.

“Get it then, b*****s, if you can,” he said, holding up the pack, in an icy voice that chilled the whole room.

He was not a fighter and he avoided confrontations whenever possible but now he felt confident as if he had been a highly trained assassin all his life. He foresaw Aldrich’s moves even before he made them. Aldrich was a big beefy guy who relied on his strength and he knew his attacks would be straightforward. As if to acknowledge his thoughts, Aldrich charged him like a bull, his knife hand raised over his head to inflict maximum damage. He easily dodged and used his own momentum against him, sending him crashing into the cupboard.

But Aldrich recovered quickly and with an unexpected bout of speed, he slashed out with the combat knife. He managed to just get out of the way but Aldrich threw a vicious punch that connected painfully on the right side of his ribs. He felt winded but regained his balance. Aldrich came at him again, this time trying to stab him. He dodged again and this time, before Aldrich could launch another attack, he left elbowed Aldrich, right on the face, using his right hand to exert maximum force. There was a sickening thud and Aldrich bellowed; his face covered in blood. Before Aldrich could recover and plan his next mode of attack, Chaz retrieved a crowbar from his backpack and brought it down on Aldrich’s right arm with all his might. This time there was a cracking sound followed by a clang as he dropped the knife and howled in pain.

As he was picking up the knife something crashed painfully over his head and he felt momentarily dazed. He realised that she had smashed a china vase on his head. Aldrich, despite his broken nose and right arm, launched a final attack kicking the knife out of his hand. He then used his left hand to choke him and he was surprised to see that Aldrich still had so much strength. He began to desperately punch Aldrich’s sides but his blows were weak and failed to make any impact. Chaz’s hand then found something and without thinking twice he jabbed the object into Aldrich’s ribs. Aldrich screamed and his grip finally loosened. He picked up the broken piece of china and sank it into Aldrich muscular neck with all the energy he could muster. Blood spurted out like water from a broken faucet as Aldrich’s made a horrible gurgling sound before going silent.

The silence was soon punctured by a blood-curdling scream that hurt his ears.

“You killed him. You killed him,” she screamed.

He bent down and picked up the knife.

“Don’t come near me,” she warned.

He approached her slowly and she became transfixed, with her eyes on the knife.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she burst out, her voice shaking with fear.

“I’m sure you are,” he said, in a rancorous voice and raised the knife like a cobra ready to strike.

But he couldn’t do it. As he watched her looking vulnerable and pitiful, her hands trying raised trying to protect herself like a child, he realised that he loved her, maybe it was a one-sided romance but he still loved her and he couldn’t imagine hurting a single hair on her head. This realisation suddenly lifted the trance like state he was in and brought him back to his usual self. He looked at what he had done and what he was about to do and felt horrified and disgusted with himself. He felt like ending his life right then and there but he felt his self-preservation instinct kick in.

She finally put her hands down and looked at him fearfully then after carefully studying his face, she began shouting incoherently but he managed to make out some words like:

“MONSTER!”

“MURDERER!”

“FIEND!”

He then saw her take out her phone and talk to someone. It was the police. She began telling them that he had murdered two people in cold blood. He wasn’t sure how she was going to explain what she and Aldrich had been doing there but she didn’t care anymore. He picked up his pack and left.

He was suddenly brought back to his current surroundings when the whole room started chanting

“Kill the Beast! Kill the Beast.”

She was gagged but he saw the same terrified face as before and her eyes seemed to be pleading: “Don’t kill me, Don’t kill me.”

He realised that a part of him had joined in the chanting but, just like before, he couldn’t do it and the compact knife slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a clanging sound.

“I can’t do it,” he said and the chanting subsided.

“Oh yes, you will,” said Keres, and to his utter amazement, he saw her holding a knife at the throat of her doppelganger.

“Mr Erkin, Meet Aurora, the girl you’ve obviously fallen for.”

He was too stunned to speak.

“So the choice is simple, Mr Erkin,” she continued in the same velvet voice. “Kill your ex or see Aurora die.”

He remained silent.

“Hurry up Mr Erkin, we don’t have all night,” she urged, pressing the blade closer to Aurora’s throat until beads of blood appeared on her pale skin.

“Okay! Stop,” he said in a defeated tone.

“I’ll do it.”

He picked up the combat knife and looked at her. She looked pitiful but he had no choice, he couldn’t let Aurora die. He picked up the knife and drove it deep into her belly. To his disbelief, she didn’t scream or show any signs of discomfort. The others all joined in but she still didn’t make any noise. He didn’t know what was happening but he didn’t care. He saw Keres let go of Aurora and join the crowd. He ran towards Aurora.

“Are you okay?” he asked, examining her throat.

“Yes,” she whispered and hugged him.

He heard someone shout

“No! No! No! The beast can’t be killed”

He didn’t hang around to find out what he meant by that and taking Aurora’s hand, he tore out of the room. They ran out of the chamber and kept on running until they were at the bottom of the steps. They reached the main entrance but it was bolted shut. He tried the other doors and windows but all were shut.

He picked up a wooden chair and threw it towards one of the French windows and there was a terrific crash as the glass and frame smashed. He carefully guided her out before following suit. They ran until they reached the main gate.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said but she hesitated and looked scared.

“What’s wrong?” he enquired and saw someone step out of the shadows.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Relax!” said the figure in a deep voice adding “I’m the night man.”

“Step aside, night man” he warned.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he said, regretfully.

“You see we are programmed to receive you. You can check out any time you like. But you can never leave,” he concluded and hit Chaz hard in the head with a blunt object.

Aurora’s concerned face was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

He woke up feeling cold and uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and saw a stretch of the gloomy overcast sky. He felt disoriented and struggled to remember where he was. He was fully dressed and his pack was on the ground beside him. Where the hell was he? He recalled that he had been having a vivid dream or maybe a nightmare. But the details were fragmented, like water slipping away from a cupped hand. He got up and looked around and saw he was outside a massive gate. He got up slowly and read the huge sign:

HOTEL CALIFORNIA MEMORIAL

Dedicated to the victims of the Hotel California Satanist Cult massacre

As soon as he read this, the memories returned and he ran inside the compound yelling, “Aurora” at the top of his voice. However, he noticed that the interior of the compound was different as all he could see were rows and rows of identical-looking graves. One caught his eye. It read:

AURORA SUMMERS

DAUGHTER, SISTER AND FRIEND

1940 – 1969

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes and through his blurred vision; he noticed a familiar-looking tape recorder nearby. He pushed play and was not surprised to hear the same tune again.