The light doesn't bring the relief I thought it would. I feel exposed, walking through it. Like every eldritch eye in Ocean House is watching me from the shadows. Footsteps from above the ceiling. I'm used to them now, and after the axe and the severed head fake out it's going to take more than some rustling in the dark to scare me. I keep moving forward, the floor cold and damp against my bare feet.
I wish I still had my gun.
It isn't long before I find my way back towards my cement cradle. Hopefully the last time I ever see it.
I turn the corner and find the elevator door already open, car waiting for me to step on board. Cute.
The car rumbles upward on rusting cables, thunder barely audible above the noise. I swear I can almost hear the Carpenters playing softly through the elevator's long broken speakers. The rumbling comes to a sudden halt, and there's a cheerful ping as the doors slide open.
I step off onto the hardwood floor.
There's a clang and a squeal of metal as the doors shut behind me and the car lurches downward again, descending empty into the abyss. Odd that the house, or the ghost, or the whatever seems to be helping me now. Maybe there's more than one? Jack Nicholson and Danny Lloyd battling over their lives and my survival.
Not to sound unappreciative of my benefactor, but I don't think Danny has much of a chance. I turn the corner and find myself standing on the second story that overlooks the hotel lobby that I'd come in. A round about way of getting here that I can't say I'm glad I took, but at least I'm here.
I'm halfway towards the landing when I see it, flickering across the way like an image on a scrambled tv screen.
A second later and it's gone. I hesitate for a moment before dashing across the landing towards where she was. If one of the ghosts
is helping me then I feel pretty safe ruling out the axe murderer.
There's an ethereal chill that creeps up my legs and across my back as I near the table. Whoever she is, she's still here. I can feel her watching me, can almost feel her breathing down my neck.
The woman... or maybe she's one of the little girls from the murders... begins to drift away. I drop the paper back on the table and head down the hallway after her.
There's a flash of lightning from outside and the grandfather clock against the wall begins chiming. I near the first room on the left and gently push the double doors open.
The grandfather clock chimes ten as I make my way into the hotel room.
Children's toys scattered on the floor. They shouldn't be here, one of the half dozen construction crews that have tried to renovate this place would have carried them off by now. One of the drawings is charred on the edges, just like the papers. The grandfather clock chimes fourteen.
The whisper is soft, almost frightened. A little boy. It's coming from behind me.
Someone's at the door.
The lights go out. I hear the door slam. The air gets hot, like the room's on fire. I hear chopping, peeling. A scream in the distance. The door slams open and the lights go back on.
No. I'm not leaving.
I'm not leaving and you can't scare me anymore. I know what you did, know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let it stay that way. Therese can go to hell for all I care, I'm going to pry whatever it is that's so damn precious to you out of your undead claws and I'm going to make sure you're
destroyed.
I know your kind, monster, and I know that you're the one who's scared of me.
I head back into the hallway and from the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of something flickering in the distance.
She doesn't move until I'm almost on top of her, and even then she just points a faded hand towards the door, never looks up, never says a word. Then she's gone. I pry the handle on the door.
Must have been a fire. Might not be related to the murders, but probably is.
There's a make-shift wooden covering over a hole in the floor. I'm not exactly eager to go
down again, but I think it's what the girl wants me to do. I kneel down and pry the boards loose. It takes some effort and I don't think I could have done it if it weren't for my condition, but I manage to clear the opening.
Looks like the hotel bar. Against my better judgment, I swing my legs over the edge and jump down.
I land easily on the floor. It's darker in here, the only light coming from the display stand behind the bar. There's another newspaper clipping, dated a few days after the others.
The only other thing in the bar that isn't a dead end is the dumbwaiter on the far end.
I hope to god it goes up.