Behind Door Number 12

Part 10: Reckoning

I gave Siska a minute to settle back into her chair before I carried on.

'Jane was as aloof as she'd always been, even as I studied her with a blatant scowl. Slowly, she retrieved her reservation book from the shelf and flicked through the pages.

"Hum... there's a note from the intern yesterday. It says he should have left with the nurse...should have been picked up around 3pm...but I can't see on the bottom if there's..."

"What? Who? What is it you can't see?" I stammer.

"Well," she says—"we don't seem to have a check-out confirmation for Brother Z"

"Brother?"

"Yes, Pam, he's a Franciscan monk. You follow?"

"Yes"

Jane continues. "He lived here in his youth, for many years, before the war." She checks today's page, softly singing to herself, while I fix her with murder on my mind.

I check behind me towards the breakfast tables. "Okay; Jane—you need to find out if this Brother Z is here now," I say, "for your own records and peace of mind—because I didn't see any other guests at breakfast."

"Oh no," she answers, "he wouldn't come out for breakfast. Our dear brother is in the final stages of lung cancer...Death, literally at his heels. He's on a special diet and schedule. Anyway, he's going into a hospice now. Since his arrival, he has spent every night here praying."

Siska cleared her throat and rubbed her temples before making eye-contact with me. 'Right...but what about the broken picture of Mary in your room?'

'Under the rug,' I said, sweeping the air. 'At this point, that detail seemed irrelevant because: a. I reasoned that the hellish snarls were the agonizing wheeze of a dying man, b. the laughter could have been some prayers...lamented out loud because he thought he was the only guest at the hotel.'

'OK, then Brother Z had to have been awake,' said Siska, narrowing her eyes.

'That's precisely what I told myself over and over again; that this man was my visitor, that the  "sounds" I heard were human...' 

'Just not on the same wavelength as those of a healthy person,' said Siska, still deep in thought.

'Then I felt very angry with Jane again,' I said, putting my glasses back on. 'I mean...what this frail, old man must have experienced when he went to check on the same crash-bangs as me...and then he hears my furniture—moving on its own—in room 12!''

'So then what made you change your mind back?'

'To what?'

Siska furrowed her brow. 'You admitted earlier that this story has no rational ending. So what took you from this neat, little explanation...to something paranormal?'

For a moment, words failed me. Until Siska's hand reached out to my shoulder and squeezed it. 'Go on,' she said, with a warm tone.

I looked at her benevolent face and breathed deep, pealing the layers of time to give her what remained of my story. 'I... expressed regret over Brother Z's condition to Jane and we exchanged goodbyes...then I walked out the door. 

Outside, I saw this ash-grey, skeletal being. He was observing a broken branch that had been hit by lightning. I realised this could have been my charred remains, if I hadn't remained inside the hotel the night before. 

Then, I got closer, and as I did, I could hear the grey man wheeze very deeply.'

'Did you talk to Brother Z?' said Siska, reaching the right conclusion.

'No need,' I explained. 'Our eyes met and, while I saw a little surprise in them, there was no sign that Brother Z was looking for me...or any explanation to any mysteries regarding the hotel.'

'Interesting,' said Siska. 'Logically, if he'd experienced the same events you had, you think you'd be able to see it on his face.' 

'Agreed. That's why I looked over my shoulder and observed him for a while. But there was no relief at seeing me.'

'What did you do next?' 

'I decided not to engage in conversation with him. Instead, I pretended to text while remaining close-by. I couldn't help wonder how Brother Z could have skulked alone in the dark, to travel up and down the only bridge between the hotel's floors, and made his way to loiter behind my door without a lot of help. And without his wheelchair,' I mumbled. 

Siska inhaled sharply but I remained on course.

'I remember that footsteps caught up from behind me and I see Jane, rushing towards Brother Z. She says, "Morning, Brother, how was your night?"

He chokes back at her and she nods as if it's perfectly clear. "Glad you slept through the night," she said, "the ground suite is so much better than the 12—though I know it was your request. I knew a monk's room wouldn't do in your condition."

I stop in my tracks.

Slept through the night...Much better than 12...

Much better than the room where I stayed, where he was SUPPOSED to stay.

Jane's words come back to me. "Death is literally at his heels..."

I gave Siska a piercing look. Her stretched brows reached the rim of her fringe. 

'The folklore expert's response was in my inbox the minute I gained my desk,' I said. 'She'd translated the story that was among the papers—the hotel's coordinates outlined what the villagers believe to be a sort of free zone; a place where spirits could be seen. The older they were, the more visible and real they appeared, and they could be spoken to while they wandered about as they pleased, within those parameters.

According to the manuscript, I had just spent the night in the only place on earth where one can interact with Death itself.'

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Bye for now!

Sage

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