Lurking

Part 1: The Curfew

"You will be in room five fifteen," the secretary told Steve as she handed him a key card to his room. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks," Steve said with artificial enthusiasm. To be truthful, he was dreading this trip. Having just graduated from college, he was on the hunt for a job, and, after finally getting an interview at a furniture store, had to drive sixteen hours to a neighboring state, and now must stay at a hotel for five days. He was running out of money, as his parents had given him a couple thousand dollars and then cut him off, so he needed to find work fast.

He took the stairs to the fifth floor and entered his room. It wasn't anything special, just a small room with a single bed, night table, a TV sitting on a large dresser across from the bed, and a few lamps. A door near the room entrance led to a tiny bathroom. No wonder this place was only thirty dollars a night.

As he got all his luggage settled in, he noticed large red letters on the back of his key card. It read in all caps "10PM CURFEW. GUESTS ARE NOT TO LEAVE THEIR ROOMS AFTER THE DESIGNATED TIME UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES UNTIL 6AM."

Strange, Steve thought silently. I wonder if it's a sleep disruption thing, or if the janitors clean the halls at night.

The rumbling of Steve's stomach cut into his thoughts. He hadn't eaten since before the drive, and though he didn't realize it until now, hunger was gnawing away at his stomach. Sick of driving, he decided to walk to an Arby's he had seen a few blocks away.

As Steve left his room, he noticed more large red signs scattered throughout the tan hall walls that he hadn't seen when he entered. They varied slightly, though all conveyed the same general message that you must not leave your room from the hours of 10PM to 6AM.

Seeing as it was only 7PM, Steve shelved the curfew thoughts for later and focused on his hunger and stretching out his driving-tensed muscles.

Always having a fear of elevators, Steve decided to take the stairway down to the first floor. As he began his descent, he noticed more curfew messages planted on the walls under the LED lamps that lined the stairwell. Damn, they must really take this seriously.

A faint clicking sound broke into Steve's thoughts, coming from somewhere below. At first he thought it was his imagination, but hearing it again canceled that theory.

Once he reached ground level, Steve realized the strange noise was coming from the dark area behind the stairs, where the gray carpet changed to tile. A bit unnerved now, he turned on his phone light and crept behind the stairs. The clicking sound was much louder now, similar to the noise made when a person clicks their tongue, although it had a strange, inhuman tone to it, something Steve couldn't describe in words.

As he shined his light at the floor in the darkest corner, there was a large rectangle that looked as if it had been carved in the tile. The clicking sound continued from under it. What the... looks like some kind of trapdoor, but there's no handle. Probably some kind of machine. Shrugging, Steve exited the building and began the walk to Arby's.

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An hour had passed by the time Steve made it back to the hotel. He had waited an exceptionally long time to get his food due to a line, but it was all worth satisfying his hunger.

Steve ate his roast beef sandwich and watched some TV, getting all comfortable on his bed. It had been a long day, and he just wanted to wind down. He texted his parents and told them he'd arrived safely and was going to bed soon.