The Hotel at the End of Time

Chapter 2 - Roman tries to escape.

Roman looked up as the Wyatt pulled Vain off the roof. He reached out and yelled, "No!" ineffectually before she vanished.

"Holy crap," one of the Wyatts exclaimed. He rushed to the ledge and peered over. The other followed and let out a low whistle. From far below, the sounds of car alarms and people screaming floated to the top of the building.

"The amount of blood in the human body has always surprised me," the Wyatt said. "You think you have a handle on how much eight liters is, but then it's splashed across the pavement and you realize it's quite the amount." He shook his head. "One of life's miracles."

Roman tried to block out what he was hearing. There would be time to mourn later. He suspected grieving over Vain's death would soon become the singular focus of his life, but that was a problem for a different time. For now, he had to escape. With Vain and the Padlock gone, he was useless to the Wyatts, which meant he was disposable.

Both Wyatts stood peering over the edge of the roof with their backs to him. His entire body ached from the beating they'd given him, but he lurched to his feet on drunken legs and dashed for the door that led into the building.

He made it about two feet before falling.

"Oh. Hey," one of the Wyatts said. "We're not done with you. Stop trying to escape."

Roman ignored them and crawled towards the door. Footsteps crunched behind him, and something hit him in the back of the neck with enough force to knock him stupid.

"When I say stop trying to escape, that means stop moving," the Wyatt said. "Just a heads up for next time."

"What an asshole," said the other. "Some people. Get him tied up while I figure out what to do next." Their voices drifted into Roman's consciousness as if from a great distance.

"It was your bright idea to force them into a corner. I told you to wait. We could have come at them as a group."

"I'm not the idiot who threatened her."

"That idiot is now dead in a park with half his head missing, so he got what he deserved."

"What an absolute disaster." For several moments, the only noise perceptible to Roman was the labored sound of his own breathing. The Wyatts continued talking.

"We have to report what happened."

"I hate it when we die. Really makes you think about what it all means, you know?"

"Do we get health insurance?"

"I'm almost positive we don't."

"Well, what if the one on the ground is only mangled, with broken limbs and permanent spinal damage or whatever? That could get awkward."

"That human slurry on the ground seems dead to me."

"What if he's not? I don't want to picture myself being fed through a tube. That's a grim insight into my own mortality that I don't need."

"I'm sure Trick will work something out."

Even through his haze, the name Trick jolted Roman to awareness. He rolled over to better see the Wyatts standing over him, continuing their conversation. Trick was Arthur's second in command, and if he had taken an interest, it meant serious trouble. It was one thing to have the Wyatts after you. It was another to deal with Trick.

"We weren't supposed to kill them," the other Wyatt said. "Trick was perfectly clear on that point. Do not, under any circumstances, kill the girl."

"What if we were never here?"

"You mean, get rid of this one altogether? It won't work. They can't suddenly be off the grid. Trick knows we were on their tail. He'll never buy it."

"Shit. Well, let's grab him and go from there."

"Yeah." The Wyatt looked around. "Man, this is a disaster. No Padlock and two of us dead. Trick will be livid. You know what he'll say? He'll say, 'How is it that four of you couldn't stop a single girl and her walking solar panel?'"

They continued to argue, but Roman forced himself to ignore them and look for a way out. They were going to take him back to Trick. He'd almost rather be dead. He feared the Hotel; Trick terrified him.

What would Vain do? She'd make some obscure movie reference before effortlessly inventing some plan to save them all. She was brilliant and unstoppable, but he was only him; simple, harmless Roman. A battery. That's what the Wyatts called the Conduits, both to their face and behind their backs. Bags of meat that generated energy; energy that provided no value unless the Utility was there to pull it out.

If Vain taught him anything, it was that you didn't stop fighting until you were dead, and he wasn't dead yet. Options always existed. All he needed was a distraction; something to take the Wyatts' focus off him. Then, he would break for the door, maybe hide in a washroom or something.

But what to use? There. That electrical wire dangling above the roof. It looked frayed, and he could-

One of the Wyatts lumbered close, packaged him up, and zip-tied his arms behind his back.

Oh.

"Come on," said the Wyatt. "Pick up the battery and we'll take him to the safe house."

They dragged him to his feet. His ribs groaned in protest, and his knee gave an alarming click. He leaned against the Wyatt, and his face flushed in hot shame. He wrestled himself from the Wyatt's grip and stumbled away. Sadly, also away from the door, but any port in a storm.

"Jesus Christ." The Wyatt sighed behind him. Something struck him on the back of the leg and he dropped to his knees. The Wyatt grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, fist cocked to deliver another punch. Roman shut his eyes, bracing himself for the blow.

He waited.

"I think if I punch him again, it'll kill him," the Wyatt said.

Roman peeked through a single eye.

The Wyatt leaned forward. "Buddy, you don't look so good. I think you have a concussion. Can you stop being a douchebag for a second? We've got stuff to deal with here and you're not helping. Why don't you sit there and cling to consciousness while we figure our shit out?"

Roman lashed out with a vicious headbutt. The Wyatt moved away and Roman fell forward onto his face.

"Okay. He's not going to stop. I'm putting him out. We'll carry him downstairs and get out of here. Cops are coming soon, anyway."

Something sharp pinched the back of his leg. A needle.His vision swam and darkened, and the last thing he heard was, "Jesus, what anasshole."