Enigma

Chapter Five

When Bailey woke up he couldn't breathe very well. His chest felt like it was being crushed. The hair tickling his chin and legs tangled up in his told him it was.

"Foster, get off," he grunted. His limbs felt too heavy to move the boy, and his headache made him not want to.

Foster must have been in a similar state because he only grunted back. His arm gave a little jerk, but other than that he seemed much more comfortable than Bailey was beneath him.

He tried to deal with it for a bit. And then he had to pee, or maybe throw up. Or both. So he turned with his whole body until he was on top of Foster, and then spilled off the bed feet first.

The carpet between his toes was softer than he was expecting. He ended up just standing there, flexing his feet and rolling back onto his heels. He decided to drag his feet through the carpet as he walked around the bed.

Bailey gripped onto the bed and then the wall to keep his balance. The first door he checked was a closet, empty except for an extra blanket and pillow. The sight made him look back at the rest of the room. Was this a hotel? But it looked too homely for that, and the carpet was nice, and it would have been a really small hotel room.

The only other door led to a hallway, so Bailey went to search for a bathroom. The hallway had tall ceilings, wooden floors and only a few doors that were spread widely apart. Left was a deadend, so Bailey turned right.

He knocked on every door before peaking inside. Most were bedrooms, one was a linen closet. Still no bathroom. He almost considered using the window at the end of the hall to relieve himself, but it wasn't one that could open.

The hall again split both left and right, but neither were a deadend. They each branched off at the end, and the one on the right had another branch in the middle of it. This building was a lot bigger than the room he woke up in made it out to be.

How could there be so many bedrooms and not a single bathroom? If he ever met the owner, or the architect, he was going to tell them they had terrible planning skills for practicality.

The rooms down the right hall weren't bedrooms. There was what looked like a kid's playroom and a study space. One led to a movie room and another was for gaming—board and electronics.

Now he was convinced this was some sort of fun house for kids. Maybe some glamping place for white collar families whose parents wanted to get away for a weekend? Or maybe it was a five star hotel.

At some point, his tired body forgot he was looking for a bathroom and just got curious about what else he would find. Honestly, he probably passed over ensuite bathrooms as he just peeked into ballet dance studios, music studios, and even a library.

And then at some point, when he finally did find just a bathroom, Bailey realized that he had turned a lot of corridors and had no idea how to get back to where he woke up with Foster.

But he was tired. And maybe still a little drunk. So instead of looking, he laid down on the cool, wooden floor and went to sleep.

"Bailey?"

His shoulder hit against the floor, a large hand pressing down on it.

"Bailey, wake up."

Monte was bent at the waist. He was dressed in a blue pin-stripe shirt, tucked into navy blue dress pants. His arm was extended, shaking Bailey's shoulder until the young man's eyes opened.

"Bailey." He let his arm still. "Do you sleep walk?"

Bailey sat up and rubbed his eyes. Monte stood just in front of him, and took his hands when the man offered to help him up. "No. I woke up earlier. What time is it?"

Monte checked his watch. "A bit past eleven. Do you need to be somewhere?"

"Uhm..." Bailey racked his head for what day it was. "No. No, but Foster does. At one."

"Alright. Foster is downstairs having breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Bailey practically moaned. He followed when Monte started down the hall. "How'd you find me? This place is like a maze."

Monte frowned at him and knocked on a particular door when they passed it. "That's the room you woke up in, Bailey. Where'd you go when you woke up?"

"Everywhere. Do you have any Advil? Tylenol?"

"Yeah. It's with Foster, actually."

They only had to turn two corners before they came to a large set of stairs, and Bailey had to wonder if he had dreamed the whole thing. It was right in the middle of everything, with a huge wrap around balcony looking down onto the next floor.

"Do you like french toast?" Monte asked. He took out his phone when it chimed.

"Yes."

"Good. Uh, there's some fruits too, and some yogurt." They went through a swinging door, and suddenly it was harder for Bailey to keep up as he took in the giant kitchen. "Sorry," Monte said as he closed his phone, but it chimed again right away. "What juice do you want?"

The kitchen made him think he could ask for anything. He stayed simple though, so he wouldn't seem so assuming. "Orange juice?"

"Sure." Another swinging door, and then they reached the dining room.

Foster was in the middle of the long table, surrounded by a feast. He was nearly scarfing down his food, barely waiting to swallow one bite before filling his mouth with the next. "Hey, Bailey." He spat food onto the table while he spoke.

Once Bailey saw the food, he wanted to do the same thing. Minus the spitting.

"Alright, I'll call you both a car that will be here at twelve-thirty. For now, go ahead and enjoy some breakfast." Monte seemed distracted by his phone still, but neither boy seemed to care. "Foster, give Bailey some of the medicine. I'm so sorry, I'll make it up to you, but I've got to go. Uhm, goodbye."

He jogged out of the room in a rush.

Bailey watched him go with furrowed brows, but wasn't too concerned. He was much more interested by the breakfast he sat in front of. "Bye!"

Foster gave a gurgled grunt with a mouthful of fruit. "Thanks, Monte." Then he waited until the man was far enough away before nudging Bailey. "Did you see the gaming room?"

"Binge after breakfast?"

"Done."