Ghosts, Part I

Welcome to the Nine Hotel.

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ Althea was looking out the window, nose so close to the glass that they were almost touching. She raised a hand and touched her fingertips to the cool glass. There was no answer from behind her.

‘I do,’ said Althea without waiting for an answer. ‘All sorts of ghosts out there.’ She pressed her hand against the glass and looked at the handprint that remained behind. Her pale blue eyes kept straying back to what was outside the window. Even through the glass she could smell fire and burning flesh. There was less screaming today.

‘In here, too,’ she added. There was a muffled groan behind her. She finally turned from the window, the light from outside highlighting her profile against the darkened room. She wore black jeans and a black tank top. Her skin was pale, made paler by the striking contrast with her platinum blonde bob. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she surveyed the room.

‘It’s a nice hotel,’ she said conversationally, against all outward appearances. Althea ran her fingertips up and down the abominable green wallpaper, patterned and repulsive and peeling at the edges. ‘I grew up here, I think,’ she said with a frown. ‘The past is a ghost, too.’

There was a muffled shriek. Crossing the room, Althea approached a large, muscular man in a suit. He was tied to a wooden chair, and had a blue sock in his mouth. His thick legs jerked against the twine binding his feet. His wrists were rubbed raw from fighting against the zip ties. 

With a sigh, Althea put her hands on her slender hips. She was wiry, all muscle and bone under pale, smooth skin. She tapped her bare foot against the filthy hotel rug.

‘You’re not listening, are you?’ She tapped him on the nose with her pointer finger. ‘Very rude, Max.’ The man gurgled around the sock. He had a round, red face and a snub nose. There was blood under his chin. ‘If you can stay quiet and pay attention, I’ll take out the gag. But if you start screaming again, I’ll have to hurt you some more. Do you understand?’ Max nodded, eyes slitted with hatred. 

Althea walked around him in a slow circle. Aside from the chair the room was sparsely decorated - just a single bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. A small desk was wedged in the corner. 

‘Ghosts,’ she said again. She went to the bedside table. Laid across it was an assortment of knives, from huge Bowies to sleek stilettos. She picked up a nasty-looking switchblade and flicked it open.

‘Of course, Max, there are all kinds of ghosts.’ A shriek outside made her head turn. Even Max stilled his fidgeting. Gripping the knife in her hand, Althea went back to the window.

‘They’re out there,’ she said. Her breath fogged the window. ‘Different type of ghost. Burning and burning and screaming. They’ll get here one day. They don’t stop.’ Althea smiled at Max, her face suddenly young and open and lovely. ‘And then everything will burn burn burn.’ She spun around in a slow circle and pointed the knife at Max. 

‘You’re a ghost, you know. Even though you’re still breathing. This whole place is a ghost. Even the monsters outside are ghosts. None of this is real. Do you understand?’ She crouched down so she was face to face with Max. She touched the blade to his cheek, below his left eye. ‘Do you understand?’ With a minute gesture, Max shook his head.

‘Good,’ said Althea. She pressed the tip of the knife into the gag. Hooking it on the sharp edge, she pulled the sopping wet sock from his mouth. Max coughed and spat for a moment. Althea flicked the sock away with a grimace. 

‘You’re fucking crazy,’ he said as soon as he could talk. His voice was low and hoarse, like he’d spent some time yelling. 

‘I’ll put the gag right back in,’ Althea said in a sing-song voice. Max’s mouth shut with a click. She sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. ‘Don’t get an attitude. You came to me.’ Max scoffed.

‘Not for this shit,’ he muttered. His face was soaked with thick beads of sweat. Althea made a face.

‘No, of course not. You wanted to get laid. And now you’re laid up.’ Althea’s head twisted to look at the ceiling. ‘Up, up, up.’ 

‘What do you want? What are you going to do with me?’ Althea shrugged one shoulder.

‘Two different questions. Tell me why you’re here.’ Max pushed against his bindings. Althea lit a cigarette and leaned back on the bed. ‘I can wait all night, you know. It’s always night here. Even in daylight it’s dark. So take your time.’

‘When I get out of here-’ he began. Althea cut him off with a ringing peal of laughter.

‘You think anyone is getting out of here?’ She pointed at the window. ‘The world is dead and so are we. We just haven’t figured it out yet.’

‘There’s nothing out there but the highway,’ he said. ‘I think you’re confused.’ Althea blew out a smoke ring and propped her head on one hand.

‘I’m not the one tied up to a chair.’

‘What’s this about?’

‘Why are you here?’ she asked. ‘Tell me why you came to my hotel.’

‘It’s yours?’ Althea shrugged again. 

‘One of us belongs to the other. I was born here. I’ll die here. I’ve never even been outside.’

‘Bullshit.’ Althea laughed, smoke trickling from her nostrils. 

‘Yeah, probably,’ she agreed. ‘Doesn’t matter either way as far as you’re concerned. Right now I am God as far as you’re concerned. So what I say is law. Now, tell me why you’re here before I get bored.’ She spun the knife between two fingers. 

‘I’m a businessman,’ said Max. ‘I’m supposed to meet a client tomorrow at the hotel bar. It’s just business.’ Althea went back to the window. Taking the tip of the knife, she pressed it into her own palm until there was a pinprick of blood.

‘Business,’ she said distantly. ‘I know your business, Mr. Bueler. I know who you are.’ She winked. 

‘How do you know that name?’ asked Max, his face going ashen. 

‘Ghosts,’ said Althea. ‘They whisper to me. Tell me things. She gestured at him with the knife. ‘Told me a lot about you. What you do. Who you are.’ She looked around the room. ‘My room is nicer. I live here, did I tell you that? Home sweet home.’ Althea let out an ugly laugh. 

‘Is this a ransom?’ asked Max. ‘Because I can pay it. Handsomely.’ Althea leaned her face against the cool glass. 

‘No. It’s not a ransom. How long have they been out there, do you think?’ She tapped the glass. ‘There was a time before them. I’m sure of it. But the world’s been on fire for so long, you forget. Memories are dead anyway.’

‘What do you want with me?’ Althea sat down in front of Max and pouted her full lips.Her eyes were lined with black, making the blue even more luminescent. 

‘I don’t want anything from you, Max. I certainly don’t want you. You came here of your own free will. Nobody forced your hand. You made choices and now you’re here.’ She spread her arms. ‘And now so I am. You pulled me into your personal orbit, Max.’

‘What are you, then?’ he sneered. ‘Some angry little girl playing a game? Some sick bitch who gets her kicks from a little painplay?’ Althea laughed, throwing back her head so her hair fell away from her face like water.

‘Oh, Max,’ she said, putting her chin in her palm. ‘What are we going to do with you?’ She knelt down beside the bag and picked up a small black duffel. From it she removed a sleek leather case; within it were a bunch of vials and syringes. Max began to squirm in earnest. 

‘What the shit is that?’ he asked. Althea rolled her eyes. 

‘You’re not paying attention,’ she said. ‘Ghosts. Living people can have ghosts too. We all do.’ She selected a syringe and a vial. Althea filled the syringe with a strange yellow fluid. 

‘You can make other people ghosts without ever killing them, you know,’ she added. Taking the syringe, she gently pressed it against the neck of his skin. She could feel his pulse pounding against the needle. Almost tenderly, she injected the fluid. Max went stock still. Then he bent double and started screaming. Althea pressed her hand over his mouth, knife at his neck.

‘Take it easy, Max,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘This stuff won’t kill you. Not for a while, anyway.’

‘It burns,’ he gasped out against her hand. Althea nodded.

‘A little fire in the veins can focus the mind wonderfully,’ she said. ‘And you, Mr. Bueler, have been a bad guy.’ She sat on his lap facing him. He grunted at her weight, body shuddering with his efforts to stay quiet. 

‘I’m just a businessman,’ he said as calmly as he could. 

‘You’re business is people,’ said Althea and now her voice was as sharp as the butterfly knife she had in her hand. ‘You take people. You sell them and trade them. You destroy them. I know all about you, Max. I know what you are. You’re a ghostmaker. The lucky ones don’t survive. The real ghosts are the ones that have to keep going after what you did to them.’

‘I don’t know-’ The knife slashed across his cheek. He shouted in pain, but Althea’s hand was back over his mouth, muffling his cries.

‘If you keep lying to me I will get very cross,’ she said with a small smile. ‘I don’t want to do that, Mr. Bueler.’

‘What do you want?’ he asked, a trifle desperately. 

‘You didn’t pay attention when you got here, did you?’ asked Althea. She hopped off his lap and tossed her knife in the air and catching it in an almost distracted manner. ‘This place is about getting what you need, not what you want.’ Althea touched the tip of the knife to her lips, tapping them thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know what I need, if I’m being honest. But I know it’s coming. You can smell it like blood in the air. Taste it.’ 

Althea looked at the black watch on her wrist and muttered under her breath. She sat down on the edge of the bed and began lacing up a pair of black motorcycle boots. 

‘What are you doing?’ Max asked. ‘Are you leaving?’ 

‘Need to take care of something,’ said Althea cheerfully. ‘Hate to interrupt our little chat, but I’ll be right back and then we can have some real fun.’ She picked up the dirty sock and jammed it into his mouth. Max grunted and gagged. Althea slapped his cheek.

‘None of that, now,’ she chided him. ‘Not that anyone would help you even if they heard you,’ she added with a little laugh. Max threw his weight against the restraints with renewed energy. Althea watched him with a pitying expression.

‘If you want to wear yourself out, be my guest,’ she said. ‘Put my service to the test. I’ll be right back.’ She patted him on the head. Max shouted behind the sock.