Hotel Terror (Chapter 7 of Story 622)

The alarm clock blared in the semi darkness, an insistent and annoying shrill tone that pierced her dream and startled Lizette awake.  Her heart pounding in that split second before she identified the intrusive sound.  She found the controls and extinguished the alarm.  Quiet returned to the room which was bathed in the a pale blue glow coming through the window.  The neon sign above the restaurant directly across the street and the night sky brightening in the minutes just before dawn cast a faint blue light into the room.  Her head settled back into the pillow allowing her to calm and wake more slowly.  The low light was just enough to make out her surroundings.  At first her eyes lit upon the credenza several feet to her right.  An empty champagne bottle was turned upside down in the polished silver ice bucket set on the matching tray. Two elegantly slender fluted glasses stood at the end of the tray.  The whole thing was precariously close to falling off the edge. Then she saw the high foot post of the massive bed and a bright red sparkling party hat resting on the top, covered by a pair of jockey shorts.  A smile turned the corners of her mouth as awakeness overtook her.  Her arm reached out and touched the warm figure next to her.  It was not a dream. 



She rolled on her side to face him as the images and feelings of the night returned to her.  Robert slept on.    She gazed at him remembering his touch, his gentleness and his passion.  He had taken her on a sensual journey of epic proportions.  Lizette had lost count the number of times she had climaxed, but then maybe, she thought, it was one endless orgasm right from the start.  They had finally fallen asleep in each others arms partly drunk from the wine but mostly from the exhaustion.  They had matched each other stride for stride, move for move, giving and then responding to the ebb and flow of each others desire.  There was a freedom to their lovemaking that was beyond anything she had known before.  It was uncomplicated, pure energy and intimacy.  The mere thought of it made her heart quicken.



His shoulders rose out from under the pure white sheet that covered him and she reached over to touch it, being careful not to make him disappear, just in case he was a dream.  He was not.  Her hand rested gently on him, feeling the heat of his sleeping body travel through her own.  The warmth she felt began to settle quietly in every crevasse of her body and she began to respond slowly, mentally mixing the touch she now felt and those she experienced only hours before.  She allowed her hand to press a little more firmly at the base of his neck and move easily to his arms and then to his back again savoring the firmness and texture of his skin.  He stirred slightly and she eased the pressure of her hand minutely,  she didn’t want him to wake quite yet. 



Suddenly the hall just outside the door erupted with a woman’s high pitched scream.  A scream of horror, unleashed by something too terrible to bare.  Robert first rolled to his right, making eye contact with Lizette, ascertaining it was not her that was screaming, and then without hesitation was out of the bed and racing to the door.  He was unaware of his nakedness as he wrenched the knob open and stepped out into the light.  Lizette grabbed his pants and her robe and followed at his heels.  She managed to cover herself and not lose more than a step in the process.    The woman was standing centered in the hall, directly under an ornate ceiling fixture that cast an odd light on her face.  Her eyes were the size of pie plates, and her hands that covered her mouth did little to muffle the sound emanating from deep within her.  Upon seeing Robert, naked Robert, approaching her, the sound coming from the woman became louder, changed  pitch really.  However, she didn’t move, not a muscle, she was frozen in place locked in the torment within her brain. 



As he was almost to her Robert glimpsed over her shoulder what seemed to be a tall trenchcoated man enter a doorway further down the hall.  Really it was more of an assumption rather than a true observation because all he had seen was the end of a stride slipping over the threshold, a long khaki panted leg covered by the flowing hem of a black coat.  Mentally he made note of it, but returned his attention immediately to the task at hand.  The woman was dressed in a gown shimmering with hand sewn appliques and pearls covering a fine brocade cloth beneath that was as black as the night.  Her neck, wrist and fingers were alive with jewels and diamonds the like of which one never sees outside of a jewelry store window.  She would have been the highlight of any party, had she been there instead of standing in the middle of the hallway of the St. Charles Hotel screaming her head off. 



Robert, was within a step or two of this creature when he finally realized he was totally naked.  The realization slowed him just enough for Lizette to collide with his back.  Without a word she flung his pants around in front of him, he grabbed them quickly and drew them on.  Lizette reached the woman, saw what had caused the women to freak out and had to fight back the retching that rumbled immediately in the very bottom of her stomach.  Robert’s hand reached out and steadied her and then his eyes too found the object of their revolution.  In the elevator alcove half in and half out the windows was the body of a woman impaled in a long thick shard of broken glass that had pierced her back and exited her midsection, gore and viscera could be seen bulging from the deep opening of her body cavity.  Blood was still pumping from a gash on the side of her throat and her right hand tremored visibly.  If she wasn’t dead already she would be in moments.  She just hung there on the jagged pillar of heavy glass face up  and splay legged quietly giving up her soul. 



The screaming woman came into Robert’s arms and buried her face into in his chest trying to hide from the evil only feet away.  Lizette had collapsed against the far wall and was seated on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head hidden behind her knees.  She fought the gag reflex with all her might and tried not to raise her head in fear that she would reinforce the scene in her head and never be able to rid herself of it.  Robert could not speak, no words were there.  His eyes were fixated on the violence that had apparently occurred only seconds ago.  The blood that ran down the low wall below the dead woman was at first bright and glisening and then became dark and dull looking as it pooled on the floor and formed a puddle that was still running in every direction.  Her upper torso hung out over 41st Street and from her head which lolled over to the right he could see blood dropping from her mouth and could only imagine what that was like ten stories below.  A black stiletto high heel shoe matching the one that was still on her was lying on it’s side directly in front of the elevator door.  Her purse and it’s contents were strewn across the alcove, much of it now swimming in blood with more to be consumed in seconds by the advancing red sticky liquid as it spread over the marble floor.  Directly below her right foot he saw a small gun, a .25 caliber automatic, the kind that fit very nicely in a pocket or a purse.  Judging from the size of her evening bag that lay open very near the high heel shoe, there would have been just enough room to conceal the silver firearm and the few others items Robert saw.