Matthew Cornachione - Dansk Bay Hotel

I exhaled; I was in it now. Why had I ever thought it was a good idea to stalk a murderer? True, I now understood exactly what was going on in Dansk Bay. Nekker had drawn people to town to serve as test subjects for a madman. It sounded like the madman had almost perfected the WWII elixir. I’d seen the effects firsthand. Unfortunately now I was going to help him complete that twisted dream.

Worst of all, I was alone. Thea had been an ally, but she’d made it clear this was my battle. All the other townsfolk were either too scared or too oblivious. And who could blame them when their own sheriff was in league with the madman? Or was the madman.

I looked back to the chemical vials and my chest tightened. At this point it didn’t matter who the serial killer was. I knew exactly what fate awaited me if I didn’t get free.

Tensing my muscles, I pulled at the restraints with all my might. Of course, none of them gave. I tried again, shaking them back and forth. Most didn’t give, but the cuff around my right wrist was ever so slightly loose.

Even with some serious wiggling, my hand stayed stuck. I checked again, making sure I was still alone, then pulled harder. Metal dug into my flesh, eliciting a grunt, but I didn’t let up. Finally, my hand slipped out, leaving an unhealthy amount of skin behind.

My eyes watered at the pain, but I bit my tongue and fought through it. Pain was better than death. I unlatched the cuff on my left wrist. In another few moments, I had both ankles free. I was out.

Behind the chair, I found a stairwell. I hustled up it as fast as my head would allow and found the backside of the sturdy basement door. Like the front, it had a metal wheel and I tried to turn it, hoping to open the door. Unfortunately, it was barred shut.

There wouldn’t be another exit; this had once been a prison. Still, there could be a spare key down here. I saw an inviting keyhole on the back of the door. Now I needed to find its match.

Back down the stairs I went. I circled the room, checking everything, starting with the bedroll. I pulled the sheets back and found not a bed, but a pile of charred bones. The odor of burnt flesh filled my nostrils. The massive fireplace next to the bones was still warm. I could put the pieces together. I gagged, but had nothing left to throw up.

My last threads of composure dissipated, panic surging forward. Before I lost it completely, an image of comatose Lena swam to mind.

That triggered a new emotion: fury. Fury at myself for abandoning her, fury at those WWII scientists and my government for condoning such an atrocity. But, above all, fury at the evil that still lived here today. The evil that had destroyed a town and wanted to destroy me.

Somehow, that was enough to keep me here, to keep me fighting. I had to end this. I owed it to Lena, but, most of all, I owned it to myself.

Then I heard a clatter from down the hall, followed by muttering. I wasn’t alone after all; the murderer was here.

Beside the roll of bones was an iron poker for the fire. I wrapped my hands around it, calmed by the feeling of solid metal. I’d never been much of a baseball player, but I could swing the poker hard enough. Hopefully.

I scampered across the room and pressed my back to the wall by to the chemical bench. I edged around the corner, peering down the hall. Light came from a side room at the end. Muted shuffling echoed across the concrete. The heart of the evil was in there. I could end this.

My body disagreed. My throat stuck, and I couldn’t draw a breath. I pulled back and doubled over, gasping. Finally, I relaxed enough to suck in a mouthful of air.

I knelt there on the floor, trembling, poker in my left hand and blood dripping from deep gouges on my right. Who was I kidding? The man or woman in there had killed dozens, maybe hundreds, of people. I was a glorified hotel inspector in enough shape to climb three flights of stairs. What chance did I have?

Then I saw it, my hope. Resting on the corner of the chemical bench was a silver key. It was an old-fashioned type, large circular handle with a thick shaft. I’d bet my life, literally, that it opened the basement door.

I clutched the key in my right hand, the poker in my left. Looking back and forth between the two, the choice was obvious. I knew who I was. As quietly as possible, I set the poker down.

Immediately, my body relaxed. My shoulders lightened, my throat opened. This was the way. I’d do what I’d always done; get help. I could get out of here, take off down the train tracks, and report this all to someone back in Anchorage. I didn’t have to do this myself. That would be suicide.

I whispered an apology to Lena for that day, all those years ago. I could have acted then, but hadn’t. She might have been okay. But, more likely, I would have ended up like her. Better to live with regret.

I climbed up to the door and tried the key. It fit, and I turned it, a heavy clunk sounding outside as the locking bar slid aside. Relief flooded my system and I turned the wheel. The deadbolts slid into the concrete and clicked into place. I pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway of the hotel.

Then I ran.

My head pounded and my hand screamed. I ignored them. I had to get out. Seconds later, I reached the hotel’s back door and burst out into the rain. It was pouring now, and I’d been stripped of my poncho, but hell, getting wet felt good at this point. Meant I was still alive.

I tore down the driveway and into town. Sparing a sideways glance at the sheriff’s office, I turned up the road to the train station. And, the thirty mile walk to the next town. Through heavy rain. Way better than fighting a murderer. I was done here.

“I’m sorry, my friend.” The voice was a whisper, but I heard it clearly and stopped. There, on the porch of the trading post, was Thea.

Despite my terror, I stopped. “Wait, what are you sorry about?”

“I thought you would overcome him,” said Thea. “Thought you’d find your inner strength. I was wrong.”

“Oh I found it. I found the strength to get the hell out of here.”

She shook her head sadly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What does that mean? You know, you set me off to face him in the first place. Are you going to send me back in now?”

“No. I truly wanted you to live. But, there’s nothing I can do now. Your fate is sealed.”

I furrowed my brow. She wasn’t talking any sense. I could walk down those damn train tracks. It had been her idea in the first place.

Then, I heard a door open and looked to my left. Emerging from the sheriff’s office was Clement. He stopped at the street, hands on hips, and looked at me. Then he nodded and walked into Lucy’s.

Wait. Wasn’t this all his doing? If it wasn’t him, then who was in the hotel basement?

“I’d guess you have about twenty seconds left.” Thea’s voice cut through my confusion.

“Left until what?”

Thea didn’t respond, just shook her head and pointed to my feet. I looked down. My Oxfords were soaked and ruined, but at this point that didn’t matter. What was she looking at?

Then, I finally saw.

I’d heard that the brain fills in gaps with what it expects to find. That it can deceive itself when it believes it is for the best. When I saw my glowing feet hovering above the ground, I realized that my brain had deceived me.

Strapped down on that chair, I’d been worried that the madman would shoot me up with the elixir to separate my mind and body. He already had. I hadn’t escaped anything; I’d fooled myself into thinking I had. My body was still strapped to that chair.

I wasn’t about to leave town. I was already the next victim, the next ghost.