Ike Hamill - The Vivisectionist

“Well it might not be the exact same room, but at least it seems like that video was probably shot here somewhere,” said Jack.

“So how do we get on the other side of this wall?” asked Stephen. Despite the peep-hole, the walls looked very solid.

“Let’s keep going, I’m sure we’ll find a way,” said Jack.

They found no more peep-holes on that stretch, and soon the passage turned left.

“I bet the portraits in the red room are on the other side of that wall.” Jack pointed to the wall on their right. “And there must be another hallway somewhere that way,” he pointed back to their left.

“If you say so. I’ve given up trying to make sense of this place,” said Stephen.

Ahead the passage turned left again and they saw a brighter light. Through a rectangular opening, the light spilled down at a steep angle.

They could fit through the hole, but a piece of big wooden furniture blocked the way. Getting low to the ground, Jack saw the source of the light: a lamp on top of the piece.

Jack tried to push the obstruction. “Give me a hand,” he whispered to Stephen. Joining Jack on the floor, Stephen pushed and they managed to slide the heavy piece a few inches away from the wall.

“That thing must weigh a ton,” said Stephen softly. “Wait, did you hear something?”

“No, why?” hissed Jack.

“Then why are we whispering?” asked Stephen.

“I don’t know — because we can’t see inside this room?” replied Jack.

“But we’re moving the furniture. If we’re worried about someone being in there, don’t you think he would notice the dresser moving around?” whispered Stephen.

Jack snickered under his breath, but the situation didn't amuse Stephen at all. Stephen was mostly frightened, and a little exhilarated, but not at all amused.

“Let’s just push,” said Jack in a low voice.

On the next couple of pushes, they managed to synchronize their efforts and slid the furniture away from the hole enough to squeeze through. Jack went first, leaving his backpack and flashlight behind, and then moved the dresser away from the wall enough so that Stephen could hand them back. Stephen emerged and found himself in a room that looked identical to the first hotel room they had entered. The only major difference was the blank back wall — instead of hasty brick covered by a curtain, this was just white with a painting of the ocean in the middle.

Jack crossed the room, taking inventory. He poked his head in the bathroom and then came back to Stephen. “Looks empty,” he said.

“Want to check the TV?” asked Stephen.

“Yeah, okay,” said Jack.

Stephen turned on the TV and scanned the channels. This room didn't get the channel with the boy strapped to the chair.

Jack was distracted — not watching to see what happened with the television. He wandered into the bathroom and came out holding a towel. “Someone’s staying here,” he said.

Still flipping channels, Stephen had settled to the edge of the bed. It took him a few seconds to process what Jack was saying. “Wait, what?” he jumped up. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Jesus, don’t freak out,” said Jack. “He’s not here now.”

“Fuck that,” Stephen objected. “He could be back at any second.” He crossed around the bed and then doubled back to turn the television off. He thought about it and then used the tail of his t-shirt to wipe his fingerprints off the remote. “Come on!”

“Let’s keep going,” said Jack. “Just to check out the hall at least. We’re only like two doors down from where that video was shot — we have to go check that out.”

Stephen couldn't fathom continuing on. He started to shake and feel naseuous at even the thought that the killer might walk through the door. “Look, we have to go. That guy could open that door and catch us. Who knows what he did to your neighbor kid, but I don’t want to find out.”

Jack began to protest, but Stephen ducked behind the bureau and moved back into the secret passage. He had almost rounded the corner when Jack poked his head through the hole.

“Hey, can you at least help me move this dresser back?” Jack asked.

“If you’re leaving right now, ” answered Stephen. “Otherwise, I’m going without you.”

“Okay, okay,” said Jack. “Let me just put this towel back so he won’t know we were here.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Stephen.

Stephen crossed his arms and waited. After a minute passed, Stephen prepared to leave. He walked over to the hole in the wall and knelt down to look to see if Jack was coming. When he drew close to the hole, Jack popped up on the other side and grabbed Stephen's shirt, startling him.

“You ass,” Stephen said.

Jack giggled and crawled through the hole. Together they slid the dresser back in front of the hole without tipping anything over. Satisfied, they made their way out of the hotel.

Crawling through the small vents, Stephen finally thought to ask about the delay — “What did you do after hanging up the towel? You were gone forever.”

“Oh, I had to know if the other room was open, so I ran down the hall and tried a couple of the doors — they were all locked,” replied Jack.

“Oh shit — get going — faster!” Stephen ordered.

“What?” Jack looked back over his shoulder.

“What if that guy was in one of those rooms? He would have heard you trying all the doors and now he knows we’re in here. Let’s get the hell out.”

“Why would he lock the door to one of the rooms in his own hotel?” asked Jack. “I bet he’s like gone for the day or something.”

Their last few minutes in the hotel that day, crawling through vents, tortured Stephen. He imagined a hand closing around his ankle and dragging him backwards through the tight passages and into the red lights of the portrait room, or into the tile-floored room from the video. He wished Jack would move faster, but realized that there was nothing he could say to speed his friend along. He decided then to never return to the hotel. He knew it would be difficult to convince Jack, but he didn’t give it too much thought. Stephen made a promise that he would never put himself in that situation again.

They got back to the chimney with the rope-ladder and Jack climbed down a few rungs instead of up.

“Where are you going?” asked Stephen.

“I’m going to go get your pack from that vent,” Jack answered. “You go back to the house and cover for me.”

“What am I supposed to say? This is a terrible idea.” said Stephen.

“Just go in through the garage and then run upstairs. Turn on the fan and light in the bathroom, close the door, and then just hang out in my room,” said Jack. “Easy, cheesy. Chances are she won’t even look for me, and if she does just say that you saw me go into the bathroom and that’s it.”

“We’ll get the pack later. Why bother now?” asked Stephen.

Jack stopped Stephen’s argument with a startling insight — “Because I know you’re not coming back, Stephen, and I know that pack has your name in it somewhere. If there is a crazy guy here, you don’t want him to know your name, so I’m going to go get your pack.”

Stephen studied Jack's face before he relented.

“Fine,” said Stephen. He climbed out of the vent and scaled the rope ladder. He wondered briefly how Jack would manage putting away both ladders, but then decided that he didn’t really care. Maybe Jack would just take two trips.

Outside, the sun had finally come out and burned off most of the morning fog. It was getting pretty warm out, but Stephen still felt a chill as he retreated from the hotel. He had to slide down the post of the porch roof so he could leave the stepladder for Jack, and as soon as his feet touched the ground he slinked away, down the gully. Even after making it to the cover of the woods, Stephen still felt the presence of the hotel behind him, and wondered where Jack was at that moment.