Every second it took to limp towards the elevator felt like eternity.
I finally reached it and hammered the call button. I leaned against the wall, gulping down air while I waited for the elevator. There wasn’t a whole lot else to do. If anyone did happen upon me, or was in the elevator already, I was screwed. I could barely walk, let alone run.
The light above turned on and the elevator dinged.I tensed as the doors opened. It was empty. Okay, I’ll take this luck.
I got into the elevator, turned to face the control panel. My heart sank. There must be over a hundred little round buttons on the panel. Right next to it was a lever, and at the bottom, three familiar buttons.
I hammered the close door buttons and they sealed shut. A temporary respite from the rest of this hotel. It gave me enough time to try and think of a plan instead of just running. Picking a floor, even one far away, wouldn’t work. I couldn’t count on everyone being like that goat-person.
I turned my attention to the control panel again and to the buttons that had to be floor numbers. 126-250? None of these buttons were below a hundred, even a hundred and fifty. I could certainly believe this place was 250 stories high, but how did I get below 126?
Going to the ground floor was my best option. If I got outside, I had to deal with whatever the Chainer’s Brigade was. But they probably couldn’t track me. The Night Manager seemingly could tell my general location, maybe just inside the hotel.
I couldn’t act any of that right now though. Were the elevators only for certain floors? Were they only covering a certain range of floors? Maybe because of logistics issues? I reached for the lever, pulled it, hoping it would do something.
The buttons flickered briefly before the numbers were different, one set then suddenly another. Okay, not sure how this worked, but it didn’t matter. Not as long as I could make this work. The buttons were now 251-375, and it took several more pulls before I got the set of the 1st floor to the 125th. Apparently, this place leveled out at 1250 stories.
I hit the first-floor button and sighed in relief. Okay. Next step on getting out of here done, at least. I gripped my pistol tightly. I didn’t particularly want to use it again, but if someone stopped the elevator on the way down, I wouldn’t hesitate.
I had two hundred and eleven stories to get through before I even reached there. Assuming no one did stop it, this might be the most extended break I had gotten since this nightmare had begun.
As the elevator continued down, a speaker by the control panel suddenly cracked to life and I tensed. Had they found me again already?
“This is a notification to all hotel patrons that the Chainer’s Brigade has been allowed to station one squad in each hotel lobby, in addition to members already at entrances and exits of the hotel. They are only here for those guests of the hotel who have not paid their dues, but I advise guests with existing issues with the group to avoid the first floor for the time being. Enjoy your stay in the Night Hotel.”
I was safe for the moment. Relatively. Until I reached the lobby. One of several, given what the speaker had just been saying. Maybe I’d be lucky again and there would be no one in the one I was heading towards?
Even if I got out, what would I have waiting for me when I got out of this hotel? The Chainer’s Brigade, people who wanted me dead, I guessed, although maybe surrendering to them would be preferable. I’d take it over having the life strangled out of me or dying to weird acid spit. Or an axe. And hey, maybe I could sneak out of this nightmare hotel. And into the nightmare city that lay outside with its living shadows.
The floors ticked by, light moving between each button as it descended down. It felt strangely comforting waiting here, almost mundane as each floor ticked by. Of course, that was replaced with unease as it got closer to one. Please be a service elevator, one for employees, one that opens near the bathrooms, or anything at all. It was down to the tenth floor now, and I moved out of the sight of the door, eyes glued to the panel. Seven, six, five, four, three, two. One.
The doors slid open, the ding of it arriving mixing with the sound of talking. It was muted and sounded like it was far away. Maybe I had gotten lucky, and I peered around the corner.
“-refusal to give us access to the higher floors is a detriment to our efforts. You will allow us access.”
Of course it opened into a lobby. There was a desk with a receptionist just down the hall, iron bars around all of it except a small portion in the front. The receptionist was a modestly dressed woman in her thirties, still in that noir fashion everyone seemed to have. But she at least looked like a normal person. Then she turned her head.
Strips of flesh hung loosely off of a bare skull, the line between a normal booking face and bare bones a rough ragged one running down the front of her head.
“If you want access to the higher floors, that will have to be cleared with the Managers, and my understanding is you have not paid them nearly enough to allow you more than access to the lobby.”
She was talking to a trio in front of the desk, who weren’t any more normal looking than she was.
I’d give them this, they were not dressed like they were from a noir film. Metal plates joined by leather covered their bodies completely, stretching across frames that looked unnaturally tall, seven feet if I had to guess. Two of them were thin, and one of them was thick enough that getting into the elevator might be a struggle for them. I couldn’t tell their gender. I couldn’t tell if they were even human. They were about the right height at least. Masks of metal covered their faces, the only opening slits for their eyes.
“Only one of your guests must stand trial. The rest may be left alone. We do not ask much.”
The clothes weren’t the important part, though. The important part was that one had a short, bolt-action rifle, while the others had chains. Long metal chains with a variety of instruments on the end, mostly large hooks. Although there were blades, weights, and hammerheads, one had a saw blade attached to the end. They were practically festooned with them, although I could also see holsters with revolvers on their hips as well. There were streaks on the leather and metal they were wearing, crimson. Too bright to be faded blood, but I couldn’t be sure.
On second thought, dealing with these people instead of the hotel might not be the good idea I thought it was.
As if responding to my errant thought, one of them turned to face me, the eyeholes of the mask moving across its surface to focus on me. Of course, it couldn’t just be a normal mask.
“Wrong floor.”
I hammered the door close button after that inane statement while the person at the desk yelled at the Chainers. Two of them rushed towards the elevator, while the third had their arm back, hooked chain in hand. I ducked just before they let it fly and a sharpened hook went flying through where my shoulder had been.
The hook rammed into the wall, digging its way into the paneling and sending wood splinter flying. Fuck, how big is that thing? It looked like something you used to hook things to a truck, except sharpened and in the shape of a fishing hook instead.
I went back to the doors, just in time to see one of the other Chainers aiming the short stubby rifle while the third kept on running for the door. I ducked back inside just before a bullet whizzed past, hitting right next to the hook in the wall. The crack of the gunshot was echoing in my ears as I went for the control panel.
The hook ripped itself out of the wood, whipping around the inside of the elevator. I almost had my hand on the button when the hook rammed into it. The tip punched through flesh then into the wood paneling behind, pain cutting through me as I screamed.
I nearly blacked out as the hook twisted, pushing through my flesh deeper into the wood paneling behind. I grasped the chain with the other hand. Desperately I pulled on it. My vision was growing spotty as blood streamed out of my hand, making the chain slick and hard to grasp.
It twisted to the side suddenly, agony running down my hand as it did so. The entire hook was through. Now the eye was trying to force it’s way through, pushing the flesh of my hands to the side as it continued moving.
I whimpered as it forced it’s way through. I was running purely off adrenaline now, and my hand grasped desperately at the slick chain. Every agonizing second that passed was another one for one of the Chainers to get inside. I couldn’t let that happen.
I yanked, and the hook came free. From the wall, not my hand, as wooden splinters flew from the side of the elevator.
For a second I was relieved. Then the hook twisted, the tip curing to cut into my flesh a second time, ripping a furrow into the back of my hand. The chain tightened, growing taut and dragging me towards the door.
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I hadn’t pulled it out. They had just decided to drag me out of the elevator.
I somehow got a foot up against the open doorway before I was pulled out. New pain now, as my already injured leg rammed into the side of the door. The chain pulled taut, the hook pulling on my hand and tearing fresh furrows as it did. Half the chain was streaked red now.
I got my other leg in the door as well, and held on. A half second later, a bullet blasted it’s way through, going right through my calf. I screamed and my leg gave way as blood exploded out the other side with the bullet. I got my other hand up in time before they could pull me out.
Something had to give, the chain or my hand. My hand gave out first.
The hook ripped half my hand off, flesh and bone tearing off my palm. Two fingers were taken off completely as I watched the chain rattle through the mangled mess of my hand. It was surreal. I couldn’t feel any pain. Possibly because after everything else, the pain was nothing worth registering. It was hard to even think, staring at the spaghetti like tendons and strips of flesh hanging from the ruin of my hand. Tears obscured my vision. I was barely aware of them.
Tears obscured my vision and I still wasn’t doing anything. I knew I needed to do something, but conscious thought seemed to have deserted me.
The next bullet jolted me out of it. It missed my leg, instead burying itself into the floor. It woke me out of my stupor, and I moved out of the doorway. My one functional hand hammered a button, I didn’t care which, any button would do. Just away from here.
The chain shot in again, the hook on the end sounding like it was roaring as it dug a furrow into the wall. Scraps of flesh and skin hung off of it and I resisted the urge to vomit. It moved about, mindless in its thrashing.
I grabbed the top of the control panel with my hand, hauled myself up. Then I stamped on the chain. I hit the first time, my foot clamping down on the chain right next to the hook. For now it was held in place.
An arm reached through the gap in the doors as they closed. Holding a knife it swung, and fresh pain bloomed on my cheek. My good hand went for the knife in my pocket while my other one tried to hold the doors closed button down. It felt like pressing with a wet noodle. At least I still had feeling in the remaining fingers.
Beneath my foot the chain jerked. I kept my boot pressed down, forcing it to still, and I had the knife out now. Unfortunately the Chainer was half-inside by now.
I lunged forward with the knife, trying to drive the tip into the eyehole. Instead the blade cut through the cloth of the mask, slicing into the cheek. I drove it deeper, feeling the resistance as it sliced through skin to the bone and teeth beneath. They recoiled with a short scream. Their own knife clattered against the floor, dropped. They tried to bat me away with their now weaponless arm.
I ducked underneath, and pressed further in on the knife. Blood poured out from the slash in the mask, hot and slippery on my fingers. Just leave already. Don’t make me kill you. A panicked eye stared at my own through the eye hole, and it felt like I could taste how afraid they were. I twisted the knife, the blade scraping against teeth.
With another scream, they pulled out of the elevator, the doors closing swiftly with a screech.
I didn’t have time to celebrate my triumph as pain broke out across my foot. Looking down, the hook was now embedded into my boot, having gotten enough slack. My ankle screamed in fresh agony as the hook carved its way through my skin and into bone.
I was already reaching down for it when the entire chain length yanked, pulling me off my feet.
I barely got an arm up in time to prevent the front of my head slamming into the wall. I almost wished I hadn’t as a crack ran out and I could feel something shift inside my forearm. I nearly bit my tongue as I impacted. Fresh pain. So much that I couldn’t name any that didn’t send lances of it through me.
My head rang all the same. How I could even think, let alone move, was a mystery. The chain yanked on my foot, but its grip was shallow. It hadn’t latched onto bone. So instead it tore out a several inch strip of flesh and boot as I screamed once again.
The hook rose up in the air like a snake, blood streaked links coiling on the floor as a lump of something from me hanged impacted on the point.
No Chainer had tried to enter since the first. Perhaps because they knew the hook could handle me. I doubted any of them wanted to be knifed.
The elevator doors had closed on the chain, but the elevator had yet to rise. Had it been locked somehow? It didn’t matter. There was enough chain past the doors that the hook wouldn’t be restrained.
I tried to get up, but failed as both my legs felt like shattered sticks, one hand couldn’t even move, and the other…I tried to clench it and only two fingers responded.
I tried to crawl. Immediately the chain came smashing across the front of my face, heavy iron links bashing my forehead. I went down, dazed, as the chains crawled over my back, shifting across. I didn’t know where the hook was. Probably ready to stab in once again.
I shook my head, lunged upwards to the panel. Something bit into the back of my shoulder, yanking me back. But one of my remaining fingers hit a button.
The elevator started moving upwards immediately as the hook ripped out of my shoulder. It whipped about above my head while the elevator suddenly jerked to a halt. A new scream from down below as the taut chain caught between the elevator doors
The hook rammed into the walls multiple times as the scream from below turned into a shriek. My ears felt like they were bleeding. I crawled over to the doors, and moved my hands towards the doors. Neither were really responding to me trying to move them. But I had enough control to force the doors open a little.
Both chain and hood retracted out of the elevator, and the doors close. I turned onto my back, just focusing on breathing. The elevator restarted and began traveling to my unknown destination.
I thought it had been bad when I’d gotten off that fire escape. Well, I had found worse.
With the one hand not currently split in half, I grabbed the sleeve of my coat and ripped, managing to tear some strips of fabric even as the forearm on that arm felt like it had caught on fire. I was more wounds than a person at this point. I ignored the pain and started wrapping my injured hand, which was currently busy pumping blood all over the elevator floor.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” The speaker had crackled to life again. No ambiguity if the Night Manager knew I was on here or not now.
“Fuck off,” I snapped, then finished wrapping the piece of the shirt around my torn hand. I tied it as tight as I could get it, as much as it hurt. My entire hand felt like it was on fire, and the cloth was already stained red from the bleeding. Shit, there were arteries that had probably torn through, now pumping my blood out on top of all the other injuries I had suffered.
Adrenaline was the only explanation for how I was even awake, much less moving. Never mind my other arm, which was protesting every movement I made with it. The less said about my legs the better. Or my head. My back. Any part of me really.
“You should have left if you knew you weren’t paying,” the Night Manager said over the loudspeaker. “Instead you decided to risk us instead. Should have bet on the open street instead of breaking our contract.”
“I’m not even aware of any contract,” I protested as I backed away from the speaker. For all I knew something could try to reach out of there. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen.
“Lie if you will. It will not matter soon. We have your elevator under our control now, and this chase will end-“ The speaker cut off mid-sentence, and so did the elevator, suddenly jolting to a halt.
“Hello?” No response from the speaker at all. Was this the floor I was to die on? Probably, but with how abruptly she had cut off I could hope that wasn’t the case. That and the doors still remaining closed.
Pressing the button to open them wasn’t helping either, and eventually, I got my hands between the doors and began to open them. It felt like the hook was going through my right hand again. Worse, this was a lot harder than last time. Blood was running down the door from where my hand was. I had stemmed most of the flow but it was still leaking out. Running out of time. More of my blood was spread all over the interior of the elevator.
I got the door open at least. Concrete occupied the same level as my eyes. Stuck between floors, which was at least a sign that they weren’t expecting me on this floor.
Why the elevator had stopped was a mystery, but it was one I wasn’t going to question for now. I went for the floor below, not trusting myself to be able to clamber to the floor above.
Peering out first before I left, the hall seemed deserted. Although not for long if the Night Manager started giving updates through the speakers again. Maybe whatever had stopped her mid-diatribe was keeping her off the speakers. Not something I could count on. I moved my meager possessions near the edge and then tried to clamber down.
Lowering myself out of the elevator was more difficult than it sounded. Trying to lower myself with one fucked up arm and an even worse off hand was torture, and my legs buckled just falling the foot to the ground, my vision swimming as I made impact.
I didn’t pass out. I did spend what felt like eternity gasping for breath. Nothing had snapped in the fall, which I’d take as a victory. Staying alive also counted, as miniscule as it was.
The elevator was still there as I got back up. I got the suitcase from where I left it on the floor, reached out, and grabbed the pistol from where I had dropped it as well. Best not to linger, especially if the elevator restarted itself while I was caught halfway in it.
Although it probably wouldn’t be a more painful way to go than slowly bleeding to death. Not a good thing to think of. I had taken a look at the cloth I had bound my hand with. Soaked, bloodied, and a steady drip near a stream was falling from it. I was doing my best to ignore that for now. I would keep alive. Or so I told myself.
I didn’t even limp anymore, essentially forcing myself forward along the wall. Not having it there for support made it impossible to move. Well, moving upright. I could probably still crawl if I really needed to.
I had stashed both weapons in my coat for all the good it would do me. One hand was barely responding, and from the way my forearm was bent, I could guess why. The other I was doing my best not to look at it even as the pain from it was fading. And any other sense as well, my arm going numb.
The one hand I could feel and actually manipulate was locked around the handle of the suitcase. I should have left it, honestly, but I was still holding on. Only a reminder of who I was. Supposedly, I didn’t want to be this person. What I did know suggested I was some kind of killer who stuffed corpses into suitcases.
Corpses was probably not correct but I didn’t want to dwell on that either.
I could still hope there was a clue hidden in the case for me to find at some point, something to hint at who I was or what had happened. Or a way out of this mess.
Just a few more steps. There was a door. I didn’t care what was behind it. At this point, I’d be happy just to get it open.
A bit of luck for me, it was a bar handle, so I could open it with my elbow. If it was unlocked. The door had a sign saying laundry service, which wasn’t a good place to run to but I was out of other options.
My vision was going again, growing dimmer and fuzzier. I needed to rest, even if it was just to die in peace. Maybe someone would be willing to patch me up. I’d try to keep going until I knew death was inevitable. So I put my full weight on the handle and pushed.
A mistake, I realized that as soon as the door was partially open. Even with my vision fading, I could see the yawning void where the floor should be. But I had put what was left of my strength into going through this door. There was nothing left to stop me as I fell into the void.