Harper's Hotel Ghost Girl Page 7

  “That's one of the old elephant paddocks,” Peter explains, stopping next to me while still holding my hand. “They're a little cramped, aren't they? That's why we moved the elephants to the big new ones we built a few years ago.”

  “Why's that one still here?” I ask.

  “Which one?”

  I point at the elephant, although he's a little harder to see now, as if the inside of the paddock has become darker.

  “That's where my favorite ever elephant used to live,” Peter says. “Her name was Merebelle and she was the nicest elephant you could ever hope to meet. I mean, they're all nice, but she was extra nice. And do you know what? This might sound silly, but I think Merebelle and I were really good friends. That elephant and I just had a special connection, you know? I think it's because she was an orphan. Her mother died just hours after Merebelle was born, and I ended up looking after her. Now that wasn't easy, let me tell you.”

  I continue to stare into the darkness, and I realize after a moment that the elephant isn't staring at me. She's staring at Peter.

  “I miss her so much,” he continues, sounding a little sad now. “She lived a very happy life, but it wasn't as long as most elephants get. She should have lasted until she was a very old lady, but she got a disease and she had to be put to sleep about ten years ago.” He pauses. “That was, without a doubt, the saddest day I've ever known. I was there with her to the end, though. I never left her side. I saw her big eyes closing, and I don't mind admitting that I cried for days.”

  The elephant's head tilts slightly, and its ears seem to be twitching.

  “Is that her?” I ask.

  “Is who her?”

  I point at the elephant.

  “Well, that's just an empty paddock,” he says. “No elephant has lived there since she passed, though. In fact, I still come here from time to time, just to remember the good old days.” He takes a deep breath. “Now, how about we go and find your parents? Seriously, young Stephanie, they're probably frantic. I'll use my radio and call ahead to let everyone know that I've found a stray member of the homo sapiens enclosure. That means human, by the way. Just a little joke.”

  “But what about...”

  My voice trails off as he leads me away from the elephant.

  As we walk, he starts talking to someone on his radio, letting them know my name and telling them that we're coming to the main visitor center. When we reach one of the gates, however, I turn and see that the elephant has come out of the paddock and is walking slowly after us.

  Peter unlocks the gate and lets us through, and then he closes it again. He's still talking on the radio, and it's as if he hasn't even noticed that there's an elephant walking after us.

  “Your parents are at the visitor information center,” Peter explains as he leads me past the crowd. “They've been worried sick.”

  “But...”

  I turn and look back, just in time to see the elephant walking straight through the fence as if it's not there. There are people nearby, but they don't react either, and after a moment I realize that not everyone can see this particular elephant.

  “Yes, Merebelle was an elephant of exceptional qualities,” Peter says, as we head past several other enclosures, with the ghost elephant following behind. “I can't even begin to say how much I miss her. Silly, huh?”

  ***

  “And we're going to have to have another talk about not wandering off,” Mum says as Dad drives us back home. She turns and scowls at me. “I was terrified back there, Stephanie. Anything could have happened to you!”

  “I'm sorry,” I reply. “I just got scared.”

  “I know.” She sighs. “At least we've got you back in one piece.”

  “How about we stop on the way for a burger?” Dad asks. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving.”

  “I don't think naughty little girls should be rewarded,” Mum says, before rolling her eyes. “Then again, I need something too. Just a small burger, though. I don't really feel like cooking tonight.”

  They keep talking as they park the car. I try not to listen to what they're saying, because I know that they often talk about really boring things. Dad's still going on and on about the fact that I got lost, but after a moment I start to feel a faint scratching sensation on my right hand. Looking down, I don't see any sign of a rash, but it's as if something's rubbing against the skin on the inside. I don't like how it feels, but after a moment it goes away and I realize that it was probably nothing.

  “Okay,” Daddy says, suddenly opening the door and smiling at me, “how about we get that burger?”

  I start climbing out of the car, but at that moment I notice that the sky looks different. It's brighter and darker at the same time, somehow, and a moment later I see a flock of birds flying up from a nearby tree. Some of the birds arc and wheel across the sky, but others fade from view, as if some of them were never really real in the first place. It's as if I'm seeing not only the living birds, but the dead ones too.

  The whole world seems different now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  September 12th, 1987

  “Winning?”

  Hannah looks up from the chessboard, and for a moment it's as if she genuinely hadn't heard me coming over to find her.

  “What do you think?” she asks, glancing back down at the pieces. “You seem to know a thing or two about this game. What should my next move be?”

  “Telling me the truth.”

  She smiles. “Cute.”

  “I mean it,” I continue. “I'm not saying for one second that I actually believe you, because I don't. I mean, I can't. I mean, it makes my head hurt, just to think about it. But too many weird things have been happening today, and I can't put them all down to coincidence. On top of that...”

  I look down at my badge, which now shows a happy-looking purple and green octopus.

  “Is it some kind of shape-changing badge?” I ask. “Did you get it in Japan, somewhere like that?”

  “It's not a shape-changing badge,” she replies.

  I suppose I already knew that, but it was pretty much my last hope. Now, as I continue to stare at the badge, I realize that there's no logical way that it could keep changing.

  “I'm not in control, am I?” I say finally. “I can't even keep track of what day it is.”

  “Stephanie -”

  “How many days have there been since we last talked?” I ask, looking at her again. “For me, it feels like it was just an hour ago, but for you... How many of these looped days have there been since that moment?”

  She seems uncomfortable, as if she doesn't want to answer.

  “Seventeen,” she says finally.

  I take a deep breath.

  “And why do I remember flashes of certain days,” I ask, “in a certain order? Why does it feel, to me, like a single day?”

  “That's a new phenomenon,” she explains. “My best guess is that the loop is starting to fray at its edges. There are other signs of that, too.” She looks over at the clock on the far wall. “It's almost two in the afternoon. You should have died several hours ago. Reality will be starting to strain now.” She turns back to me. “We're in for a bumpy ride, but the good news is that once it's over everything will reset.”

  “And I won't remember anything?”

  “You haven't before,” she tells me, “but things are changing now. If I had to bet, I'd say that eventually you will start remembering. The loop isn't perfect. It's deteriorating over time, breaking down, and that's allowing you to start noticing certain things. I thought this might happen, although to be honest I didn't see it playing out in quite such a direct way. And the breakdowns of reality are becoming a little more crazy each time.”

  “You said I have to die.”

  “I'm working on it.”

  “Do you mean that it's my destiny?”

  “I mean that powerful forces are insisting on it,” she replies. “Entire structures of causality seem to be entirely predi
cated upon your death occurring today. Without it, all of existence collapses rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that I think it might amount to suicide.”

  “Suicide?” I ask. “Who's committing suicide?”

  “The universe. My current theory is that the ramifications of your survival are so terrible, the universe prefers to collapse in on itself and reset things. In other words, it's giving you another shot. Over and over again, for as long as it can, before everything comes apart at the seams. Which won't take much longer, from what I've seen. What happens at that point is anyone's guess, but I think it'd be a really good idea if I can come up with a solution before then. I'm close, Stephanie. Every day I edge closer. I know I can do this. I just need a little more time.”

  Staring at her, I suddenly realize that I only have one option.

  “I'm getting out of here,” I stammer, taking a step back.

  “No, you -”

  “I'm not sticking around to get murdered,” I continue, filled with a growing sense of panic. “Are you insane? Why would anyone sit around if there was even a chance of something like that happening? I'm going home.”

  Turning, I hurry to the staircase, intending to go to my room and collect my things. I stop at the foot of the stairs, however, as I realize that I can't take the risk.

  “Manfred,” I say slowly, turning to him as he comes through to the reception desk, “can you have my things sent to my parents' house?”

  “I beg your -”

  “I have to go!” I yell, turning and rushing to the front door.

  “Stephanie, wait!” Hannah calls after me. “It's not that simple!”

  I don't care. I shove the door open and then burst out into the bright afternoon sun, and then I race down the steps at the front of the hotel. I haven't thought this through at all but, as I reach the pavement, I realize that I can't ever go inside that hotel again. A moment later, as I'm still trying to work out which way to go now, the sunshine suddenly fades and I hear rumbles of thunder in the sky above.

  Looking up, I'm shocked to see huge, dark storm clouds rapidly gathering and blocking out the blue. At the same time, an icy wind has begun to pick up and I feel a shiver pass through my body.

  “If it was this easy,” Hannah shouts behind me, “I'd have sent you away a long time ago!”

  Turning, I see that she's standing at the top of the steps.

  “This hasn't got anything to do with me!” I yell, and now pinpricks of cold rain are starting to fall. “I'm just a normal person! The world isn't going to end because of something I do, or something I don't do! That doesn't make any sense! I'm just... Look at me! I'm not anyone special! I'm just me!”

  “I know,” she replies, “and that's one of the things that makes this so strange.”

  “I'm out of here,” I say, turning away as rain starts to fall. “I'm not -”

  Before I can finish, a loud rip of thunder fills the sky, booming high above with such violence that I swear the ground shakes beneath my feet. As I look up, I hear the loud rustle of nearby trees. The sky was clear just a few minutes ago, but now it's filled with dark clouds and I can see occasional flashes of light somewhere in the depths of the fury. I want to believe that this is all a coincidence, but it's almost as if somehow the natural world is conspiring against me.

  “You can't leave,” Hannah says, coming up behind me. “Neither can I. We're both locked into this looped day until we figure something out.”

  “Watch me,” I reply, before turning and hurrying the other way, making my way along the street.

  Suddenly a flash of lightning arcs down and hits the ground just a few feet ahead of me. Startled, I let out a horrified cry and step back, and already there's a dark, burned patch where the lightning bolt hit.

  “You can't leave!” Hannah shouts again. “The world won't let you!”

  “If I'm supposed to die,” I say, turning back to her, “then why doesn't the world just zap me with one of those lightning bolts?”

  “Because you're supposed to die in a very specific way,” she replies. “I don't understand it all myself, but you have to die in room 119 of Harper's Hotel. If you don't, everything breaks down.”

  The wind has really picked up now, and people are starting to scurry for shelter.

  I open my mouth to tell Hannah that she has to be wrong, but then my gaze shifts and I look up at the hotel's facade. High above the main door, the name Harper's Hotel is displayed in large letters, and a shiver passes through my chest as I realize that the strong gusts of wind all seem to be trying to blow me back toward the building. It's almost as if the natural world is engaged in some desperate, last-ditch attempt to return me to the hotel.

  “There's still time,” Hannah says firmly. “The universe itself thinks that you have to die, but maybe the universe isn't very good at figuring out loopholes. Don't worry. Somehow, I'm going to save you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Look at your badge,” Hannah continues as we step back into the reception area. “It hasn't changed again, has it?”

  Stopping in the doorway, I look down and see that the badge still shows an octopus. It was an octopus before, wasn't it? To be honest, I'm starting to lose track. As Hannah hurries to the chessboard, however, I can't help looking at the hotel's main staircase and thinking of room 119 waiting for me. If what Hannah says is true, that I'm supposed to die in that room, then there's someone in there right now who wants to kill me. Why? What did I ever do to hurt anyone?

  Suddenly, hearing glass shatter, I turn and see that one of the front windows has been blown apart by the storm.

  “What the -”

  George rushes over, but strong wings are blowing directly into the hotel now. I can hear a howling gale outside, and people are running past the hotel as if they're starting to fill with panic. If I didn't know better, I'd be thinking right now that the entire world is on the verge of ending.

  “Why hasn't it stopped?” I ask, heading over to join Hannah. “I came back inside!”

  “The breakdown of reality has started,” she explains, although she's clearly focused on the chess pieces. “It's a little different each time. I never know exactly what to expect. That little storm out there probably gave the whole thing an early kick-start this time around.” She reaches for one of the chess pieces, but then at the last second she holds back. “No, that wouldn't work,” she mutters. “There's something here that I'm not seeing.”

  “It's apocalyptic out there,” George says as he struggles to sweep up the broken glass. “Where did that bad weather come from? They didn't say anything about a storm on the BBC.”

  “Who's in room 119?” I ask, turning to him.

  He glances at me. “I have no idea.”

  “You must know!” I snap. “Who is it?”

  “I honestly don't know!” he replies. “Why does it matter? What's so special about 119?”

  I hesitate, before rushing over to the reception desk. The hotel actually seems to be shaking now, and the chandelier high above the main reception area is starting to sway, but I'm focused on going through the guest book and trying to figure out who's lurking in room 119 and waiting for me. When I find the entry, however, I'm shocked to see that the details of room 119 seem blurred, as if my eyes refuse to let me read the words. I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision, and then I squint, but still I can't quite make out the name of the room's occupant. The harder I try, the more I begin to feel a dull ache in the back of my head.

  And then, finally, the name starts to become clear.

  “Watch out!”

  Suddenly I hear a loud crashing sound, and I turn just in time to see debris getting blown through the broken window. Part of a fence slams into the desk, and I pull back just in time to avoid getting showered by splintering wood.

  “That's not an ordinary storm,” George says, having ducked down to avoid the worst of the damage. “Something else must be going on out there.”

  He gets to his feet and steps toward
me.

  “Stephanie,” he continues, “I need you to go and -”

  Before he can finish, another large chunk of wood is blown through the window. I see it rushing up behind George, but I'm too late to say anything and instead I watch with horror as the wood smashes into him and slices his head clean off. As the head hits a nearby wall, George's body remains standing for a moment with blood bursting from the severed neck, and then slowly the knees buckle and his corpse falls to the floor.

  I look over at the head. George's eyes blink a couple of times, and then become completely still.

  Beneath my feet, the floor is really shaking now. And high above my head, the pipes on the ceiling are beginning to crack open.

  “This has to stop,” I whisper, horrified by the realization that the whole world seems to be on the verge of collapsing. “Something has to -”

  Suddenly I hear a loud snapping sound, and I turn just in time to see the chandelier come crashing down. Before I even have time to flinch, the chandelier hits the ground just a few feet away and shatters, and I let out a shocked gasp as shards of glass are sent flying through the air.

  Once the initial impact is over, I stand completely still and stare at the carnage. There's blood everywhere, and after a moment I turn and look once again at George's dead body. A shudder passes through my chest, but then I slowly turn and see that Hannah is sitting in one of the red chairs and staring intently at the chessboard.

  “Help!” I call out, and now I feel as if I might faint at any moment. “You have to do something!”

  She doesn't reply, so I hurry around the wrecked chandelier and make my way over to her.

  “Hannah, you have to stop this!” I say firmly, grabbing her shoulder. “It's like the world is ending!”

  “Do you know how many times I've been through this?” she replies, not even bothering to look up at me as she continues to study the pieces. “Way over a thousand. Relax, Stephanie. The universe will collapse, time and reality will melt away, and then we'll live this day all over again. You won't remember any of this, but I will.” She glances at me. “I promise, I'm getting close to finding a solution,” she adds, before looking back down at the board. “There's a solution somewhere. A winning move. I just need to -”