The Hotel at the End of Time

Chapter 7 - Emma receives a non-insane warning.

Emma lowered her expectations for this encounter to not getting stabbed. It was a low bar, but under the circumstances, she'd count it as a win.

With a final glare, the crazy woman nodded, dropped Emma's forearm, and walked out of the emergency room, taking her intense, angry energy with her. It was as if someone had turned a light back on.

Well, that was abruptly and weirdly terrifying.

Double men with dark ears? Or did she say angular ears and long legs? Did she mean elves? Elves would kidnap her? How did someone that dog-barking crazy function in everyday society? As she pondered the many vagaries that life presented, the nurse called her name.

*

Hours later, she was relaxing back in her apartment, no closer to figuring out what had happened to her, but feeling better about the whole thing. The doctor seemed concerned about the seizure and less so about the after-effects. She instructed Emma to drink lots of fluids, get plenty of rest, and make a follow-up appointment with a neurologist. Done, done, and done.

With a structured plan in place, Emma was ready to put all of it behind her and move on with her life. It was after six, so she made herself a quick dinner of pasta and poured a glass of wine, settling in to relax for the night.

She cleared a spot at her small kitchen table by shoving textbooks aside.

She should have been famished; aside from a few small bites at breakfast, she hadn't eaten all day; but after the first mouthful, she was done. She had no appetite. It wasn't like being full; more like not needing to eat at all. A sip of wine provoked the same reaction. A sense of panic bubbled up again; the whisper in her brain that said, this isn't right.

Even worse, she still buzzed with inexhaustible vitality; the endless, vibrating force that made her feel like an alarm clock tossed into a washing machine. She had sprinted back from the hospital, doing the miles in twenty minutes. When she stopped, she wasn't out of breath; she could have gone all night. She also wasn't tired, despite having not slept in close to thirty-five hours. Nothing the doctor said explained any of that.

Emma found that if she focused, with every muscle flexed and with fierce concentration, the flood of energy slowed to a trickle. But as soon as she relaxed, the rivulets came back, flowing into her. It was everywhere. No matter how she tried to distract herself, the presence of other humans intruded; in the apartment next door, in the hallways, even out in the street. It was the same energy she'd been tingling with all day, except—

Except now there was that furious, unique signature she'd only experienced once. Had that crazy bitch from the hospital followed her home? She wiped her hands on her jeans. That woman was dangerous; there was no doubt.

She picked up her phone, ready to send a text to Doreen. Could Doreen even help? How? Besides, what would Emma say? Oh, hey, Doreen. Listen, I went to the ER and now I'm good at running and a crazy woman with a lawnmower haircut told me to watch out for elves.

A knock from the door made her flinch.

Startled, she let out a small yelp and dropped the phone. Jesus, had the crazy woman walked right up to her door? But no, that energy seemed further away, maybe across the street. The energies by her front door were gray and uncanny. Although there were two of them, they were identical. As she focused more intently, her stomach flipped, and she tasted bile. Whoever they were, they weren't good people. She didn't understand how she knew that, but it was true nonetheless.

After picking up her phone, she walked to the door and tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach.

"Who is it?"

"Hi, ma'am," said a friendly male voice. "We wanted to talk to you about your energy bills. Did you know solar power can reduce your annual costs by as much as three percent?"

The tension drained out of her and she took a deep, calming breath. Salesmen. No wonder she was nauseated. With an embarrassed chuckle, she opened the door, ready to tell them 'no, thank you'.

Two identical men stood on the landing wearing smarmy grins that didn't seem to fit on their faces. One had a shaved head and sunglasses worn turned around, stems poking from behind his ears.

Poking from behind his cauliflower ears.

Double men. Twins.

Her eyes darted to where their legs bowed out from the knees.

Their smiles vanished.

Elves. The woman had been right. The elves were here.

Emma tried to close the door, but one of the men blocked it with his foot. Their eyes met and he smiled. This time, it was a real thing, the smile that fit on his face, and it was horrible. Monstrous. A smile devoid of warmth or compassion. Emma groaned, and he punched the door open, knocking her to the floor. What was happening?

Saying nothing, they hauled her off the ground. One pinched her arm, and she yelped in protest. Although she tried to pull away, their grip was too strong. They pulled her out into the hall.

"Hey, stop! What are you doing?" What a dumb thing to ask. She knew very well what they were doing.

Scream. She should scream.

Before she could put her plan into action, one pulled a bag over her head, and everything went dark. Something slammed into her stomach and she exhaled in a rush. Had one of them hit her? She almost couldn't believe it. Never in her entire life had anyone hit her.

She tried to tell them she'd buy whatever they were selling, but before she could, a solid object thudded against her temple, and she staggered. They had punched her. In the head. It dazed her, and they picked her up and pulled her down the stairs.

"You are needlessly aggressive salesmen," she whispered from under her bag.

They dragged her out into the cool night air.