Trouble in Paradise | ONC 2024

7 - Flake

After Tally and Tasi disappeared behind the desk's door, Margaret exhaled. She was glad she'd gone to the bathroom an hour earlier; she'd have peed herself otherwise. She regretted running into the lobby to warn about the people in W1; she should've gotten into her car and hightailed it out of here, rain be damned. What was Tally saying about the creepy old fuck out back? Was she talking about Elijah? He was the only old person Margaret had seen, and since he wasn't here...

"Oh my God," Elsie said. "What's happening?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Margaret replied with a sigh. "Miss is apparently some sort of sadistic killer."

They were lined up in a loose semi-circle, tied to the chairs with their hands behind the backs. Luke was on one end, Margaret and Tate were in between, and Elsie was on the other end. Tate was awfully quiet, looking at the floor. Frightened and slightly squirmy, but calm. Elsie was panicking a little, breathing hard and swallowing, but she was also silent. Margaret strained against the ropes; they weren't all that tight nor were they cutting into her skin, but they weren't loose enough for her to wiggle out of. Tally had been watching to make sure they didn't skimp out on the tying.

Margaret gave up on freeing herself and turned her head toward Luke. He was slumped in the chair, a little bit of blood running down the right side of his head. Some of it was dried, some of it was glistening and tacky. The sight made her nauseous. She stretched her leg aside as much as she could and tapped his foot with hers. 

"Luke?" she asked softly. "Wake up."

She repeatedly tapped, and eventually he lifted his head, his eyes squeezing further shut before they opened. First as slits, and then they slowly widened. His right eye was dilated so much, the iris was paper-thin. He looked at the three of them, face scrunched in what could be confusion or pain, but probably both.

"Jesus fucking Christ," was all he said.

"Mornin'," Margaret replied, glad he was taking it well instead of screaming in panic. "Tally's apparently some sort of killer. I think she implied Elijah's dead out back. We're all tied up, and she took Tasi with her. I think I got it all."

"Yeah." Elsie sniffed and nodded in concurrence. "That's all."

Luke tried wiping the blood off on his shoulder, wincing as he did so. He paused when he noticed the table in front of them and squinted at it. "Shit. That's my gun."

Margaret felt her stomach tighten as she recalled Tally's words -- y'all don't know what he is, do you? Perhaps he was a scorned accomplice, or another questionable character like Elijah.

"Why do you have a gun?" Margaret asked quietly.  "Were you gonna shoot the flake folks if they didn't like your plan?"

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes again. "I'm not a consultant. I'm an FBI agent."

"An agent?" she repeated. "Were you here to investigate? Did you know there was a killer here?"

"I had no clue," he said. "I was here on vacation. I needed a break."

Margaret raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Then why'd you lie about your job?"

"Because I thought saying I'm an agent might make people act funny. I was tired -- I just wanted to get away for a bit. Go somewhere peaceful and quiet and out of the way. I thought the Paradise Hotel was perfect for that." He strained against the ropes. "Clearly, I was wrong."

Elsie leaned forward. "Is your name even Luke?"

"It is," he admitted, and he looked at Margaret. "And I am actually from Vermont."

"I told her we'd keep quiet if she let us go," she explained. "I said we'd convince you."

"There's no way she means it," Elsie pointed out. "After going through all this trouble? Why would she let us go?"

Margaret watched Luke, hoping he would say something different, but he only nodded, agreeing with Elsie. Margaret had thought the same, but she'd tried to keep hope that there were ways out of this. She had nothing to bargain with except promised silence, and now that that was out of consideration, she had no other ideas. Perhaps they could promise money, or a ransom, but she doubted Tally was that type of criminal. It was a kill she was after; she'd said as much.

"Okay." Margaret jerked her head toward the table. "If we get you out of those ropes somehow, can you shoot her when she gets back?"

Luke was repeatedly blinking hard and closing a different eye at a time. That was answer enough for Margaret, but he still replied. "My head's spinning. I can't see great right now. And she knows it, too, which is why she's left the gun here. My aim will be terrible unless I'm a foot away from her, and she'll never let me get that close."

Margaret exhaled, blowing strands of hair out of her eyes. Goddamn Murray and his cheapness. She would've been in a soft bed in Little Rock if it weren't for him. 

"I hope this ain't the dumbest thing you've ever heard," Elsie said suddenly, "but there's a lot of salve on my knees right now."

Margaret blinked. "So?"

"It's slippery. If...we move our chairs, and one of y'all swipes it with your hands, maybe you can slip out." She looked suddenly embarrassed. "Is that stupid?"

Margaret raised both eyebrows. To offer the only idea among them and call herself stupid? What a sweet girl. "That ain't stupid at all. Go on, Tate."

Tate stopped squirming and looked at her, surprised. "You do it."

"No, sweetheart, I'm not having that on my conscious." Margaret gestured toward Elsie. "You slip out, and if you have time, untie us. If you don't, you run and hide."

Tate looked like he would still protest, but Elsie was already jerking her chair around, so he gave in and twisted sideways to turn his chair, too. When the back of his was in front of hers, Elsie kept one knee still, letting his fingers scrape up the salve, and she wiped her other knee along his other wrist, trying to rub it off. She winced -- those bruises looked painful -- and Margaret held her breath. When it seemed all the salve was transferred, Elsie quickly turned her chair around so they were back-to-back. While Tate leaned forward, trying to pull his hands free out of the now salve-covered ropes, Elsie was attempting to fidget with his knot, but untying without seeing was near impossible even as Margaret tried to tell her what to pull at.

Tate finally slipped his arms free, and Margaret had to keep herself from cheering. He pulled at the ropes to loosen them and get the rest of his body out, and at the exact moment he stood, the door behind the reception desk started to open.

But Tate didn't run, he froze. Margaret and Elsie and Luke all screamed at him to go, but instead of turning on his heel and fleeing out the front door, he lunged for the table in front of them and grabbed Luke's gun.