Unplugged: The Hidden World (#2, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Eleven

    The doors slide open and we stride into a quiet hallway broken every so often by the presence of a rug. Dull candlelight illuminates the otherwise dark corridor. All of the windows are nailed shut. The barricaded windows do a good job of breaking the cozy, warm illusion.

"What's that for?" Matthew asks a little nervously, nodding towards them. I shrug.

"The guests must really like their privacy."

Ariel bounces down the hall, leading us towards our room.

"You lied. This is a vacation!"

"A short one," my mother says matter-of-factly. Once she slips the key card into a thin slot on the door handle, the door opens up with a pop. We push our way into the room, closing the door and locking it behind us. Our temporary living quarters takes away from the bleakness of the hallway. A semi-large entry room comprises of a couch, a table for four, and a small kitchenette area. The next room contains two twin beds and a flat-screen television. Two doors along the perimeter of the room lead to different places.

"How nice," my mom mutters, darting directly towards one of the beds. She tries the mattress with her palms.

"I'm going to head down to the car and bring up our supplies." Matthew offers. "Who knows what we might need." He better situates his hidden weapon, tucking his t-shirt over the holster carefully. Since the gun had saved us, my mother hadn't complained about it again.

"I'll help you," I offer, accidentally wincing when I twist my leg the wrong way. He gives me a you-better-not look. When Matthew leaves the room, I follow my mother into one of the unexplored rooms. In the first, a single bed lies directly across from a sleek, mounted television. The other is a bathroom.

"Good job," I mutter to her. She smiles wryly.

"You should thank Analiegh Watson. You wouldn't believe how much money she had on that card!" I wouldn't be surprised to know the full amount: government workers are known for their excessive greed and extravagant spending habits. We join Ariel in the room with two beds, sitting down on the edge of one.

"I wonder what that woman meant by 'business'," I muse.

"This must be one of those places where commerce travelers stay when they are on long trips for work. Nothing scandalous, really." I nod, but deep down I'm still chilled by the check-in woman's mysterious actions. After several moments of winding down, the door opens with a light thud and Matthew stumbles through, arms laden with bags of canned food, blankets, flashlights, candles, lighters, and random first aid equipment. He drops it all on the floor hurriedly, rubbing his arms.

"I should have stretched before that."

"You should have let me help you," I retort, walking over and swiftly grabbing the packaged food and water. I place them on top of the kitchen table. My mother and Ariel help us disperse the supplies until the entryway is clear.

"Thank you," my mom tells Matthew.

"It was no problem." He glances over his shoulder then closes the front door, locking it. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "Did you see the sculptures in the lobby?"

I vaguely remember the metal sculptures standing around the lounge area.

"Not clearly," I admit. "I barely looked at them."