Creepers

"We're crossing the lobby," Rick's voice said. "While I'm here, maybe I should go into the ballroom and play an encore of 'Moon River.' "

"Please, don't," Cora begged, joking.

"Besides," the professor said into his walkie-talkie, "that music is far too recent for this hotel. Carlisle would never have allowed it. More likely, the tune would have been something like 'On the Banks of the Wabash' or 'My Gal Sal.' "

"Did you know Theodore Dreiser's brother wrote both of those?" Vi

"We're approaching the check-in counter," Rick's voice said.

"For God's sake!" Cora exclaimed.

"What's wrong?" Conklin blurted into his walkie-talkie.

"Another rat. I'm so sick of rats."

Balenger heard breathing from Vi

"We're at the message slots. They have keys attached to metal discs with 'Paragon Hotel' stamped on them. Almost every mail slot has a key. Except in four twenty-eight."

"What?" Vi

"There's no key for six-ten, either," Rick's voice said.

"That's Danata's suite," Conklin said.

"Or to three twenty-eight, five twenty-eight, and six twenty-eight."

"Rooms directly above and below this one," the professor said.

"Wait," Rick's voice crackled.

"What's the matter?"

"I heard something."

Balenger, Vi

"Rick?" Conklin asked.

Something scraped.

"Another damned rat," Cora's voice said. "I think they're having a convention."

"This is bullshit," Vi

Rick's voice said, "We're looking in the office behind the check-in counter."

Vi

"No keys," Rick said from the walkie-talkie. "But there are several filing cabinets."

Balenger heard a metallic sound from the walkie-talkie, presumably a cabinet drawer being slid open.

Rick: "Mostly maintenance records. Staff assignments. Bills and receipts of payments."

Cora: "This drawer has a reservation folder. It's empty. There's a folder devoted to which rooms are occupied. That's empty, too. But a lot of other folders are crammed. Guests who used to come here on a yearly basis, any special needs they had, any preferences for particular rooms, flowers, favorite foods. The most recent guest in that category stopped coming in 1961."

"The basic tedious details of trying to run a business," Rick's voice said. "All the paper that got wasted before computers were invented."

"Hell, we probably waste just as much paper, printing everything out."

"They could be down there forever," Vi

"We should wait till they come back," the professor said.

But Vi

"Looks like the maid cleaned this one. Smells damp, though." Vi

And was swallowed.

19

The sound was like wet cardboard being torn. As Vi

Balenger charged toward the open door and dove, landing on his stomach at the entrance to the murky room. The impact sent his hard hat clattering along the floor, its light twisting in sickening angles. He grabbed Vi

Vi

The splintered boards collapsed. As Vi

"Cross your arms over your chest!" Balenger shouted. "Tight! The knapsack! Keep the straps from slipping off your shoulders!"

In a frenzy, Vi

Something crashed downward. Vi

The floor under Balenger's chest began to buckle. His body slipped forward. "Bob! Get over here! Grab my legs! I'm sliding in!"

He heard the professor's heavy footsteps rushing toward him. At once, he felt thick fingers squeezing his ankles, trying to hold him.

Vi

"Stop moving!" Balenger yelled. "For God's sake, keep still!"

"Go

Now Vi

Vi

"Bob, hold my ankles harder! I feel your hands letting go!"

"Trying! Can't help it!"

"Lie on my legs!"

"What?"

"My legs! Lie on them, damn it! Your weight will keep me from sliding in!"

Balenger felt a crushing impact on his legs. He winced from the pain, but at least he was no longer being dragged into the hole. The light from the professor's headlamp glared past, revealing the crater. Only Vi

"Vi

"God, I hope."

"Stop squirming! You're making things worse!"

"Stop squirming," Vi

"Count from one hundred backward."

"Why would I-"

"Just do it. Concentrate on the numbers. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Do it! Ninety-seven."

"Ninety-six. Ninety-five. Ninety-four."

Slowly, breathing hoarsely, Vi

"Good," Balenger said, his arms aching. "I'm going to twist you around so you're looking up at me."

Balenger shifted his arms to the left, causing Vi

"Don't let go," Vi

"I promise." Balenger couldn't hold his grip on the knapsack much longer. "Can you see my left arm?"

"Yes." Vi

Balenger studied the way Vi

"Raise your right hand. Grab my left arm. It's just over your shoulder."

"Can't," Vi

Balenger struggled to keep his hands from slipping off the knapsack. "No. You won't fall. Let's do this another way." He didn't say "try" to do it. "Try" implied weakness. "Try" suggested possible failure. Every word had to involve a command that left no doubt of a positive outcome. "Keep pressing your right hand against your left shoulder. Release it just enough to slide it farther up your shoulder. Toward your neck. The straps won't slip off."

"Scared," Vi

"This is almost over. Do what I tell you." Balenger's arms were in agony. He felt the professor's weight on his legs. "Pay attention. Slide your right hand up your shoulder toward your neck."