the hotel lobby

“Are you there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, when you decide, let me know.” The voice was amused. Lucas licked his bottom lip and looked around at the people who shuffled through the lobby.

A man, dressed in plaid, carrying a bright red suitcase, half-turned his head and glanced toward him. Lucas lowered his gaze to avoid the man’s pale eyes and sighed into the phone’s mouthpiece. It smelled of old beer and cigarettes. “I decided. I’m here.”

“Good,” the voice chuckled. “Are you on your way?”

“I’m in the lobby.”

“Describe it.”

“The lobby?”

“Yes. The lobby. Is it bright? Dull? Are there many people? Do they file past you, or do they wander aimlessly in small herds?” The voice lowered its volume and whispered its next sentence. “I need to know, Lucas.”

“The lobby is dull. The lights are too soft, and there are a lot of shadows to hide in. The carpet is red. The walls are sculpted, with streaks of hard plaster to give it texture. It’s stained yellow. There’s a man behind the counter, dressed in a grey suit, and another waits at the door. He’s wearing glasses. I don’t know what they want, but the people are like ants. They’re shuffling all over the place. They never stare at anything. They don’t care. They smell of airplanes. I don’t like flying.”

“Blood red?”

“Pardon?”

“The carpet, Lucas. Is it the colour of blood, or is it darker?”

“Lighter. There’s a dark shadow-stain at the doorway though. Under the guy with glasses.”

“Sunglasses?”

“No, I think he’s short-sighted.”

“Good. And does he smoke?”

“I don’t know. He’s not at the moment.”

“Look at his fingers, Lucas. Are they tainted yellow, like the walls, or are they clean? And does he fidget? Smokers always fidget when they are in public places and can’t smoke.”

“He’s fidgetting. I can’t see his fingers though.”

“Well, he could be a smoker. What about the one behind the counter? What’s he like?”

“He’s small. He’s got slick hair and a greasy smile. Greenish skin.”

“Olive, Lucas. He could be Italian.”

“No, it’s not like that. He looks green. His hair is brown. His eyes are dark. His fingers are like eels. They slip across things. They don’t touch.”

“Is he married?”

“I can’t see a ring.”

“You’re getting better at this, Lucas. Look around. Is there anything strange?”

Lucas looked up from the phone. He was wearing thin-rimmed glasses, and a cap pulled down to hide most of his face in shadows. He peered through the gap between glasses and the solid bill of the cap. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his tongue flicked out often to lick the tip of his bottom lip. He wore an old shirt and new jeans. Soft shoes, a silver chain around his wrist.

“Nothing yet. There’s some girl. She’s dressed in blue. Her dress is tight. Too tight. She’s small, and pretty. I like her.”

“Forget her. What about the guy hiding behind her?”

“There’s no one there.”

The voice smiled at the other end of the line. Lucas could feel the humour as it said, in a quiet steady tone, “Trust me, Lucas.”

And then Lucas saw him. A sharp face, with dark red hair and a scar pulling down his left eye. Unshaven, with cool eyes staring like some bird of prey at the slim throat of the girl. Stepping from the darkest shadows behind her, the man reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped, startled by the unexpected contact, and turned.

The man said something quickly, and she relaxed just as fast, but her body language was wary. She suspected something.
“He’s giving her something. I couldn’t see, she put it in her bag.”

“It’s probably money,” the voice said.

“They’re leaving.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you see it?”

“I’m not sure. What was I looking for?”

“What was his hair like?”

“Red. Dark red.”

“Natural, you think?”

“No. He dyed it.”

“Anything else?”

“His eyes. They were weird.”

“In what way were they weird?”

“They looked at her. Through her. Something not quite real.”

“Or too real, perhaps.”

“He gave her money.”

“Yes, I know. You said that. What else did you see?”

“Steel. I saw steel.”

“He was carrying?” The voice sounded surprised. “I didn’t see that.”

“No, it was in his body. His arms, his fists, his legs. The way he moved. Steel.”

“Tell me, Lucas. Do you think she will survive the night?”

Lucas looked at the door, where the man was leading the girl in the tight blue dress past the man with glasses. A woman burst into the lobby, carrying a bright red suitcase. Her hair was tinted orange, and she wore an dress, which was an evil shade of yellow.

“No,” he said, glancing at the man behind the counter, who pulled out a key and gave it to a young man with a buzzsaw haircut and who wore bright green trousers. “She’ll be dead before the hour’s out.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks then, Lucas.”

“Yes. Two weeks.”

“Happy journey.”

Lucas replaced the receiver, and leaned down to pick up his small bag. It was army green. He hauled it to his shoulder and followed a young girl in an overcoat out through the lobby to where taxi-cabs were waiting to take him through the city.

Tags: strange