Something is Out There Page 9

  “We really like sex!” Da’am says, smiling that goofy grin.

  V’ee adds, unnecessarily, “Sometimes we trade bodies with each other. And other times—”

  I hold out my hands. “That’s okay. I get it. You discovered sex. Welcome to the human race.” Of course I haven’t had sex in almost a year, but that’s another story.

  Da’am holds his hand out to V’ee and she takes it. Together, they walk back to the shed and stand there, silently looking down at the beacon.

  I look at it, too, waiting for something to happen.

  Nothing happens. Okay. I’m starting to feel like a third wheel. Five minutes go by. Did they forget about me? I clear my throat.

  They both turn to me, smiling. “Would you like to turn it on, Kyle Chapman?”

  V’ee’s eyes twinkle blue as she nods at me. “We could not have done it without your help.”

  “Sure. What the hell?” I tell them. “It’s not every day you can help an alien race.”

  I walk over to the beacon and then stand aside. I kneel down. “Okay, what do I do?”

  “Push the red button twice,” Da’am says, so I do. The machine starts to hum and a blue light begins blinking. The light is mounted on a small circular plate which begins to slowly rotate.

  “Could you lift it onto that shelf, Kyle Chapman?” V’ee asks. “We don’t want anyone else to find it. They will not understand.”

  “Sure.” I heft it up to a metal shelf just under the high window. I slide a cardboard box full of old paint cans in front of it. This way, no one will find it unless they’re really looking for it.

  Da’am puts his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.”

  “Just happy to help,” I reply.

  The rest of my shift passes quietly enough. I managed to get the two ancient aliens back in their rooms without being seen by sneaking them in through the back entrance.

  ***

  Tonight when I walk into the work, the strangest thing happens. Mr. Martin grabs me as soon as I walk in the door. It’s like he was waiting for me. He has a hold of my arm, and let me tell you, he’s pretty strong for an old guy.

  “Did you turn it on?” he demands.

  I look up at him. “What?”

  “Did you turn it on?” he repeats, shaking me for emphasis. This is getting scary.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, trying to gently pull away.

  “Riley, there you are!” Carl comes swooping in and puts a big arm around Mr. Martin and detaches his hand from my arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You left all your books out. Now come, we need to clean ‘em up.”

  “But you don’t understand, “Riley protests, gesturing impatiently at me. “This motherfucking nincompoop has —”

  “That’s enough. Watch the language,” Carl says firmly. “Now, let’s go.”

  He leads a protesting Riley toward the common room. I watch them go. I hate scenes like that. They’re scary and uncomfortable. It’s not unusual, a place like this. The old folks get confused, and some eventually lose all touch with reality. Alzheimer’s is an ugly, ugly disease.

  Carl catches up to me later, on his way out. ”Sorry about that, man. He’s been acting weird all day. I was keeping an eye on him, but he got away.”

  “What was he talking about?” I asked him.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know. He’s in his room now. Yesenia’s gonna give him a little something to help him sleep. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I wave and he takes off.

  During my break, I head out back to the shed to make sure the beacon is still working. I hope I’m there when V’ee and Da’am get rescued. That’s going to be something to see.

  I stop when I reach the shed. Somebody put a shiny new padlock on the door. Who? Carl? I go around to the side and peek through the cracked, dirty window. The metal box is still there. I can see the light blinking. I turn away. Wait a second ... the light was blue before, and now it’s red. Hmm. I wonder if that means anything.

  Back inside, I swing by Mr. LaFica’s room. I listen at the door. It’s quiet, so I carefully open the door. LaFica’s bed is empty. I slip out and walk down to Mrs. Mendez’s room. I hear the moaning before I even get close to the door. I stop. No way I’m walking in on that again. I’ll tell them about the beacon later. Smiling, I walk back to the desk. I’ve got an essay to finish.

  ***

  Heading out to my car after my shift, as I fumble for my car keys, I’m dimly aware of shouting. But I’m too dog-tired to really process anything. Yawning, thinking about a drive-thru breakfast sandwich and my bed.

  Now I smell smoke. Must be a fire nearby. And now I hear a couple of sirens. Actually, more than a couple. I glance around, and that’s when I notice how dark it is. I look up, and barely register the sound of my computer bag crashing onto the pavement.

  The entire sky is filled with giant black pyramids. Hundreds and hundreds of black pyramids. They're huge, the size of office buildings, with flashing red lights along their edges. And they’re all slowly rotating.

  As I watch, amazed, a beam of pure white light shoots out from the base of one. A second later, I hear the thump of an explosion. More smoke starts to rise.

  “Aren’t they glorious?”

  I turn. La Fica and Mendez (or Da’am and V’ee) stand behind me, both of them bare-ass naked.

  “What is this?” I try to say, but nothing comes out, just croaking. I motion up at the pyramids.

  Da’am winks at me. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Kyle Chapman.” He turns to V’ee, their eyes flash blue, and they both collapse onto the parking lot. The two old people lay splayed on the ground, moaning, as the blue orbs rise from their unmoving forms.

  The two aliens rise, their tentacles trailing, higher and higher, toward the floating pyramids.

  I think of the beacon.

  The beacon that I helped build.

  Same Time, Next Year

  1971

  In a darkened hotel room, a woman sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to her man, resting her head on his chest. Her hand caressed his muscular stomach, his powerful chest. There were still beads of perspiration from their lovemaking on his skin.

  She sighed happily. “I can hear your heart.”

  He kissed the top of her head, ran his fingers through her thick dark hair. “Yeah? What’s it saying?”

  She tilted her head to look up at him. She smiled. “It’s saying you’re in love.”

  “They say the heart doesn’t lie.”

  “They say?” she teased, “What about you?”

  “They’re right.” He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply on the lips. “You are so beautiful. And I do love you.”

  They lay like that, bodies entwined, content in both each other and their love. After a few minutes, he wriggled free and reached for his watch on the nightstand. He glanced at the glowing hands.

  “Do you have to go?” She rolled over and lay half on top of him, her chin on his chest. She gazed into his eyes. His beautiful green eyes. She could just make them out in the ambient light coming through the curtains. The neon flash of the Las Vegas Strip, just outside, but in this room, at this moment, so far away.

  “No. We have some time.” He returned the watch, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, shook two out, put them in his mouth, lit both with a silver lighter and handed her one.

  “How was Kat’s recital?”

  She brightened at the thought of her daughter. “She was so cute. She was the loudest one there. She was practically shouting the song.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry I missed it. She’s such a great kid.” He stared into the darkness and exhaled. “I wish I could have been there.”

  “So do I, sweetheart.”

  He strolled over, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “So. Have you talked to Leo?”

  No answer.

&n
bsp; “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

  “It —it’s not that easy. You don’t know Leo. He hates that we’re even separated.”

  “He hates it? He’d rather stay in a rotten marriage?”

  Her voice was a whisper. “He says he won’t ever let me go.”

  “So don’t ask him. Just leave. Call a lawyer, file for divorce, and stay with me.”

  “I can’t do that. If I leave him, he’ll go for full custody of Kat. He’s threatened me with that already . . .”

  The man exhaled, reached over and stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray. He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands. She came up behind him and held him, arms laced around his chest.

  “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” She kissed his ear, his neck. “I just need a little more time. I’m just waiting for the right time.”

  “I know, baby. It’s just... I’m tired of waiting. I want you all to myself.”

  He got up and went to the window. Pushed the curtain open, revealing more light. She looked at him silhouetted in the window. His broad shoulders and powerful back and legs. He was such a... a man, she thought. Not like Leo.

  He turned and faced her, his emerald eyes glinting in the darkness. “You and Kat should live with me. There's no reason you should stay here. I have plenty of room at my place. You could—”

  There was a knocking at the door.

  He reached down, found his pants and pulled them on. “Did you order room service?”

  The woman slid across the bed, the away from the door. “No. Maybe—”

  The knocking intensified. Became pounding.

  “Son of a bitch!” Angry already, now with someone to take it out on. He headed toward the door, guided by the crack of light beneath. More banging—no, now it was kicking. The door nearly burst off its hinges.

  “This better be important!” The man yelled, reaching for the knob. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

  As he turned the knob, the door splintered open, slamming into the wall. The man stumbled backward, off balance.

  A figure, black against the light from the corridor, stood in the doorway. He was holding something in one of his hands. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was shiny. He took a step into the room and raised his arm. An explosion filled her ears. Bright light. Another. She saw her man fall and called out his name. The figure pointed his gun at her. Sound. Light. Pain. And then... darkness.

  ***

  2001

  Lanie Hobbes stared across the lobby with a satisfied smile. This was it. Her first shift at the front desk of the Excelsior, one of Las Vegas’ most storied and upscale hotels.The high ceilings, the beautiful, ornate chandeliers, the plush, red velvet furniture. Night was falling outside and the lobby was filling up with well-dressed guests and gamblers. A piano tinkled faintly from a nearby cocktail lounge.

  Lanie was a little nervous, but she had studied the handbooks, watched carefully during her job shadowing, and asked a ton of questions. Six months of working in banquets dealing with stressed out brides and party planners? This should be a walk in the park. She’d be fine. She looked down at herself, smoothed down her red shirt, and straightened her name tag.

  Lanie was organizing room brochures when she sensed a customer. She brushed a loose strand of dark hair out of her face and smiled prettily at the guest.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am, welcome to the Excelsior. How may I help you?”

  The woman was older, maybe mid-sixties, but very polished and put-together. Dark hair in a stylish bun, sharp cheekbones, bright blue eyes. A streak of white ran through her hair just above her right ear. It was kind of striking, really. It suited her. Charcoal gray Chanel suit. She smiled back at Lanie.

  “My name is Jessica King. I have a reservation.”

  “Of course. One second.” Lanie punched in her passcode and looked up Ms. King’s information. While the computer was processing, she tried some small talk. It was important to make the guests feel welcome.

  “So is this your first time at the Excelsior, Ms. King?”

  Jessica King gave a faint smile. A sad smile, Lanie would later think. “No. I—I have been here many times.”

  “Wonderful! Glad to have you back!”Lanie beamed. “Well, here’s your—” She stopped, looking at her computer monitor. This couldn’t be right. “Um... “

  Lanie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. King, Jessica... Room 732 —Blocked. See MOD.

  What? Room 732? But that room was off limits. They had told her that during her training. Was this a mistake? Lanie looked to her right, but Ed, the other employee, was with a customer. She looked to her left. No one. She was on her own.

  “Is something wrong?” Ms. King’s voice was soft and controlled.

  “No, um, but I think there’s an issue with your room. Can I offer you another room?”

  “What?” Ms. King seemed stunned. She put a hand on the counter to steady herself. “No. I don’t want another room! I always stay there.”

  Lanie’s mind was whirling. On the one hand, there was an unwritten policy not to allow guests to reserve room 732. She didn’t know why, and it wasn’t in any of the employee manuals. There wasn’t a even a key code in the system for room 732. But this woman had clearly reserved room 732 and expected to stay there. Aggh! What to do?

  “Ms. King! So good to see you again!” A dark shape swooped in beside Lanie, gently, but forcefully nudging her to the side. Mark Younger. The shift manager. Tall, square-jawed, his brown hair cut close. He was very good-looking, very professional... and very gay, Lanie had been told.

  “This young lady is saying there’s a problem with my room.” Ms. King’s voice faltered a bit, but she managed to maintain her composure.

  Mark glanced at the computer screen, raised his head in a dazzling smile. “No, ma’am. Everything looks fine. Room 732. One night.”

  Ms. King looked relieved. She straightened up.

  Mark turned to Lanie. “Lanie, uhhh... could you please scan and sort the key cards from today’s shift? Thanks so much.” He turned back to Ms. King. “I do apologize, Ms. King. Lanie has just started here and hasn’t been briefed on all our policies.”

  Sort the key cards? Lanie thought. What the hell does that mean? She could swipe them, for sure, to clear the code for the next guest room, but sort them? She walked toward the box containing the cards, puzzled. She turned to ask Mark what he meant, when she saw him reach into his pocket, pull out an actual KEY with a plastic tab on it, which was printed, no doubt, the room number 732, and hand it to Ms. King. Ms. King smiled gratefully, clasped Mark’s hands in both of hers.

  “Thank you so much,” she beamed.

  “Will you be dining at one of our restaurants tonight?” Mark smiled. “I’d be happy to make your reservations.”

  Ms. King seemed to think about it. “No, I think I’ll be ordering room service. I’m a bit tired.”

  Mark nodded. “Of course. Would you like help with your bags?”

  She looked down at her small roller suitcase and smiled at him. “No, I think I'll be okay. These little wheelie suitcases are so easy.”

  Mark watched as, limping slightly, she made her way to the bank of elevators. He smiled patiently, then motioned Lanie back over to him. The smile never left his face as he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Sorry about that. I was stuck in a meeting and couldn’t get down here in time to meet her.”

  Lanie looked at him, then over at Ms. King, who was standing across the lobby waiting for an elevator. “What was that all about? Count the key cards? Really?”

  He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But, it’s a very sensitive issue. Ms. King is a very loyal client. Been coming here for years.”

  “And she always stays in the same room?”

  Mark nodded, looked around, then pulled Lanie into an alcove. “No one else ever uses that room. That’s why it’s blocked. Only Ms. King stays in room 732.�
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  Lanie looked up at him, clearly confused. “But why? What’s the big deal? And was that an actual key you gave her?”

  Mark smiled patiently. “I can tell you what I know. If you’re working at the front desk, they should have told you anyway. But since they haven't, keep it on the down low.”

  Lanie nodded. “Sure. of course”

  Mark looked around again, leaned close to Lanie. “Didn’t you ever hear anything about the murder-suicide back in the seventies?”

  Lanie shook her head.

  “Well, Ms. King was married at the time, and was having an affair with one of the casino managers. Her husband was Leonard King. Heard of him?”

  Again, Lanie shook her head. Mark leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

  “Girl, where are you from? You never heard about the Leonard King murder? Anyway, Leo King was a big real estate developer. Some say he was connected. He owned a piece of the hotel too. Anyway, he found them in bed and shot and killed her boyfriend. He shot her. And then he shot himself.”

  “Here? In the Excelsior?”

  “I’ll give you one guess which room.” Mark smiled sinisterly.

  Lanie stared at him, open-mouthed. “No! And she stays there? That is so creepy!”

  “I can’t argue with that. But it’s true. After the murder there was a big lawsuit. I don’t know all the details, but she was basically given that room. No one else is allowed to use it as long as she’s alive.”

  “But why would she do that? You’d think she’d want to forget about it.”

  Mark shrugged and glanced at his watch. “The female mind continues to be a mystery to me, darling. Anyway, we have to get back to work. You can buy me a few cocktails after work and I’ll fill you in on all the sordid details.” Mark gave her a little wave and headed through a door into the inner workings of the hotel.

  Lanie headed back to the front desk, thinking about Ms. King. Why would she keep coming back after all this time? And what did she do up there?

  ***

  She woke up in an empty hospital room. She was alone and frightened. Her head hurt and she couldn’t feel her right leg. It was dark and silent, except for the humming of some machine next to her bed and the occasional voice outside her room. She cried out for help, for someone to help her, and an older nurse had come in and calmed her down. The nurse had sat with her for some time, explaining what had happened. She had been shot twice. One bullet had shattered her right kneecap, and the other had grazed the side of her head. The doctor believed she had suffered a concussion but couldn’t be sure without talking to her. She had been unconscious for about twelve hours.