Chapter 35: At Nighttime

Returning to the main living room, I found Fred setting out a selection of food on a table he’d moved here. The bodies were gone and, if you ignored the blood, the place was not unpleasant. Though you also had to ignore that the hallway outside was filled with corpses and pieces of corpses.

“Looks like you found us something to eat. Thanks, Fred.”

“Salted meats, cheeses, bread, olives, various kinds of pickles from red peppers to cucumbers. Infinitely better than the MREs we’ve been eating.” The bottle of red looked tiny in Fred’s hands as he filled our glasses. “And a lot of wine. These guys have a large storeroom.”

Marci walked ahead, picking up an olive, “I wondered what they’d be eating down here. I did not imagine they’d be drinking, though. How do you think they got all these supplies here?”

He didn’t look up from pouring, “Probably moved it with their undead servants.”

She made a face, “Yuck.”

“I’m sure they didn’t get their undead goo on the olives. Those are stored in brine, you know, and surrounded by glass.” I tapped the jar.

Marci sighed. Looked around. Popped the olive into her mouth. Then, she accepted a glass of dark red wine from Fred, sat down, and picked up a cracker and some cheese. “This feels like a meet and greet. So, ah, what’re you studying?”

After setting the mace down, then taking a glass and sitting down beside her, I said, “A PhD in exploration studies. I’m going to be an explorer when I grow up.”

“You must love flipping burgers.”

“Hey! I’m like, I’m like the best, probably the super best if we’re counting, trapper you know!”

The little elf winked at me, touching another olive to her pink lips, white teeth sinking in, then into her mouth.

Dylan entered from the main hallway, “Yeah, they’re not moving. The zombies. Just lying about. Ave and I put them in piles on the side of the hallway. We were thinking about tossing them down the elevator shaft.”

“Not a good idea,” I said, sitting up. “Not yet, anyway. Tomorrow we’re heading down to the basement, and we know for sure that the elevator shaft isn’t trapped, since Marci and I have made that journey already. But we don’t know about the stairwell. I’d rather err on the side of caution and just retrace our path.”

“Makes sense. And it’s more direct. Though the bodies will just pile up on the elevator at the 8th floor.”

“Yeah,” said Marci, disgusted look on her face, “and rain rotting corpse juice on us.”

“Right,” said Dylan. “That’s gross. We’ll avoid that. Speaking of which, I’m gross.” A black piece of something fell from his gauntlets. He looked at it. “Really gross. I’m going to go clean up.”

“Wait a moment,” Marci gestured at me. “We found something you might be interested in.

Finished pouring, Fred selected a wine glass and moved it toward him, then sat down, “And my sword! Did you find it?”

“Sorry. Just this mace.” Lifting it off the floor, I passed it to Dylan, “You were using one before, maybe this one is magical?”

“I sure hope so. It looks nicer than the one I’ve been using, though. And larger, heavier, that’s good.” He hefted it, swinging it around with apparent ease back and forth, then said, “Yeah, it feels perfectly weighted. I’ve never held a weapon like this before. You’d think it’d be top heavy with this big metal head. Oh, hey, let me give you your sword back.”

I took it from the hilt, noted it wasn’t glowing, which was great, and sheathed it. “Thank you.”

“No magical sword for me?” The barbarian looked a little glum.

Marci placed the wide metal wristbands on the table, “We did find these bracers, Fred. I think they’re for warriors, but I don’t really know.”

“Let me take a look,” offered Bent, joining us from the far room, where he’d searched earlier for the altar. “I learned a spell for this. Discovering what magical items do. Just put them on the coffee table here,” Bent pointed at a side table, not the one with food on it.

Bent reached into a pouch hanging off his belt that I hadn’t noticed before, dropped a pinch of white dust on the shining bracers, mumbled some words, then closed his eyes for a moment. Picking them up, he stood, “Yes, try them on, Fred. I think you’ll like them.”

“Really? Finally!” Taking them from our wizard, Fred clicked them into place on his wrists. Briefly, his muscles glowed, making them somehow look larger, more bulging, than they already were. “Graaar! I could lift a truck now!”

“A truck? That’s some serious power,” Marci said. “Maybe we should test this.”

“Got a truck around?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe,” I said, “you can test out your new strength later.” I patted him on the shoulder, “I’m glad you got something, Fred.”

“I’m going to go lift some of that furniture in the other room. Be right back.”

“Coming with you!” Ave rushed over with him.

“I think,” said Dylan, “I’ll go wash up. I can test the mace later. Or, Bent, you want to take a look at it?”

“Sure, just put it on the table.”

“Where’d you get this new ability from, Bent?” I asked.

“Ah, the spell book. The one we picked up from the first wizardess. The bandits, that time. It took me a while to learn, but I figured it’d come in handy.”

“And it requires you . . . sprinkle dust on the item?”

“Yeah. Here, watch.” Reaching into his pouch, Bentley again sprinkled white dust, this time overtop the mace, mumbling again. Looking at Dylan, he said, “It’s magical and for fighters, so you’re in luck.”

“Is it special dust? Where’d you find it?”

“Uh, yeah. Special. The necromancer has – had? – a whole bunch of magic supplies. I’ve been rummaging through them, making notes and pilfering the ones I’ll use.”

I stared at him a bit, “I hope you’re not becoming a necromancer.”

“Nothing you have to worry about. Though, if I did want to become one, this place would be perfect. It’s already set up to grow necromancy. Minus the, uh, destroyed altars.” His eyes unfocused. “Imagine how much magical power I could generate.”

Marci shook her head, reaching for a piece of salted meat, “You’d seriously want to live down here, in a giant cavern, in a hotel full of decaying bodies?”

Looking at her, the mage said, “Not really.”

Dylan picked up the mace, “Does it do anything in particular? Like how Ave’s hammers explode the undead?”

“It heals you a little with each successful attack. Uhm, by stealing your target’s lifeforce.”

I raised my eyebrows at this. It seemed wrong, but I guess if Dylan was being attacked, the entire point of defending himself was to survive. Just that the idea of surviving on someone else’s life, well, little warning bells went off at the thought.

Dylan smiled, “Healing while fighting. That’s great. Maybe I won’t need any more healing potions.”

Bent wiped errant dust off his hand, “Let’s hope not.”

“Alright, I’m going to wash up. Do they just have the one shower?”

“I used the one upstairs,” said Marci.

“And there’s another down here,” said Bentley, a smile taking over his face. “I’ll show you where it is.”

“Wait a sec. Here,” I pulled the four darker vials out of my bag. “We found these, too. Are they healing pots?”

“They don’t look like it.” Bent took one in his hand. “I can’t cast that spell anymore today. I’ll hold onto these and check tomorrow, though.”

“Sounds good.” I passed him the potions, and he and Dylan headed off into the room.

***

“Well,” said Marci, clicking off the lights on a button by the side table next to her, “looks like we’ve gone from sharing a room to sharing a bed.”

I was lying beside her on the bed. An undershirt and my boxers on, not quite under the covers, not quite comfortable with this arrangement. “I really can go sleep on the couch downstairs, you know.”

“I think it’s best if you get a good rest.” She patted her pillow down, “Maybe I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

“Doesn’t it feel weird? To sleep in this bed? It’s the bed of the woman we killed. I kind of feel awful, like a murderer or something. And you’re wearing her nightgown.”

“I guess we could check out other rooms if you want a different bed. The hotel’s full of them, but we don’t know if anything’s in those rooms. It might lead to more fighting.”

“No, no, this is definitely safer. It’s just . . .”

Marci moved a little closer to me, propping her head up on her arm. “You don’t like the nightgown?” Her light pink lips glistened in the low light, blue eyes vibrant against her skin, blond hair pushed back, the fabric hugging her body and I tried and tried to keep my gaze up.

“I guess, uhm, you can’t sleep in chainmail.”

“River,” she said, moving closer still, resting her right hand on my chest, “even for a boy, you are extraordinarily thick sometimes.” She brushed my hair back, then pressed her lips onto mine, soft and tasting faintly of raspberries. Our tongues met, and I pulled her on top of me. She ran her fingers through my hair.

After a time, she sat up, straddling me, breathing in, staring into my eyes, my arms sliding to her legs. I couldn’t help but say, “Marci, what if it’s the nanotech making us feel this way?”

“And?”

I had to agree with her. Sitting up, I pulled the nightgown over her head, trapping her arms for a moment, pulling her toward me into another kiss, then sliding it off, reaching around her small body, pulling her close.

She reached down, into my pants, I cupped her breasts, and we had our fade to black moment.

***

I took the lead in the basement hallway, “Ok guys, this square here, do not step on it. Go around, to the right.”

Ave, hugging the right wall, asked, “That’s the poison trap?”

“Yup. I didn’t disarm it, but it’s easy to avoid.”

After breakfast – more dried and salted foods – we’d made our way down the stairs. Bodies upon bodies lay here and there, and we walked around them. Many were lying up near the top of the stairs, probably coming after us to save their masters. When the altar stopped working, so did they.

From the eighth floor, we took the elevator shaft.

“Smells musty down here,” said Fred.

“And a little like exhaust fumes,” added Marci. “I wonder if something’s plugging up the pipes. I don’t think the generators could have used up all the air this quickly.”

Ave asked, “New air would be coming through the shaft we entered by, no?”

“Not really fast enough,” said Marci. “The distance is too far. Unless there’s more ventilation shafts. Like, if this were similar to a mine or the nanotech understood that living organisms would be down here and needed fresh air. Given that the nanotech created the cavern for quests and adventurers, it probably has ventilation.”

“It’s not so bad right now,” I said. “Let’s just check the security videos and then, I don’t know, address this problem or leave the cave entirely.”

A smile in her voice, Marci said, “I vote leave the cave entirely. Fresh air and the sun would be nice.”

“We haven’t found the mainframes, though.”

“We don’t know that they’re down here. That necromancer seemed to think they weren’t.”

“Yeah.” I opened the door to the security room, saying to everyone, “This is where we found the first altar. It’s a bit of a mess in there.”

Fred put his enormous hand on my shoulder, “Boss, this whole place is a mess,” then walked past me into the room. “But it does have generous amounts of lovely alcohol, which is nice.”

A little while later, Marci, under the computer table, said, “Ok, found the power button. Here we go.”

Fortunately, whoever the security guards were, probably one of the unmoving zombies now, left the password on a post-it note. I typed it in and we soon found the videos. Thankfully, they were labeled by date. I clicked the very last one.

Four screens popped up. One focused on the entrance to the hotel, automatic double glass doors opening for guests and bellhops, closing after they entered or exited, a circular driveway where cars and buses dropped guests off. Another aimed at the front desk where clerks clicked their mouse buttons, guests waiting patiently or slightly annoyed, one with hand tremors. One camera for the elevator, the doors opening and closing, one viewing the stairs, a young hotel staffer bouncing down them, smile on her face. Another camera on the pool, the afternoon sun glinting off little waves made by a few swimmers doing the front crawl, other guests lounging in a nearby large hot tub.

Normal hotel activities at the beginning of the video. I skipped along.

“Wait, you went past it,” said Bentley. “Go back a bit.”

“Ok. Here?”

“Watch the swimming pool.”

One of the swimmers doing laps, near the end of the pool, suddenly stopped moving his arms and legs and gently floated along until bumping into the concrete end. The other one was slowly sinking, bubbles rising.

Guests in the hot tub likewise stopped moving, but it was more difficult to see as they were above water. If you didn’t know, they could be taken as relaxing. But one of the staff, carrying a tray, moved over there, appearing to ask if everyone was ok. He touched one of the guest’s shoulders. Then he, too, stopped moving. A full martini glass slid off his tray, crashing against the ground.

A staffer closer to the doors bolted inside the hotel.

In the lobby, those closest to the door froze first. The running staffer made for the stairs, but tripped halfway up the first flight, and did not get back up or move. We had no sound, but it was clear the people behind the desk were panicking and screaming, pointing at the guests before they, too, were overcome and ceased moving.

Outside a car crashed into a bus, airbags filled up the front seats.

I asked, “Were the people outside frozen already? I missed it.”

“Yeah,” said Marci. “It seems to have come from the pool side of the hotel. You can see the road off in the distance, down the mountain. So, the nanobots likely traveled along that road from wherever they started.”

“Then up the stairway.”

“Yeah.”

“Skip forward a bit,” said Bentley. “I think they’re all being given the choice we were, and that takes a few minutes. Except these guys probably have more time, since they’re not in moving vehicles that are crashing.”

“Except for the car outside that crashed.”

Bent looked over at Fred, saying, “Yes. Except that one.”

I skipped the video forward.

“Wait,” said Marci, “go back. See this guy?” She tapped a guest in the hot tub, “His skin is already changed.”

“Ok.” I’d gone about thirty minutes ahead, so I skipped back five, then another five.

“There it is! He loses his tan, and his skin starts to grey.”

Dylan said, “All of them in the hot tub. They’re all becoming grey. And that waiter.”

“Oh my god,” said Marci. “The guy in the pool.”

The one who’d sunk, his body elongated, almost looking insectoid, his back legs growing into a thorax, two new sets of limbs emerging from it. He paddled up, took a breath, and swam to the steps leading in, crawling up and out of a pool as an insect moves. The other person in the pool followed behind, transformed similarly.

“Jesus, that’s creepy,” said Ave. “His eyes are gone!”

I paused it, then expanded the window. Both swimmers were creatures now. The one climbing out was eyeless and had mandibles jutting out from under its ears, which were larger now, but still human shaped. Its lower body was segmented, four limbs moving it along, but it retained its human arms and hands. I pressed play and the creature scurried away, the other following.

“Those poor men,” said Marci. “Oh! The ones in the hot tub, they’re out and moving toward another guest.”

The guest’s clothing altered, becoming metallic, a nearby table collapsed, and one of his hands was holding a stick that grew into a mace. Then, he unfroze, looking around, saw the five coming toward him and bolted.

“Replay that. Focus on the table this time,” said Marci.

The table legs appeared as if they evaporated, which caused it to collapse. “They’re changing tables?”

“It’s happening to a lot of furniture, items, even the car on the other screen. See?” Marci pointed at the car, its engine exposed as if someone had cut it in half for a display. “I think the nanobots are creating weapons and armor with the metal from around the hotel.”

I went back and we rewatched it. Sure enough, as the table was disintegrating, the man’s weapon was forming. Not immediately, the nanotech couldn’t move faster than light, but in a very coordinated fashion. We replayed the scene multiple times, watching other weapons seem to grow out of nowhere while the car seemed to vanish little by little.

“Yeah,” I said, “you’re right about that.”

The lights turned off, then the monitors went dark.

“Shit!” said Fred.

“This isn’t good.” I put my backpack on the ground, reaching inside and feeling around for my flashlight. I could hear others doing the same. “We can’t have run out of fuel. Something must really be blocking the pipes.”

Dylan turned his flashlight on. “Where are the generators? I’ll go check on them.”

“Not a good idea,” said Marci, clicking on her flashlight. “They must have shut off because of a lack oxygen. If you open those doors, this place will be flooded with exhaust fumes.”

Finally, I found mine and brought it out of the backpack. But I checked my sword first just in case. No light. “My sword says there’s no undead around. I wonder what’s blocking up the exhaust pipes.”

“Only one way to find out,” said Ave.

“Yup. We are going outside.”