Here I stand, backed up to the window. A stiff breeze whips across the ruined hotel room. On the floor, some guy I saw at the bar earlier. And at the door, some people rather upset with me. I’d love to say this is a normal experience, or I know exactly what to do next, but those’d be lies. This is a wholly new experience for me. And quite frankly, my next moves are all either dumb, bad, or both.
See, the trouble all started one hour, thirteen minutes, and fifty four seconds ago. Roughly. I was downstairs, at this odd bar. The guy lying on the ground now introduced himself to me, though if I’m entirely honest, I don’t exactly remember anything he said. I was enjoying myself and from everything I’ve heard about the Circle, you ain’t supposed to care about things like names. Then, I’m not exactly positive on the steps leading up to it, but a brawl started. Sort of.
Well, actually, let’s hold that thought for a quick sec. I realized, to understand that, you got to go back another couple days. To Tuesday. I was just an innocent temp. In my free time, I went to this gym that’s near where I live. A couple days ago, it was closed for something or other. I got the distinct feeling it was one of those ‘Ask no questions’ sitches, so I didn’t push on what was happening. Disappointed on the lack of gym, I hung my head and started the couple block walk back home. That’s when He showed up. Don’t know his name. He never told me. I honestly didn’t find that to sus until just now. I mean, how often to you actually tell people your name. Anyways, I vaguely recognized him from the gym, and he recognized me. “Hey, bummer about the closing, right?” he said to me as he rushed to walk at my side.
“I guess. Shit happens,” I replied with a shrug.
He faked a laugh, or he found that funny. “Well, me and a couple of the other regulars are headed for the bar later, you in?”
I waffled. “I don’t know...”
“Great,” he answered his own question, clearly ignoring my response, “We’ll pick you up at eight.”
“But,” I started once again, not yet fully understanding that I had no part in this conversation between him and me.
“Don’t worry, Leo works at the desk, he knows where everyone who goes to the gym hangs there hat. Unless you put a fake name and address, but what kind of crazy person would do that?” He started to laugh. At least that time I understood why he found it funny. Given the clientele of the gym, the answer to his rhetorical question was many, if not most, of them had. But that’s less than important for the moment, because I hadn’t.
That evening, I went out to a bar with the four of them. Pike, Nathan, Kelsi, and Leo. Worst decision of my life, even though it wasn’t really a choice on my part. It was at the bar, some random divey place a neighborhood over from the gym, that an “old friend” of Pike’s showed up. She was lithe and irritatingly haughty, but she we all drank together and she liked me, Kelsi, and Nathan enough to invite us to a party. It was on Friday at a bar known as the 8th Circle. Kelsi, as it turned out, was a regular at the Circle on Fridays. But me and Nathan both were like sure. That was the second worst decision of my life, and if you only count times where I had free will and chose the dumb thing, the worst. Probably. Right up there with that one thing in Middle School. And the, well, other thing. But those aren’t relevant to the circumstances. In any case, drinking continued and the party ended when the dive shut down. I got a cab and woke up in the morning in my apartment with a slight to minor hangover and an appointment in my calendar for Friday evening.
Fast forwarding through the boring workstuff and unimportant nonsense, that takes us through to the trouble beginning. Pike’s friend had given us an address that led to what I can only describe as a stereotypical shady as all getout place. It was a solid metal door with an embossed and circled 8 on it set into the wall of an old apartment looking building, down a half flight of stairs from the street. I arrived about the same time as Nathan. We both had work I’m guessing. I’ve never asked the dude what he does for a living. That’s not a kosher question, not at our gym at least. But he seems more the nine-to-five type than the… let’s call it freeform hours type. “Hey, Brett,” he said as we approached one another and the door to the establishment, “Damn, you actually showed.”
I shrugged. “It was in my calendar. Give me an excuse to party on a friday at a new bar, I’m in.”
He chuckled, shook his head, and we headed down the half flight of stairs to the nondescript door. We walked through the door into a small, dark, cramped hallway. The door quickly shut on its own behind us. Almost instantly after it shut, a rather large man appeared in our way. “You’re new.” It isn’t a question, but a statement. He also did not seem particularly friendly about it.
We were saved by a semi-familiar voice out from the darkness. “Freddie, dearie, they’re with me and Pike. For the party.” Pike’s friend’s voice echoed.
The large man, Freddie evidently walked back, revealing both a coat check booth looking region where he was headed and a stairwell. No sign of our inviter, though. “Are they at least interesting?” he mused to our unseen benefactor.
“Nope,” Pike said as he came up the stairs. “Brett, Nathan,” he said to us with a smile, “Are either of you armed? Because if so, check ‘em here. Wouldn’t want my seventh and ninth favorite drinking buddies to get killed for something as silly as a rules infraction.
“Armed?” I asked, “No? Why would, where would, what?”
“Only a knife, but that hardly counts, right?” Nathan said. I looked over at him, confused and surprised.
“It does,” Freddie said, “No weapons.”
My surprise grew when Nathan pulled out a knife the size of a forearm. “Fine,” he said, tossing it to the coat check area. “There you go.”
And with that, Freddie waved us in. “Welcome to hell,” were his final words to us. Pike led us down the stairs into what I can only describe as, well, a nice normal bar. Fancy, but not upscale. Not at all what I was expecting. Anyways, he led us to a table where Kelsi and his friend already were, as well as a few others. Drinking and merriment ensued.
THAT brings us to the -1:13:54 mark. We’d been drinking a bit, not too long though. In a bar without windows or clocks, it can sometimes be hard to keep track of time, but I’d figure we were there for about an hour when it went down. Floor guy had said hello to our table and moved on. He seemed to know what the party was about. Though he didn’t tell my clueless butt. Then, at one of the more open tables in the place, the brawl started. No idea why, I went to the bar for drinks one second and everything was fine, and when I got back to our table, some big guy had just punched out some dude in a suit. I think they had been sitting together, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. Wasn’t paying enough attention. The suit guy’s friends began to go after the big guy and his friends, and soon that whole area was chaos. And, in a wise move, Kelsi suggested we take our leave. “I got a friend staying at the hotel across the street,” she’d said, “We can move the party there.” A good plan, and so we did. Pike left a note with Freddie, so any further whatevers (mourners, maybe? Was it wake of some kind? I mean, it felt kinda wakey, but like for someone everyone respected but no one liked?) could find the party. After Nathan and Kelsi were out the door, I remembered Nathan had checked his knife, and grabbed that for him. Then, we went across the street to a perfectly fine but not fancy or nice hotel.
I used the restroom in the lobby while Kelsi went to talk to her friend. I was in there a tad long. Several things in the place were broken in less than helpful ways. Returning to the lobby where I’d left people, the lady at the concierge desk said, “They’ve all headed upstairs already.”
It was at that point, I’d realized Kelsi hadn’t told us the room number. Because of course she hadn’t, these are shady folk I’m drinking with. I considered cutting my losses and leaving, but I still had nothing better to do. It’s too late to start anything new, and if I’m entirely honest, the hours we’d spent at the Eighth Circle had been pretty fun. So, I asked the desk lady, “What room were they headed to, again?”
She sighed, smiled, and without blinking told me, “Room 418.” I should’ve known then something was up. No concierge was that helpful, that quickly. But I didn’t and instead I headed for the fifth floor. Room 418. The door was unlocked, as I expected. I opened it, walked through, and it shut behind me. The room was dark, cold and breezy, not exactly what I was expecting. The door clicked locked behind me. I turned on the light, and that’s when I saw the dead guy and the window broken and everything. I heard the elevator ding on this level. Heading over to the window, I saw police cars on the street. This returns us to the every option is terrible life.
I may not be particularly used to this, but I’ve seen the movies. Whoever broke the glass had to have an escape plan. Looking around, I see no ropes or whatevers to climb up or down or zipline. However murder people do it nowadays. No good. The people at the door have finished their yellybits. That means they’re probably about to break down the door. I have no choice left but to do they dumb and bad option, or get arrested. And I don’t want to get arrested. I grab the sheet off the bed and, holding the four corners I leap and hope it slows my descent enough to not break my bones.
It works. Barely. I still fall fast and land hard. I can feel my legs cracking under the stress, but I roll through it and I don’t break anything badly enough to stop me. They’ll have people in the lobby, and their cars have cameras. Only another bad option. Down. I leave the sheet on the sidewalk and roll under the cars. No cameras there. Hopefully one is parked over a storm drain. The back car is. I crawl through the space until I reach it. Now to get it open. A crowbar would be nice, but I don’t have one. Running my pockets I come to the arm length knife. Should work, though won’t be great for the knife. Sliding it into the crack between the cover and the manhole, I wrench it open just enough for me to hold and slide through. Then, I lower it, drop to the bottom of the drain, and wait.
It takes an hour and change before the cars have moved on. Another hour before I stop hearing sirens. But eventually, I do. Slowly, I climb out of the manhole, checking around. Empty. I need a drink. Hopefully, the brawl is over by now. I head over to the Eighth Circle. Open the door, walk in. Freddie doesn’t stop me this time. He’s waiting at the desk. “Brawl over?” I ask.
“Yep, your friends are back, too,” he replies.
I hand him the knife and walk down, muttering, “Figures.”
I reach the bottom of the stairs and, standing there with the widest grin is Pike. “So,” he asked, “How was it?”
“Hm?” I murmur as I head for the bar.
Loudly, for the whole damned bar to hear, Pike says, “My boy here just evaded the cops for the first time.”
Half the bar boos, as the other half cheers. The bartender hands me my drink for free. “You knew?” I ask as I head back to our table.
Sitting at the table, Kelsi laughs. “Knew?” she says, “I’m like sixty percent sure he set you up.”
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