David entered room 212 and sat down on the bed, thoroughly worn out. He unconsciously patted his jacket pocket as he reviewed today’s events. A hell of a day, indeed.
First, the storm. A hurricane in Tennessee? It could happen. It had happened, however unlikely. It made him wonder if they’d really left the other world at all. What about his unwitting companions? Lindsay, the scaly child, and that strange but gorgeous woman with flowers in her hair… as her hair. Her name was Juliette. The two didn’t seem familiar at all. He doubted she was actually a murderer but that little bit of panic had brought about a way to keep tabs on all the people who had arrived with him. Except Hermes, who was dead. Probably. That was extremely unfortunate because he seemed to know more about what was going on than anyone else. He seemed decent at first, too, until they found the journals.
David changed into the nightclothes he found in the dresser drawer and, as luck would have it, they fit him perfectly. They depicted a desert scene from the American Southwest: deep blues for the night sky, dark clouds, a few cacti and even a small pack of coyotes howling at the obscured moon. Did they arrive at the same time as his shiny new desktop computer? Did Lindsay and Juliette worry about the origins of these “gifts?” For all he knew, the three of them owned the building in the forgotten past and this was actually normal. He went over to the door and double locked it, another new feature, hit the lights and then lay down in bed. He looked over at his jacket one last time just to make sure it was safe and then closed his eyes.
The thing that bothered David most of all, beyond the strange murder and locale, was the fact that the late Hermes’ building was now deeded to the three of them. When did that occur? Wouldn’t it raise questions? What if someone came looking for the man? Everyone has friends, after all. There was also the matter of paying taxes and utilities for the structure.
He yawned as he realized he would have to examine the documents more closely in the morning to make sure they were genuine and not part of some elaborate ruse. After all, he had a way with words.