Chapter 12
HEATHER
‘Stay here,’ Heather instructed Jaime. ‘Climbing the ladder will be too dangerous for you.’
Jaime finished swallowing the last bit of her chocolate cake.
‘The sweets from Floor Gluttony all taste very fresh. The evidence suggests that the floor has been producing new sweets at an accelerated rate until they overflow, as opposed to dumping old ones. This is troubling. The flow may never stop.’
Heather rubbed her forehead. ‘That’s just another reason why I need to get the hotel repaired as fast as possible.’
It had been hard enough when the lift had first broken, leaving everyone trapped.
Now the floors were malfunctioning too? That was worse.
It meant people could be in serious danger.
There had been guests on Floor Gluttony – who knew what might be happening to them?
True, the hotel had shown signs of disrepair before, and Godfrey had neglected his job for years, but how could so many different parts have broken down all at the same time?
It seemed too dreadful to be a coincidence.
Heather did not speak her fears aloud. She did not want to alarm Jaime.
The child had experienced a rough enough day already.
Using tape, Heather fastened a torch to the brim of a top hat.
Then she crept along the narrow walkway on the side of the lift shaft.
There was no railing. She did not dare look down.
She grabbed on to the ladder as if it was a lifebuoy.
After taking a deep breath, she climbed as fast as possible so she didn’t have to think about the drop.
Her hands trembled for the entire five-floor climb down to maintenance. Heather breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she set foot on the white floor. She resisted the urge to kiss the ground. Instead, she turned off her torch.
‘That was easy,’ Jaime said.
‘Gah!’ Heather’s heart felt as if it had leapt into her stomach. She turned round to glare at the girl standing behind her. ‘I told you to stay on the reception floor.’
Jaime shrugged. ‘I never agreed.’ She spoke around a lollipop sticking out of her mouth.
‘You brat.’ Heather tousled Jaime’s hair. She resisted the motherly urge to scold Jaime for eating so many sweets. They were dead. It wasn’t as if Jaime could get cavities. The child might as well have her fun.
‘Besides, I want to help.’ Jaime looked down and shuffled her feet. ‘I really feel like I ought to undertake at least a nanoscopic assignment. I’m never much use.’
‘You provide me with valuable moral support for my difficult job,’ Heather said. ‘You’re welcome to come along now that you’re on the maintenance floor anyway. Perhaps having a child around will make everyone behave in a more civilised manner.’ Including herself.
Heather marched down the corridor and flung open the door to the maintenance break room. Eleven men sat on the grey chairs and the long sofa, eating sandwiches. Three of them had a card game going at the folding table.
Jaime tugged on Heather’s shirt and whispered, ‘They’re eating. They must have reached the cafeteria, which means they already found the ladder.’
Heather’s rage exploded out of her: ‘Why aren’t you repairing the hotel? You could be already working on the lift if you found the ladder.’ She’d meant to be more diplomatic. She tried again. ‘Please, the hotel is facing an unprecedented crisis. We need your help.’
Godfrey stood up. ‘I’ll handle this, boys.’ He marched over to the doorway and loomed over Heather. ‘We’re on strike.’
A chorus of agreement and ‘You tell them, boss!’ came from behind him.
Godfrey continued, ‘We’re underpaid and underappreciated.’
Heather gaped. ‘None of us get paid. We’re dead. What would we spend money on? The cafeteria is free and has unlimited food. There’s basically nowhere else to go.’
‘Exactly.’ Godfrey poked a finger at Heather. ‘We’re not even paid minimum wage. It’s disgraceful.’ Everyone behind him nodded.
Heather stepped backwards. ‘We’re paid with admission to Heaven after seventy years. That’s the only currency of any value here. But none of us can receive our eternal reward if the lift doesn’t work.’
Godfrey crossed his arms. ‘It seems to me that you need us. That’s the perfect time for a negotiation.’
The men shouted various demands:
‘We want more different types of pie in the cafeteria!’
‘Cooler uniforms!’
‘Longer smoke breaks!’
‘Hot babes!’
‘Shorter working hours!’
‘Fancier rooms!’
‘Only a year of service before we get into Heaven!’
Heather said, ‘It would be nice if we could shorten our terms of service, then I’d be already done and I wouldn’t need to attempt my awful test again.
’ She caught herself. ‘But how do you intend to make that happen? None of us have any way to contact whoever created this hotel. I don’t even know if we should direct our requests upwards or downwards.
This place has run on its own ever since I got here.
We’re currently in a crisis, yet no one has come to help.
If the hotel collapsing hasn’t drawn the attention of any higher powers, then I doubt they will come for your strike, either. ’
Godfrey shrugged. ‘That’s your problem, not mine.’
‘It’s very much your problem too if your insane demands aren’t possible!
You live in this hotel!’ Heather felt her familiar anger rising.
She took in deep breaths and counted to ten in her head.
Anger, no matter how justified, would do her no good right now.
She wanted to prove that she’d changed into a person who could pass her test. She took a few moments to calm her temper and plan her speech, then spoke:
‘Everyone, I’m only a receptionist acting as a temporary hotel manager because we have no one else.
I wish the cafeteria had more options too, but I can’t do anything about it.
Food just appears like magic. The purpose of a strike is usually to negotiate better labour conditions or higher pay.
But we’re all dead. We don’t have any use for a salary.
We have no way of contacting the higher-ups to negotiate.
None of you can leave this hotel and go somewhere else to work, so, frankly, you have no negotiation leverage.
You can threaten not to repair the hotel, but .
. . does anyone in Heaven or Hell care?’
Heather shrugged and looked around at the cold faces before her, seeking any hint of understanding.
‘The average boss wants to stop a strike to return to making a profit,’ she continued, ‘but there’s no money here.
It doesn’t seem like there’s a rush from either side to obtain our souls.
Perhaps such beings don’t even see time the same way we do.
The hotel has stopped functioning and, from what I can tell, Heaven and Hell haven’t even noticed.
We’re on our own. This place is not a business – it’s a second chance for people who were flawed in life.
It’s far from perfect, but it’s our home.
We need to repair this hotel for our own sakes, because we’re the people who have to live – exist – here.
I’m sorry that I can’t offer you a grand reward.
But fixing the lift would be the right thing to do.
The guests are in danger, scared, and need you. Please help us.’
Jaime chimed in: ‘It’s true. No one has repaired my floor and I’ve been incarcerated here for years as a result. The evidence points to the upper management being quite indifferent to us.’
Godfrey stared at them both, as uncomprehending as a dog taking a Latin exam. ‘I want a company car.’
‘Damn—’ Heather glanced at Jaime. ‘Drat it. What would you do with a company car? We are stuck inside a hotel in Purgatory! We have no roads.’
‘Maybe a little tiny clown car that I could drive down the hallways.’ Godfrey nodded. ‘I miss those.’
‘Godfrey, please, this is no time to play games. People are in trouble. Damien is stuck in the lift shaft. Could you please at least repair the lift? Then we could move people from floors that have got dangerous, and Damien would no longer be trapped. It’s not right for you to prioritise a personal car over people’s afterlives.
If the lift could move, then we could take messages with your demands to Heaven and Hell.
I’m not promising they will listen, but there’s no point to your strike if we can’t at least open lines of communication with the greater beings.
It would be in your best interests to get the lift working too. ’
Godfrey spat on the ground. ‘No.’
Heather’s fingers clenched into claws. She longed to fasten her hands round Godfrey’s throat and squeeze. Only Jaime’s presence stopped her. She marched out into the hallway and counted to ten. Then she did it again, and again.
It didn’t help. Heather marched to the lift shaft and screamed down it. The inhuman howl echoed against the metal walls.
Behind her, Jaime cleared her throat. ‘Would you like a lollipop?’
‘Thanks.’ Heather unwrapped the grape lollipop and sucked on it.
By the time she’d finished, she still didn’t feel calm, but she’d reached a slightly less murderous state.
Sitting in the hallway, Heather and Jaime brainstormed ideas to bribe the maintenance crew into doing their jobs.
Every time they came up with a halfway decent idea, Heather went to the break room to suggest it. Every single time, she got shot down.
‘We don’t have a way to obtain new uniforms, but I could ask all the guests with sewing experience to modify your current ones.’
‘No.’
‘I could pay you in the sweets from Floor Gluttony.’
‘They’re already free.’
‘Yes, I know they’re already free! Everything here is free. I don’t understand why you want money!’
‘Double our salaries.’
‘Double zero is still zero! Your demand has been met, now get back to work.’
‘No.’
‘A car would be impossible to procure, but I’ll give you my wheely chair.’
‘No.’
‘If everyone in the hotel wrote you thank-you letters, would that be considered payment?’
‘No. We want money.’
‘Would you accept IOUs written on notebook paper?’
‘No.’
‘All the guests with musical talent could form a choir to entertain you.’
‘No.’
‘We’ll let all of you skip the line in the cafeteria, forever.’
‘Hmm . . . No.’
‘What if I gave you a backrub?’
The last one had been Heather’s most desperate idea. One of the men replied, ‘Maybe if you were hotter.’
‘ARGH!’ Pressed beyond all endurance, Heather picked up the table and swung it at the offender. The heaviness made her miss. Cards went flying. She raised the table over her head, determined not to miss again.
The men looked at Heather’s flushed face and wild eyes. They saw all the pent-up rage from decades in customer service, about to blow like the top of a volcano. Wisely, they fled the break room, locking the door behind them.
Heather pounded on the door, screaming, ‘Cowards! I only want to rip out your hearts and force-feed them to you! It’s not as if you can die. What are you scared of? It will be an exciting experience that might teach you a few lessons.’
Eventually, Heather collapsed against the door, panting. Her first task as acting hotel manager had been a miserable failure. And she definitely hadn’t overcome her anger-management issues.
When the door finally opened, Heather still wanted to punch Godfrey’s teeth in. But it was only Jaime. Grinning, Jaime said, ‘I used my childish adorableness for espionage.’
Heather pushed her sweaty fringe out of her eyes and tried to look more sane. ‘Did you learn anything?’
‘They gave me a sandwich.’ Jaime held up the peanut butter and jam sandwich. ‘It’s good. I love strawberry jam.’
‘Good for you.’ Heather sat down in the closest chair. Her anger had drained into a dull indifference to the universe at large. Why not let the hotel collapse? Then at least Godfrey would be buried.
Jaime ripped off part of the sandwich. ‘Have some. It will make you feel better.’
‘Thanks.’ Heather chewed morosely.
‘The investigation targets would not answer any of my questions,’ Jaime said. ‘I believe they are hiding something.’
‘Like what? A brain cell?’ Heather snorted.
Then she took a moment to think about it more deeply.
‘Or do you think Godfrey and his crew sabotaged the hotel?’ It had been awfully strange for so many different parts to fail at the same time.
So far, Godfrey seemed to be the only person with a motive – to enable his hare-brained strike.
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Jaime looked away.
‘It’s just odd that he seemed completely unwilling to negotiate with you.
You aptly pointed out that they have no means to communicate with the Great Upstairs or leverage if they could.
What is he trying to accomplish here? When I went to check on them, the crew were all gathered around coming up with a list of increasingly outlandish ultimatums. It seems to me more like they are stalling for time than seriously making demands.
I do not believe any further negotiation would be productive. ’
‘You’re right about that,’ Heather grumbled.
At the end of the day, whether the maintenance crew was lazy or involved in a conspiracy, they wouldn’t help. Heather needed to find another way.