Written: 2002   |   Setting: Walnut Hill / Walnut Lodge   |   5,000 words   |   20 minute read

I

He lost his footing as he crested the mountain. He twisted his right ankle and slid. The gentle slope wasn’t exactly sharp, but was steep enough to send him rolling. He couldn’t stop his body. The evening dew had coated the grass and made the ground slippery. The dead leaves were like ice beneath him.

It figures. The day had been a disaster, why not the entire camping trip, too? His friends had been called away to an emergency meeting, and his girlfriend was with her ailing sister. But wasn’t that the customary excuse? Wasn’t Leigh always busy? It was always an ailing relative or business meeting, something to cover her absence. He was sick of it.

She should be hearing about his activities soon. Their relationship would change or end. Most likely, it would end. When he heard the excuse this time, he’d called her sister to offer his hopes for a rapid recovery. Yet somehow, there was no ailing sister. Her only sister was returning to work after a healthy pregnancy. She had no trouble with diabetes, as Leigh had told him, because she wasn’t diabetic. He didn’t bother talking to her sister about what Leigh said. He only admitted he was concerned for her sister. He didn’t explain about the camping trip or anything else.

He had been left alone with reservations for the large cabin.

Why not?

His thoughts raced as he drove toward the mountain.

It seemed harmless enough. He adored hiking. The higher altitude held the freshest air in existence, and the streams were crystal clear. No motion picture or camera could hope to match the panoramic vistas. He had much on his mind.

He felt like a clumsy idiot as he slipped, a newcomer to the same mountain he’d trekked for years. His humiliation was softened by knowing he was alone, but another thought made him nauseous: If I’m hurt, no one will save me.

The only terrible quality of hiking was the danger. Cell phones made that a distant concern, but it was still possible. Most were just made of flimsy plastic and could get crushed. They could become damaged in a fall, and he would be stranded.

He came to a halt on a rock ledge. He was sore, but alive and swearing at the stone bruising his kidney. He caught his breath and started to sit up. He peered down and his heart froze.

There was a cliff barely an inch away, a sharp drop to a bed of jagged rock. The drop had to be near one hundred feet. His heart sped. He could’ve died so easily.

He shakily backed away from the dangerous drop and stood up straight. The icy wind of death breezed across his back, bitter and frigid. Just an inch more and he would’ve died. He was inspired and terrified by his own fragility.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to hike alone.

He walked over the top of the cliff. The sooner he could get away from that ledge, the safer he would feel. He wasn’t about to start back up the hill he’d fallen down. The dew was the reason he’d slipped. If he made one wrong move on the dewy dead leaves, he would plummet over the edge.

He had no choice but to walk along the top and look for the mountain to flatten out. He rubbed his sides as he trudged through the weeds. He’d landed on a dead branch somewhere. It hit both his side and his stomach.

There was a tiny light in the distance.

One light became ten, and they multiplied as he neared the hill. He blinked a few times.

It was a building.

A tall structure stood far past the line of trees.

How the hell did a building get on top of Walnut Hill? It was a state park. No one could develop it.

It was a huge building, a massive castle made of logs. Lights went up four levels, and the gables supported a slate roof. What would the environmentalists say? They would shit if they knew a park had been destroyed for the sake of a building.

He wasn’t an environmentalist, but he knew what they protected. From the local news, he knew this type of building on reserved land was illegal. They would’ve raised hell over it. Yet, as much news as he watched daily, the prospect of a commercial structure in the preserve was not discussed. There was no coverage, yet there was a building standing there.

It was not a mirage, not a dream.

He found an area where the steep incline sloped off. He neared the building, and it grew taller and wider as he approached. The four-story structure had wings, and the grand entrance made the construction look like a monolithic château. It was beautiful, but he didn’t know where it came from, nor why they allowed such a building. The septic system for a place that large would contaminate every stream around. The natural springs were only over the next knoll.

He walked over the gravel drive toward the resort. He heard voices from the front of the building.

“Hello, sir.”

He jumped to see a young man in a busboy outfit.

The boy asked, “Are you doing well?”

“Sure.”

Tyler was startled at his presence. Walnut Hill wasn’t a social place. It was a haven for tranquility, or it had been. A good way to forget Leigh because there wasn’t another person on Earth there. The man in front of him proved he was far from solitude.

“When did they build this?”

“Three years ago, sir. We’ve been very busy. Masquerade party tonight. I’m afraid if you’re looking for a room, you should hurry. We’re almost full.”

Tyler knew the hotel hadn’t been there that long. He was through the area six months earlier, and there was no resort. No building, no foundation, no construction. It had been empty.

“How much are rooms?”

“Well, they usually run one hundred a night. But I tell you what.” The busboy looked around and back to Tyler. “I don’t mean to offend you, sir, but you look like you need one. Go to the front desk and ask for a room for ‘Marty.’ That’s me. I’ve done this before, so they shouldn’t give you a hard time.”

“What kind of room?”

“They’ll give you a room toward the back of the hotel. I’m afraid it may be in or near the staff areas, but they are just like the rest of the rooms in the hotel.”

“How much will it be?”

“Staff gets a ninety percent discount. About ten bucks. That a problem?”

“Nah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The redheaded boy grinned, and Tyler went inside.

The mahogany front desk was equally adorned with gilt woodwork and illuminated by an alabaster chandelier. There were no computers or telephones anywhere in sight. It was strange, but refreshing to see a literal “rustic” hotel.

That must be their appeal.

He felt conspicuous in hiking clothes, but the clerk ignored his informal attire.

“Marty would like a room,” he told the desk clerk.

“Certainly, sir. He’s a good worker. Here.”

The clerk grinned and turned to the wall of keys behind him. Only one key remained out of five levels.

The desk man slid Tyler the key as he signed the registry. It was amazing this had been built without his knowledge. It was so detailed and perfect. Every piece in the hotel appeared hand-carved and meticulously planned.

He pulled out his wallet, and the clerk put a hand on his.

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Marty can stay for free.”

He thanked the clerk and left. The hotel was like a museum. Animal heads lined the upper walls. They were the typical wild game, but the animals appeared so odd, they almost had expressions.

He advanced through the hall. It was a magnificent place. Black-and-white photos hung inside black frames on the top half of the wall. Their dates ranged from 1922 to 1930. There were autographed pictures from Charlie Chaplin and Theda Bara. Even Rudolph Valentino had stayed at the Lodge.

Where would their franchise be?

From the photos, he guessed the hotel was an old Northern California establishment. Somewhere the stars went to get away, and they discovered the beauty of Walnut Hill. But it still didn’t answer how the place was constructed without anyone knowing.

He noticed a larger photo of Michael McKinney. He was “Guest of the Month.”

Why did that name sound familiar?

Was he an actor? Celebrity?

He went into the rear of the hotel. The grand appearance went on through the staff areas. He entered the key in the door and went to his room, studying the place as he entered.

His backpack had helped in his fall, but he was relieved to get rid of it. A nice rest in a bed instead of a sleeping bag should help his aches. The cabin provided shelter, but didn’t have comfortable furniture. All the chairs were folding, the couch was well-worn, and the beds were cots.

It would be equally great to have a hot shower.

He undressed and stood in the tub. The shower was a strange contraption. The showerhead was a wide circle above him, as wide as he was. The controls were two brass levers and a latch below those. He toyed with the apparatus until he had the shower on and the water adjusted.

He washed off and rubbed the tender muscles beneath the water. The hot spray eased his tense muscles and relaxed his shoulders. The fall hadn’t seriously hurt him, but he was sore. He knew he would be for a few days.

He put on fresh clothes from his backpack. He didn’t have anything formal, nothing suitable for a posh hotel. Luckily, Marty said there was a masquerade.

He would pretend he was a lumberjack or explorer.

His khaki pants and solid navy flannel would fit perfectly.

He went back to the empty foyer. Noise came from the ballroom. He walked in, and a zombie in a tuxedo stood at the entrance.

“How do you do, sir?”

It sounded like Marty, but he was too tall.

The party was wild and lively. People danced to big-band music. Tyler recognized the song the orchestra played. “Hello, My Baby” made him think of Bugs Bunny cartoons.

The vaulted ceilings were painted to imitate classic paintings. The floor was beige marble, and eight massive columns held the ceiling up. People clustered around the circular constructions. Five could barely touch arms when they stood with their backs to the columns.

He drifted into the first crowd. A king and queen with powdered wigs stood together. Flappers in sequined gowns with fringes danced. A vampire stood in the midst of the others, his cape swinging as he tried to impress a lady dressed in a sequined Mardi Gras mask.

People laughed and talked without paying any real attention to him.

He was glad. He often liked crowds, but he didn’t want to be the center of attention. He enjoyed blending in too much. The new developments with Leigh had placed a damper on his celebratory mood.

He would remain for a little while and go to bed.

“Hello,” a feminine voice called to him from behind.

He turned. It was a lady dressed like Theda Bara in her vampire role. She wore a small white mask. Tyler thought of the Lone Ranger when he first noticed it. He grinned. She did a very good impersonation of the silent film starlet.

“Welcome to the party. What’s your name?”

“Tyler.”

“Hello, Tyler. Just call me Thea.”

“Are you Theda Bara?”

“You guessed!”

She threw her head back and laughed. Her black, bobbed hair barely moved off her shoulders. It framed her porcelain face.

“How long has the party been going on?”

“It started about seven, but you know, it feels like it has just gone on forever. I’m exhausted, and it isn’t even ten.”

Tyler smiled at her. It was nice to see someone who wasn’t so busy. A woman who didn’t have strangely healthy ailing relatives or a schedule that made dates virtually impossible.

The event was a strange party. It just had an odd atmosphere. But he was glad that he found others and he wasn’t alone. After the fall and the cliff, he was glad to see people.

He excused himself from Thea and went on through the groups of clustered people.

“Hey.”

A blond flapper smiled as she walked by.

He couldn’t stop looking at everyone. They were so vivid, and their costumes were so bright.

Tyler had never been to a formal costume party. His were always casual. Everyone made their costumes from regular clothes, and no one bothered with renting or having their disguises made. These people had rented or purchased expensive costumes. The silk was real. They were dressed as formally as they would be at a black-tie affair.

He made it to the bar.

“What would you like, sir?”

The bartender sternly looked at him.

“I’ll have a beer.”

“A beer, sir?”

He looked puzzled.

“Well, make that champagne.”

Why not?

Tyler looked around. Everyone had champagne glasses. No one was guzzling beer.

The barkeep seemed much more satisfied with that answer and grinned while he handed Tyler the glass. Tyler pulled out his wallet, and the man raised a hand.

“No, sir. That isn’t necessary.”

“Well, could I at least provide a tip?”

“No, not even that. Gratuity is taken care of by Walnut Lodge. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Oh . . . Okay.”

Tyler downed the champagne. It was cool and bubbly on his tongue. He grinned at the merriment. A man with a deep belly laugh had guffawed since he entered the room. He wiped his eyes with a thick hand as he continued laughing.

Tyler left the bar with his glass and went farther into the crowd. People seemed so happy.

Or drunk.

He grinned.

Perhaps they were all loaded and laughed at themselves.

He stepped into a circle of quiet people. They acted oddly as they introduced themselves. The man who seemed to be the leader stepped up. He wore a silk top hat and black tuxedo.

“Hello, my name is Charles Worthington the Third.”

The man shook Tyler’s hand and quickly released it. Tyler wondered if he would wipe his palm on a handkerchief.

A woman in another green flapper outfit emerged.

“Hello, I’m Sarah Cook.”

A man who resembled Edgar Allan Poe stepped up.

“My name is Frank Stein.”

A familiar face stuck out his hand.

“I’m Michael McKinney.”

Tyler shook hands with all of them and noticed they weren’t really a part of the celebration around them.

Charles stepped up.

“Tyler, my lad. Care to join us outside for a brandy?”

“I might in a moment, Charles. I want to see the rest of the crowd, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Tyler had a feeling that old Charlie was happy he didn’t join. It didn’t hurt his feelings. He didn’t want to leave the room.

He still couldn’t believe that they placed such a large hotel on such a small knoll. The mountain was high. It was the perfect site for a resort, but the width of the peak seemed so narrow.

He went back through the crowds as the hours rolled by. No one seemed to tire of their celebrations. His watch read midnight, and he knew he needed to sleep. His eyes were heavy and his muscles were achy. He hoped he wasn’t coming down with the flu.

He passed through the foyer. The desk clerk had retired for the evening and left the registry open. He wanted to look at it, but he was so tired.

He needed to sleep.

He passed the Victorian elevator. The bell chimed and the door started to close.

Thea reached an arm out.

“Oh, Tyler. Come up to the penthouse with us.”

A chorus of friendly people encouraged him, but he couldn’t. His legs and back disagreed. He needed sleep.

The bellboy leered out at him.

“Yes, Tyler. There’s always room for one more.”

“Uh . . . No. Really, thank you. I need to go to bed. I’m exhausted. If I can’t sleep, I’ll be up to join you.”

Thea appeared disappointed. Her deep eyes shone from between the closing bars.

The elevator cage softly chimed, then quickly ascended.

By the time he reached his room, his feet dragged on the carpet. His back felt gnarled with tension. The damage done during the fall had emerged. He lay down on the bed and didn’t bother to pull the covers back.

The mattress felt so good against his tired shoulders.

He was out within seconds of lying down.

He didn’t know what dreams he had, or what he did during those dreams, as his eyes opened again. Most likely, he’d watched Leigh with all the men she worked with. They held such importance in her life, so much more than he ever did.

Or ever would.

He was a lowly boyfriend, not a professional or an acquaintance. She was more than likely out with Peter Dale. They always acted strangely around one another when he visited her. So secretive and sneaky. His beady little eyes darted to her and back to him. Ol’ Pete seemed to be saying more about their relationship than she ever did.

Tyler heard the faint drift of music from above. The big band was still blaring.

He felt invigorated by the nap.

It was still dark outside, and he decided to investigate the party. People were bound to be asleep by now. The crowds would be much more manageable, and people would be relaxed and more entertaining. With a night of drinking in their bellies, they might even be sauced.

He rubbed his eyes and went back out. He would visit the penthouse.

He stopped at the front of the elevator shaft and waited for the box to come down. He dreaded the ride alone with the sinister bellboy. He had the creepiest look on his face.

Luckily, the elevator was empty when it hit the bottom floor. Tyler knew, with such a late hour, that the busboy was probably loaded himself. He wouldn’t be operating the elevator until morning.

The shaft clicked, and he could hear gears grinding as the box was lifted. It sounded like the cables would break at any moment.

He almost kissed the carpet of the fourth level.

Solid, stable ground.

He followed the noise to the penthouse. The halls of the top floor were even more elaborate than the foyer. Tyler marveled at the plush carpet and the gilded sconces lining the walls. It wasn’t that way at his room, with the hanging lights and flatter carpet.

He knocked on the double doors, and they swung open.

He was amazed.

The same massive crowd danced and laughed. No one showed signs of fatigue or exhaustion. They twirled to the music and downed the booze.

The tune had changed to “Jump, Jive, and Wail,” and people danced with the blaring trumpets.

Thea came to him.

“Let’s dance.”

He agreed, although he didn’t understand how they kept going.

“Good Lord, what’s in the water here? How do you keep going?”

“Why, it hasn’t been that long.” She giggled. “You live a luxurious life and see if you don’t have the stamina. We have to exercise sometime.”

He led her around the floor. Everyone was still there. Charles, Frank, the entire crowd was alert and still drinking.

A rush of feet whipped past them.

“Oh, time to go outside.”

“What’s that?”

He felt foolish for not knowing the behavior at the hotel. Was it something only the rich knew about?

“We go outside at midnight. There’s a lake out front. Let’s go swimming.”

Her speech came in excited and broken fragments.

“Uh . . . Okay.”

The people packed onto the elevator, and Thea jumped on with them.

“Come on, Tyler.”

“No, I’ll take the steps. I don’t want to crowd. I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you sure you’ll be there?”

“Positive.”

The same bellboy leaned out.

“There’s room for one more, you know.”

“No, that’s okay. Really, I bet I make it there before you.”

He winked at Tyler.

That smug look didn’t arouse anger. Tyler felt suspicious and worried.

He descended the stairwell and heard the gears clicking from the elevator. It didn’t sound safe with so many people onboard a single car. The cogs and cables groaned as the box hit the second level.

Tyler was surprised he could keep up with it.

He set his foot on the first step of the second flight and heard a creaking sound.

Did the elevator stop?

He reached the third step down and heard another loud moan from inside the shaft.

He hit the bottom of the second story, and the cable holding the elevator broke.

The wheels spun wildly, and the box flew through the empty duct.

People screamed for help as the cage quickly descended.

Tyler almost fell down the first flight of steps. He grabbed the rail to steady himself.

He sprinted down the remaining flight and out the door into the foyer.

The elevator was not open, nor were there injured passengers hobbling out of the car.

It had gone down to the basement.

A rumbling came from beneath the floor. A loud and deep grumble almost drowned the voices from the elevator.

“The door is stuck!” someone screamed.

“Tyler, help me!”

It was Thea.

The chorus of sobs and shouts was matched with a much scarier sound.

It resembled an earthquake. The walls of the hotel shook. It roared as loud as thunder, only it radiated from the lower floor.

Tyler slowly crept to the empty opening for the elevator tunnel. He peered down and watched the car shake. It was full of people. It looked as though it had perched on something. An orange glow was cast out from the item the box landed on.

“My God, we’ll hit the boiler.”

“We already have.”

“Hell, we’re going to blow up any minute. Oh, why did they put it there?”

Charles Worthington lost his snobbish tone.

He sobbed.

Tyler knew he had seconds to leave. He didn’t know how he could be so certain of the fact. However, he knew that boilers could be very volatile, and a box full of people landing on one would destroy it.

To add to his panic, the sobbing man yelled:

“It’s gas!”

What could he do to help Thea?

He wanted to bring her out, but he couldn’t get to her. He didn’t know where the door to the basement was, or how to get to them. Thea’s screams had his stomach heaving.

Typical.

He was helpless.

Leigh can go out with all the coworkers at her firm, but as soon as I find an interest in someone else, he was powerless to stop it.

The only thing he would accomplish by diving down the shaft would be his own demise. The elevator cage had several metal rods protruding from the top. He would be impaled if he jumped.

Suddenly, he knew he wasn’t supposed to try to rescue them.

You can’t change history.

Where did that come from?

How did that help?

Another loud rumble, and he sprinted toward the front door.

Another man, almost a twin of the strange bellboy, opened the front door for him. He was oddly cold and reserved. He smiled at Tyler.

“Don’t you know it’s going to blow?” Tyler screamed at the man as he flew past.

“Certainly, sir.”

The bellboy sneered. He leaned closer.

“Tyler, there’s still room for one more. Care to join?”

Tyler screamed as he fled the building.

They were crazy.

They were all crazy.

They knew that the small elevator couldn’t hold that many people. They knew something would happen. You can’t cram thirty people into a box big enough for ten.

What the hell was wrong with the bellboys?

He leapt off the first step as the roar surfaced behind him. He felt heat and wind push him away from the ground. He tried to land on his feet, yet couldn’t gain any balance or leverage.

He fell down.

The sky and earth constantly changed direction as he rolled.

He closed his eyes.

Who cared?

He hit the ground. He didn’t know if he had fallen off the cliff or if he had landed safely somewhere. His body felt like it had rolled down a few hundred feet.

Yet he could think.

Another wave of blackness greeted him at the end of his fall.

II

He opened his eyes to the cheerful sounds of chirping birds and scurrying animals. They went through the undergrowth that surrounded him.

He didn’t know if he had died or if he was still living.

He tried to get up.

Just then, he stopped.

He was on the edge of the cliff again, one inch away from oblivion.

A fall that was exactly the same as the one he’d experienced?

He wandered toward the hotel. Could any part of it survive the blast? He expected helicopters and news crews by then. They wouldn’t waste any time. The final fire trucks and ambulances might be there, but the blaze should be out.

He wanted to see if Marty and Thea were okay.

He crested the same hill he had the previous day.

There were no visible three stories in the distance.

He paused for a moment.

Did he get the directions correct? Had he traveled in this specific direction the day before?

The same rock clusters on the ground proved he was on the right track.

He walked toward where the hotel had been. The blaze must’ve engulfed the entire establishment. He crested the peak where the hotel would’ve stood and stopped.

There was nothing.

Not even a blackened outline or fragment of foundation.

No trace existed.

Lush grass and new trees claimed the area. He walked to what had been the front entrance.

It was gone.

Vanished.

Nothing proved the hotel had been there to begin with. There were no roads or parking lots anywhere, no signs of human presence.

He strode the width and breadth of the mountain.

It was gone.

All of it had completely vanished.

A small post protruded from the ground on the opposite side. That hadn’t been there the night before. He hadn’t ever noticed it.

He read the engraving on the plaque:

The Walnut Lodge

Dedicated to all those who lost loved ones and those who perished on the night of June 11, 1930. The luxurious hotel had been a remote vacation luxury to such stars as Rudolph Valentino and Thea Bara. The owner and railroad magnate, Charles Worthington the Third, perished along with the many guests the night of the fire. Due to poor wiring and other extenuating architectural conditions, an elevator overloaded with guests crashed into the basement boiler. The gas explosion took the hotel up in flames. Visitors can still find remnants of the structure lying around the mountain. We encourage guests to keep any remains they find. Not only are they helping clean up our beautiful park, they are carrying pieces of history with them.

Tyler studied the words.

What the hell had happened to him?

He didn’t like Charles, but he didn’t wish him dead.

Thea?

Marty?

Had it really happened?

The thought came through his mind.

It was entirely possible that the visit was imagined. He could’ve hit his head during his fall and dreamed the series of events. He might’ve noticed the plaque before and let it slip into his subconscious.

He looked down.

A piece of paper was stapled to a small wooden cross.

“Michael McKinney, b. 1960, d. ?, this is the last known area of his life. Michael disappeared in 2001, last seen hiking in the park.”

The former explanation had eased his mind, and the cross obliterated it.

It couldn’t have happened.

He’d just dreamed the night up.

He amused himself. That was one hell of a dream. He was glad he didn’t have them that often.

It was just coincidence that Michael had been there. He’d probably recalled watching it on the news.

He walked to the lake. The water looked crystal clear.

He neared the edge and froze.

Something was in his side pocket.

He reached in and pulled out a key.

A brass key with a large tortoiseshell attachment that read:

Room 103.

That was Marty’s room.

Tyler looked in the water, newly afraid of his discovery.

You couldn’t carry pieces of dreams with you.

He looked down to see his own reflection and saw that of the sneering bellboy.

“There was room for one more. There’s always room.”

He slapped the water, a reaction to make the image leave.

The boy disappeared in the ripples, and Tyler saw a buried mask.

Deep within the muck and dirt, the edge of a white mask was exposed.

He reached into the water, up to his elbow. He tugged the mask out and shook it while it was submerged. The silt and muck came off easily.

It had been a white mask, with circular edges and a thin string hanging from it.

Why wasn’t it ruined?

Why wasn’t it green with age inside the water?

When he first saw it, he thought of Thea and uttered a prayer for her.

He tried to deny it further, but he knew what happened.

Whether he would admit it to himself or not.

He used the room reserved for Marty.

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