(no subject)

March 6, 2007
11:58am

It's time.

The fourteenth floor -- the thirteenth floor, numbered fourteen in a futile attempt to avert bad luck -- has been completely cleared of all guests. Goodwin has quietly passed instructions among the staff. There are no more preparations to be made.

Charlie stands in front of the elevator doors, lowers her head, focuses her attention, and reaches. It's different, but still it's very like calling the fire -- and isn't that exactly what she's doing?

Come. Come now.

(no subject)

March 6, 2007
2:08pm

The small eternity they spent in room 1408 apparently only lasted about two hours.

It's nearly unbelievable how little damage there has been to the rest of the hotel. Even the rest of the floor, aside from waterlogging and a lingering smell of bitter unpleasant smoke, has escaped any serious harm.

They take the elevator down to room 1108 and rest there, well into the afternoon. Bev dozes fitfully on Charlie's bed. Fire sleeps like a dead thing on the second bed, drained beyond exhaustion. Charlie sits on the bed beside her for a time, holding the blackened hand in hers; the char

(char - charyou - Charlie)

is slowly flaking away, revealing golden-rosy new skin underneath.

When the room phone rings at about three, Bev starts up with a gasp, but Fire doesn't even stir.

"Ms. McGee?" It's Goodwin's voice, sounding oddly strained. "Could I ask you to come up to the fourteenth floor, please?"

* * *

She doesn't expect the ( crowd... )