And then, once again in its beauty, I knew no more.
86%
I awoke again in darkness. But not the darkness of oblivion, that of night. Again the figures were already fading by the time I realised I was awake. This time an eight and a six succeeded by the percentage.
Down to 86%, but what the heck did this mean?
I was lying on my back, in the open air, looking at the stars above as they slowly disappeared. Gingerly I attempted to move and to my amazement I found I could sit up easily. There was no pain. Only the slight tang of the night cold on my bare skin. Even my head was relatively clear.
Taking in my surroundings I felt an almost serene calm. I was lying at the foot of the steps leading up to the reception area of the hotel complex, exactly in the spot I would have expected to land after sliding off the glass roof.
Had I been hallucinating when I heard the voices?
Or was I stuck in some kind of sick nightmare?
There was nobody around me, no voices within inches of my face as I had felt in my sleep. No pressure on my chest. No smell of disinfectant.
I checked my body all over but could sense no broken bones or serious cuts, only the stiffness in my back where I had been lying on the concrete, obviously for a few hours as darkness had descended and only the sound of a light breeze and the rippling pool broke the interminable silence.
I rose to my feet and stretched the stiffness from my back while looking above me at the ledge. I simply couldn’t believe I’d emerged from a fall like that unscathed. I checked myself all over once again to be sure, but not even a scratch. I remembered the fall, time passing almost in slow motion as I slipped off the glass sheeting and into mid-air. I hadn’t twisted around so I must have come down on my feet or at least my side rather than landing on my head. That sort of accounted for my lack of injury but not for my period of unconsciousness. I didn’t recall the impact so considered the possibility that I had fainted in fear or shock before I hit the ground. Unlikely, as I’ve never fainted before to my knowledge.
It was inexplicable, but then so were my circumstances in Lanzarote.
Then I remembered the alarm. Surely a noise like that must have attracted some attention? Seemingly not, as I remained alone and had obviously been out a good few hours now that night had fallen.
I stood in the spot I had landed for a while, just thinking, trying to fathom some sense from it all but nothing came to me. My head seemed blank, like I had woken from a drunken, dreamless sleep with no cognitive thought for hours.
I moved over to the edge of the pool and peered at my reflection in the water. The head wound was still there and my eyes were blurred and bloodshot, but I was still me. I splashed the cool water on my face and over my shoulders and back. It smelled clean, chlorine-scented. Part of me wanted to take a huge gulp and I realised I was still incredibly thirsty, so I headed into the refectory. The lights were all still blazing and the room was eerie in its emptiness. At the drinks machine I filled a plastic cup with ice cold drinking water and downed it in one gulp, then filled it again and moved around the room sipping slowly. The food was still there, still unspoiled, still temptingly warm from the residual heat of the day.
Why hadn’t it gone off yet?
Surely three days in the heat of Lanzarote, even in an air conditioned room, would cause food to start ripening? Yet there were no flies present. No ants or bugs of any sort crawling over it. It remained as it had obviously been served, in long rows of stainless steel containers, tilted forward slightly to make apportioning more accessible for the diners as they selected their meal.
I ripped apart a small baguette and dipped it in a bowl of creamy salad dressing. It tasted fantastic, so I tried the blue cheese dressing and the thousand island too. They were all as good as each other, and I spent a few minutes selecting various morsels and trying them out. It occurred to me in a moment of paranoia that they could be poisoned and I’d double over in agony and die within hours. But why would anyone have gone to the trouble of putting me here if they wanted me dead? The thought again occurred that I must have been entered in some scientific experiment to test the effects of solitude on the psyche. It just didn’t make sense so I figured what the hell and continued eating a very fine potato salad and some rabbit stew that tasted as good as any home cooked meal I’ve ever had.
After my impromptu meal I felt the need for a drink, and pulled myself a huge cold tankard of beer from the drinks ‘barrel’ in the far corner. The beer was like the tonic I needed to shake myself into action, and after a refill I decided to head back to the reception area and locate the entrance to the complex, or what would actually be my exit.
The reception area resolved itself into an exit in the shape of more glass, this time a vestibule in clear glass sheeting that had automatic sliding doors to the outside. I peered through and could clearly see a road running past the outside of the complex illuminated by streetlights. The road was populated by various parked cars along the sidewalks, utterly still in the night air. The glass exit doors would not open, even when I stood under the motion sensor and waved my arms about to try and jaunt them into action.
Weird, I thought. Why would all the other electrically operated devices be working except the entrance/exit doors?
I remembered the lift in the games room hadn’t worked either. Perhaps they were just the victim of a lack of maintenance.
I tried inserting my fingers into the small rubber sealed gap between the two doors but they were too tightly sealed. I didn’t fancy smashing the glass to get outside as the thought occurred to me that they might provide a vital barrier in future should I need to keep myself within the grounds of the hotel. For now I resolved to leave them shut and locate some sort of crowbar or jimmying device to wedge them open.
As a matter of course I checked behind the reception desk to see if there was an open or release button for the doors, but nothing presented itself.
I scouted around further for a maintenance closet in which some fastidious janitor may have kept his tools, but again there was nothing but a door marked left luggage, and when I found the key for that behind the desk it revealed nothing but an empty room with floor to ceiling shelves meant for supporting the luggage that the hotel guests needed to store upon arrival if their rooms were not yet ready.
The two beers had made me feel good, slightly drunk but still perfectly compus and I found myself slipping into that median world between intoxication and sobriety. It was a familiar feeling, and one I tried to avoid when on my own as it always made me reminiscent, almost nostalgic. I found myself curiously devoid of emotions in this instance, and figured I deserved another beer.
Heading back out into the main square I skirted round the refectory and headed up to the level above where I had encountered the café and games room. The café was still lit, and I was somewhat relieved to see that the Slush Puppie machine was still inactive after I had pulled out the plug. Something told me if that had started up again of its own accord I would have freaked out and seriously started to doubt the legitimacy of my isolation. Rounding the bar I poured myself another large beer and went outside to the terrazza. I sat on one of the plastic yellow chairs at the plastic yellow tables and inhaled the night air. I wondered what time it was. I’ve never been very good at determining the time of day or night by looking at the position of the sun or the moon, and my geographical awareness of compass points is pretty poor too.