Call Your Enemy
Their voice is pleading, keening.
This is a Choose Your Own Adventure Story. Go back to the beginning by Linden Schneider here. Return to the previous chapter here. Or go to the chapter guide.
You’re no coward. Clearly your partner had followed Sandra somewhere.
You hate her, and you fear her intentions as the organizer of Vacation Roulette. But you’re not going to run and hide.
With a deep breath, you dial the lynx’s number.
In a couple of rings, she picks up. “Hi! What’s up?” Her voice is sultry, and practically oozes sex.
You shake off your arousal, and tamp down on your fantasies. “Where’s my partner?” you demand.
She goes silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon? What happened, honey?”
It’s hard to tell whether she’s genuinely puzzled, or just pretending. Either way, her voice has not lost its seductive undertones.
So you grit out, “I’m at the buffet. I went out for a moment to get some fresh air, but when I came back, my partner was gone and their bag with them. They haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts. Would you happen to know where they are?”
The chefs are clearing up the leftover food, and hotel staff are subtly urging all the patrons to leave the buffet. But you’re not budging until you’re done talking with Sandra.
She says, “I’m sorry that your partner isn’t around. Maybe they also need some fresh air before they come back to you.”
The way she emphasizes “fresh air” implies that she knows where you truly went. She must know that you had gone swimming with her cousin, Silvia.
But you don’t let that scare you. “Please, Sandra, if you know anything, just tell me. It’s not like my partner to be this unresponsive, and for so long, too.”
You hear a crackling sound on the other end of the line, like she’s opening a paper bag or something. Sandra says, “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure they’ll be fine. Why don’t you go up to your room and wait for them there? Maybe they already went back up to rest. If not, you can call me again, all right?”
You pinch your nose with annoyance. But you say in a gruff voice, “Fine.” You smash the red button to hang up before she can.
A chef nearby harangues you to leave. You barely refrain from giving him the finger before you finally strut out.
The hotel lobby seems less busy, for some reason, or is that just your imagination?
You watch the elevators as they descend down the floors.
It’s a small relief that the first elevator car is empty. And no one joins you despite the numerous people in the lobby. No matter.
You hit the close button and then push “10.” As the elevator whirrs up, you feel unease build up inside you.
When the doors open to the tenth floor, you step out. Your footsteps are muffled by the thick carpet. And the silence of this floor is eerie.
You tell yourself that you’re being silly. Most hotel floors are silent, right?
Then you reach your suite, 1009. You slide in your key card and hear a beep and click. The door creaks as you pry it open.
To your dismay, it’s an empty room. Your luggage is here, brought up by the bell boy, but that’s it. You rake a hand through your still damp hair.
When you check your phone again, you snarl in frustration that your partner still hasn’t read your messages.
You’re about to call Sandra again, when you suddenly get a text from an unknown number:
This is Silvia. Please don’t leave your room. I’ll be up soon to help you. Don’t open the door to anyone else.
Confusion fills you, and you type back in a frenzy:
What the heck? What’s that supposed to mean, and how do you know I’m back in my room?
Her reply comes just a moment later:
It’s too risky to tell you through text. Just trust me, please. I will explain in person. Stay in your room and don’t open the door until I arrive.
You’re not amused by this turn of events. You type:
Can you elaborate a little more? You’re asking me to trust you based on scraps of evidence and speculation.
But she doesn’t respond, to your aggravation. A few minutes later, you hear a knock on your door.
The sound makes you freeze, but you shuffle to the door. Through the peephole, you can see your partner! They look terrible, haggard, downtrodden. Your partner calls out, “Babe, can you open the door, please?”
Is it just you, or is your partner’s voice a bit slurred, like they’re intoxicated? “Why can’t you open it yourself?” you rage. “Don’t you have a key card? And why haven’t you answered my texts?”
Your partner looks exasperated and fidgets with their hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have any time to check my phone over the past little while. My bag was stolen too, and without my ID, the hotel staff weren’t willing to give me another key card. Are you so mad at me that you won’t even let me in?”
Their voice is pleading, keening.
Will you open the door for them?
- Yes
- No
