Luke Galloway entered the first room in the west wing, W1, holding his suitcase, his briefcase, his baseball cap, and a packaged sandwich. The air was musty, and the carpet was crunchy; his expectations were met. He closed the door behind him using his foot, dropped everything on the table, and collapsed face-first onto the bed, letting out a deep, tired sigh into the sheets.

If he fell asleep now, he would be asleep the whole day. The idea wasn't entirely awful, but he knew he'd regret it, so he rolled over and rubbed his eyes until he was more alert. His watch said it was two-thirty, and the analog clock on the wall said it was two-thirty-five.

He rolled over some more until he was facing the nightstand. There was a complimentary notepad but nothing to write with. He reached for his briefcase on the floor, fiddled with it until he took out his pen, and started writing down what he had said so he wouldn't mess up if it came up later.

He said he was in Little Rock for work. He said he was a consultant here to present a plan to a company. Was there anything else? He thought on it and shook his head. He wouldn't have said anything at all if that woman hadn't asked, not that he minded her asking—he'd make the same kind of small talk if he truly was a businessman meeting another businessperson—and she seemed nice enough.

He tore off the page and tucked it into his pocket. He had enough clothes for a week, if he actually stayed that long. He just might. The Paradise Hotel wasn't a luxury, but it wasn't a complete rat's nest, either. It was peaceful, and that mattered to him most. 

Luke sat up and grabbed the sandwich. It was meant to be Italian, with mozzarella and tomato, and somehow it managed to taste like neither of those things. Was it bland, or was he being judgmental? He decided it was both and ate it slowly, watching the clock tick.

...................................

Elsie Reese entered room W3, flung her backpack to the floor, tore off her dress, and hopped in the shower. She washed off the sweat, her tears, and the dried blood from the scrapes she received while running away like an animal. The water only reached lukewarm, not hot, but it was better than nothing. 

California to Arkansas. She'd driven from California to Arkansas, wearing the dress the entire damn time, stopping only to sleep in the car. This was her first shower in days, and she scrubbed furiously, turning her skin red from the effort. Eventually, she calmed down enough to simply stand there, letting the water run down her body.

She'd said yes. She was getting married because she'd said yes. Thank God she came to her senses in time, but Jesus Christ, why had she said yes? Why had she gone along with that family—no, no, it was a cult, she had to start calling it a cult—in the first place? Why was she so stupid?

She'd been happy a few days ago. Happy braiding hair while hers was braided, happy as they all picked flowers and ate what he said to when he said to, traveled when he said to where he said to. She was content for the several years she was one of them. She'd competed to receive the honor of becoming his third wife after the second got arrested and the first died of an overdose. A happy accident, he said. Clearly it wasn't meant to be. 

It was at the last possible moment, during the few minutes she was left alone in the room to ready herself after being dressed, that she changed her mind. She crawled out of the window. She went to their home, shoveled what she could into a backpack, stole a car from the nearby Safeway, and drove off east, heading into the night.

Elsie was free for the first time in years...but what if she was being hunted? What if he did love her enough to come after her?

She turned off the shower, the handle squeaking against the motion. The hotel's provided towel felt like sandpaper. The clothes she had packed weren't the cleanest, but they were less dirty than the dress. She pulled a sweater over her head, put on some pants, and sat down on the bed. Her empty soup container was in the trash. She was still starving, but she would wait until an acceptable time to go to the lobby for dinner. There were likely better food options in Little Rock, but then she'd have to park there, and what if she got a parking ticket, and they realized the car was stolen? She'd rather risk running into the other hotel guests than being arrested.

If the guests considered her a poor runaway from a bad relationship, they'd pity her and treat her delicately. If they thought she was a heartbreaking bitch, well, they'd probably turn their backs on her. She didn't care what they thought, as long as no one pressed her. Since neither the man with the sandwich or the woman with the briefcase or Tasi had made any comments, Elsie was fairly certain she would be safe here.

A few days, she told herself. A few days of rest, and then she'd get back on the road.

..............................

Tasi Kealoha waited for ten minutes after Tally Mason took her key and left. Tasi was shocked by how many people had shown up in such a short time. She read the date's page in the guestbook again. Tate, Luke, Margaret, Elsie, Elijah, and Tally. Never had she had so many people to wait on. Usually she cooked very little so she would have little to throw away, but she may as well live in the kitchen for the next few days.

When she was sure no one else was here to check in, Tasi returned to her baking. The cake batter had gained a clumpy consistency, so she tossed it and started anew. One vanilla cake should be enough for tonight. When she was done, she sliced it, placed them on plates, and put them in the cubbies in the wall. Dinner, she would handle later.

For the time being, she returned to her bed. Tasi had a room in the main building; it was a bit smaller than the guest rooms, but it had the same furnishes: one queen bed, a chair and a table, one nightstand, and a bathroom. The water never ran hotter than lukewarm and there was an ever-persistent smell of cigarettes despite the fact that she never smoked, but it was home.

Tasi kicked off her shoes and crawled under the covers. She could afford a half-hour nap. And, hey, maybe a busy week wasn't such a bad thing. She didn't intend to become lifelong friends with any of her patrons, but perhaps a few conversations here and there would do her good. It got lonely up here.

..................................

After entering room E1 and sitting on the floor for several minutes, Tate Archer finally stood. His legs were still in pain. He should take a shower, but he was too tired to move. He was a healthy kid before the family money got tight, and the past few days' activities made him even skinnier. No wonder Tasi found it hard to believe he was twenty.

Tate took off his backpack and gently placed it in the chair. It contained everything he owned, and he would treat it with respect. He wondered what room the woman with the sunglasses had gotten; hopefully one far from him. He pulled the curtain aside only an inch to peek at the parking lot, and he felt his stomach drop.

There were two cars when he got here, Tasi's and the sleeping man's, and now there six. One was the woman's, which meant there were three more guests—and possibly their family or friends—here, too. Tate swallowed. This wasn't great, but if the other guests asked, he could always lie and say his parents were in the room, or that they'd gone out and would be back later. 

He could also tell them to shove off and mind their own business.

..................................................

Elijah Reese sat in room E5 until three-thirty. Then he returned to the lobby, assuming correctly that Tasi would be absent. What he didn't predict was the occupancy of the lounge. A woman sat there, smoking and staring off into the distance. She paid him no mind, and he paid her no mind, either, until he came up with a plan.

Elijah winced, putting a hand to his forehead, and carefully sat in the opposite lounge with a hefty sigh. The smoking woman looked his way. 

"You alright, sir?" she asked.

Elijah coughed a little. Cleared his throat. Smiled. "Oh, I'm fine. Just old and in pain, you know how it is." He straightened and winced again, bringing his other hand to his head.

The woman stood and approached cautiously. "Are you sure?"

He waved her off. "Oh, yes. Nothing that hasn't happened before." He paused. "You wouldn't happen to have some...uh..." He waited for her to finish the sentence with whatever she had.

"I have some Tylenol," she offered.

He smiled. "That would be great, Miss...?"

"Margaret," she said, returning the smile. "Wait here. I'll get it from my room."

Margaret exited the lobby, and Elijah raced behind the reception desk. He took out the guestbook and flipped to the newest page. He thought he would have to play a guessing game to find her, but she'd made it easy by choosing Tally. He was right. Taline was here.

Elijah returned to his seat, and Margaret returned with a bottle of Tylenol. She grabbed a glass of water from the bar as he shook a pill out into his hand.

"Thank you," he said after he swallowed. 

"No problem."

Margaret took her bottle and returned to her seat in the lounge, lighting a new cigarette. Elijah sat for a few minutes more, eyeing the two security cameras. He wasn't concerned. The most they would reveal was that he was nosy, and that was if Tasi had a reason to check them, and also if Taline hadn't already cut their wires.

Elijah walked back to his room. He dragged his suitcase out from under the bed and into the middle of the floor and began unpacking. He set his clothes aside and took out his posters and clippings and pins. He laid everything out, all the articles of his exploits from decades past, the obituaries of his victims, as well as the newer things: his detailed notes on Taline.

Elijah smiled. He sensed his end was near, and he was going to have fun before he went.