floor, I saw that the lights were on, and I knew we had trouble. Bill and I landed on top of the room's table, which someone had moved over from where it had been in every other room on the way down.
Bill slipped off the side of the table and fell to the floor with a shout. I managed to keep my balance and landed in a crouch. I glanced around the room and saw a woman sitting straight up in the room's king-sized bed and gaping at me as she drew up her sheets to cover her nakedness. When she saw me gaping back at her, she screamed.
The ear-piercing noise threw off my concentration. I put up my hands and said, "Hey, it's all right! We're just passing through. Sorry for the – ah, whatever – sliding through your ceiling. I'm sorry!"
I looked for Bill, but he'd already disappeared through the floor. I was just about to do the same when someone tackled me from behind and dragged me off the table. I got a glimpse of an angry man wrapped in a towel before I fell over.
I instinctively tried to slip through the table and the floor to get away, and it almost worked. No matter how much my trick might have shocked the man, he held on to my ankle with an iron grip that would not let go. While the rest of me passed through into the darkened room below, he kept a hold of my leg, keeping me from getting away clean.
I wound up dangling into the room below, upside down, my foot still in the room above.
Bill looked up and me and hollered in horror. "Oh my god!" he said. "You got stuck in the floor!"
"No!" I shouted. "Some jackass has me by the foot and won't let go. I can't slip free!"
"You can't phase through living things!" Bill said. "Not unless they let you."
"Somehow, I don't think he's willing!" I said. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. I wondered how long I might have before I passed out – and what the man holding on to my leg must be thinking.
I struggled with the man's grip, but I couldn't get any leverage to break free. If I turned solid, my leg would fuse with the concrete passing through it, and that would likely be the end of my non-existent track and field career.
"Don't push on the ceiling!" Bill said, stepping away. "Kick him!"
"How?"
"Your body is still phased. Kick back up as hard as you can! Aim for your ankle!"
I gave it a shot. I lined up my free foot and booted myself in the ankle as hard as I could.
My shoe didn't connect with my trapped leg though. Instead it cracked into the fingers of the man holding onto me up above. That must have been enough to hurt him because an instant later my leg came free, and I fell to the floor below.
I caught myself on my hands and rolled flat onto my front. The landing knocked the wind out of me for a second, and Bill was at my side before I could breathe again.
"Are you all right?" he said. "Jackson!"
I nodded as I gasped for air.
"God, I thought you might be trapped in that ceiling until someone could come out and amputate your leg."
The thought made me want to vomit, but my need to breathe superseded that. "I'm fine," I finally said. "Let's get going."
"Sure," he said, helping me to my feet. "Just one question."
"What's that?"
"Just before we landed in that room, you yelled 'Thirteen,' right?"
I didn't see where he wanted to go with that, but I nodded anyhow.
He cleared his throat. "Does this hotel have a thirteenth floor?"
I stared at him, then started laughing. He joined in, and we knelt there cackling on the floor, tears rolling from our eyes, until we were too weak to laugh any more.
Once I caught my breath and wiped my eyes, I said, "I have no damn clue."
Before Bill could respond, I heard someone shove a key card into the door. Without a word, we slipped through the floor again. I thought I heard someone curse at us as we left, but it was cut off too fast for me to be sure.
"Eleven," I said as we hit the next floor.
"Or
Bill slipped off the side of the table and fell to the floor with a shout. I managed to keep my balance and landed in a crouch. I glanced around the room and saw a woman sitting straight up in the room's king-sized bed and gaping at me as she drew up her sheets to cover her nakedness. When she saw me gaping back at her, she screamed.
The ear-piercing noise threw off my concentration. I put up my hands and said, "Hey, it's all right! We're just passing through. Sorry for the – ah, whatever – sliding through your ceiling. I'm sorry!"
I looked for Bill, but he'd already disappeared through the floor. I was just about to do the same when someone tackled me from behind and dragged me off the table. I got a glimpse of an angry man wrapped in a towel before I fell over.
I instinctively tried to slip through the table and the floor to get away, and it almost worked. No matter how much my trick might have shocked the man, he held on to my ankle with an iron grip that would not let go. While the rest of me passed through into the darkened room below, he kept a hold of my leg, keeping me from getting away clean.
I wound up dangling into the room below, upside down, my foot still in the room above.
Bill looked up and me and hollered in horror. "Oh my god!" he said. "You got stuck in the floor!"
"No!" I shouted. "Some jackass has me by the foot and won't let go. I can't slip free!"
"You can't phase through living things!" Bill said. "Not unless they let you."
"Somehow, I don't think he's willing!" I said. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. I wondered how long I might have before I passed out – and what the man holding on to my leg must be thinking.
I struggled with the man's grip, but I couldn't get any leverage to break free. If I turned solid, my leg would fuse with the concrete passing through it, and that would likely be the end of my non-existent track and field career.
"Don't push on the ceiling!" Bill said, stepping away. "Kick him!"
"How?"
"Your body is still phased. Kick back up as hard as you can! Aim for your ankle!"
I gave it a shot. I lined up my free foot and booted myself in the ankle as hard as I could.
My shoe didn't connect with my trapped leg though. Instead it cracked into the fingers of the man holding onto me up above. That must have been enough to hurt him because an instant later my leg came free, and I fell to the floor below.
I caught myself on my hands and rolled flat onto my front. The landing knocked the wind out of me for a second, and Bill was at my side before I could breathe again.
"Are you all right?" he said. "Jackson!"
I nodded as I gasped for air.
"God, I thought you might be trapped in that ceiling until someone could come out and amputate your leg."
The thought made me want to vomit, but my need to breathe superseded that. "I'm fine," I finally said. "Let's get going."
"Sure," he said, helping me to my feet. "Just one question."
"What's that?"
"Just before we landed in that room, you yelled 'Thirteen,' right?"
I didn't see where he wanted to go with that, but I nodded anyhow.
He cleared his throat. "Does this hotel have a thirteenth floor?"
I stared at him, then started laughing. He joined in, and we knelt there cackling on the floor, tears rolling from our eyes, until we were too weak to laugh any more.
Once I caught my breath and wiped my eyes, I said, "I have no damn clue."
Before Bill could respond, I heard someone shove a key card into the door. Without a word, we slipped through the floor again. I thought I heard someone curse at us as we left, but it was cut off too fast for me to be sure.
"Eleven," I said as we hit the next floor.
"Or
Similar Books
