“We’re across from one another,” she said, waving her own key as if wanting to show proof.
“Yeah.” I looked around, noted that most of the women who’d been assigned rooms were gone, then nodded to the stairs. “I guess we can check it out?”
My uncertainty stemmed both from the fact that I was hungry and that I didn’t have my suitcase. They’d said our bags would be right behind us, but they hadn’t been loaded onto our bus and another one hadn’t arrived, so I had no idea where our luggage was. I did, however, have a strong suspicion as to why we’d been separated from it. They were searching our bags.
As if expecting her suitcase to magically appear, Bette glanced toward the door.
“I’m sure the luggage will be here soon,” I assuredher and meant it.
Once the soldiers finished going through our things, they would happily deliver our luggage to us. Minus any contraband, of course. What they considered contraband was the question of the hour, though.
“Yeah.” Bette waved toward the stairs. “Let’s check out the rooms.”
We’d made it halfway there when Hilary called out, “Dinner starts in fifteen minutes, ladies.”
My back stiffened at her tone, which reminded me of a teacher or mother, neither of which she was. She was our prison guard, an employee of the government that had stolen all our rights. She was Aunt Lydia.
When I shot Hilary a glare, she looked away, pretending not to notice even though the way her eye twitched told me she had. Good.
Bette and I headed upstairs with a group of other stunned looking women.
It was clear the hotel used to be spectacular, but time and neglect had tarnished some of that beauty, and the carpets were worn and stained, while the wallpaper was peeling in multiple places. Crystals were missing from chandeliers, and most of the curtains were tattered at the bottom. Worse still was the musty scent that grew stronger as Bette and I made our way up. Hopefully, they’d been smart and checked the place for mold. If not, they were going to have a lot of sick fertile women on their hands.
“How long has this place been closed?” Bette asked suspiciously, eyeing a dark brown stain on the second-floor landing. I couldn’t blame her since it reminded me a little too much of dried blood.
“Good question,” I replied. “I don’t know for sure, but considering how secluded this place is, I’d guess a while.”
“It must have been, which means they probably had to do a lot of work to get it ready for us.”
I stopped walking. “That’s a really good point.”
Bette, who had stopped as well, frowned. “Why? What areyou thinking?”
I shook my head slowly, my confusion making it difficult to form words. She was right. If this place had been closed for a while, they would have had to do a lot of work to make sure it was safe for us to stay in. Repairs, checking for mold and mildew and even rodents, and who knew what else. When had they started? We’d been told this relocation program hadn’t been planned, that it hadn’t been certain until recently, but if that were true, they would have had nowhere to send us. Meaning they’d been planning this from the moment the pandemic began. Maybe even earlier.
“What is it?” Bette prompted.
“They always knew they would send us here when the next pandemic started. It wasn’t in the contract, but they knew. They must have.”
Her eyes widened and she hugged her belly protectively, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. I could see in her eyes that she agreed with me. At least she wasn’t dumb.
Twenty-Eight
My room was clean but slightly shabby with its scratched four poster bed and matching armoire, faded brown curtains, and stained burgundy carpet. The crisp bedding and brand-new towels in the bathroom were the only things that didn’t show any age, which solidified my theory that they’d had to fix the place up for us.
Once I’d thoroughly looked my room over, I went across the hall to Bette’s. Her door was slightly ajar, but I still knocked before pushing it open the rest of the way. I paused after one step, though, surprised to find Bette sitting at the foot of her bed, her hand making slow circles on her stomach as she stared at the carpet. She’d pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail and removed her mask, making it possible for me to see the worry in her expression.
“Everything okay?” I asked even though I knew it wasn’t.
She’d obviously been too lost in thought to notice my arrival and jerked in surprise.
I lifted my hands. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“What is it?” I moved farther into the room. “What’s going on?”
“They’re not going to let me leave when the baby’s born, are they?”
