Upton C. Downing - 3. Contact

It wouldn't be quite accurate to say I was afraid. No, no. After all, a man of my superior intellect has little reason to be afraid. Even if the noises below were made by unfriendly sources I would likely not sustain harm. Sharp intellect will always trump brute force.

I walked slowly from my room and paused on the landing outside my door. I heard nothing more, except a low growling noise. Perhaps an animal had found its way inside the hotel and was looking for food. Animals could be dangerous, as there is no way to reason with the beasts. I would have to proceed with caution.

This I did, creeping down the stairs, having first raided the upstairs housekeeping closet for a broom with a sturdy wooden handle. I held the broom in front of me as I descended, identically mimicking a defensive martial arts stance I'd seen in a documentary.

The lobby was gloomy, full of shadows, and eerily quiet. The growling noises had subsided and I stood still to listen. Then I heard it again. I turned my head, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. It seemed to be coming from the far side of the room, behind the couch I had shoved against the door in a fleeting moment of panic, back when I first realized I was alone.

I tightened my grip on the broomstick--from caution only, not fear--and stepped lightly forward. The seat of the couch was turned away, preventing me from seeing what lurked on the far side. I knew I had no choice. I must go on the offensive and take whatever it was by surprise.

With this firmly in mind, I lunged around the side of the couch, swinging the broomstick down with all my considerable strength.

"Take that, you villain!" I shouted.

"Greemabolleemodgaphay!" my opponent shrieked.

I somehow managed to check the powerful blow and stopped the broomstick mere inches from the head of a scraggly, ill-kempt homeless fellow, whose snores had sounded amazingly like the growls of a wild beast.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Charmamottlefrum." Obviously, the fool was still in shock.

"Stop babbling and answer me, you cretin," I said, hoping to jar him to his meager senses.

"Jus' restin' my eyes a spell. I don't mean no harm."

"Any harm."

"Eh?"

"The correct grammar is, 'I don't mean any harm.'"

"Glad ta hear it," the man said. "Cuz I don't mean no harm, either. Guess we'll git along jus' fine, then!"

I was about to correct him again, this time with the broomstick, when the large front window shattered into countless pieces and someone--something--charged into the room. It appeared to be a man, but it stood half bent over like an animal and emitted low, gurgling, growling noises. Blood covered its face and dripped from its mouth...and it looked at us with, dare I say, hunger in its soulless eyes.