The Dartagnan Brothers Hotel

Chapter 6

His mind halted for a few seconds as he couldn't think of anything but the madness he was going through and how his life had been completely transformed in a matter of hours. The reality took over his perception again and Jonas tried to take his concentration back to himself as if the cycle of events continued to repeat itself, he would soon have headaches and psychotic episodes again. Before getting up, he took a photo of the statue with his mobile camera. He did not know or understand why, but his intuition made him realize that none of those events were being haphazard and he might need to remember every single detail of that place.
With his head back to sanity, Jonas decided that his primary goal would be to get out of that maze. There was not much logic in anything he was doing, so he decided to follow the path and forget about his problems for a few minutes. The ground he stepped on was damp, and his shoes were already tangled in dirty and grass. He noticed that his white shirt was stained with blood and dirt, and his pants were wet, but that was no reason for him not to carry on.
He took his path back into the maze, running through the corridors that continued to lead him to dead ends. The mental confusion caused by the similarity of the places he passed made him imagine that he would never find his way out. 'Perhaps someone will come looking for me in the morning.', he thought without giving much credit to the assumption.
'Fallacia Alia Aliam Trudit.', he repeated the words of the new tattoo that was still smeared with blood. Every little bit he looked back at the writing and tried to assimilate it or find connections that it might have with something from his religious teachings, his memories decided to fail him and did not bring any kind of hope or meaning that would help Jonas in his journey. His hands still ached from the cuts caused by the thorns where he had clung, although that was no matter to attract concern at that point. He fished his mobile back from his pocket to see if he could find any reception, or internet bars, or any other thing that would help him during those times of uncertainty. He was curious to look up the meaning of the writing on his left arm as well as anything that would help bring sense to what was going on, but his mobile just showed time. Nothing else.
He thought back to the things he had already understood. It was incredible what he could remember and assimilate between the two realities he had been experiencing, and each time he slept, he felt as if his energies were completely renewed, as if he had had a complete and full night of sleep. 'They're putting me to sleep and giving me tattoos...', he added that thought to the list of things he couldn't understand. There were so many doubts that he didn't know what answer he wanted to find out first.
He had been lost in that place for more than an hour now. The cold was getting more and more intense, and, to make things even worse, he had lost his coat somewhere in the maze and he had no idea where.
As he came face to face with another statue in one of the corridors. He suddenly stopped before running out to its exit as it, oddly enough, seemed to lead somewhere for a change. Unlike the butterfly embedded in the previous statue, it showed the shape of a hollow fish in metallic material suspended by a small rod. At one end he could read the saying: 'Laedere Facile, Mederi Difficile.', which came easily to his mind, since the priest who taught his classes always used such a expression to emphasise how young students always sought the easiest way out: 'It's easier to tear than to sew.', he would say whenever Jonas tried to do things quickly so he could leave right away.
Of course, none of that made any congruente sense with his situation. Jonas had never believed in coincidences, and it wasn't then that he would stop to compare the randomness of some weird saying  with the situation he caught himself  in.
Neither the butterfly nor the fish brought back any memory that could help him at the time. He had never been very interested in symbolism and did not see how ancient symbols and the outdated idea of ​​slanderous sects could bring him anyone any comfort, specially not in that particular time.
He stood up and followed the path past the fish statue and, besides the illusion of that path leading somewhere with purpose, the same scenario came back to presented itself, making him find himself at a doubtful crossroad as he had to choose the way forward.
'Jonas?'
The mysterious voice called out his name again after a brief moment of quietude. The same intonation and volume returned to echo through his ears as he felt his head slowly return to throb. Jonas started shouting random answers throughout the immensity of the maze, hoping a call of help would present itself. He was wrong to think that that place was ordinarily simple. The complexity of finding a way out seemed to be nearing the impossible and his situation was not the best for unraveling puzzles.
He was waiting for another psychotic episode to take over his mind once again so he could think straight before making any rushed decisions, but nothing interesting seemed to be happening.
'Jonas?'
Just as Jonas collapsed to his knees on the floor and started crying, he heard a small noise. His mobile emitted some random noise after hours of no response, signalling a message had been received. As he thought about the fact that cell phone reception might appear at a few fixed points in places with low reception, he tried to remain inert so that he did not lose the only help that was willing to make an appearance. He took the device out of his pocket and realised he had received a text message. 'New message from Rodrigo Costa.'
He moved slowly on the top of his knees when he heard his pants tear apart on his right leg. Despite wearing something that wasn't even his, he did not seek to worry about it right then, he just brought his cell phone to the front of his face and read his friend's message: 'Where are you?'
'Big fucking help...', he thought as he noticed he had no way of writing back. The signal was gone and the phone returned to a relentless search for a network to serve as connection. In anger, Jonas threw his cell phone down hard and shouted in despair  for a help he knew was not on the way.
He was alone.
Jonas got up again, after picking up his mud covered phone, and started walking, now in a slow pace, through the maze. As much as he was tired and depressed, he knew that at one time or another he would find a way out. He knew that his plan was not bearing any fruit for the time being, so he decided to move in a different direction as he tore a wad of leaves from the vines that covered the wall. His bruised hands pricked again in pain, whilst he decided to mark the leaves with the flowing blood. Slowly and very carefully, he placed one of the stained leaves on a vine that reached the height of his face, removed a good part of the leaves that covered the branch so the mark would stand in evidence so he could see it from a distance and not have to turn the phone's flashlight anymore. The moonlight would have to be enough to light the way.
He followed several corridors doing the same thing. He passed the statue of the macabre butterfly again. 'No need for that here...' he thought when noticing the inefficiency of leaving one of the leaves in such a unique place, but it also came to him that he was walking in circles and had no idea of how to find the exit from that maze. The corridors were very similar to each other, but now he knew which way to go if he found one of the stained leaves again. The exits wouldn't give him many options to go on, but even so, the chances of making a mistake were multiplied by the immensity of the place and the difficulty of seeing clearly.
'Jonas?'
He no longer paid attention to the irritating voice that echoed his name. He had finally found a way he thought he could use to beat the maze and was focused on getting out of there as soon as possible. The headaches came and went, but the episodes had stopped for the time being, which was strange, since the last time he had one of those the pain had already taken on that intensity.
Dismay struck as he noticed he was passing through some of the corridors for more than once, probably the paths were interconnected as some of them seemed not to have an end on either of their extremities.
'Try to do your best, priest.' he found himself in the same room that now hosted a third person.
A man wearing a cassock covering him from head to toe, appeared out of nowhere with a long wooden chain that hung a large cross against his chest. He had the features of an old man, nothing but a few hair laying on his head, which seemed to have a dirty and oily appearance, and a grated stubble. In his hands, a bible and some kind of plant that he would soak in some strange liquid before brushing   Jonas's face as he murmured a few words no one but himself seemed to be able to understand.
As usual, the headaches were gone. He took the opportunity to concentrate on what was happening as he knew that he would wake up rested as soon as the episode was over. The situation had become even more frightening; he began to feel as he was in one of those terrorising moments where people spent most of the time in clearly dangerous and avoidable traps.
A priest, a doctor and a rich eccentric covered his vision, whilst he couldn't understand anything that was happening. Giovanni observed the recently made tattoos in his left arm, whilst Douglas continued to look at the screen that monitored his' vital signs, exhaling  sighs of concern.
'The drug he took is still very experimental...' said Douglas, looking directly into Jonas's eyes. 'He seems to be awake, but he should be sleeping.'
'But were you able to program the dream that I specified?' asked Mr. Dartagnan, who did not seem to understand much of what was happening, but was rather anxious to see the results he was aiming for.
'You need to be patient with those kinds of things, sir...' replied Douglas with dismay in his eyes.
The priest was back at it, murmuring words that Jonas had no idea what they meant. It sounded like a fluently spoken Latin, nothing he could remember from his religious classes.
'Would you do me the favor of keeping quiet?' intoned Mr. Dartagnan to the vicar, who seemed to be startled by the complaint.
'Isn't this the reason you summoned me, Giovanni?' he asked as he lifted his chin and addressed the host.
'I've summoned you to accompany the procedure and protect it by giving it your blessing, I called you for the divine protection of god, and not so that you'd keep getting in the way of the doctor's work.' he replied, seeking to regain superiority.
'I'm just doing my job...'
The priest seemed to realize that Mr. Dartagnan was cautious when addressing him. 'Does he really think this man is a divine envoy?', Jonas thought as he observed the situation. It had been a long time since the idea of ​​believing in a super powerful being had hovered over the minds of instructed people - like Giovanni appeared to be.
Although the priest's presence scared Jonas, he started to find answers in a fluid conversation that seemed to be taking place in that small room. He was fighting to find a reason to believe that the idea of ​​living two realities did not take over his thoughts, 'Is the maze a dream, then?', he wondered before he could force his brain to focus back on the situation that appeared in front of his eyes.
'The tattoos should serve as inspiration in the search for forgiveness, priest.' said Giovanni as he perceived the old man looking at Jonas's arm with contempt.
'I understand.' he said dryly, putting an end to that conversation.
Jonas came back to reality as he took a deep breath no normalise his state of mind. His head still throbbed with pain, which got worse with every flare he had. 'There's still more to come.', he thought as he tried to understand the meanings that those words could have had within the context of his troubled life.
'Fallacia Alia Aliam Trudit', he went back to reading the small writing that still pulsated on his arm. The tattoo appeared to have been made abruptly and by someone without any experience or artistic skill. The pattern of the letters was ugly and the handwriting was almost incomprehensible, but he kept trying to look for obscure meanings that could lead anyone to write that on his skin.
He needed to occupy his mind with something.
'Veritas Semper Una Est.' he tried to chant aloud, and in vain, before doing the same with the translation he remembered: 'Truth is always one.', that phrase was the one that got to him the most, but it didn't make sense that it had any direct meaning to his life. That maze, and even that statue, must have been there for many years, making it absolute senseless for either of them to have any correlation to any aspect of his life.
Jonas knew he had told lies throughout the years. Lies that affected not only his future, but also that of people he had loved. Lies that might even have hurt others in a physical manner.
He was back again, looking at the faces of the three men that tormented him in that room which looked more like a torture chamber than anything else. He felt a great pain in his head before his conscience returned to live that weird reality that he still had no ideia if it was real or not.
The priest seemed to be making some kind of promise to his god as he prayed, which to Jonas seemed more like an ancestral ritual than any other thing. He was witnessing something that hasn't been a part of society for a long time. Giovanni was watching him with a worried expression on his face.
Although the host had previously complained about the priest, he seemed to have much appreciation for the ecclesiastical's presence in the room, and did not seem to want to disturb the divine moment that hovered over his eyes. Giovanni knelt beside the priest and put his hands together to get involved in the ritual that followed. The doctor, transparently skeptical by the look, hovered over the two of them with a chaquetic and incredulous expression, he did not seem to appreciate having to go through that kind of thing, but Jonas imagined that he was being very well paid to be breaking so many rules and stretching his ethics to a place he couldn't come back from. 'After all , what was one more elephant in a circus like that?', he was starting to believe that the situation could not get any worse than that.
He was incredulous at the religious devotion that was being shown by the both of them. As he looked at the expression on their faces, he knew they were very likely to believe that they were experiencing some kind of divine connection with their god as they were giving their bodies and souls to that they were doing.
Jonas's imagination went to places he didn't know existed. 'Am I serving as a laboratory rat for some kind witchcraft?', that eerie little thought came and went just as quickly, as soon as he realised that the three men were talking again, and that was really deserving of his attention.
'You can't really believe that this kind of thing works.' began Douglas by showing his utmost scepticism. 'Sorry but I can't do my fucking job like this...'
'You are being very well paid to be quiet and do as I say!' said Mr. Dartagnan, already exalted. 'Haven't we an agreement in motion, doctor?'
Giovanni did not seem to be expecting an answer from Douglas, who, as Jonas had thought, was being well compensated to go against his ethics in such a manner. He didn't understand much about medical ethics, but that man certainly didn't learn about what he was doing there at medical school.
'No more interruptions!' exclaimed the priest, who seemed anxious to continue whatever he was doing.
The three were taken by a sudden silence caused by the discomfort between Giovanni and the priest, the host's face was red with shame after he was exalted, it seemed that the old priest served him as some kind of authority in his own disturbed way. Jonas began to watch carefully and calmly around him, but nothing gave him any hope of deciphering the mystery that had become his life.
'Doctor, when will he be ready for the chair?' asked Mr. Dartagnan whilst Jonas could only imagine he was referring to the same chair he used in the Dream Room.
'I'm not sure yet, but I believe soon.'
The scenario changed again. Jonas returned to the maze, where his head was aching again as his gaze sought the little illumination brought by the moonlight. The experience he was going through seemed to have physical effects. His eyes seemed to need time to get used to the differences between one reality and the other.
It made no sense that this was not his physical reality. The pain in his hands was very clear and present, he felt the heat as he touched his skin and noticed the wind that ran between the corridors every once in a while. On the other hand, although he was unable to move when he was having an episode like that, the feeling of being there was completely different from a dream, he felt completely awake and lucid, but even so, the feeling was different from the one he had experienced in the Dream Room. Everything was so different, and his mental confusion was increasing in an exponential way.
'Soon they will bring me back to that one.', he thought as he remembered that Mr. Dartagnan asked about some kind of programmed dream. It seemed strange that Giovanni wanted a programmed dream. Jonas would know exactly what was true and what wasn't, he already knew how the lucid dream induction worked.
The future was a mystery to him, but the headaches were reaching a point where it was difficult to stay upright. He hoped that it was a sign that the episodes were coming to an end, and soon he would wake up in the same place with his body and mind completely rested, as he was before, as it was normal. The only thing he had the strength to do was to fiddle with the phone in his pocket again. It was with the hope that the short signal could return at any time, with the hope that he could call the police or anyone else who could help him out of that nightmare - he also thought about looking for the meaning of his new tattoos in the hope that it would enlighten him with an answer about what was happening to him - but the mobile phone was still useless.
An inverted cross and a Latin phrase that he did not know the meaning: 'Fallacia Ali Aliam Trudit.', he read it aloud again to search for any lost meaning in his subconscious. He couldn't remember when and where, but he had read that before.
There was also the butterfly with the other Latin phrase and the fish embedded in the stone where he had passed. As though as it was all a big mess and a very unexpected surprise that those thing were happening, it all seemed to have a very clear point in common for Jonas: Religion.
He was certain that Giovanni Dartagnan was part of some sort of backward cult and that the priest was there to conduct some kind of messed up ritual. What he couldn't figure out was what his role could be in such a madness. He had never been a religious man, but he also didn't have the habit of criticising someone else's beliefs, so he saw no reason why anyone would want to do the harm of submitting him to any kind of ritual. Rich people were accustomed to having one or another eccentricity, however, for Jonas, that already resembled torture, in addition to the fact that he had been kidnapped and drugged against his will. 'This is fucking criminal.'
He didn't have the strength to go looking around again, he just sat in the same place, looking for a minimum of comfort so that he could fall asleep as soon as the episodes happened again. The triviality that came with those ups and downs brought by the episodes he was suffering made him look for habits to make the process less painful, and waking up without a pain in his neck or back was showing up to be beneficial at that point.
Jonas, after a sharp sting of pain and a blink of an eye, saw the three faces that now brought in him an immense feeling of revolt and anxiety never experienced before. He remembered when he first saw Giovanni Dartagnan that night and how he had admired the elegance of that well-dressed gentleman, who had kindness in his eyes. Douglas had been an excellent professional when Jonas had needed him, but now he joined the eccentricities of a rich old man and an ill-resolved vicar in what seemed to be the end of his life.
The appearance of the room had changed, in fact, what had really changed was the intensity of the place's bizarreness. The bed had been replaced by a chair that was brought from the Dream Room, whilst the few threads from before have now been increased numerously, not only in quantity, but in diversity as well. One of the wires was a small tube that was connected directly to one of his veins by means of a small needle, whilst his hands were attached some kind of leather handles, which made no difference because he still could not move nor speak. Douglas held a syringe close to the small tube, which had been meticulously dosed with some kind of drug.
Jonas had no doubt that the syringe was meant for him.
'The dream is ready.' said Douglas pointing to the monitor, waiting from orders from Giovanni.
'Wait a little longer, I'm still waiting for a guest.' he said.
The difference that a guest could make there was questionable. If Jonas was going to be induced into a dream, as he had been before, what would change if someone else was present? Was anyone else taking part in that circus? Wasn't three already a good number of people to have in the audience? These, among many others, were the senseless doubts that took over Jonas's thoughts, which now became clear again thanks to the disappearance of his hideous headache.
The priest was still trapped in the same ridiculous little ritual as before, kneeling at the foot of the chair. He said prayers and murmured rubbish that Jonas didn't even know existed. The man was clearly catholic, but Jonas was unable to see any characteristic in him that would indicate which of the innumerous strands of the creed he followed. What little he understood did not highlight any religious symbolism or particularity that defined which sect the priest worked for, but what really interested him was to know what type of witchcraft he would serve as a guinea pig for in the next few moments.
'You do understand that what we are doing here is only possible thanks to scientific advances, right priest?' asked Douglas as Giovanni was distracted by the door waiting for the mysterious visitor.
'Have respect for our good god, doctor. It is thanks to him and Jesus Christ that you have a life.' replied the priest. 'We are already saving this heretic, I don't imagine you want to be next...'
Douglas seemed to have been taken by surprise by the indecent threat, whilst Jonas only managed to panic inside his own brain without making a sound. 'Save?', he thought whilst trying to remember why he was a heretic, he must have had done something that really caught the attention of those people. 'Why does Giovanni want to punish me?', he asked himself as the mysterious person entered the room.
The same arrogant old lady who had sat next to him at dinner came in wearing the same dress and looking highly intoxicated. She had an expression of contempt on her face as she saw Jonas lying in that chair, Giovanni even had to hold her by the arm so that she wouldn't go any further.
'Filthy pig!' she shouted, pointing at Jonas whilst Mr. Dartagnan kept her held.
'Calm down, Monalisa.' said Giovanni as he pushed her into a chair in the corner of the room. 'This is not the time for that. Redemption will not fail as god is divine and won't abandon us in this hour of penance.'
'Amen.' she answered.
The madness of that conversation really scared Jonas.
As Douglas proceeded to head towards the small intravenous tube that was connected to Jonas, the priest, Giovanni Dartagnan and the newly arrived Monalisa knelt at the foot of the chair to accompany the ritual in prayer with their hands.
At the same moment that Douglas put the drug in the tube to reach Jonas, he remembered the reason for all that anger against him. He had no idea of how Giovanni could know that about his past, but it was, for him, the only possible explanation for being there.
It was bad, really bad.