The Dartagnan Brothers Hotel

Chapter 8

'I don't think it was the right thing to do, I'd say he will get worse over time. ' Jonas could hear Douglas's voice trying to explain the recent situation.
Another psychotic episode came to to his mind as he arrived at the butterfly statue after following the instructions given by Getulio and, as soon as he had managed to put the butterfly's wings together, he felt an even greater headache than the previous ones, waking up in that small room where those four people continued to observe him and discuss his future.
In addition to feeling alive and lucid, he now felt a great sense of euphoria, an anxiety that seemed to increase by the second, and a desire to get up from that chair to which he was still trapped and, since immobility had taken over his body  and the words had stopped to come out of his mouth, all the progress he had made to get out of that trance had been wasted. The parcial suspension of the drug's effect had passed and it didn't look like he would have full control over his body as he was expecting.
'I warned you that it could be dangerous to drug him again.' said Douglas, whilst waiting for new instructions from Mr. Dartagnan.
Those words hindered Jonas's ability to think. Fear had taken over his wits to understand what was happening, but the situation was only getting worse. He fixated his hope in Getulio since whatever his plan or idea of ​​solving that situation was, it would be the only thing that gave him the strength to keep fighting and not give up.
'You injected a very high amount of the drug!' Giovanni opened his mind after staying idle for a long time.
'Well, I did try to explain it to you! His body is already getting used to the drug, you will need to increase the dosage every time you want it to work properly. It's dangerous!' exclaimed Douglas whilst explaining the development of the situation.
Giovanni ignored the doctor's theoretical lesson. He didn't seem to keen to understand how things worked, he just wanted the results.
Monalisa and the priest were leaning against the wall whilst arguing about something that Jonas couldn't really hear. They did not seem to care as much about his health as Douglas and Giovanni, as it seemed that they were there just to seek some kind of punishment that should be inflicted on him for some mistake he had made a long time ago. At least that was already clear in Jonas's mind, he already knew why he was chosen to be there. Although the reason was clear, the final goal for his suffering still didn't make sense to him. 'Why won't they just alert the authorities?', he thought of it as an alternative to the torture he had been suffering throughout the night.
Anything would be better than that.
He realised that he was experiencing some kind of medieval inquisition, something he thought no longer existed. 'How can wealthy people like these be so ignorant to a point of being vindictive?', his desire was to cry, give everything up, and just let things happen as they were about to. He knew that if he could express himself to those people, he would give up, confess to his crimes and accepted the guilt. 'You can punish me, as long as you let me go', he thought before returning to what was most likely his true reality.
Getulio was already there, which made him think that the last psychotic attack had been a long one. The old man was sitting next to him and had a worried expression on his face, he seemed to be intently waiting for Jonas to come back from the trance in which he was inserted.
'Are you alright?' he was finally able to give a face to the voice that had been speaking to him and calling his name for all that time.
Getulio had a rough appearance. The wrinkles on his face gave him a tired expression, despite appearing to be almost the same age as his brother, his long beard and long gray hair, ravaged by baldness, made him look much older and closer to the end of his life. Jonas noticed that the old man had crutches propped up on his legs, or rather, one entire leg and the other cut off at knee height. 'He must be sick.', he thought as he remembered his great-aunt who had lost one of her legs due to obesity and diabetes, but Getulio's thinness indicated that the reality of his stumped leg could be different.
'I lost it not long ago, I'm still trying to get used to it.' said Getulio when observing that Jonas had his eyes fixed on the end of his severed leg.
'I'm sorry' said Jonas, realising his insensitivity and that he should try to be a tad more subtle.
'No problem at all, curiosity is one of the attributes I most admire in human beings.' he replied, hoping Jonas would continue the conversation.
However, his headache was coming back again to torment his mind, so he decided to occupy the small frame of time he had before having another crisis with the myriad of questions he had in his mind, to which the old man had promised him answers as soon as he got out of that confinement.
'What do I have to do with your brother's religion?' Jonas decided to go straight to the point.
'Did you do anything that goes against the values ​​of christianity?' Getulio's tone was rhetorical.
Jonas decided not to answer. He still wasn't sure if I could trust that man. 'After all, it's his brother who's doing this to me...', he thought before acquiescing  by nodding his head.
'Don't feel bad, I don't condemn you. But my brother is one of those fanatics who see no compassion outside of his belief.' said the old man who tried to stand up whilst leaning on his crutches. 'Are you religious person, my boy?'
'Not really. I've got nothing against any kind of belief, but I haven't practiced any religion for a long time.' he replied as he got up and went back to helping the old one-legged who didn't seem to know what he was doing.
'I haven't gotten used to it yet...' he said, being humble enough to accept the help as he thanked Jonas for his kindness. Getulio seemed to be a very calm person, which did not comfort the anxiety of being in that situation.
'How did you lose your leg?' asked Jonas whilst the old man seemed to be giving him an opening to be nosy.
'My brother...' he replied as the expression on his face turned from being kind to a deep sadness. 'He never managed to accept that my religious disbelief was a part of me.'
'How do you mean? What did he do to your leg?' Jonas began to feed the panic into his mind, whilst thinking about what Giovanni would do to him if he was able to cut off his own brother's leg.
Getulio did not answer. Tears welled up in his eyes, which he stifled with a clearing of his throat as he kept his balance on those crutches.
'Shall we we go now?' he asked as he swallowed up his tears.
'Fucking where?'
As the words seemed to come out of old Dartagnan's mouth to build up an answer, Jonas was not able to hear anything he was trying to say. Before he knew it, he was back in that small red room. The other Dartagnan stared at him in the back of his eyes as Douglas punched the television monitor that was connected to him.
'What's happening?' asked the priest after a long time without opening his mouth. He came and went from endless prayers with the same enthusiasm.
'His brain is not responding to the drug's stimuli.' said Douglas.
'Still?' asked the priest at the same time that Jonas became more and more frightened. 'What the fuck happened to my brain now?', he thought as he waited for an answer to his unasked question.
'The device is not responding...' said Douglas, looking irritated by the vicar's technological ignorance.
A strange sense of relief began to shake Jonas's legs, preventing panic from taking over his thoughts once again. For a brief moment he thought his brain was in trouble, which would be nothing strange given the situation he found himself into, but it seemed that trouble was coming from the machine itself.
'Listen here... I am getting tired of waiting for this utopian judgment that you  long for! Let's get this over with using the old ways. This kind of penance is proving ineffective, and this boy deserves death!' said the priest whilst shooting an angry expression at Jonas.
'That's not what we've agreed upon, Father. I thought I was clear that this young man is very important to me and to the entity!' said Giovanni, downplaying the woman's tone. It was definitely he who seemed to have the final word over there.
'Entity?' Jonas asked himself as he was relieved that his death was not exactly Mr. Dartagnan's plan.
'Jonas?' he heard Getulio speak calmly whilst looking him up and down.
'I'm back.' he spoke with the certainty of who was already getting used to the coming and going of those psychotic flare-ups.
Jonas stood up promptly, allocating all his remaining energy and cognitive ability to leave that place. His doubts were many, but staying idle would be a waste of time if he couldn't get back to his normal life.
The two started walking at a slow pace as Getulio didn't seem to have any practice to handle those crutches. His expression was of tiredness and sadness, something that Jonas could sympathise as he seemed to be suffering from that situation even more than he was.
'I have to say, I feel very relieved, I didn't think I was going to leave that fountain so soon.' he said, trying to balance himself on the crutches.
'Why won't you tell me how you lost your leg? What did Giovanni do to you?' he asked, looking for one of the many answers he wanted.
Getulio did not seem to be very comfortable with that subject. He pursed the corner of his mouth and rubbed his eyes with an expression of sadness. Silence took over for a brief moment, but the old one-legged man decided that there was no time more appropriate to vent about it.
'As I told you before, I have developed a strong disbelief for religion throughout my life. After many years searching for answers in a superior being, I decided to face reality as it really is. For me, life should always, and will always, be taken as a mere chance. I have never been arrogant enough to say that I know what happens next or what happened before, nor have I ever worshiped anything that seek answers that are impossible to be known. This unbelieving bias has always irritated Giovanni, but a few months ago I became more radical, which ended up causing a very strong split between us.'
'Has your family always been religious?' asked Jonas as he realised that the two had stopped walking, and Getulio was now sat as he sighed from his tiredness.
'Can we stop for a while? I have felt a lot of pain in my arms from leaning on these crutches and, moreover, I have been eating very badly for months now.'
'Do you mean to tell me that it was your own brother who cut off your leg?' Jonas ignored the question and sat down on the damp grass next to Getulio.
'No. Let me tell you the whole story, I'll get to that part eventually.'
Jonas crossed his legs and began to direct all his attention to Getulio, at the same time that his headaches began to return gradually, hindering his wisdom.
'A few months ago, I wrote a column in a local newspaper, nothing grounded or profound, just my opinion about the social backwardness caused by the most recent wave of religious dissemination in current times. You see, recently I have been dedicating a good part of my time to attack religious entities that take advantage of the naivety of simple people who have no specific knowledge on the subject.'
'I have never been arrogant...', thought Jonas as he repeated the old man when he realised that he showed disparage to any kind of religious belief that had the capacity to attract followers.
'But doesn't that go against your religious freedom thinking?'
'As I was telling you, a few months ago I changed my posture. Answering your question from before, my family has always been very religious, and my brother ended up becoming a feverous catholic.'
'I confess that I'm really scared of what might happen to me. Giovanni has already had the courage to do that to your leg, imagine what he has in store for me.' said Jonas without drifting away form Getulio's attention.
'Well, my brother didn't cut my leg deliberately.' he began to explain. 'In fact, if you stop to think, what he did was even worse...'
A sharp pain returned to Jonas's brain as he felt slightly bewildered and saw Douglas's frightened face again in the smokey room.
'I can guarantee he will survive...' said Douglas looking directly at Mr. Dartagnan.
'It is not important that he survives...'  interrupted the priest.
'Yes it is!' exclaimed Monalisa as the conversation heated up. 'We preach penance, not murder!'
'I need him alive, doctor, even if you have to stop giving him the drug.' he heard Giovanni say before he came back to Getulio.
Jonas realised that his energies were completely renewed, he knew, by intuition, that the psychotic episodes would stop at least for a while. He stood up abruptly and held out his hand so that Getulio could easily lean on his crutches. The old man gave a grunt of pain and, after what seemed like a great effort, managed to get up so that the two could follow their path.
'You were saying?' continued Jonas as if nothing had happened.
'Is the drug over yet?' asked Getulio, showing concern for Jonas's situation.
'I can't say for sure. Sometimes I wake up as if I have rested for hours, without any headache, but then some other times I wake up as if I have a huge hangover.' he replied as they walked.
'Yes, I've been there... Waking up rested means that the drug's effect has passed. The question is whether you will receive another dose or not.'
Jonas decided to be quiet and not mention to Getulio what he had just heard in the room where he had been having his outbreaks.
'What do you know about this drug?' asked Jonas.
'One thing at a time. I was telling you about how I lost my leg.' he said expressing a level of patience that boosted Jonas's anxiety, whilst holding onto his shoulder so that he would not fall due to the imbalance of that uneven grass. 'I suffer from diabetes, due to old age.'
'So you lost your leg because of the disease.' interrupted Jonas, confirming his previous thesis and feeling a little relieved that his missing limb was not part of the routine of punishments applied by Giovanni Dartagnan.
'I lost my leg because I was deprived of taking my medicines. The disease, in my case, is not that serious, but it must be treated anyway. Giovanni put me in that prison and never let me take my medication. As soon as my leg started to gangrene, he brought a doctor to a small hut we have close by so he could have it amputated.' he said with a deep sadness behind his sad eyes that accumulated tears.
That new information really scared Jonas and his anxiety, which gradually seemed to be making another appearance as it always returned with full force when he discovered anything that could hinder his way out of that place. He had never been a fearful man, he always tried to face life's challenges with courage, but that night was showing him a side of himself until then unknown.
'But this is fucking torture!' he said, empathising with the old man who limped beside him.
'Or penance, as my brother and his sect would prefer to call it.' he said whilst carrying an expression of conformity on his face.
Each new piece of information in that conversation would bring Jonas even more doubt. The more things seemed to clear up, the more they got confused inside his mind. He sought to make connections between the reality in which he was able to move and the one in which he had his cognitive ability uninterrupted, but the events did not seem to have a simple logic.
'Why did you decide to buy this fight with your own family? And what sect are you referring to?' asked Jonas as he resumed the previous subject.
'Because I found out what my brother started to do after the death of our parents.' said Getulio as he stopped abruptly in front of a high wall covered by the vines that gave form to the maze. 'We need to focus on getting out of here...'
'You promised me answers!' said Jonas as he tried to understand why they were standing idle by whilst they were supposed to be running towards that open field. He was getting more and more irritated by the unanswered questions as he had fulfilled his part of the agreement and was entitled to his reward.
'As soon as we get out of here...'
Jonas didn't have time to reinforce the question.
Getulio dropped one of the crutches to support himself with his own weight on the wall of the maze, which gave way to an icy wind that started to cross the small, newly opened edges. The Dartagnan brothers' estate seemed to hold several secrets, leaving Jonas confused as he felt awe and fear at the same time.
Getulio let his body give way to gravity and felt to the ground, where he began to crawl through one of the small cracks that were now part of the maze wall. He brought his crutches with him and made a sign indicating that Jonas should follow him. 'There is no turning back now.', he thought as he got down on his knees to follow the path indicated by Getulio.
After crawling through the floor for a few minutes, Jonas was faced with the same scenario he had seen less than an hour ago. The two of them were back at the fountain that now spurted water and illuminated the space with a twinkling of alternating shades of white lights.
'And why are we back here?' he asked, putting the rest of his questions aside.
'Let's go to the hut I told you about before, I imagine we'll be safe there.' replied Getulio as he got back on his foot as his weight was supported by his crutches.
He observed his surroundings, looking for any clue that might indicate a house nearby, but he couldn't see anything that resembled the so called hut Getulio had mentioned. As the lights focused on the fountain, obfuscating anything else that could be seen. Jonas just followed in the footsteps of the old man as he continued to look for any kind of clue that would indicate an exit from that place. His concern was not to find any other home but his own. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone in the hope of having enough reception to alert the authorities about that place.
'No use for that right now, my boy. You should save your battery for when you eventually leave here. You're going to need it.' said Getulio.
'I received a text message before, inside the maze.' he explained his longing to take the device out of his pocket so often.
'You only receive what Giovanni wants you to receive.' the old man expressed sadness once again.
'I can't see anything that slightly resembles a house, where are we going?' Jonas ignored the warning.
'Not long now, only a few meters from here...'
They followed the path of stones that connected one side of the fountain to the other, arriving at the same dead-end wall that Jonas had observed earlier. He was standing in front of the wall, waiting for Getulio to do some other trick that would make way for another type of secret passage, but the old man did nothing but lean on his crutches and follow the path through the grass, going towards the direction which would lead behind the fountain, in the same spot where Jonas had seen the wooden fence. He remained confused, no longer seeking to find any structure that resembled that of a house, but anything that might refer to something unusual, something he could not expect to happen.
'What are you looking for?' asked Getulio with an obnoxious little smile on his face, looking amused by the naivety in Jonas's eyes.
'For you to show me the secret fucking passage!' he replied enthusiastically, whilst alternating his gaze between the wooden fence and the back of the fountain.
'But what a passage, my boy, the hut is there.' said Getulio whilst pointing to a small structure a few meters from the them.
A small wooden house, with a simple and archaical structure, presented itself before Jonas's eyes, he was so concerned with finding something that was hidden that he failed to realise what was right in front of him. He jumped over the fence and held out his arms so that the old one-legged man could hold himself. They walked a few more meters until Getulio could light a small weak lamp before opening the door. The feeble illumination projected the simplicity of the place, which did not match the structure on the other side of the fence. The hut had only one door and one small window, taking up a little more space than the two men entering it could hold. Jonas took the initiative to turn on the interior lights, seeing a small bed and an old wood burning stove that was complemented by a small wooden table surrounded by a sole chair. A small cupboard seemed to hold the kitchen utensils, whilst a desk held stacks of handwritten papers and some books that gathered dust.
'Don't mind the mess.' joked Getulio.
'What is this place?' asked Jonas as he let himself smile for the first time in a long time. Despite being confined within a place from which he did not know how to leave, that hovel provided him a slight feeling of security and hope.
'This is my home, welcome.' replied Getulio.
Jonas put a puzzled expression on his face, not needing to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue.
'Yes I know. Why don't I live in the immensity of that hotel?' he anticipated the question that would come out of Jonas's confused mind. 'Because I never wanted to have anything to do with my brother's barbarism, and since our parents died, he has taken over the whole state to himself.
'But have you never thought of alerting the police or any kind of authority that might be able to help you? asked Jonas, indignant at the situation.
'I don't have the strength to against my brother, dear boy. My family's money bought everything in this city. We are way to far from civilisation and Giovanni can do whatever he pleases in here. Also, I haven't been to the city in a long time, I have lived my whole life confined into this place. Even when I wrote the story for the newspaper I asked some random employee to deliver it in town.
Despite being frightened by the situation, Jonas came to admire Getulio's simplicity, he knew that modernity had forced most of the population to move to the urban area, even those who worked on farms yielded to the comforts that only a high functioning city could provide. In any case, there were still older people who dedicated the end of their lives to keeping bucolism alive, refusing to make the transition from rural to urban.
'Are you hungry, thirsty? asked Getulio whilst serving himself a glass of water.
'Water would be good.' said Jonas as he was to anxious to have any kind of food at that point. 'I haven't eaten for hours, but I don't feel the slightest hunger.'
'It's a side-effect of the drug, just drink some water and you should be fine.' said the old man, handing a mistreated cup to Jonas and letting his crutches fall so he could sit on the bed with a groan of relief.
He let Getulio rest his strength so that they could continue their journey towards leaving that place. There was no walking necessary to see the whole hut, but what most caught his attention were the old handwritten sheets of paper stacked on the small desk. Jonas glanced at the papers showing no curiosity as he did not want to be indiscreet towards the only man who was willing to help him. He fixed his eyes on one of the leaves, where a particular word made him seek out old memories for a meaning. 'Catharism', he emphasised the word inside his own head, but as much as he tried, he could not find any meaning in his vague memories from his time as a catholic.
'Does this have anything to do with your brother's entity?' he asked as he took the sheet of paper that was filled in its entirety with incomprehensible handwriting.
'This has to do with history.' answered Getulio, touching the paper lightly and indicating the vacant seat next to him for Jonas to sit down.
He was reluctant for a while before sitting down. Not because he distrusted the one person who was helping him, but because he didn't want to convey any hint of confidence. Getulio could feel Jonas's negative feeling and insisted once again that he let himself relax for a moment.
'Catharism was treated as a heresy in the Middle Ages, a type of belief that still worshiped the existence of two gods, one good and one bad.' he started before being rudely interrupted by Jonas.
'And what does this have to do with Giovanni's entity?' he intoned as an even greater anxiety started to frighten his sanity.
'These people were persecuted by christians for many years, even starting the famous Crusade in the late twelfth century.' he continued, ignoring Jonas's question. 'Which ended up bringing up the so-called Holy Inquisition.
Jonah knew the history of the church and how christians forced those considered heretics to confess their sins as they were torture before their god, but he couldn't understand the connection that this could have with what was happening to him.
'And what the bloody fuck have I to do with that?' he asked as he stormed from the bed.
'None of that has anything to do with you, my boy.' said Getulio with a calming tone.
'Then what am I doing here? Why is your brother torturing me like that?'
'Giovanni's goal is much greater than that! You would be just another example, another offering to his belief.'
Jonas lowered his head and tried to interpret what the old man had just told him, but his interest could only bear to look after himself, he did not have time to seek answers in general. The only thing that concerned him was to find a way so he could get out of there alive and go home.
'Do you know how I get out of here?' asked Jonas, ignoring Getulio's history lessons.
'Yeah, of course I know. But the question you should be asking yourself is whether I will succeed on getting you out of here. What I can say is that I will do my best to help you, with great pleasure.' he replied still comfortably sitting on the bed.
'What are we waiting for?'
'Didn't you want to know what is going on with you? What do these tattoos mean?' he tried to instigate Jonas's curiosity.
'I would prefer to get the fuck out of here...'
'Didn't you come to the party with a friend?
The final question startled Jonas. 'How does he know about the party? How does he know I came to the hotel with Rodrigo?', he asked himself as he remembered that the old man was confined inside a water source until a few minutes ago.
'I know, it's confusing. But everything my brother is doing has a purpose, which I will explain to you, as long as you help me...'