He was surprised by how much the phone relied on the internet. He knew it if he thought about it in his regulr life before being stuck here. But he never thought about it.

Now that the phone had no internet he couldn't do much on there. He was thankful that they had kept his old photos on there. he would look at that for about an hour or two a day. The same photos. Over and over again. The rest of the day he would scribble in a notebook they had left him. Then in the evening he would watch the cars and vans come into the parking lot outside.

He was afraid an altercation would happen again like that one night. But nothing out of hte ordinary happened. Just people with sullen postures and probably sullen faces, he couldn't make out the face from this far and in this lighting, going from the car into the hotel.

It was only after a few weeks he noticed a strange thing. Some people never came out of the hotel. At first it was a hunch. But then he began keeping count in his notebook. About ten percent of people who went into the hotel never came out.

Of course... they could be leaving through a separate door. Or he might not be paying attention when they left... but he imagined something more heinous. What was going on in that hotel?