At rest, the heart of Jonathan Adam pulsates at seventy-eight beats per minute, but as he sprinted across the hotel car park it was beating at one hundred and twenty. His adrenaline raced around his body as he danced between the rows of stationary vehicles, not even the collision of his hip into a wing mirror stuttered his pace. His lungs gasped at the warm July air as he ran in front of a black BMW. The car emergency stopped and Jonathan placed both of his palms on the bonnet. His breathlessness meant he could only mouth the word ‘sorry’ as he raised his left hand apologetically. He received wanker gesture in return from the suited man behind the wheel before continuing to run towards the front of the hotel. Jonathan apologized again through wheezing gulps to the woman he had stumbled into as he burst through the main doors. Her ‘get off me’, was quickly followed by, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ and Jonathan scrambled off the fallen woman and ran towards the lifts, but not before helping her back to her feet and gathering her strewn luggage.
After feverishly pushing the button that called the lift he mumbled his desire for it to travel faster to the ground floor until his patience wore thin causing him to bang his fist on the metal door. The young male receptionist leaned over his desk and asked if he could help but Jonathan politely declined his offer as the lift opened. He rolled the room number over and over in his head. Jonathan had a good memory and would not forget the number she had given him, but repeating the number made his mind focus on what he was doing rather on what may be happening to Alison. The doors finally slid closed and he breathed slowly through pursed lips to help regulate his racing pulse, but it was of little use as he felt the thump of his heart almost shake his chest and temples. The sweat from his hair rubbed onto the palm of his hand as he pushed it away from his face. Its thin strands caused it to fall back across his features, the heavy sweat sodden tips whipping his eyes as it did. He blinked to desist the stinging sensation it caused and pushed his hair away once more.
The lift slowed and the doors opened to reveal the maroon carpeted corridors of the third floor. “Three-two-seven, three-two-seven,” he repeated to himself. After stepping onto the corridor he turned to look at the numbers on the nearest doors. Three-zero-five was straight ahead. His heart rate started to increase again as Jonathan ran. He counted the numbers, he was getting closer.
