There Was a Hand in the Darkness, and it Held a Knife

What are people supposed to do with time off, anyway?

We'd had a great time shooting skeet the other day, but after Finn had left I'd gone back to my usual because he hadn't exactly told me what I was supposed to do with the rest of my time off. Seeing Ace from the roof made me want another tattoo but I had to decide what I wanted and where before I added that to my to do list.

Halloween was the answer to my problems. The diner ran a pumpkin pancake special and the bakery was selling pumpkin cookies for 50% off. I'd asked if I could have some with chocolate after seeing the special and ended up paying full price but it was TOTALLY worth it. The only bummer was that, by the time I'd thought of it, someone had already covered The General in fake, white spiderwebs, making him look even more decrepit than he really was.

When I was finally allowed to go back to work again, I heaved a sigh of relief - the Red Box was probably going to murder me if I went back for another movie and I couldn't go antiquing one more time without throwing some stuff out.

My first night back was the night before Halloween and everyone on staff was busy with decorations. Every year we threw a big Halloween bash where people were invited to dress up and drink discounted booze. We on staff always wore themed costumes to make sure that we were distinguishable from the hordes and this year we'd decided to be the dodgeball team from the Vince Vaughn movie Dodgeball. I was Kate Veatch since I was the only girl on staff and she the only girl on the team.


I came to work early the next day; hair already braided and costume in my bag. I changed a couple hours before the arrival of the masses and was immediately hit on by half the guys there. Typical. I knew it would only get worse as the night went on and people got drunker and drunker though, so I just offered them another of whatever they'd been drinking and walked away.

As I poured drinks that night, my mind was filled with thoughts of self pity. I missed my guy friends - they never hit on me, not even Adam that one time I'd thought something had been off with him. I missed Adam and Finn and, especially, Graham. His business trip had taken longer than expected and he still wasn't back yet. He'd be back soon but I needed him and I still needed to make up with Adam after that phone conversation and... I really needed to get more friends. Then I'd have actual plans on Halloween instead of working all night in a costume that was getting progressively grosser.

My break was at about midnight that night. I went outside, trying to escape all the noise and regain my personal space and immediately felt better. Down the street I could see a group of about 50 people congregating in the graveyard for some kind of festival - the perfect idea on Halloween - and noticed that many of our new patrons were coming from the direction of the bookstore around the corner. The bookstore that should've closed hours ago.

All of a sudden, I was tired. And something was wrong. I'd felt it all night long but the feeling was getting worse and I wasn't sure why. There was no reason to feel the way I did - at least, not that I could think of. I'd thought the feeling had gone away once I'd gotten some fresh air and it had. But now, it was back even stronger than before for no apparent reason.

Then, I heard it. Or, rather, him. Mr. Ling-Ling running down the street screaming, "HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD! THERE IS A DEAD MAN NEAR MY NOODLES!!! SOMEBODY CALL DE COPS HE'S - HE'S DEAD! HELP ME! HE'S DEAD!!"

Immediately, I stood and glanced around. Many of the patrons were poking their heads out of the door and opening the windows to see what was going on. The people along the street had stopped in their tracks surprised by Ling-Ling's words and afraid of what they might mean. In the other direction was Mr. Ling-Ling's cart.

On the far side, I assumed, was the body (the only part visible to me were its feet but I'd take Ling-Ling's word that the man was dead). I remembered, at that moment, that we had an escaped murderer on the loose and began to urge people back into the bar.

Then, I was reminded of the alley. The alley beside the bar was poorly lit and the perfect escape route. I gasped and ran to its mouth, stumbling a bit on the gravel and sending it flying.

I wasn't the only one though. What I saw before landing face first in alley floor was enough to make my heart stand still: a bloody handprint on the brick wall and the flash of a blade as its owner tore around the opposite corner and out of sight.

All Children, Except One, Grow Up

I awoke very suddenly the next morning and it took me a second to realize why my heart was racing. Adam. What had happened last night? He probably just stumbled drunkenly home with Nemioy and maybe even managed a couple slurred words of thanks before locking his door and going to bed alone in an otherwise people-less apartment but just to be sure...

He answered on the third ring.

"Adam - are you alright?!"

"That guy...Herold..." His voice didn't sound right. Immediately, I knew that alcohol had won out over good sense. 

I tried to head off any struggle for explanation. "Yeah, he was a criminal. You locked your door after he walked you home, right?"

A pause. "Actually, he came in. And he robbed me fucking blind."

"Shit... Are you okay?!" I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping my stupid reluctance to walk him home myself and thereby avoid any awkward and drunken conversations hadn't gotten him beaten to a pulp.

"No," My heart stopped, but then he continued. "...he took my music! It took me years to make that collection!"I released a breath.

"Jesus Christ, I'm just glad you're not hurt! He murdered people, Adam!"

"I'd rather be dead than without my music."

I shook my head irritably. "You're ridiculous." Then, unable to stifle the disgust I felt at his last words, I hung up.

As my rage towards Adam's apparent lack of value for his own life dried up, I realized that today was one of the first free days I'd had in a while. After working nonstop pretty much since we'd gotten here, I'd finally been given a few days off now that Peter had joined the staff. 

I lay in bed relishing the feeling of freedom and was still there a while later when my phone rang.

Hoping (but doubtful) that it was Adam calling back to apologize, I answered.

"Hey Eliot! It's Finn." Wait. What? "Graham told me you had a couple days off and that you'd probably waste 'em by lying in bed not doing anything. Since I was in the area, I figured I teach you how you're really supposed to spend your days off." 

I nodded, then realized he obviously couldn't see me and managed a slow, "Uhhh hhhuuuuhhh..."

"Eliot? Are you ok? Sorry... I just realized it's kinda early for a day off."

"Oh. Um... no! I mean, it's cool. I'm fine. When do you think you'll be here?"

"Probably about half an hour. That okay?"

"Yup. See you then! Bye!" I said, brightly.

"Bye." And he hung up the phone chuckling.

Immediately, I jumped out of bed and into the shower. Finn and I had hung out when he and Graham were in college together. But since they'd graduated, we'd only hung out periodically whenever Graham had a 'Guys Weekend' and all his college friends were in town. I'd always loved hanging out with him but usually I'd started any interactions between the two of us and it felt kind of nice to be on the receiving end of the attention for once.

When I'd finished my shower, I toweled off and got dressed with care. I pulled on one of my nicer pairs of jeans and a soft comfortable sweater was layered atop a deep purple tank. Just as I finished applying make-up, I heard a knock at the door.

As promised, Finn stood outside the apartment door 30 minutes from when we'd hung up the phone. His hair was short and windswept and he wore clothes that fit him perfectly. "Hey," he said. "Grab some shoes and a jacket. I know the perfect thing for you to do today." At a glimpse of his mischievous smile, I did as he said, locking the door behind me.

Finn brought me to the local grocery store. 

"You're kidding, right?" I turned to him, incredulously. Did he really know me this little - little enough that he thought I'd think that grocery shopping would be what I wanted to do on my day off?

"No. I'm not kidding. We're just no there yet. Follow me." He led me down the ally right before Flannigan's where a produce truck had been parked. It appeared that it had been left alone for hours and, unfortunately for it driver, its freight container had been left unlocked. Besides the evidence of scavenging, it seemed like the entire container was filled with - 

"Pumpkins?" Skeptical, I shot him a look.

"Pumpkins." He confirmed. "Grab a whole bunch of 'em - especially the little tiny ones - and head back to your apartment. I have a surprise."

Now, I was really confused but I simply shrugged and did as I was told. There obviously had to be a reason for this. Right?

On the way back to the apartment I saw Jose across the street. He was this pretty rich guy who lived somewhere around town and was always going around spending wildly large amounts of money on unnecessary things. He tipped well, though, so I wasn't going to complain. Unable to wave at him with my arms full of pumpkins, I did the head nod/jerk that guys sometimes use to acknowledge one another in public and that I'd always found kind of douche-y. He smiled, reciprocated it and continued in the opposite direction down the sidewalk.

When we reached the building Finn told me to go all the way to the roof. Again, I did as he instructed still unsure of what was going on. Upon reaching our destination, however, it all became clear.

On the roof of Maplewood Crest was a skeet launcher.

"No way." I was in awe. "You have got to be kidding me."

"What?" The grin was back.

"We are not launching these pumpkins and shooting at them from the roof of my apartment building."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, it would be disruptive to everyone else in town and for another, what happens if we miss and a pumpkin goes falling from the sky and kills someone?"

"That's not going to happen. Plus, I brought silencers so if you want to be lame and not disrupt anyone, we can use them, too."

I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was kidding. Finally I said, "Fine. But only with the silencer."

He nodded. "Here you go then," and handed me a gun, silencer already attached. "Load 'er up then. You get to go first."

I smiled, shaking my head at the whole situation. Checking over the side before giving the first command, I saw Temple Harden, one of the women from my building. Always angry at one thing or another, Temple would probably be the first person to yell at me for what I was about to do. 

A grin already spreading across my face, I gave the command: "Pull!" and Finn let the first pumpkin fly.

It Was Love at First Sight - Apartment #646

That night I dreamed of the days I’d spent moving into Maplewood Crest with Graham.

At twenty-one, I’d been completely sick of living with my parents and being dependent on my financially stable (yet superficial) friends from high school and Graham, taking pity on me, had invited me to live with him instead.

Originally, I’d been a little reluctant – even given my circumstances. When I’d first been to Graham’s apartment, it had been a complete bachelor pad – leather furniture in the living room and chrome stainless steel fixtures, with state of the art technology throughout the place. It was also a REALLY nice apartment on the good side of town, a place I could never afford (and I was adamant that if I was going to live with anyone, I was going to pay a substantial amount of the rent and grocery bill).

Seeing my reluctance, Graham made me a second offer: as his lease was ending anyway and he traveled so damn often he never spent any time at his apartment, if I could find a more affordable apartment closer to where he worked, he would move in with me and split the cost of rent. On top of that, I could furnish and decorate it however I wanted.

Tempted, I began searching and after only a couple laborious hours of research I’d found it – Maplewood Crest which, while kind of shitty, was in my price range and just a fifteen-minute drive from Graham’s office.

In the week leading up to moving day, painting started. The kitchen became a warm and inviting yellow, the guest bathroom a deep red, the living room an icy blue, etc., etc.

Graham had originally told me he wanted no say in what the apartment’s interior looked like, but I insisted he at least decide on things having to do with his room, since even if he was never in apartment 646, he would occasionally be sleeping there. Relenting, he chose a blue several shades darker than the one I’d painted mine.

When the paint finished drying, furniture was brought in. Graham’s room remained mostly bare, with lots of places around the room where things could be stored out of the way. The kitchen too, remained within his domain, spotlessly clean and uncluttered. I’d banned most of his old furniture from the new apartment and instead filled it with old tables, chairs and bed frames found at thrift stores, antique stores, and garage sales in and around the city. The only new furniture items were one of his nice leather ottomans and a multitude of bookshelves since neither one of us had enough space to keep all of our books.

On moving day, all that was left to bring in were our clothes, books, movies, and some other electronics Graham claimed he couldn’t live without. When Graham entered the apartment for the first time, it was love at first sight. He'd spent most of his childhood in a place where one could touch almost nothing and I'd filled 646 with furniture that had been not only touched, but had been broken in with careless affection. It was the exact opposite from what he'd known most of his life he told me, and, not only that, what he'd always really wanted.

After unpacking the boxes and putting everything in its proper place on that cold November day, Graham laid down on my battered new couch and I curled up in one of his cozy old blankets on a worn wingback chair and breathed sighs of relief that all the work was over and we could enjoy the decrepit apartment for what it really was – home.

The Sun Shone, Having No Alternative, On the Nothing New

Work today had been ferocious.

We'd been swamped long before Adam had come in and gotten drunk and then I had to avoid him on top of everything else. When the man sitting next to Adam at the bar had offered to walk him home I'd been a bit relieved,  knowing that I'd have have an hour or two of peace to cap off my shift.

At 2:30, I plodded home exhaustedly after my shift ended. The air around me was humid and filled with fog.

Immediately after opening the door to the apartment, I tossed my keys into the bowl on the table next to the doorway, pulling off my shoes and stripping off my pants with the knowledge that Graham was out of town for the next couple of days.

Ever thankful for the 24-hour pizza place down the street, I ordered a small pepperoni pizza before jumping in the shower for a quick rinse. I pulled on clothes just as the doorbell rang.

There were only two delivery boys at Stoned Baked Pizza and it was impossible to tell the difference between them. The name tags on the front of their employee shirts had long been smudged into illegibility and, just to make it even harder on everyone, they were both in love with the girl who worked behind the counter at Stoned Baked - Savannah, a kind of ditzy blonde - who was completely oblivious to the two boys' obsessions.

One of the two boys stood at the door when I opened it that day, hours before dawn broke. I paid, tipping him for his ability to go without sleep as much as for anything else, and then walked back into the living room to watch a little mindless television before hitting the hay.

I turned on the TV and immediately broke out into a cold sweat.

On the news in front of me was a picture of the man who'd walked home with Adam. It was a picture that had clearly been taken when the man had been booked into a prison and the ticker at the bottom of the muted screen told anyone watching that he, Herold Nemioy, had escaped from a nearby prison yesterday afternoon. That he'd been convicted of more than twenty crimes, and that his rap sheet included several murders.

I called Adam.

"Turn your TV to Channel 5 News."

"Why?" How he could sound like he was still in that much of a stupor, I just didn't know.

"Just do it." I hung up. There was no reason to talk to Adam beyond warning him of the threat to his life, especially if he was still even a fraction of how drunk he'd been only a couple of hours earlier. I just hoped what I'd said had been enough.

No longer remotely hungry but knowing I needed to eat, I ate a couple of slices before heading to bed. Just as I lost consciousness, dawn broke and I vowed I'd check on Adam when I awoke, despite any weirdness between us.

The Sun Did Not Shine

It was hours since I'd opened the door to see newly-dumped Adam standing outside the apartment and I wished I could turn back the clock so that, when I'd heard the knocking, I'd just gone back to bed.

There was only half an hour 'til the end of my shift and it had just started to rain again. I couldn't stop thinking about Adam. He'd been so weird yesterday. We'd gone to hang out at the Hacienda after he told me that Charlotte had broken up with him and - even though I felt bad that he'd been dumped - I felt happy.

I'd always hated Charlotte. Not like the 'I'm in love with Adam so I hate Charlotte' kind of hate, just the normal kind of hate that comes with a friend's girlfriend treating him in a shitty way. And we were having fun. Up until I hugged him goodbye and he - weirdly - called me Charlotte. It didn't mean anything, right? 

I've seen the signs before. Guys who I've been friends with for years have, all of a sudden, started to look at me funny or treat me differently. I just, stupidly, never expected it from Adam.

We'd met in the bar a little over a year ago. He'd been in a couple of times while I was working and, after a while, we started to really get to know one another. The last year had been really great - him always sneaking me into the club and me letting him have drinks on the house. Why did he have to do this to me?!

"Stupid boys," I muttered. Merl, the town drunk, sat at the bar in front of me and giggled hee hee hee.

"Kno wha ya mean, Swee -" hic "- har," he slurred. Then, he fumbled on the bar for his empty beer bottle saying, "Can I 'ave anover?" I shook my head, slightly disgusted with him.

"No. I'm cutting you off." Mad at myself for not doing it sooner and, realizing suddenly that I'd been cleaning the same glass for at least fifteen minutes, I set it quickly down on the counter and removed Merl's empty bottles, vowing, as I did so, that whatever may have happened with Adam last night wouldn't happen again.

A little later, the door to the bar opened and my brother walked in. Well, my stepbrother.

Calm, cool and collected, Graham is my polar opposite. Where I'm all shadow, he's all light. Outgoing, smart, funny, hardworking - he's all that a parent could hope for in a child. He focused on his academics and honed his talents all throughout his childhood, high school and college while I spent my time dancing and painting and reading. Now, he's the successful one while I'm just a well-read bartender with the body of a dancer. Despite everything, I love every bit of him - everything, that is, except his dad.

His dad came from money and that money, that wealth, created a nauseating sense of self-absorbed overconfidence that oozes off of him. I hate the man, but my loathing of his dad has never, not once in our relationship, blemished my love for Graham. 

"Hey G! What's up?" 

"Hi Eliot! I came to pick you up so you didn't have to walk home in the rain. It's starting to come down pretty hard. Figured I'd help you stay as dry as possible since I'm on my way to work, anyway." I nod my thanks, look behind me to make sure that Peter, the new barkeep, is here to take over my shift and then head out to the pouring rain and Graham's car, which he'd left idling in the street.

On the way home we were quiet. My mind was full of half-formed thoughts zooming around my head. Someone had broken into the CVS next door to O'Leary's sometime during the night and I was sure Graham was trying to figure out why someone would break into the ONLY nice building on the block. As we drove around The General and past Milk Street, he said, "Look! All the lights are on inside the warehouse!" 

I looked over and he was right. Light blazed through every window in the abandoned warehouse down the street. It was eerie. No one on the entire block was stirring as rain fell faster and faster from the sky and yet, the one building on the whole block that never showed signs of life was lit up brighter like a warning beacon. 

Walking into the Maplewood Crest lobby, my skin prickling with anticipation, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed and, behind me, all lights in the warehouse blinked off and then quickly on again. I wondered, as I headed upstairs, what ghosts had been summoned by the storm.

All This Happened, More or Less

The day started with the sudden silence of lost electricity and the air conditioner's dying breath.

Despite being dead asleep before the outage, I quickly rolled over onto my back and kicked off my covers. Of course, I thought. Of course the electricity has to go out on the hottest day of the year. Shaking my head at the idea of having to spend more than a couple minutes in the unbearable heat, and thankful that I'd chosen to sleep in only a cami and my underwear, I pulled on some shorts and quickly made my way through the apartment opening windows to try to maximize the possibility of a breeze.

I knocked when I reached the door to my brother's room. "Hey G? Graham?" No answer so I opened the door to his abnormally clean room to continue opening windows. Once all the windows were open, I headed back to my bedroom. With clothing, books and movies strewn all over the floor, it's more appropriately cluttered. Once there, I tried to assess my options. There was no way I'd be able to go back to sleep with the hot, heavy air and stifling humidity clinging to me so I decided that, with nothing better to do, I'd get ready for work. I needed to be there in a few hours, anyway. Plus, I added brightly, a cold shower might not be so bad right now.

Upon coming to this decision, I scanned the floor for my towel, trying to remember where I'd dumped it earlier this morning when I'd finished with my standard wash-off-the-booze-and-vomit shower that accompanied coming home from working at O'Leary's all night. I found it crumpled in a pile at the end of my bed and walked to the bathroom I shared with the unused guest room next door.

Apparently, ice cold showers are still relatively painful even when it feels like 105 degrees outside.

After the longest shower I could bear, I wrapped my towel around myself and walked back to my room to change. I'd long ago learned that black clothing bore stains better than most colors, especially in a bar that wasn't all that brightly lit, so most of my wardrobe now consisted of, if not black, dark colors.

The doorbell rang just as I finished pulling on a worn pair of jeans and a tank top and, as I walked to the door, I did my best to towel off my long, dark hair - catching sight, as I did so, of a couple strands of electric blue from the streak I'd added several days ago and had since come to regret.

Just as I reached the door, the electricity kicked back in. Oh, thank God! "Give me a minute!" I called, running through the apartment trying, ironically, to not let the air out. "Just give me a minute!" Outside, the person had started to knock incessantly on the door. I deliberately slowed my pace.

I unlocked the door as slowly as I possibly could - tying my hair up on top of my head, making sure what little makeup I was wearing hadn't started to run in the oppressive heat, checking my reflection in the mirror beside the door, wondering, absently, if both of the sixes on the door to the apartment had flipped upside down again, making us number 949, straightening my clothes and taking my time with the locks - all with my shadow visible through the crack between the door and the floor and just to piss off the person outside. Serves them right for being such a pain in the ass.

Finally, I opened the door.