by Vlad Giulvezean
He went into the living room, swinging the bottle like a dinner bell, turned on the television. He came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie, backwards, then forwards again. With a light tap of the old remote, he sent the pictures reeling backwards, losing track of the words as they turned into garbled mumbles. It was a kind of magic, he had once thought, pensively taking another swig from the bottle.Through the flickering screen, he managed to step back through time until he found what he was looking for. t was only then that Nathan smiled, finishing his drink in one self-congratulatory gulp. Frame frozen upon the screen, he slowly mimicked its stillness. His own expression twisted itself to match the crinkled lines smiling back at him as his chest ached to reach out. His fingers could run across the screen, his alcohol-infused mind rebuilding the world according to his memories. Eventually, only they would be left, dancing behind his shut eyelids as they once did at their wedding. His eyes fluttered open a couple of times, finally giving in as his breath took on the shallowness of sleep. The bottle slipped, dull pain throbbing as she stepped on his smooth black shoe. He casually gave her hand a calming squeeze, smiling broadly as their eyes met, her teeth nervously biting into her lip. His wink brought out a shy smile, turning it into a delighted giggle as he twirled her round and round. Their laughter rang across the dance floor, his cheek pressing against hers. And when he fell, he flushed in expectation of the inevitable choir of mocking laughter.
Nothing happened.
The crowd grew eerily quiet, halting to a standstill.
They waited, eyes expectantly locked onto him, music playing in the background. He shivered as his palm felt wet yet hot at the same time, taking in the red puddle as it sprung around him.
“What’s wrong?” The question slipped past her lewdly scarlet lips. It didn’t seem like much, twin tears running down in crimson pairs across her cheeks.
Going down, they grew.
Each drop splattered into the expanding pool, sliding towards him. “Everything’s going to be alright, isn’t that so?” She rushed to his side, her hands grabbing his firmly. “It’s going to be just this one last case, right? Once you get to the bottom of the story, we’ll just go away from here!”
Her voice grew frantic, sobs racking her slender frame. “They’re not going to hurt you! Nathan! Promise me that you’ll be alright!” Her desperate pleas assaulted him, tearing into him like broken glass.
He froze.
His lips tried moving into words, but the sounds refused to come out properly. Instead, he pulled himself up only to slip back down. The dampness spread through his hair as she kept sobbing over him, each teardrop falling right through his clothes. He felt clammy, feverish. As two arms pulled her away, he almost felt relieved when the crowd parted to let them pass. But relief was only temporary. She smiled fondly, turning her back on him as she lay down on the stretcher, crowd closing between them. He jumped to his feet, struggling to stay up,
slipping again and again. The horde of expressionless figures closed in round him, forcing him to elbow his way forward. The world around them started fading, changing into something different, something which he dreaded.
Pain rushed through him, slowing him down as they carried her away. He pushed against the gravestone, rushing ahead like a skier going down the mountain. From all sides, marble headstones jumped through the ground, blocking his path, swarming him like an avalanche. His coat felt torn as he pulled it free from sharp grasping hands, their moans howling behind him. Finally, he made it through, dashing madly to grab hold of her before it was too late.
He fell.
He caught her, her wrist firmly in his grasp. He bled, he smiled and she was smiling back.
They fell.
The ground rose sharply around them, swallowing them away, her bleeding smile before his eyes.
Then Nathan woke up.
*~*
It wasn’t dark, a mix of streetlights slipping through the blinds and the television screen giving off enough light for the gloomy apartment. But it wasn’t bright either. The whole place was stuck at the crossroad between the two until he reached for the remote, turning everything off.
A crumpled pack of cigarettes easily coughed up a battered smoke. Balancing it across his lips, he took a deep breath, the match quickly burning out. He let the flame come almost all the way to his fingers before putting it out with a wave. What was left of the match was as used up as the leads spread across the apartment walls. Some he already knew by heart, like the first death threat.
“Shame about the investigation, such a pretty lady too…” From newspaper clippings to crumpled notes, all had been torn down before and yet, there they were. He drank until he felt better, until he focused on moving on. Then some anonymous tip would arrive or some connection would pop up in his head one night and everything went back up.
It made the place feel closed in, claustrophobic. Grave-like.
Tearing himself from his seat, he reached for his jacket. He fished it off the desk without paying any attention to the stack of papers that crashed onto the floor. They were going to be there later, he knew that well enough. Leaving them behind, he headed out the door. The familiar weight of his metallic watchdog felt comforting. Its six chamber barrel pressed gently into his side as he walked down the streets, hands in his pockets to stave off the cold night. It was only March and things hadn’t settled in just yet, the weather jumping from warm to cold in the space it took you to shrug your jacket off. Didn’t bother him much though. He just kept on walking, his last lead bouncing about in his head.
It wasn’t much to go on, a hastily written name and some numbers.
The address looked promising, taking him all the way to the nicer side of town. It was the type of building where young professionals with undeservedly high paychecks preferred, the kind of place where they had planned to move to one day. On the phone, the muffled voice only said that the man he was looking for worked security at some big company whose name just happened to strike a bell.
Of course, long ago, the lead would have seemed outrageous. To slander a good solid name like that would have been unconceivable to his white-collar bosses. These days though, he found himself stopping in front of the intercom buttons. He was stuck between wanting to press the button and forgetting the whole thing.
“Sorry, mind giving me a hand?”
The door opened partway as a young man struggled to nudge it open while balancing several boxes. Shaking off his reverie, he quickly stepped aside, holding the door open.
“Moving is a pain, huh?” The guy smiled apologetically, almost getting to his car before one of the boxes slipped, prompting a wave of cursing curtly cut off by the building door sliding shut as Nathan finally stepped in. It turned out that the third knock was the most satisfying one, blood gushing Vince’s nose before he even had a chance to properly open the door.
He was the kind of guy that used to steal lunches during school before moving on to be a professional asshole. And now, karma was settling scores, Nathan thought as he locked the door behind him.
Rolling on the floor, Vince clutched at his devastated nose. With a quick kick to the stomach, Nathan looked about the place, marveling how different it all seemed from the inside. Making sure that the brass knuckles were firmly in place, he turned his attention back to Vince.
“You and I are going to have a talk,” Nathan said, admiring the effort put into soundproofing the apartment. It was so nice to see people concerned with their privacy and their neighbors comfort, he thought as he pulled Vince to his feet.
Almost made him feel bad for ruining the paintjob, but as Vince slid to the ground, Nathan could not help but take some satisfaction at the trail of blood he left against the eggshell yellow wall. There was a lot of work to be done before calling it a night.
*~*
Nathan woke up suddenly, his knuckles pleasantly throbbing as he recalled his “interview”. His door threatened to give way against the insistent beating. “Hey! Are you dead in there or what?”
His friend’s voice drifted in, accompanied by the scent of freshly roasted coffee. “Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” Grumbling, he quickly put on a fresh shirt and washed his face.
By the time he found his keys and stepped out, Dave was already sipping his coffee. Sunglasses barely hanging from his nose, he looked Nathan up and down as the other struggled to close the door.
“You look like shit and you owe me five bucks.” It was as close to a good morning that he was going to get, Nathan knew as much.
“You’re short and your girlfriend’s probably cheating on you.”
“Was that supposed to hurt, tall dark and undead-looking? Have you heard of the sun? It’s this revolutionary thing people use not to look like a corpse. Ya know, put some color on their skin.”
Snatching the cup away before Dave could take another sip, Nathan hurried down the steps. “So, what’s it going to be today? Or is the big man saving all the juicy details for when he can shout at us in person?”
“Neah, I took care of that bit over the phone. He needs better glasses too, kept going on and on about us moving our fat asses and doing actual work.”
“You couldn’t let that one slide, huh?” Quickly grabbing the keys from Dave, Nathan jumped behind the driver’s seat, revving up the engine.
“Yes on both accounts. I called him a tub of lard. Problem’s this; I forgot that my phone had its speaker on. So yeah,” he said, grinning apologetically. “We’re stuck on shit duty.”
“Great, thanks a lot, Dave. Just freaking great!”
“You’re welcome, Nate. You still owe me a fiver though. Relax, today’s gonna be a good day for you. It said so in your horoscope.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
*~*
Pulling up in front of the building, Nathan looked out the car window. “Is this the place?” He asked as he waited to pass towards the parking space.
“Yep, this is it. Corner of 5th and 20th.”
The street was buzzing with activity, people running back and forth in a constant clatter of steps, loud phone talking and angry grumbles as they elbowed their way forward. He didn’t notice all that, letting it all fade away as he took a swig from his coffee. Meanwhile, Dave was busily trying to argue over the phone, the combination of morning traffic and bad reception already getting on his nerves. This was his element, the place where he could take a step back and breathe before losing himself in time. Later on he could go back to his apartment, put in the tape and slowly become unstuck in time, searching for the perfect moment. Until then, he was stuck with the day job, the here and now.
“What do we have here?” He asked, trying his best not to show any curiosity. It simply wouldn’t do, Dave disliked that.
“Victim’s name is Vince Palmer, severely beaten with multiple gunshot wounds. The place is a mess, detective, yet no clues. Whoever did this definitely didn’t like the guy.”
Looking over the crime scene, Nathan took a sip from his cup. Listening to the forensics report, he realized that Dave was right, today was definitely a good day. It sounded like an open-shut case with not a suspect in sight.
Maybe he would finally manage to sleep.
.
VLAD GIULVEZEAN is an English Literature and Creative Writing student hooked on a healthy mix of books, comics, games and movies. Having first dabbled with fiction to pass the time, pretty soon he found himself trapped inside his own Workshop of Random Thoughts where normal things don’t happen very often.
