Nowhere

by Joshua David

  There was at least a twenty foot drop on all sides, down to the concrete parking lot below, an athletic jumper might get super lucky and be able to make it to the small grassy patch between the lot and the building, but still... twenty feet. Richard looked up and saw that there was a four inch drain pipe running up the exterior wall to the roof, which was only about ten additional feet up. Richard nodded, believing this to be Steven’s most likely exit path. Still the man was an expert in disappearing quickly and efficiently.

  "The AIA..." Richard said to himself with a smirk.

  He shook this off as yet another one of Steven’s many oddities and then went in to fix himself dinner. He turned on the TV and flipped it to the news, then he went to the kitchen and opened the freezer to get a dinner out. It was between Fiesta Cheese Enchiladas with rice and beans or Fried Rice with General Tso’s Chicken.

  He chose Mexican over Chinese and threw it in the microwave. Then he poured himself a glass of orange juice and added some ice.

  The TV was talking about the armed robbery of a small express bank downtown. There was one suspect who was shot in the ankle and captured, but two others were apparently on the run. Richard decided to get up and lock the balcony. Just when he got to the door, he heard the sound of another owl, but now it sounded as though it was right outside on the balcony. Then from farther back, somewhere in the distance he heard what he thought was another.

  Slightly creeped out by this, he quickly flipped the deadbolt on the door and stood there for a moment listening, but he heard nothing. He flipped open the blinds, half expecting to see some giant owl perched on his balcony, but there was nothing there.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and laughed a little at himself. Even though Steven believed they were fighting an invisible war against aliens and Richard was getting to the point that he almost whole heartedly believed him, he now laughed, believing himself to be just a little over paranoid.

  Fear of owls… he wondered what phobia that was.

  He went back to the kitchen and decided that before he sat and ate, and connected to the news again, it would be best to rinse off in the shower. It would feel healthy to wash the nerves of the day away. After all, he had jogged about a mile and a half home. October or not, he had done some sweating. He took another swig of orange juice and then went back to shower.

  He started the shower to let the water warm up, then he got a towel and some PJ’s to change into.

  It was strange, but he thought he heard the sound of another owl just as he stepped into the shower. Then as he rinsed he could have sworn he heard a loud thud and the sound of yet another hooting owl.

  You’re just being paranoid… he tried to convince himself, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he had. It was as though this was something to take note of and his brain wouldn’t let him erase the sense of danger.

  Surely there’s not one perched outside the tiny bathroom window he thought. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair and then wiped his face so he could see. He raised the blinds that covered the semi opaque bathroom window. There was nothing visible in the light outside the window. He was about to go back to bathing, when he heard the sound of yet another owl, a big one, except it was lower in pitch than the others and Richard could hear a series of clicks projected after the hooting that almost sounded insect like.

  It came from behind him…

  within his apartment…

  outside the bathroom door…

  He tore open the shower curtain just in time to see a shadow move across the bottom of the door.

  “Steven?,” he yelled, he could hear the fear in his own voice. “Steven is that you?”

  There was no response, no sound at all in fact and no movement from below the door.

  Richard looked towards the mirror and now saw a cryptic message written in the steam.

  "The owls are not owls," it read.

  Richard wanted to scream. He thought about leaping out of the shower to lock the door, but it was too late. The knob silently turned and Richard could only watch in paralyzing terror as the bathroom door swung open slowly, and the owls that were not owls came in.

  Outside the apartment, on a balcony across the alley from Richard’s, there lay a cat. It was a fat cat who sat listening to the sounds of the night. First Misses Fat Cat heard the strange noises, then the sound of a man calling to someone. She heard more strange noises, banging and a struggle, and screaming. Finally there were no more sounds coming from across the alley and the night was quiet once more. The cat went back to listening for the sounds of the crickets, and the dogs and the owls, but there were none.

  Chapter 5 : The Shower

  His mind awoke to blackness.

  He felt dizzy like he could feel the entire surface of the earth spinning beneath him. Then came the pain, like someone was suddenly karate chopping him in the side of his ribs over and over again. His face felt like plastic, as if all of his nerves had suddenly packed up and moved down to his side where all the pain was. There were certainly nerves there.

  When he got ahold of himself he buzzed with the feeling of exposure, and he realized that he must be naked. Suddenly his mind ran through its own diagnostic check and realized that it could open his eyes.

  His eyes sprang open and all he could see was white, it was a shiny white surface like staring down at the upper surface of the clouds from the window of a plane. Then his brain turned on the sound and suddenly he could hear running water.

  Finally his brain decided to find the source of all this pain and turned the nerves back on to his entire body. Suddenly Richard was filled with the shock of cold water hitting him all around, he realized that his mouth was half full of water that had collected near his face. He felt the pressure of the weight of himself lying against his entire left side and his sense of balance came back to him as he realized that he was laying down. The white planet surface below, was actually a side surface of whatever he was looking at.

  It was the tub, he was laying down in the tub, almost to the point of drowning. He raised his hand to his face to wipe the water from it, but before he could, he realized that his hands were deeply gouged and creviced with water wrinkles.

  How long have I been out, Richard wondered. Suddenly he realized that the pain in his side, the karate chopping action, was actually frigid water coming out of the shower head and pelting him in his rib cage. He looked down and saw that his side was bright pink from being hit. So much so, that it looked like it would quickly turn into a large bruise. It also appeared somewhat scalded.

  I…I must have slipped, Richard thought, not remembering even climbing into the shower. I must have slipped and knocked myself out…

  He sat up high enough to turn off the water, and then laid back down, feeling dizzy. He stared at the side of the tub and tried to gather himself completely back together. Looking up at the sink, he could see that he had laid out a towel and pajamas for himself.

  Suddenly, being dry sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world, even worth being dizzy over. He gripped the side of the tub as best he could and hoisted himself upwards in the most fluid motion he could conjure. Then by turning his grip so he could now push and using the other hand to stabilize himself against the wall, he heaved the full weight of himself up onto his unsteady legs.

  Keeping one hand on the wall, he leaned forward out of the tub and grabbed the towel with his free hand. First he dried his face which still felt sort of numb and plastic. Then he dried off his chest and sides.

  He could tell the swelling and tenderness in his right side would be there for several more days. He just hoped the effects were temporary. He doubted any permanent damage could have been done, but wasn’t entirely sure.

  When his top half was dry, he slowly stepped out of the tub and onto the floor mat. He dried off the rest of the way and put his pajamas on. Then, being thirsty, he turned on the sink and took several gulps of water. He brushed his teeth next, not so much because he thought it was late, but because his
mouth felt disgusting. He could feel a layer of plaque over his teeth as he ran his tongue through his mouth.

  As he was brushing, he had the distinct feeling like there was something important about the mirror. As if his brain was trying to unlock the memory of something in his head. He stared at the mirror, opened the medicine cabinet, closed it again, but nothing seemed out of place and none of these steps jogged the important event back to the foreground of his memory.

  He spit, and pat dried his wrinkled face once more. Then he examined himself in the mirror for any head injuries, but could find none. He found it strange to have apparently slipped in the tub, knocked himself cold, but come away with nothing more than water wrinkles, a sore side and a foggy memory.

  He went to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed feeling exhausted, and sore, and disoriented. He was about to just lay there and sleep till morning, when he remembered that he had work to think about. He was a truck loader for the United Parcel Service, and the morning shift for that began at 2:45 A.M. He rolled over to set his alarm clock, but the clock read back ‘PF’ in big green letters signifying that the clock had recently lost power.

  That’s gotta be what happened… He thought. There must have been a power outage and in the sudden darkness, he must have slipped in the tub and knocked himself out. The only missing piece was the lack of head injury. He expected that there would be a welt or something, but there was none.

  He went to the front room to get his phone, it was dead.

  “Stupid phone” He said aloud.

  In the kitchen, he could see that the microwave clock was displaying a series of zeroes, his last hope was the battery powered wall clock that hung in the entry. When he reached it, his hope diminished. It too seemed, inoperable, the second hand would twitch, but not move anywhere signifying a dead battery. The clock was stopped on 6:25.

  What kind of surge could affect battery powered devices he wondered.

  The TV seemed to still be working which was a good thing because he couldn’t afford another.

  The news was still on, so it couldn’t have been too long. He plugged in his phone and left it charging on the kitchen counter, then he set the microwave to heat his dinner for two minutes. His orange juice smelled sour, so he rinsed the glass and poured himself some more. Then he opened the microwave to get his dinner, but when the door came open, he could instantly smell that something wasn’t right with it either. The kitchen filled with a burn’t putrid smell and Richard was forced, gagging, to throw it out in the trash.

  Maybe cereal is the best bet now, he thought, and poured himself a bowl of Flakes-O-Raisin, then sat down to watch the news. He listened as the anchor spoke more about the robbery and the man hunt. He figured if he listened long enough he could decipher how many minutes he had been unconscious or at least what time it was.

  In the bottom right hand corner of the screen he noticed a small digital clock that showed 6:46. So he figured he must have been out for about ten minutes or so, and certainly no longer than about 15 minutes. He didn’t know though why he felt so bruised by the water though, but figured that the bruising also could have been caused by the fall. He also couldn’t figure out why the water had gotten so cold in that short amount of time, but thought that it was perhaps that his water heater had tripped during the power outage and the water simply was no longer being heated.

  He suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember all of the day. He couldn’t remember getting back into his apartment, nor could he remember anything after leaving Doctor Hays’ office. He must have hit his head, and couldn’t remember any of it except for the fact that he knew his dinner was in the microwave… It was odd and was certainly something that he would need to relay to Doctor Hays. All of the color faded from his face however, when his ears picked up the next thing the news anchor said.

  “The standoff ended tonight as the last alleged gunman, Timothy McGregor, set fire to the stolen bags of money from the bank robbery and turned himself in, ending the two day long manhunt that began on Tuesday when the Pacific Avenue Savings and Loan Express bank was robbed. The first of Timothy McGregor’s alleged accomplices was captured shortly after the robbery due to a gunshot wound to the foot that he sustained during the robbery. The third gunman was killed last night outside of McGregor’s home in a gun battle that left one officer wounded and one innocent civilian in critical, but stable condition. In other news…”

  He did a double take and finally realized right next to the little clock in the corner of the TV screen there were the letters TH, which he knew could only mean one thing.

  He froze, half eaten cereal in his mouth which hung agape, milk dribbling off his lip. His brain was processing the possibility of it being Thursday night. Then all the signs hit him, the bruising, the cold water, the sour orange juice, the funky smelling dinner, the dead phone battery.

  The phone! he thought, I’ve got to call work! Have I really missed two days now?

  As if cognizant of his realization, his phone now lit up and dinged and buzzed as it received several new messages at once. He put his cereal on the table and went over to the kitchen counter.

  Three messages from Victor his Supervisor, one from Dr. Hays, and one from his landlord.

  Message 1: Tuesday 8:45 PM : “Richard, this is Victor I got a call from your psychiatrist this afternoon stating that you were good to go for work, I guess I got over eager thinking you might come in for your shift tonight. You know that we’re short handed on that shift as it is. Well I guess if you get this, you can call me back and let me know for sure that you’re coming in tomorrow. Call me ok…”

  Message 2: Wednesday 2:54 AM : “Richard, it’s Victor again. At this point I’m just hoping you’re late. I figure it’s been awhile, you’re a little rusty you know, but I’ll tell you Richard, if you don’t show up this morning, then I’m going to cut you from the evening shift. I gotta have someone reliable Richard. Call me back when you get this.”

  Message 3 : Wednesday 6:59 AM : “Well Richard, I guess you’re off the evening shift. I’m moving Tucker up, I know he doesn’t have the same experience as you, but you’ve forced my hand Rich, and I gotta go with Tucker. Don’t come in tonight, ok, don’t make this complicated for me. I’m going to call your Doctor back today after eight and let him know that you haven’t shown. I’ll tell you that if your doctor reassures me that you’re supposed to be back and you’re even a minute late tomorrow, I’m calling it quits with you Richard. Don’t call me back, just show up for work you hear me.”

  Message 4 : Wednesday 9:45 AM : “Richard, I’m just dropping a line, I got a call from your Supervisor, a Mister Victor Thrift today. Apparently you haven’t been showing up for work the last few shifts. I know I don’t have to reiterate that I’ve cleared you for work, so maybe you can call me when you can and we’ll just talk. Let me know if there’s something troubling you. Also, I hate to even mention it, but if your friend Steven shows up or if he’s even the reason that you haven’t shown for work, I need you to call so we can talk. Just let me know what I can do.

  Message 5 : Wednesday 3:15 PM : “Richard its Walter from 108,” Mr. Ming said in his slow drawn South Vietnamese accent. “I wanted to tell you that a Police show up today, he ask for you, but I tell him you out. He ask if you seem ok and I said I know you not dead cause I see you just leave. I lie for you, keep you out of trouble, now you pay rent!”

  Richard called into work, knowing that Vick would be there by now, but he did not answer. He left a message hoping to express how sorry he was in hope of softening the blow of the next morning. Then he set the phone down and let it charge on the kitchen counter. He went to bed, partially in shock from all this unraveling, partially worried that he would wake up tomorrow and find out it had lost more days of his life to this illness he now had. What surprises would tomorrow hold?

  Chapter 6 : Work

  “Please Vick, I need this. I’ve gotta pay rent, I’ve gotta have money to buy food.”

  “Yea
, so does everyone else Richard! So much so that they’re willing to come in early and stay late, skip out on breaks and work holidays. I need reliable people like that. You’ve got these issues going on that really affect your job Rich.”

  Richard had woken up at 2 in the morning, dressed and driven himself to work early in hopes of restoring his image with Victor a little. Typically he road the bus, but this morning, since he didn’t know the exact outcome of what today would bring, just in case it went bad, he didn’t want to be left helpless and stranded by the slow mid morning bus schedule. He knew that this conversation would be short. The belt started at 2:45, no matter what was going on, the belt would start at 2:45 and this conversation would be over. It would either work for or against Richard. Either Vick would give his grace and get Richard out on the belt before go time, or he would send him packing.

  “I mean you don’t show up for work after you’ve already been gone for weeks now. I announced to the boys that you were coming back the other day and then you miss three consecutive shifts, and now I got eight guys looking at your shifts like hungry wolves at a steak dinner. I got Tucker on in your spot now, but the kid just isn’t as good as you. He can’t remember numbers as good as you, he misses his stuff on the belt and we gotta stop so we can send it back up." Victor sighed the sigh of a frustrated supervisor. "That being said, I still can’t use the fact that you need money as a reason to pull these guys off your rotation. Especially with the holidays coming up.”

  Victor pulled a large cigar out from the drawer in the middle of his desk. It was an old behemoth of a desk, forest green in color and made of steel. It was as a permanent fixture to the building, something that would last till they tore the facility down.