The Abyss Above Us 2

by Ryan Notch

  “I thought you were Beanie bear,” Jack teased him.

  “Beanie bear,” he repeated, this time looking sadly at Terra.

  “Ohhh, Jack!” said Terra chastising. “Don’t make him cry.”

  “I thought you American’s didn’t negotiate with terrorists.”

  “Beanie’s not a terrorist,” she said, hugging the baby close.

  “Ok,” said Jack. “Catch Beanie.”

  He tossed the bear gently to the baby, who made no move to catch it. It bounced lightly off his tummy and fell to the ground. Billy grabbed at it and showed it to Jack, smiling his half smile, still missing teeth along one side.

  “Throw it back,” said Jack. Billy made an effort to throw it, with the little bear basically going straight to the ground.

  “Hmmm,” said Jack. “I don’t think he’ll be much for baseball.”

  “But, I thought that was how you played cricket,” Terra teased. Jack threw the bear at her.

  It really wasn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.

  Later when Billy went to sleep, they talked about the people of the Brownstone, how strange they had all been acting. That was, when they saw them. Terra, like Jack, had observed that the halls of the complex were becoming like a ghost town. People had become reclusive, never leaving their apartments. Even when Jack went to work he saw almost all the cars still in the lot.

  Strangest of all, they joked, had been Collin’s new relationship with Artesia, the Brownstone’s resident model. Jack had gone to bars with Collin and knew that for a math geek he was definitely not shy around women. But for a guy like him to get the girl that occupied about eighty percent of the Brownstone’s male resident fantasy time was completely unaccountable.

  “Are you sure they’re together,” asked Terra. “She doesn’t seem to go for the brainy type.”

  “Oh yeah, I saw them making out in the hall about a week ago.” For the sake of some small bit of discretion, he didn’t add that Collin’s hand had been up her shirt and her hand had been down his pants. Jack, who brought at least one new girl home a week, was no prude. But even he had felt like telling them to get a room. He knew what women tended to go for, and would have guessed that not only was Artesia out of Collin’s league, but in truth maybe two leagues out.

  The whole thing would have been just a funny mystery, maybe even a little sweet. Except something about the way she grabbed at him, as if she was starving for it. It was upsetting somehow.

  None of that compared, of course, to what had happened to Mr. Cooper, but they didn’t mention it. Jack didn’t know why Terra didn’t say anything, but he didn’t mention it because he really still could not fully understand why he had stayed in the complex, why he hadn’t told anyone what had happened. Was it just because he was pretending it didn’t, that it had to have been something he imagined? If he talked about it, it would make it real. And it couldn’t be real, because people just didn’t fall apart. If he pretended then maybe things could get back to normal.

  Except, things weren’t getting back to normal, they were getting stranger. Everything about the Brownstone these days seemed just a little sinister. A little darker around the edges. When he was alone he could almost see it out of the corner of his eyes.

  But when he was with Terra, it would disappear, making him think he was just being paranoid. So maybe it was all just in his imagination. Maybe people just hadn’t been in the halls much, and maybe Artesia just wanted to try something different and really liked Collin. So here he was, hanging out with Terra and a baby instead of picking up hot girls at the clubs. And in truth, having a great time of it.

  Later, after Sheila had picked up the sleeping Billy and carried him off, Jack suggested they watch a movie. Terra had other ideas.

  “You want to do what?” Jack asked.

  “Sure...well I basically know what I’m doing but some of it is hard to reach so I thought you might help.”

  “So, nine o’clock on a Friday night, and you want me to help fix the pipes under your kitchen sink?”

  Terra shrugged, hands behind her back and smiling.

  “Why don’t you...” Jack began. He was going to ask why she didn’t just tell the landlord, but stopped himself in time to avoid saying it. Though not in time to avoid thinking it.

  “Sure,” he said. “Why not. You have some tools?”

  Terra did have tools, and she wasn’t lying when she said she knew what she was doing. She said she had not only lost water pressure in the kitchen, but was also having drain problems. She explained to him that this indicated the exact combination that spoke of a problem you needed to check out right away. Jack was surprised, because the exact same thing was happening in his apartment. He made her promise to help him fix his next. He thought she might make fun of him for not knowing much about plumbing, but she seemed excited for the challenge.

  Getting the pipe under the sink open was tough, there was obviously something stuck in there. Jack expected to find something very gross. If anything, he underestimated.

  “Just what in the fuck is that,” he asked as he shined a flashlight on it.

  “Well it’s got to be a tree root,” she said without confidence.

  “On the second floor? And there’s not even any large trees within a block from here.”

  “Yeah but, what else could it be?”

  “Some kind of dead snake maybe,” he said, more asking than suggesting. He poked at it with the wrench.

  Jack unscrewed another section of the pipe and slid it off the thing, to get a better look at it. They could see a two foot section of it now, it went almost but not quite all the way to the drain and seemed to follow the pipes back into the wall and maybe further. It didn’t look like a tree root, and didn’t look like a snake, but had elements of both. It was tough and knobby, but also seemed to be covered with flesh.

  Not scaled flesh though. It was pale, but still more pink than white. As gross as it was, Jack couldn’t help himself. He had to get in even closer, had to figure out the mystery. He gave it a few more hard taps first, to be sure it wasn’t going to move while he was jammed up under the counter with it.

  “What does it look like,” Terra asked. “I can’t make it out well from here.”

  Jack got close, shined the light right on it. He had to be sure what he was seeing wasn’t just gunk from the drain sticking to it. Because what this thing looked like, what it really looked like, it just couldn’t be.

  And yet, close up he saw that what looked like flesh didn’t look like just any flesh. It looked like skin, human skin. Right down to the little lines and separations you see when you look super close at the skin of your hand. In fact it was even covered with little black hairs, wet from soaking in the drain water. The only reason it couldn’t pass for a human body part was its disturbing length, because if he held up his hand and blocked out all but a little section of it from view, those knobby parts looked exactly like knuckles on a finger.

  Suddenly Jack had to get out from under the sink right that fucking second. He pushed his way out fast, almost knocking Terra down. He stood up and stepped away, taking a deep breath and trying not to be sick.

  “What,” asked Terra. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,’ he said quickly, shaking his head and not looking at her. “I...I can’t tell.”

  Terra, not surprisingly, scooted under the sink to better see it herself. Jack thought about maybe warning her, but decided not to say a thing. He really needed a second opinion, and he needed it to be different than his.

  It wasn’t.

  “Ugh,” she said from under the sink. “It looks almost like a cross between a tentacle and a finger.”

  She came out from under the sink and looked at him.

  “It’s still got to be some kind of tree root I think though,” she said. “Lets try and saw it off so we can see it better.

  Jack wanted to say something to convince her that this was a bad idea, but couldn’t think of any reason that did
n’t sound more or all like mad ravings. He kept his silence while she went and got a little hacksaw out of her surprisingly comprehensive toolkit. He thought she might hand the saw to him, and was prepared to disappoint her on that one. But instead she climbed back under there and started sawing at it.

  He had a nasty vision of her climbing back out of there holding a squirming two foot long finger. He was fairly relieved at what she said instead.

  “I can’t get through it,” she said, clearly struggling with it. “Jesus, this thing is tough as metal.”

  After a while longer she was forced to give up. She backed out from under the sink, sweating, and looked up at him.

  “I only got a little way into it.”

  “Huh,” Jack said, at a loss for words. She looked like she had more to say, so he waited her out.

  “It’s...um,” she began. “It’s bleeding a little.”

  Jack put his hand to his stomach, as if to hold in his growing nausea. Terra, seeing this, amended her statement.

  “Or maybe it’s just sap. I mean it’s not red or anything, it’s black. Maybe you should go in the other room. This is gross, but I want to try something else.”

  Jack decided to do just that, to sit down on the couch. Terra walked off into the other room.

  Come on Jacky boy, he told himself. You’ve never been one for a weak stomach. This is getting embarrassing, just act cool.

  He put on what he thought was a nonchalant devil-may-care expression, which immediately dissolved when she walked back into the room with a Zippo lighter. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t say as she walked back into the kitchen. After a few moments she walked back out.

  “OK well fire seems to mess it up pretty bad pretty fast, but only the fleshy part,” said spoke hesitantly, seeing the effect it was having on Jack. “It still doesn’t get through the...um...the bone, though. It was disgusting, but I had to...you know...touch it.

  “Jack, it was warm. And I swear to God, I think I felt a pulse.”

  Jack stood up, waving his hands in front of him in a clear “enough” gesture.

  “OK, that is it. We are calling the police, now.”

  “OK,” she acquiesced. “What should we tell them though?”

  “I don’t know, not everything. Something like how we saw our landlord go down into the sewers and haven’t seem him for days. Then maybe they’ll search his apartment and find some weird shit and start asking around.”

  “Yeah I guess that works,” she nodded. “But you have to call them, my cell phone hasn’t been working.”

  “That’s strange,” he said. “Mine hasn’t either. No bars. Maybe our mobile tower is down.”

  “Who’s your carrier?”

  “Verizon. You too?”

  “No,” she said confused. “Sprint.”

  “Do they share mobile towers?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think so...”

  “Huh,” he said. “Well maybe it is some kind of interference. If we drive a couple blocks away it should be enough to get to another tower. Want to come with me?”

  “Sure, I’ll get my jacket.”

  They walked downstairs, both checking their cells as they went. They tried the backdoor first to get to the parking lot, but it was locked. That wasn’t strange, it was usually locked late at night. But it was odd to have it locked this early. They walked around to the front door. To their surprise, Collin was there talking to Seth, just about the last two people Jack would have expected to see together. Collin really was making lots of new friends.

  “Collin, mate. We were just talking about you.”

  Collin didn’t reply right away, just looked oddly at them. Seth turned towards them too, he looked angry about something. An upsetting site, because Seth was one of the Brownstone’s more frightening residents. Though not particularly tall, he had a dominating build. All compact muscle and condensed rage. He was the kind of person that when he got angry you could feel it across the room, and you wanted to leave that room. It emanated in waves off him now.

  Whoa, is he angry at Collin about something, Jack wondered. Did Seth have a thing with Artesia?

  “Everything all right man?” he asked Collin, worried about him.

  “You have to got back to your apartment, Jack,” Collin replied strangely. He looked for all the world like he was in the middle of something, and couldn’t afford to be distracted at the moment.

  “No man, we’re going out for a drive. You want to come with us?”

  “No you’re not Jack. Just go on back to your apartment.”

  “No Collin, we’re good,” Jack said with just an annoyed edge in his voice. “We’ll see you later man.”

  What happened next Jack couldn’t have predicted even if he had planned the conversation for a week. Seth slammed his hands into Jack’s chest, pushing him so hard he stumbled and fell back.

  “He said to go back to your apartment you British faggot!” yelled Seth.

  Jack was stunned, both mentally and physically. But not for long, he got back up and stepped right up to Seth.

  “Hey, what the fuck’s your problem?”

  Seth took a swing at Jack, who was expecting it. He got up his hand to block it in time, but it was only half effective. The blow was too strong and knocked Jack’s own arm into his head. Seth followed it immediately by another straight punch to his face. Jack saw a flash of light and found himself on the floor again, dazed.

  Jesus, he thought dizzily. I’ve never been hit like that in my life. Motherfucker.

  Jack looked up at Terra, who looked terrified. Seth just stood there, looking down at him.

  Jack got up mock slowly, acting more hurt than he was. At the last moment he used his legs to come up fast and rocket his head into Seth’s face. It was a solid blow and this time Seth stumbled back. Jack pushed the advantage and nailed him with a one-two punch. One to the eye and one into the gut. The one to the eye jerked Seth back a little, but the one to the gut hit solid muscle. He actually twisted his wrist a little.

  The look in Seth’s eyes went from enraged to psychotic, and he came at Jack hard. As Seth pressed the attack, he felt like he was being hit with a jackhammer. When he blocked the blows pushed right through, and his attempts to hit back felt like he was trying to punch through a refrigerator. He was fighting just to keep his balance, to keep from going down. He’d been in fights before, at bars with drunks trying to prove a point or impress a girl. But he’d never fought anyone like this. This man fought like he was trying to murder him, and he was going to succeed.

  Jack started to feel afraid.

  He made a desperate attempt to kick Seth in the balls, which not only missed but left him off balance. Seth knocked him once again to the floor. And this time instead of a chance to let him back up, he stomped down on Jack’s stomach. Jack involuntarily twisted into a fetal position, the pain was unbelievable.

  Terra jumped in, grabbing Seth around the neck in a choke hold and trying to strangle him. Seth grabbed and twisted her wrist, wrenching her arms away effortlessly by pure strength. He elbowed back into her face, obviously not holding back because she was a women. She put her hands over her face and he pounded her in the stomach, sending her falling back helplessly.

  Jack forced himself to try and get up but Seth didn’t wait. He stomped down again, this time on Jack’s knee. Then he started kicked at him, each blow like being hit by a car. They came fast and furious and despite Jack’s attempts to protect himself by curling into a little ball, he was getting destroyed.

  “You should have gone back to your room Jack,” said Collin calmly. “Finish him off, Seth.”

  Jack’s last view was of Terra’s crying and terrified face before Seth stomped his boot down onto his head.

  Chapter 28

  ********************

  Jack swam to consciousness slowly through a haze of nightmares. Disconnected images and feeling of frustrations, the kind of broken record nightmares he usually had when he had a fever. It had been
something about the brownstone continuously being expanded, so every time he opened a door to leave, it just lead to more brownstone. And everywhere permeated a dark sound, one he was drawn to though it caused him great distress. A feeling not unlike what he imagined digging rocks out of a wound would be.

  When he finally did open his eyes and decide he was actually awake, he found that the sound was not just part of the dream. It was coming from the intercom speaker, which was hanging by a wire out of the wall. The grate looked like it had been pried off with a screwdriver, and brownish concentric circles had been drawn around and around it. He wondered why Seth had broken his intercom, and thought angrily that the bastard had probably done it directly out of spite.

  Shortly on the heels of that discovery though he realized that it wasn’t his intercom. It wasn’t even his apartment.

  He pushed himself off the floor to better see around, a move he instantly regretted. His cheek had been stuck to the linoleum by the dried blood leaking from his lip, which instantly tore back open. At least a few of his ribs made jabbing motions into his lungs, an unkindly warning that his innards now contained little knives should he try and move too fast. The pain and stiffness of bruises and muscles had only begun to manifest itself, and was for now substituted by a powerful shakiness and weakness in his limbs.

  His head swam with his vision, a ringing noise temporarily drowning out the sound from the intercom. He struggled to wait it out, afraid if he unlocked the arms holding him up to lie back down, he would merely fall in a heap. Eventually his vision cleared, leaving a slight nausea in its place, and he was able to finish the struggle into a sitting position.

  It was not immediately apparent whose apartment he was in. There weren’t any lights on, but he could make it out some from the rays of sunlight seeping in from around the shades. Which was bad, because it meant he had lain there the rest of the night and part of the morning.

  The layout of the place wasn’t dissimilar from his own apartment, except for the high windows instead of the balcony. At least there was no doubt he was in the same building. Beyond that he could assume it was not a woman’s apartment. It didn’t have “a woman’s touch.” Nor did it have the extremely well-kept and spartan look of a man like himself who always expects women to be stopping by. A fold out futon with the bed unmade. Plate and cup on an end table. Clothes on the floor. An improvised cinderblock bookshelf full of random books, the titles of which he couldn’t make out in the dim light. Posters of bands on the wall. TV conspicuously absent. Beanbag chair.