Suddenly the resounding thunder awakened me. I was back standing in the storm before the dry cleaners and she was gone. I’d give anything to be with her one last time. Moments later I started to saunter towards the subway station wondering "What am I doing here?"
Just as I turned the corner, a slim black male bustling to seek shelter from the rain jostled me. "Watch out man!" He barked. His scathing remark struck a note. That voice. Just as I started to put it behind me I noticed his black leather vest with the words "Fallen Saints" spray painted on its back. It suddenly registered that he was one of the thugs that mugged me. He wasn't Hoytsworth but he was there with him. I turned around and watched him as he fled up the street. I was momentarily awed. He literally fell into my lap. It was as if I was meant to find him; as if something brought us together. I began tailing him.
He raced through a number of blocks then ducked into a narrow alleyway. I shadowed him from a distance. By the time I reached the alley I lost sight of him. I walked through hoping to relocate him or find a lead to his whereabouts. Suddenly I got an earful of funk music playing in the distance. I followed the sound until I spotted a towering, stout, dark complexioned man sporting a fitted black t-shirt standing by a door. His frame was taller and wider than the doorway. He was dallying with a Caucasian female sporting a racy schoolgirl uniform. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall. She’s slim yet busty. Her hair was dyed pink and done up in stylish pigtails. Her lips were full and coated with matching pink lipstick. The funk music I'd heard was seeping out the door where they were standing. It must be some type of nightclub inside.
"Can I help you?" The burly male inquired as I neared him. He must be a bouncer. The female peered at me with a slight smirk. Without even uttering a word, she flirted with me; her blue eyes said it all. I bet she suckers in most Johns with that stare.
"I'm trying to get in." I didn't want to ask him if he just let someone inside. He might take me for a cop.
"Twenty bucks!" He requested while holding out his hand. I didn't want to pay him for a dead end but where else could the assailant have went? After briefly hesitating, I snatched twenty bucks from my wallet and handed it to him.
“Say, what happened to your eyes? They look cool.” The floozy asked me.
“I had an accident.”
The bouncer sifted through his pocket and retrieved a stack of twenty dollar bills. He fixed mine with the bundle. He then heaved the iron door open and the music amplified. I sauntered inside and headed down a staircase where the music seemed to be coming from. I stepped past an elderly male and a younger scantily clad female dallying on the stairs and made my way to another door. After gripping the knob and pushing it open, it revealed a humble, apartment-sized unsanctioned nightclub. The lights are dim but the bar is illuminated by a red neon sign fixed to the wall behind it that read "The Shack." Red bulbs were screwed into the recessed lights and gave the nightclub a sleazy, cheap motel feel. The walls, furniture and ceiling were painted black except for a small polished hardwood dance floor in the center of the establishment. A small crowd of sleazy women and horny men were gyrating on it. There were several sofas along the walls where older Johns were conferring with much younger floozies. The stench of smoked cigars was inundating. I began to discreetly scour the establishment for the suspect. After probing about, I spotted him at the bar flirting with a blonde bartender.
After guzzling numerous shots of gin, the assailant stumbled into the bathroom. I followed in behind him. When I entered, I caught sight of him slouching by the urinal exerting much strength to keep his balance. I passed myself off as washing my hands. When he was done, he staggered over to the sink besides me. Before he could turn on the faucet, I swiftly placed him in a choke hold and hauled him into a stall. He attempted to put up a fight but he was too inebriated. I then plunged his head into the toilet bowl.
"WH... WAH... WAH-DAH FUCKS YOU DOIN’?" He stammered.
"Where's Hoyt?" I demanded.
"Who?" He blurted out. I plunged his head back into the bowl.
"WHERE IS HE?" I growled yanking him up. Urine ran down the top of his head and face and drenched his attire.
"I don't know any Hoyt! C'mon I'm swallowing piss and shit!" I dunked his head back into the bowl.
"WHERE IS HE?"
"Oh... oh... ok... ok man, calm down... ca... calm down! I don't know where he is right now. The cops are looking for him. He's laying low."
"That's not good enough. I swear I'll drown you in this piss. You better tell me somethin' muthafucker!" I warned.
"The last thing I heard he was staying at one of his girlfriend's house over on Congress Avenue. Thirty four.... thirty four.... ah... thirty four twelve Congress Avenue, apartment B. I don't know if he’s still there. Wait a sec, I’ve seen you before. You a cop or sum'in?" He inquired while peering at me.
I sifted through his back pocket and snatched his wallet. I then shoved the pathetic bastard to floor. “You gonna steal my money man?” He asked. I retrieved his driver’s license and tossed the wallet into the toilet bowl. “If you’re lying to me, I know where you live.” I growled then fled out of the bathroom and bustled towards the exit.
"It picks up in about an hour." The bouncer disclosed as I left the nightclub.
"I found what I was looking for."
The rust colored row house apartment building revealed to me was narrow and only three stories high. It was one of the nicer ones in this neighborhood. I wouldn't expect a street-level thug to be shacking up with a female that lived here. I waited in an alley across the street as the morning sun began emerging. I had an inclination the thug I just pressed out gave Hoytsworth the heads up. I had to play this out vigilantly.
While contemplating on a course of action, a man bustled out of the three floor row house and jumped into a burgundy '77 Buick Regal with a white soft top. It was Hoytsworth. Before I could get to his car, he peeled out of the parking spot and sped down the street. He drove with haste as if he was warned that someone is after him. I couldn't pursue that V8 engine on foot but I could make an effort to ascertain where he was going.
I discreetly paced to the rear of the apartment building through the alleyway. I noticed a slightly opened window on the second floor. I’m guessing the row house only has three units and that must be apartment “B.” I scaled up the fire escape using what's left of the night to conceal me. The decrepit metal escape way made a grating squeal after every step. I was certain it would've alarmed one of the residents. I hoisted up the window and made my way inside.
My eyes got acclimated to the dark apartment and I soon became aware I was in a bedroom. The room was vacant but I heard footsteps outside nearing. Then the door drew open and a dark complexioned slender female wearing a lacy white bra and matching panties sauntered in. It took her a couple seconds to realize she wasn't alone. She frantically wailed then stormed out of the room after noticing the dark silhouette peering at her with flaming red eyes. I pursued after her and clenched onto her from behind before she could exit the front door. I muffled her cries with my hand and restrained her against a wall.
"Stop screaming!" I warned.
"He's not here." She blurted after I removed my hand.
"Where'd he go?" I inquired.
"Some guy called Hoyt’s phone saying someone is coming here to look for him. The guy said he thinks he's a cop. Hoyt had the phone on speaker. I heard a little of their conversation. Hoyt grabbed his stuff and left a few minutes ago. He said he needs 'To go to a motel or something.' I don't know which one exactly."
"You better not be lying to me."
"I'm not."
"Sit down and don't move." I directed while pointing to the sofa in the living room. She complied.
I made my way back into the bedroom and ransacked it for the modest indication to where Hoytsworth was headed. There was a vintage red push-button phone on top of a dresser with a caller ID box attached to it. I skimmed through the numbers. "Hoyt!" He called her numerous times o
ver the past couple days. I flipped my cellphone open and stored his number in it.
I sifted through her dresser drawers and my hands ran over a weighted object. I grabbed it and drew it out. It was bundled up in a black grocery bag. I uncovered it and revealed a sawed-off .22 caliber rifle. "The murder weapon!" There was also men's clothing along with the firearm in the drawer. I ferreted out a pair of jeans and felt a key chain in the front right pocket. It was a souvenir from the Meridian Motel on Lincoln Ave. Perhaps the modest indication I was searching for. In the same pair of jeans I also came across two tickets in the rear pocket. They were to a funk concert on the Fourth of July. Might be something I should take note of.
Just as I found the leads, I overheard the sound of the apartment door slam shut. I knew she'd bail I was just wondering what took her so long. I placed everything back how I found it. Then I scaled out of the bedroom window, down the fire escape and fled into the alley.
While heading towards the subway station, my cellphone started to vibrate. I was betting on it being my parents calling me. They should be up by now. I retrieved my phone and to my surprise it was Detective Bernhardt.
"Detective?" I answered.
"You've been busy haven't you? Interrogating people. Looking for Hoyt." He uttered.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The streets are talking. Some guy running around with bloodshot eyes appearing out of nowhere and pressing people out. Dunkin' heads into toilets? Breakin' into people's apartments?" He conveyed.
"You have the wrong person."
"No no no, I'm no rookie. Don't insult me. I've been doing this for twenty years. You also match the description of a mugger who slashed someone on the subway. They said you stole their wallet." He disclosed. Those lying bastards tried to rob me!
"I'm sorry detective. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Leave the cop stuff to us. You understand that!" He barked. I slapped my phone shut.
Just as I exited the subway station, I caught sight of a narrow seven story brick building across the street. It has a vertical red neon sign fixed to it that displayed "Meridian Motel." Through the windows I noticed the rooms were illuminated with red lights. There were dark silhouettes of busty women erotically gyrating their hips inside them. On the sidewalk before it was a line of prostitutes wearing scantily clad skirts and tube tops. "You look'in for-rah date sweetie?" They badgered as I stepped past them towards the entrance.
A middle-aged scrawny clerk sat on a stool inside a Plexiglas booth gawking at an adult magazine. He sported a bad comb-over that made me feel a little sorry for him. A pair of vintage black glasses frames, probably from 1960s or earlier, rested just above the tip of his pointy nose. The thick lenses magnified his eyes. Adjacent to the booth is a six foot three, two hundred fifty pound burly security guard posing a tough guy facade with his arms crossed. There’s a stand in the corner of the lobby displaying several key chains resembling the one in Hoytsworth's pants pocket.
"Yes!" The clerk agitatedly greeted when I fronted the booth.
"I'm looking for a guest by the name of Hoyt or Hoytsworth." I inquired.
"You a cop or sum'in?"
"No."
"C'mon, get out of here." He blurted brushing me off.
"Excuse me."
"You wanna room or not? I'm busy."
"I'm looking for..." I started to say before he interrupted me.
"You stupid or sum'in? You wanna room or not?" The clerk barked. Speaking to him through this window wasn't getting me anywhere.
I bustled around to the door and gripped the knob. It was locked. "HEY... HEY... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The panic-stricken clerk barked. I paced back a couple steps then charged the door with a sturdy kick. The flimsy door is on the brink of giving way.
Just before I delivered a second strike, the security guard clenched me from behind in a bear hug. His grip was firm and I couldn’t free myself. He then lifted me off the floor and pitched me into a wall. Before I could get back to my feet, I was snatched up by my sweater and pinned against it. The security guard held me with his left hand while cocking his right fist back. I couldn't allow him to deliver the knockout blow. I've come too far to get caught now. Just as his hand came forward I had enough slack to elude the punch by tilting my head to the side. The security guard's fist cracked against the wall behind me. After a lengthened agonizing moan, he staggered back a couple of steps then faltered to his knee. He clenched his right hand. It appeared to be broken.
I turned back towards the Plexiglas booth. The clerk snatched a vintage red rotary phone, shaped like a high heeled shoe, off a desk then rested his back against the door. He frantically dialed a number. It didn't take a brilliant mind to figure out he was calling the police. I raced towards the door and bashed it with a vigorous kick. It broke off the hinges and the impact knocked the clerk across the booth. The phone fumbled from his hands.
"Is Hoyt staying here?" I growled.
"Th... Th... That's the log with all of the guests." He stammered while his unsteadied index finger pointed to a binder on the desk.
I snatched the binder then sifted through the pages but was unable to find his name. I checked, double checked and triple checked until I was certain I didn't overlook anything. My eagerness tapered off; I was lead down a blind alley. I bustled out of the lobby before the police showed up.
The sunlight deepened my headache. It prevented me from keeping my balance. I staggered through the congested downtown rush-hour sidewalks jostling past pedestrians as they gawked at me. "Are you okay?" "Do you need an ambulance?" I was drawing too much attention. I needed to find a place to lay low.
After scouring the neighborhood, I stumbled upon an abandoned vintage movie theater. A red letter duct taped to the doors stated "Warning: Do Not Enter. Hazardous Materials Inside." The chain lock had been snipped. I pulled the tall weighted brass door open and sauntered in.
The stench of mold was inundating. Probably wasn't good for my lungs but I doubt I could stay up for another minute. A spacious stained glass skylight allowed the morning sun to seep in. It provided me with ample visibility. The ceilings were high. Fragmented paint chips fell from them; probably contained lead which also wasn’t good for me. There was a mural of graffiti on the walls. I heard footsteps pacing about on the balcony above; probably junkies tying one on.
I continued to survey the closed down theater. There was a lofty wall with autographed black and white photos of celebrities hanging from it. As far up as I can see were snapshots of notable '60s movie stars, comedians, athletes and entertainers. Collectors would pay top dollar for the nostalgic artwork disregarded in this theater. It seems there once was an era where citizens weren't swindled by politics. Life was easy back then. Those days are long gone.
I continued on and came upon a movie display. "You!" I growled with deep animosity. It was a towering manikin of The Legend. He donned a black cloak that veiled over his shoulders and covered his body. The cloak disposed on a stand in a perfect crescent. His face was concealed by a black mask that amplified his devilishly red eyes. The display was aged. The ensemble appeared to be moth-eaten. Behind the figurine was a cardboard cutout of a dark city with the words, "The Urban Legend" on top of one of the buildings. “The elusive ghost that has been haunting me.” He allowed Hoytsworth to get away in that alley. There's nothing I want more than to confront him but this was just a lifeless movie display.
I sauntered down a staircase that led me to a basement. It appears renovation work has begun down here. Fluorescent lamps illuminated the white painted walls, ceiling and white tiled floor. The intensity was unbearable. I staggered through a corridor until I came upon a door with a frosted rippled glass window. Bold black lettering decals spelling "Manager's Office" adhered to it. The door was unlocked. I made my way in. There was a bare vintage oak desk and a grubby red leather couch inside. There were also torn vintage movie posters hung on the walls. The stench of mold wasn't too bad in here. I c
onsidered the room to be a suitable place to sleep.
Ten hours passed before I awoke. I didn't anticipate I'd be out this long but I was up for twenty four hours. My headache was gone. I noticed three missed calls from Detective Bernhardt. He left me a voicemail. "Duane, I have issued a warrant for your arrest. You need to turn yourself in. That stunt you pulled at the motel was all caught on a surveillance camera..." I deleted the message before listening to it in its entirety.
Just then, the door to the office began to creak open. "It's occupied!" I barked but it continued to gape. Suddenly, the dark caped figure sauntered into the door way. He peered at me with flaming red eyes. "Legend!"
"Why'd you let Hoyt get away?" I demanded while jolting off the sofa. He remained silent. "Answer me!" I directed while fronting him. There still wasn’t a response from him. His silence riled me up. I rushed towards him, clenched his black ensemble and made an effort to drive him into the hallway wall. However, my intentions were unsuccessful. He swiftly spun around and redirected me into the wall instead. I was catapulted head first into it. My sharp headache suddenly resurfaced.
My vision became bleary. He sauntered towards me. "YOU BASTARD!" I roared while pitching a riled right hook at him. He eluded it. I followed by launching a multitude of feral strikes but I was unable to connect to his jaw. His cunning movements allowed him to scurry behind me and clench me in a choke hold. I made strides to break his grip but he's much stronger than me. "LET ME GO!" I roared but my demands fell on deaf ears. Instead he began dragging me down the lengthy corridor. I continued to struggle with him but his hold was too firm. My heels flailed against the dusty hallway floor leaving a trail behind.
He continued to drag me through the hallway. While peering at the fragmented ceiling, it suddenly broke into distant grim clouds that were illuminated by lightning strikes. Soon afterwards I felt the rainfall. The absolute moon lingered over us as he persisted to yank me through the storm. He continued to drag me and we passed underneath a towering steel arch with the words "Lincoln Cemetery" embellished into it; the cemetery Lolani is resting in. Moments later he unclenched me and I plummeted to the muddy ground. I planted my hands into the grass and made an effort to lunge at him but a tombstone before me suddenly held me spellbound. It was hers. While gazing at the headstone The Legend sauntered towards me and stood up beside me. I peered up at him. He clenched his mask and suspensefully revealed himself. "Wha... What is this? What's going on?" I stammered while getting to my feet. The Legend was... Me! It was as if I was standing before a mirror. I staggered backwards distancing myself from him. "What's happening to me?" The doctor warned me about these hallucinations. They feel so real; down to the pain and emotions.
The Legend Page 5