by Joey Ruff
As I neared, I said, “You find something?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared at the ground near his feet, at a length of chain fastened to a manacle.
“What do you make of it?” he asked.
I knelt over the thick cuff and took it in my hand, feeling immediately the heft of the metal. “Not only was something a prisoner down here,” I said, “But it must’ve been pretty fucking strong. This thing weighs more than the devil’s dick.”
Ape examined it, but in the low light, it was difficult to tell too much. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a little corked test tube and a file. He sawed against the chain with the file for nearly a minute and collected a sampling of dust in his tube. Then he stopped it up and slid both utensils back into his pocket.
He stood.
“Did you find something?” Rino asked.
“A cuff,” Ape said. “It looks like someone was chained up down here.”
Rino’s face looked concerned. “We found nothing. Or at least, if we did, no one reported it to me.”
I set the manacle down on the ground and slid out of my glove. “I’m gonna try to read it.”
I felt the cold metal against my skin and focused. For a moment, nothing happened. I focused harder, blocking out all sounds and thoughts and focused only on the manacle. Slowly, I began to feel the charge of energy against my skin. The impression was too faint to see anything, but I felt the very unmistakable throb of pain. The impression was so fleeting that I continued to hold the metal even after it had ended.
I stood and looked at Ape. “Well?” he asked.
“It’s not much to go on, but whatever was held in that manacle died in a fuckload of pain.”
Ape nodded. “I hate to say it, Swyftt, but you might be wrong. A death like that might actually yield some kind of haunting spirit.”
I didn’t say anything. I hated to admit he might be right.
11
It was around lunch when we’d finished up in the tunnels, and Rino insisted we stick around to eat. It wasn’t anything fancy, just catered subs for the work crew. But, hey, food was food.
Not much else was said, and when we’d finished, Rino walked us to the door.
“I appreciate you helping me out,” he said with a grin. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you guys, but the sooner we can resolve this, the better.”
“You having a groundbreaking ceremony you forgot to mention?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But I may have some business partners back in New York who are willing to invest, should things become…profitable.” He shrugged innocently. “Plus, with having so much rain lately, the ground will be softer. If we can get past that point, I think the renovations will proceed smoothly. If it continues to rain, so much the better, but I think I’d like to get moving on this before the ground dries out. It would be more…complicated, then.”
Ape shook Rino’s hand and said, “We’ll do what we can. If it does prove to be a spirit, it may be a bit more difficult…depending, of course, on what kind of spirit it is.”
“Of course,” Rino said. “I understand.” Then as an afterthought, he reached in his pocket, saying, “Here.” He slid out a pretty hefty keychain and flipped through a few keys before stopping at the one he wanted. He slid the key from the ring and handed it to Ape. “This goes to the back door, by the pool. Whatever you need, okay. If I’m not here, please don’t let that stop your work. Keep track of your hours, and when you finish, we’ll settle up with the payment.”
“Sounds good,” I said, shaking the man’s hand.
“No,” Ape said, looking at me. “There’s no charge for an old friend.”
“Don’t be silly, Terry. I’m a man of pride, after all.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“We’ll talk about that once the job is done, huh?”
Ape nodded, and we walked back to the Renault.
We climbed into the car, and as we sped away, I looked at Ape and said, “No wonder you didn’t talk about your past. I’d be ashamed to admit I worked for the Mafia, too. Of course, it begs the question: what the fuck does the Mafia know about hunting the Midnight?”
“It’s not the Mafia,” Ape said. “It’s…complicated.”
“Right. I’m sure it is. Isn’t it always complicated where the Mob is concerned? Did you have Tommy Guns filled with silver bullets?” I paused. “At least the outfits make sense now.”
“Jono,” he said. “You need to stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay,” I said, but was getting more than just a little annoyed. “Because when Rino was talking about inheriting the house that had belonged to bootleggers and the Seattle Mob from a member of the family, he was clearly not talking about the Mafia.”
Ape didn’t say anything.
“Then answer me this. When the police need to ask Rino a question, do they visit the nearest Italian restaurant and find him eating at a table, alone, in the back corner while armed gunmen stand around him for protection? Or are the police just on the take from him?”
I waited for a response, but there was none. He focused on the road.
“How could you keep this from me for, what, almost eleven years?” I waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. “Or are you still with them? Did you quit them the way you quit the Hand? You still grabbing lunches with Al Capone and making people sleep with the fishes over a Danish?”
“Would you just shut the hell up?” Ape snapped. “You sound like an ignorant child.”
“Enlighten me then,” I challenged.
“Jono, I…” He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, still not making eye contact with me. “How do I even…” He sighed. “The group I worked for – that Rino works for – is called La Cosa Nostra.”
“The Mafia.”
“Would you shut up and let me talk?!”
I waved my hand for him to continue.
“They started as a village in Sicily. There was…a disaster, an…accident, and they banded together to…correct it. There were five families. When they came to America, they came with good intentions, and they came as hunters. They allowed the myths of the Mafia to develop to enshroud their activities in a manner of secrecy. They didn’t want people looking too close. I’m sure you can understand that.
“Over time, they attracted the wrong people, the ones infatuated with money and power, and as the family heads got older, a new generation rose up to take power, people like Lucky Luciano. The old heads were wiped out due to infighting, and the ranks were opened to other Italians, not just the original Sicilian families. Eventually, Jews and Irish were let in, and things kind of got out of control. They lost focus and the front they’d erected to protect outsiders from the truth became the only truth.”
“Except?”
“Except what they hunted remained. And as sightings continued, the rumors that swirled amongst the families began to look a little more accurate. It wasn’t until the mid 40s or so that they reclaimed their original purpose. Rather than shroud themselves in lies and scandals, over the years, they just filtered out of the limelight and focused on their quest.”
“Which is what exactly, to bring back zoot suits?”
“I can’t tell you that. I took an oath.”
“Fine. So…where do you fit in?”
“I was in New York after college. I was at a party one night, and there was…a complication.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“An attack. Almost everyone there was killed. Luckily, Rino and some others showed up. That’s how I met him. I impressed him, I guess, and he took me in.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“I don’t care if you do.”
“And Sinatra? You telling me he was a hunter?”
He didn’t say anything at first. “Not his whole life.”
“At least now I know why you never talked about your past. It sounds ridiculous.�
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“You know what? I’m tired of this bullshit attitude, Jono. You always act like your shit doesn’t stink and you’re more important. Well, guess what…”
He didn’t finish the thought. He just let his words fade to silence as he focused on driving. I just sat there and watched the world pass outside my window.
“Ape,” I said after a few miles. He didn’t say anything. “I’m pissed. I don’t like finding this shit out from other people. We’re mates, right? You’re always wanking me off to be honest with you about shit…”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry that you had to find out that way.”
“The hell you are. You never intended for me to find out at all.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Just promise me this: if La Cosa Nostra ends up being important to this case, you’ll give me full disclosure. The last time you tried to keep me out of the fucking loop was with your uncle, and we all know how that turned out.”
“I…” He hesitated. “Alright.”
The last few miles passed in silence, but this time, it wasn’t quite as awkward. When we got near the house, I asked, “So how do we proceed with this ghost bullshit?”
“Well,” he said. “I’ll pull some public records, and we’ll figure out who all the owners were. With any luck, we’ll figure out something that suggests what was chained in the tunnel and why.”
“Okay,” I said.
“And al…”
I looked at him. He stared blankly straight ahead and slowed the car.
We had pulled into the mouth of the driveway, but standing against the gate was a man with dark hair in a navy blue jogging suit. He held a shoebox.
Ape put the car in park, and I got out. The man’s face lit up a bit when he saw me, though he looked like he’d been crying. “Mr. Swyftt,” he said. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Who?” Ape asked, looking at me.
“Meet Jamie DeNobb, the weatherman from Channel 5.”
“What is he doing outside our gate? I thought you didn’t take work home with you?”
“Hell if I know.” Then to the weatherman, I said, “What are you doing here DeNobb?”
He lifted the shoebox up. “The thing in my breadbox that, uh, looked like…yeah. It’s dead.”
12
On Ape’s insistence, we let DeNobb in the house, but only as far as the kitchen. Ape and I stood at the island with the shoebox open.
The tiny, lifeless weatherman looked rubbery and fake, like a personalized Stretch Armstrong doll. Ape poked at it with the flat side of a scalpel blade, but he was careful not to break the skin.
“It’s fascinating,” Ape said. “And you say you have no idea where it came from?”
“Well,” DeNobb said nervously. “I didn’t yesterday.” He looked tired and must’ve been hungry because he’d been shoveling mouthfuls of Chess’ peach cobbler into his mouth. He set his bowl and spoon on the counter behind him and unzipped the running jacket he wore. He was bare-chested underneath and in better shape than most underwear models. “Then this morning, I noticed this.” He pulled the jacket back and turned to the side, revealing a bump roughly the size of a golf ball just under his right shoulder blade.
“That’s disgusting,” I said.
Ape got closer and stared at the bump, all red and swollen. “Take off the jacket,” he said. “I need the light.”
DeNobb did. Ape pressed one finger against the bump, lightly, his eyes getting wider. “Jono,” he said. “Come look at this.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious. Get over here.”
With a sigh, I walked around the island and stood just behind Ape’s shoulder, staring at the bright red bump that looked more like a giant, white-head zit from this angle.
“Are you watching?”
“Unfortunately.”
He poked the bump at the base where it met the skin, and nothing happened. Then he poked it near the top, and the white head moved.
I don’t mean that it shifted like an eye, glancing around to view more interesting things than weatherman bumps. I mean the white spot shivered, broke apart slightly, and then came back together.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“Look closer.”
“I’m getting quite uncomfortable,” DeNobb said.
“Shut up,” I snapped. I got closer. “Do it again.”
This time, as Ape poked the white head and the splotch broke and scattered, I saw it. The white pieces that moved away and came back did so on reflex, and I realized what I was looking at. “It’s like watching a fucking ultrasound.”
Ape stood and looked at me, then he said to DeNobb, “You can put your jacket back on.” He did, but didn’t zip it.
“It’s remarkable,” Ape said. Then he turned to DeNobb. “That sore on your back, did you look at it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “What the fuck is it?” His voice sounded more nervous than before.
Ape chuckled, and I’m not sure if he intended to or not. “You’re incubating. It seems that your body is producing these…replicants of yourself. This…sac…on your skin serves as a mini womb.” He looked at me excitedly. “I’d bet the liquid inside is something like an amniotic fluid.”
“Ape,” I said, my tone sounding bored compared to his. “What does it mean?”
He moved to the box on the counter and the naked, rubbery figure inside. “That Mr. DeNobb here is able to produce…” He poked at the thing in the box again. “Homunculi…as miniature forms of himself.”
“Homina-homina?
“Humonculi,” he said again. “Smaller scaled humanoids.”
“Great!” DeNobb bellowed. “I’m the only weatherman in history to have his own line of action figures.”
“The question is,” Ape said, eyeing him curiously. “How are you doing it?”
DeNobb seemed to retreat a little from Ape’s gaze, and in a tone that sounded more like something from a panicked dog, said, “Man, I’m not doing anything.”
“It’s stress,” I said, clarifying to both. I looked at DeNobb. “The boil on your neck, you said the haunting didn’t happen until after it popped.” I turned to Ape and motioned to the thing in the box. “That’s where this came from. He admitted to me the other night he was under a lot of stress at work, more than ever.”
Ape nodded. “And this new one is probably from the stress you’ve been under with,” and he pointed to the shoe box, “this one here.”
“Hoooooly shit,” he said quietly. “So you’re saying this is gonna keep happening?”
“What? You think you just came down with these homunculittles like a cold? Take some pills, get your fucking rest and you’ll be back to normal in a week?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his face haunted and wild. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined that…” He pointed to the shoebox. “…standing on my chest and stabbing me with a steak knife. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I don’t handle this kind of shit. A week ago, none of this was anything, alright. I don’t…I don’t…”
He wrapped his arms around his waist and began rocking in place.
“What is he drinking?” I asked Ape.
“I don’t know. Milk?”
“Give him something stronger.”
Ape disappeared into the dining room and reappeared a moment later. DeNobb had shifted positions and was leaning with one hand against the kitchen cabinet and trying to do breathing exercises. Instead, he looked like he was about to hyperventilate. “I’m like a pregnant man? How can I be pregnant? My mom’s gonna be so confused.”
Ape put a short glass on the counter, filled it with two fingers of whatever expensive Scotch he kept in his decanter, and handed it to DeNobb. The weatherman took it and threw it back in one swig. He made a face and shook involuntarily.
I grabbed Ape by the arm and ushered him into the dining room and a
sked quietly, “What does all that mean? What the fuck is this bloke?”
Ape shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s kind of fascinating.”
I looked around the corner of the doorframe to see DeNobb staring off blankly at the wall, still balancing himself on the counter. His face was as blank as a canvas. His eyes were huge.
“Why don’t you have a seat, mate,” I called to him. He looked around absently, noticed the small dining table and four chairs by the window, pulled a chair out, and sat. He continued to stare blankly at the far wall.
“What are we going to do with him?”
“I’d like to run some tests,” Ape said.
“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, given his current state.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Get him out of the house. Maybe far away.”
Glass clinked from the kitchen, and Ape and I both leaned in to see the glass and decanter on the table in front of DeNobb as he filled his glass with another three fingers of Scotch and tossed it back a little slower than the first.
“Does that make my point?”
“He’s a wreck,” Ape said. “Do you remember when you first learned of your ability? You were probably pretty freaked out. You really want to leave him alone like this?”
“I was born with my ability. I always knew there was more to things than what I was told. The Midnight didn’t freak me out so much. And I don’t care who he’s with. I just want him out of the house.”
Ape glanced over at DeNobb, then back at me. “You might care who he’s with now,” he said.
My eyes narrowed, and I peered around the corner to see DeNobb holding a glass of Scotch halfway to his mouth, one arm reclined on the back of his chair, flaunting his exposed abs while Nadia sat beside him and ogled his naked flesh. Despite the uneasiness and traces of confusion and panic still evident in the man’s features, DeNobb had composed himself and put on a show of being in charge. They were talking. No, fuck that. They were flirting. Nadia laughed coyly at something he’d said.