Week 42 - The Tracks

The Tracks

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The body hit the water a forceful impact, but he was mostly dead already. A little bit of drowning in his final few moments wasn’t going to change much of that. It was a final indignity. A final indignity after many other indignities had been performed. Red leaked out staining the water all around. He didn’t have any strength left to fight. Instead, he simply began to sink.

Above on the patio, a figure peered over. Lost in the shadows, a face hidden, a smirk hidden, but the sound of a satisfied chuckle could be heard. The shadow stood and watched, waiting, making sure. Until it was done.

*                             *                             *

“You hear about Jackie? Right in his own home. Right in his own swimming pool.”

Everybody had heard about Jackie. It was all anyone was talking about during the last twelve hours. Not a simple break-in. Not a simple dispute. It was a cold and brutal murder. There were signs of struggle inside. Signs of a fight. Signs of torture. Somebody had done Jackie and made a great big mess of it. Bobby had heard all about Jackie. Of course he had. He just didn’t feel like talking about it.

Bobby and Hap sat in the hallway outside Mr. Z’s office, waiting on their chance to talk to the man himself. Hap was a talker. Bobby had no appreciation for that. Bobby could keep his mouth shut when he needed to.

“It’s messed up,” continued Hap. “Some major bullshit. A man in his own home. A castle. That’s his castle. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. A man in his own castle. Major violation. Big time. No respect. None.”

Bobby was tired. He had been up all night with no sleep but for a moment or two when he nodded off waiting on the Red Line. He had been all over town yesterday and only heard about Jackie in passing. He was on his way to The Valley but promptly turned back around. He had to take a bus the rest of the way to Santa Monica. There was supposed to be a rail line built to the coast, but they had been saying that for decades. Time came and went and time just kept rolling on. The coast was no closer and he always got a headache riding the bus. Maybe it was the fumes. Maybe it was being cramped with all the other people. Bobby was in no mood for nonsense today, but Hap couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Sometimes Bobby hated Santa Monica.

“Talk talk talk,” replied Bobby.

“What? Come on?!”

“No, I agree. It’s all total bullshit. But what are you going to do about it?”

“Yeah you’re right. What are you gonna do? Right? Life’s fucked up like that sometimes.”

“No. I mean what are you personally going to go do? Are you going to find who did this? You going to knock heads around? You want revenge? Justice? Is that what Jackie deserved? Did you even know Jackie?”

“Whoa. Jesus. What is it with you? I’m just talking.”

“That’s the problem. Everybody talks about the weather, nobody does anything about it.”

“The weather? Wha’? Fuck?”

Bobby stood up and walked off. He was tired of waiting.

*                             *                             *

Amy poured the coffee. Or, what she called coffee. Bobby didn’t mind. He could drink his coffee, but then again, there was drinking coffee and then there was drinking this. Amy made shit coffee that was either too strong or too weak. She never looked at what she was doing; she just dumped some amount of some brand in and waited to see what would happen.

“Terrible thing last night.”

“Jackie was bum. Fuck that bum.”

“Okay. I’m just here to talk to you.”

“I know what you’re here for. You think you’re the first person to come by here today? All you little idiots thinking with your dicks. Jackie’s been dead less than a day.”

“It’s not like that...”

“So you’re here asking about the other thing?”

That kept Bobby quiet. He wasn’t sure Amy knew anything at all about Jackie’s business. They were married but separated. Living in different parts of town. But Amy still knew everybody. And she was smart. Can’t bullshit smart.

Amy took Bobby’s silence to mean that she had guessed right.

“Figures. You think with your dick alright, but not as much as those other assholes. Business always comes first for you.”

“Amy... your coffee tastes like shit.”

She looked at him cross, then laughed. Really laughed. Long and hard.

“Oh... you’re such an asshole.”

“I know. Look, I won’t bullshit you. I know I can’t do that. I’m not here for business or for the business. I like you, but Jackie was a friend and that’s not my style. And I’m not going to poke around asking what Jackie was up to or what he had done for whomever. But Jackie and I had a thing. And he was a friend. You don’t know anything about him having something for me?”

“I look like I was there last night? I look like I live there anymore?”

“No. I was just hoping maybe he had told you something.”

“What was it?”

“What was what?”

“What did he have? What are you looking for?”

Bobby took another drink from his mug.

“This coffee really is shit.”

“I know. I make it like that so all you numnuts will stop coming around.”

*                             *                             *

Jackie kept an office in the backroom of a dive bar that was next to the bowling alley near Pico and 3^rd. For a beach town, with tourists all over mere blocks away, the place was a real hole in the ground. Dark and dirty. That was how Jackie liked it. Just a dump. A dump that nobody outside of the neighborhood would go into. A real dump.

Bobby had his spare key, left over from a job from a long time ago, and he let himself in through the back alley. There was a desk and a safe and banker boxes everywhere. Bobby ignored the safe. There was never anything in the safe. It was just there to look good. Jackie used to have a system – he would hide his money and anything important in banker boxes full of random junk or office supplies. He figured if he got robbed, people would go for the safe. Nobody was going to dig through a hundred boxes of trash hoping to find something.

Bobby was willing to.

But he didn’t find anything.

Obviously the system had changed in the last couple of years.

Bobby went out front and ordered a beer. Lou didn’t seem surprised to see Bobby appear from the back room. Very little surprised Lou. That was a good quality to have in a place like this.

Bobby drank his drink and thought about his options. It was getting late and he was pretty sure the buses were going to stop running soon. He wished he had his car. He really needed to get that thing fixed. Or replaced. Buses and trains and cabs were not a long term solution in a city like this.

Some old-timers came and went. Bobby had a few too many and he found himself staying longer than he had planned. At some point a couple of guys came in that Bobby recognized. Maybe they had suffered Amy’s coffee as well.

“You guys seen Vincent around?”

“No.”

They weren’t the friendliest sort. Bobby considered paying his bill and leaving right then. But he had to find some things out and this day was lasting too long.

“You run that coffee shop over on 20^th?

“24^th?”

“Yeah, 24^th, whatever. You see Vincent around, you tell him I need to talk to him.”

“You heard about Jackie.”

“Yeah. I did. But I’m looking for Vincent right now.”

“Shame about the pool. It was a nice pool. Gonna have to drain it and everything. Somebody messed up. Somebody messed up bad.”

The kid stressed his words when he spoke. Messed. Up. Bad. It was almost like separate sentences. It was almost like he was digging at something. Accusing Bobby of something. Bobby was going to get upset, but then the jukebox kicked it. It was loud and full of pounding bass. Slow and methodical. Beat after beat after beat.

Bobby turned to the music. A woman danced next to the jukebox. Not many people ever danced in a rotten bar like this, but she did. Dark hair, darker dress. White skin like she had never seen the sun. Or maybe she powdered it that way. Bobby didn’t know. Bobby didn’t care. She stood out, slow dancing, rocking back and forth. She stood out. In a place like this she sort of looked like perfection, but Bobby was pretty sure she would have stood out no matter where they were.

Bobby stood there and watched her sway. The whole bar watched her sway. He forgot about Jackie and Vincent and the asshole kid who ran the coffee shop. All he could do was think of her.

Bobby didn’t dance. It didn’t matter. Not tonight it didn’t.

Sometime later, Bobby realized he had had too many beers and it was time to go.

*                             *                             *

Bobby woke up to another cup of Amy’s terrible coffee. He didn’t quite remember the end of his evening, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t been the one to call Amy. It turned out Bobby drank the night and Lou had called Amy when last call came around. Amy didn’t appreciate being woken that late at night. Bobby was pretty sure she intentionally made her coffee even worse to pay him back.

“Do I need to apologize for anything?”

Amy laughed at him. “For a lot of things. But not the way you meant it.”

“Thanks for picking me up. And for letting me sleep here.”

“You go through Jackie’s office?”

“Yeah.”

“You find what you were looking for?”

“No.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about? Why Jackie got killed and what it is you’re after?”

“I’m after something for the boss. I can’t tell you. Somebody might have killed Jackie for this or for any number of other things.”

“Jackie was a bastard, but he wasn’t that bad.”

“I’ve seen you say different. I’ve seen you with the bruises.”

“Fuck you. Whatever Jackie and I might have done... Fuck you. I gave you a place to stay. I was nice. How about you return the favor?”

Bobby needed to get out of Santa Monica. He needed to get out of LA. But he really needed to get out of Santa Monica. He called Vincent again and this time found him. One of these days he was really going to have to get a car.

Vincent came to pick Bobby up and Bobby again thanked Amy for her hospitality. Amy said she spit in the coffee. Bobby was pretty sure she might have.

“You and Amy? You work quick.”

“Shut up Vinnie. She gave me a place to sleep.”

“Sure sure, whatever.”

“God damn it. I can’t take this shit today.”

“So you want to talk about the other thing then?”

“I don’t know what happened to Jackie.”

“No, but you know something. I hear you been digging around. You been asking to talk to me too.”

“Jackie had something for me. I was hoping he might have told you about it.”

“No sir. So how about you tell me?”

“How about you drive me out of this dump?”

*                             *                             *

Bobby sat at the Red Line station at Vermont and Sunset.  He had read a story about an old man getting hit by one of the trains on the Red Line. Maybe it was an accident. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the old man was tired of being old. Or maybe he had problems. Bobby could relate to that. He didn’t know what it would take to jump in front of a train, but he was pretty sure it would take a lot. Bobby wasn’t sure how he felt about all that. Things were bad, but he wasn’t quite ready to explore that possibility.

There were two directions to choose from. One to The Valley and one to Downtown. Downtown he could go to Union Station and maybe catch a bus or train out of town. But in The Valley there was business. Business he should take care of.

He didn’t owe Jackie anything. He told himself that over and over. He didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t have to find Jackie’s killer. He didn’t have to cover Jackie’s debts. He certainly didn’t have to care what would happen to Amy and her terrible terrible coffee. He could just slip away and disappear.

Nobody was going to believe Amy didn’t know something. Separated and living apart meant nothing. Everybody would expect her to know something about Jackie’s business and where he kept his money. People were already asking around. And it looked like he was doing the same. Everybody would assume he knew something too.

Nobody was going to believe him, no matter what he said. He had been to see Mr. Z. He had been to see Amy. He had been all over Santa Monica yesterday. He couldn’t claim he wasn’t up to something.

Fuck Jackie for dying, for getting himself killed. Fuck him and his empty safe and his stupid system of hiding money. Fuck that.

Jackie was a mule and mules had to deliver their money, even if they were dead. Bobby would have to cover Jackie. There was no excuse for your partner getting killed. The old man would laugh if he tried to claim anything else. Bobby would be lucky if he only lost a finger or two. He would probably lose a whole lot more. Suddenly he was thinking the old man and the train made a lot more sense.

It would be so much easier to head Downtown and never look back. Forget about everybody. Forget about Amy. Forget about all of it. Let the old man punish whomever the old man wanted to punish. But Bobby couldn’t help but worry a little too much about her.

It came down to what sort of man he wanted to be. Bobby wasn’t sure. Instead, he sat and watched the subway trains pass him by.

Week 41 - The Eyes Have It

The Eyes Have It

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The darkness grew, and in perfect symmetry so too did the hole inside Eddie’s soul. The shadows fell and something, somewhere deep inside the hollow black stirred.

Eddie had always wanted something more. He had a craving deep inside. And a belief in the supernatural to match that craving. He believed in the dark and in the potential of secret knowledge and secret claims. It was his faith, unwavering. A blind trust, driven by the desire for something more, to be something more. Something special. Something powerful.

The shadows came, creeping, cutting down, unnatural. Squirming and swirling in all ways impossible.

The lights had burnt out. The moon was gone and the sky grew dark. It was an unholy thing.

Eddie lit a candle, but with a slip and a swish of wind, the shadows blew it out.

Alone in the dark. The sinister things all around. Creeping and crawling. Growing. Pulsing forth. Closer and ever closer.

Eddie cried out. He prayed. He swore. He wanted to see. All he wanted was to see. That was all he ever wanted – to see the truth. He went looking for answers, but ended up blind. Now all he wished for was a little bit of light.

The whispers came, but Eddie didn’t know how to answer them.

A dark force stirred and in the shadows, something crept forth.

As it turned out, getting a superpower wasn’t all that hard. At least that’s what Tommy would claim. He claimed he could see through walls. He claimed that some voodoo hoodoo was involved and a mystical magical lady who was willing to cast a spell. That seemed like clear bullshit to Eddie. No voodoo hoodoo lady was going to give out super powers. That was what Eddie thought when he first heard Tommy tell the tale. That was what he thought even when Tommy set out to prove his powers worked.

Tommy could see through walls. He would tell everybody what was on the other side. It had to be a trick. Eddie knew it had to be a trick. He just didn’t know how the trick was done.

Whatever it was, it sure looked a lot like it was Tommy seeing though walls. There was no other explanation. He didn’t think or struggle or concentrate or fuss. He just looked and something inside his brain sorted it all out, layer for layer, and told him what the proper order was.

Tommy called it magic. If Eddie hadn’t seen him perform the trick with his own two eyes, he’d have called it total bullshit. But Tommy did have the knack of being right about what was on the other side of walls. Eddie just wasn’t ready to concede and call it a superpower.

“What else can you do?” Eddie would ask him.

As it turned out, it was a pretty simple power. Not that seeing through walls was dull or boring or anything. But it was just that simple and straightforward. It was what it was. Just the one thing. Tommy wasn’t in control of it or what he could do. He didn’t get to decide what powers he got. He didn’t get to practice extra hard and develop new powers. He laid it all at the feet of the lady herself. She made the spell, she made the call. Tommy wasn’t going to complain.

“I would have asked for something better,” Eddie insisted.

“I’m sure you would have been very persuasive.”

As it turned out, Eddie was very persuasive. He just looked for better answers from a better source. Magic ladies and voodoo hoodoo seemed like too much bullshit. Eddie was interested in something darker, something more powerful.

The truth. The deep and dark secrets. The hidden things that people don’t admit. Those little truths that everyone was afraid of. That was what Eddie wanted to see. He wanted answers. He wanted eyes in the back of his head.

Tommy was a petty criminal with petty interests. He could play a trick and amuse an audience. He could get the jump on someone and rob them blind before they knew what was happening. None of that interested Eddie. He wanted something more. He wanted to look someone in the eyes and see what their soul had to say.

Eddie looked into the abyss and the abyss looked back. One eye on the future. One eye on the past. What was it? A gateway into the soul. A key that could unlock it all. What was that worth? To him, it might be worth everything.

“Show me your shame and your secrets. Show me what you’re afraid of when the night turns black.”

Eddie looked into their souls without ever stopping to think if something was looking back.

The nights turned black. Eddie lost the light around him. Just as he was losing himself. Deep down inside he was corrupted by something sinister. Deep down inside he was empty and alone and hurt and hardly human anymore. Deep down inside that void was pain – pain that could feed, pain that could attract the wrong things.

Eddie didn’t notice as the world grew dark. He didn’t dream and he hardly slept. He consumed. He ate. Not the flesh but the soul. He stared into their broken hearts and their broken dreams and he saw their infinite potential and their complete and utter failure. He drank it and only wanted more.

The shadows surrounded him. The shadows watched and the shadows listened. The shadows saw all that he did.

Eddie felt comfortable in the dark. He felt alive and at home. He had no idea what was really watching him. He had no idea what he had become a part of.

He fed on the darkness of others, but the darkness needed feeding itself. He filled himself up and in doing so became a tasty treat.

The darkness came. Eddie never noticed the gazing eyes, hidden in the dark, hidden in the shadows. He never noticed as the shadows grew. Not until it was too late. Not until there was nothing to be done and there was no escape.

Trapped, huddled, alone. Eddie cried. And the shadows feasted.

Week 40 - Double Visions

Double Visions

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Not sure what I’m seeing. What is it? My eyes are all fucked up right now. I hate to think I’m going to have to get glasses... I’m not that old yet, am I? It’s a blur. Things are blurry when in the morning or when I stare at the screen too long. Maybe I’m not sleeping enough. Maybe I’m old. I feel like I’m old. Fuck.  – from the private journal of Eddie Frost.

Edward had a problem. He thought it was his eyesight. In a way it was, but not in the way he was thinking. He could only imagine this was what it was like when people’s vision started to go. Blurred and fuzzy images. One minute in focus, another out. But he wasn’t thinking clearly, just as he wasn’t seeing clearly.

Even if he had been thinking clearly, he never would have guessed what was actually going on.

 There are images of blurred things. Objects. They overlap. Not quite seeing double, but I’m seeing two of something. It’s strange. Like something’s there that isn’t. Something extra. Something and then it’s gone. Spots in the corner of my eye, just out of sight. Something strange. Shapes that can’t possibly be there. If I reach out, they don’t last. If I focus, they don’t last. They’re there, I know they are.  But if I look too hard or too long, they always disappear.

I keep thinking that if I turn quickly enough I’ll actually see what it was.

I’d like to think it’s my peripheral vision playing tricks on me.

But what if it’s not? That has me a little worried. I’m talking myself into diseases I know I don’t have. But what if I do?

What Edward didn’t know was that he had been given a gift. Something new and unique. He didn’t see it that way. He had no way to conceive of it. He had been granted something special, something from the darkness, something that bound him to a far greater power…

Doctor says it’s not glasses. Doctor says it’s not a brain tumor. Thank God for that. I was actually scared. I had talked myself into believing such bullshit. Thank God that’s not the case. But still, they don’t know what is. That’s not good.

I’m getting myself worked up over nothing. I need more sleep. The lack of sleep makes me nod off and then I’m seeing something I’m really not. I don’t know if I believe that or not. If I’m nodding off all the time, then how do I need more sleep?

I can almost see them. I can almost make it out. I know if I just try hard enough, something will make sense. I know it’s there. I just have to be able to see.

The spirits, the dark and mysterious ones that are always swirling about, watching and interfering with people’s lives, had imbued within him a special gift. No one asked Edward. No one gave him a choice. That wasn’t how it worked.

I swear to God I’m not insane, but I swear something was there and it looked back at me.

The sight, the gift, the visions. A blending of the senses that allowed a glimpse into the other worlds. Not every pair of eyes could see clearly. Not every mind could handle what it saw. Unfortunately for Edward, his was one of those minds that couldn’t quite handle all that it was given.

Edward was not a happy camper.

My eyes! My eyes! Make it stop. Help me. Somebody help me. Please. What the fuck.

The spirits were coming through and Edward wasn’t equipped to handle it or to know what to do. It felt like madness. That would have made sense if it had been. Not that the mad really know they are experiencing madness. But madness would have explained it all. The visions, the half-objects, the mists, the fog of knowledge, all the things that seemed clear and unclear and incomprehensible at the same time.

There was no one to confirm or provide any sort of assistance. Not the doctors, not the medicine. Not the spirits. They didn’t provide guidance of any sort.

Daily. It’s daily now. Almost all the time. It’s too much. Everywhere. All over the place. Everything I look at, I see what’s there, what I’m supposed to and then there’s the other things. The other things that are there, but aren’t really there. No one else sees. No one else knows.

It’s too much. Nothing helps. Nothing stops it. I don’t want this. I don’t want to see. Whatever this is, I need it to stop. I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m not. I feel weak. I feel beaten down all the time. I’m tired all the time. I can’t sleep or I see things. I can’t concentrate all day. I look anywhere and it’s insane.

They tell me to sleep. To rest. How can I do that when it’s all the time? Nothing stops it. I need a break. I need it to stop. I don’t know what else to do. I know it’s not supposed to be like this. If this continues… if this continues, I don’t know how much more I can take.

I’m just so tired all the time.

It had to end. Edward couldn’t handle it anymore. He needed it to end. He needed a way out. He assumed that the visions were linked to his ocular system as opposed to something directly interacting within his brain.  He assumed that without his eyes, the visions would stop.

In a way he didn’t care. He knew he wasn’t in control anymore. He knew he didn’t know and wouldn’t know what it really was. But he needed it to stop so badly. He just needed it over, no matter what happened next. He couldn’t live with things the way they were.

Secret worlds and secret places and the shadows of the other things that are hidden in there. They watched. The eyes saw. They observed and studied. Edward couldn’t tell. He couldn’t see. A million and one other realities folded and layered and blurred tightly together. It was impossible to see them all. Impossible to comprehend.  

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to see. He couldn’t take it anymore. The eyes would have to go, blinding himself just to be rid of the visions.

And once those were gone, anything and everything else might have to go too. Only then could it all stop.

The spirits swirled and watched and waited, and eventually they would move on.