by J. Armand
“Can I help you?” the third officer of the group asked. He was somewhere in the middle of the other two both in age and body type. Looking at the three of them together was like observing the sad timeline of a police officer’s figure.
“Hi, I was just wondering if you know when we’ll be able to go in?”
“Not anytime soon,” the same officer said, and pointed behind me at the building. It was being blocked off with yellow police tape.
“What happened?”
“We can’t discuss police business. Do you live here?” By his tone and body language, I could tell that my questions seemed to be bothering the older cop. They had probably been asked the same question at least ten times, so I couldn’t totally blame him.
“Yes, on the fifth floor. I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” I said, trying to sound as polite as possible so maybe I would get more information.
“You don’t have friends?” Now he was being rude. At least I didn’t have to feel bad about judging him for his weight now.
“I just moved to the city a month ago.” I hoped that made him feel stupid.
“And what’s your name, son?”
“Dorian.”
“Do you have a last name?” he said, and motioned sarcastically with his hand for me to continue.
“Benoit.”
“Well, Dorian Benoit, we will try and hurry our investigation along so you won’t be inconvenienced any further. In the meantime, why don’t you make friends with some of your neighbors here so they’ll stop asking us questions.” He seemed pleased with himself for being an ass. He chuckled and looked at the other two to see if he had gotten a rise out of them.
Neither seemed too amused, which made me feel a bit better as I walked away. “There’s a hotel a few blocks away on 77th Street. You can probably get reimbursed for it by the city,” the rookie offered.
“Thanks,” I said. “I know I can’t ask what happened, but any idea when you guys will be done?”
“Check back in the morning. That’s all I can tell you. We don’t know much more.”
Shannon was suddenly beside me with two of her girlfriends, rattling off questions to the rookie now that he was away from his colleagues. “Is it true you guys found the woman dead in her apartment?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re not allowed to discuss it.”
I backed out of the conversation as he patiently answered all of the same questions over again. The thought crossed my mind to call my parents, but it would only freak them out. Knowing them, they would be on the road down here before I hung up the phone. I’d just rent a room for the night and hope they didn’t see the charge on my credit card before I got the chance to explain in the morning.
I stopped off to get coffee at a corner cafe before going to the hotel. I never even drank coffee before I moved here, but it seemed like everyone in Manhattan was always walking around with some form of caffeine.
It was just after 10 PM when I walked in. The cafe was completely empty except for a man behind the counter reading the newspaper. They had a bunch of flavors I had never heard of, but not my favorite caramel latte, so I had to settle for regular coffee. I continued on to find the hotel with my disappointing drink in hand.
It cost me four hundred dollars, but I was able to get one of the last available rooms. According to the concierge, there were already quite a few people from my building staying there. Shannon and her friends were walking up to the front desk as I entered the elevator.
I could hear most of their conversation while they checked in until one of the girls erupted into a coughing fit. She was so pale that the veins in her face were beginning to show. No more than fifteen minutes ago, she appeared completely healthy, but now she looked like she had been suffering from pneumonia for weeks.
The elevator doors closed and took me up to my floor. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Shannon’s friend and the lady I saw being taken away from my building. It was for reasons like that that I could never follow in my parents’ footsteps and go for a career in medicine. Somehow they became experts at shutting out emotions when dealing with patients. I must have been in fifth grade when I asked my dad if he had ever lost a patient. He told me he had lost many, but didn’t let himself think about it. If he got emotional over every loss, then he would never be able to move on and save the next person.
I got off on the sixth floor to find my landlord waiting for the elevator. His expression when he saw me said that he would have rather it had been anyone else in the world but me getting off of that elevator. He was probably dreading the pending complaints from my parents.
“Hi, Mr. Stahl.” I spoke first. “Any news on what happened?”
“Lynn Sutherland, fourth floor. She moved in right after you. She didn’t show up to work or return anyone’s calls for a few days. Her family called the police to check on her, so I let them in.”
He finished there and walked into the elevator. I put my hand out to stop the door from closing.
“Is she all right? I saw them taking her away.”
“She was sick, real sick. I hear she travels a lot. She just got back from overseas somewhere. EMT says she might have picked up something.”
He looked spooked.
“What do you mean something? The police don’t evacuate a building because someone is sick.” I was beginning to think it might be a good idea to call my parents after all. At least they could offer professional advice.
“No … no, I suppose they don’t.”
He definitely wasn’t telling me everything. He kept pressing the elevator button to go down as if I wasn’t even there.
“Where are you going?” I asked him.
“I’ve got to pick up a few things from my place there. I left so fast to get a room I forgot half my stuff.”
That made me realize I had also come here with nothing.
“Do you think they’ll let us back in? I want to get some of my things if we’re going to be here awhile.”
“No, you stay here. No sense in both of us getting in trouble in case they kick us out. Besides, I don’t think your father would appreciate hearing that I let you back in before everything was checked out.”
Mr. Stahl was still staring down at the elevator buttons like they were part of the conversation. I let the door go and walked to my room, seeing as this wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I was pleasantly surprised when I opened my door. The room was definitely worth the money spent and almost made me regret having to go back to my cramped apartment. It was nice to stay in a room where you could actually see the floor and the bed wasn’t covered with laundry in true bachelor-pad style.
My cell phone battery was dying, and without a charger or my laptop, I felt completely cut off from the outside world. I didn’t have my architecture book to study from either, so all I could do to pass the time was watch TV.
I put on the evening news thinking there might be something about the police at my building, but I guess it was too boring to report compared to celebrity babies and breakups. The next best thing was spending a few bucks on a movie.
I found the old black-and-white version of Frankenstein from the 1930s, a personal favorite. I must have seen this a dozen times since first watching it in the third grade. My father told me people actually used to be scared when the film first came out. If anything, I felt bad for the monster.
An hour through the movie, the sound of a woman crying in the hall caught my attention. Hopefully, whatever was going on at the apartment was done by now. Sitting around in the hotel room was making me antsy and I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep any time soon after finishing my coffee. At least if I could get a change of clothes and my toothbrush, I'd feel more comfortable staying here overnight. I grabbed my phone, which was dead by now, and my bag, and left the room.
The crying was coming from up ahead by the elevator, but whoever it was sounded like they were calming down. Shannon walked around the corner, looking down at her phon
e in one hand and holding a bucket of ice in the other.
“Hey Shannon, are you all right?” She looked miserable and then I remembered her friend from the lobby.
“Oh hey Dorian, I didn’t know you were here too. It’s just my friend, Michelle. She was feeling really sick earlier tonight so another of our friends took her to the hospital. It had me really freaked out and then I got this call from the friend that took her. Some homeless druggie in the emergency room started attacking people, so now they aren’t letting anyone in to visit. I have no idea if she’s okay or not.”
I’m terrible at comforting people, but I felt like I had to say something.
“I’m sure she’s fine. Hospitals are set up to handle that stuff. It’s pretty much the safest place you can be other than a police precinct.”
“I hope so. This whole night has been a big mess. Did you hear anything about going back to our place yet?”
“No, but Mr. Stahl went about an hour ago. He said this was all because that woman was sick. Her apartment is nowhere near ours so I'm hoping they'll let me in to pick up some stuff in case we’re stuck here for a while. If you need me later, I’m staying in room 602.”
“Thanks,” she smiled as a tiny vein under her eye grew darker. “Let me know if you find out anything.”
Chapter Two
Walking through my neighborhood was a lot more peaceful without all the commotion. Nighttime was never an excuse for Manhattan to quiet down, but at least this area was far away from any tourist hotspots. The only noise on my block was the hum of air conditioners in tenants’ windows. I could see my building across the street as I approached. The yellow tape had been torn down and there were lights on in some of the apartments. The police cars were gone now, replaced by a single CDC van, and the front door was left propped open. This was a good sign. If the officials had started to clear out then the building must be safe.
I poked my head in and wasn’t met with any immediate resistance. There was a light coming from the landlord’s place. He had the door open, and with no other way upstairs, I would have to sneak past to avoid being caught. From the stairs opposite Mr. Stahl’s apartment, I could see him inside with his back turned to me. As I climbed the stairs, I heard the sound of footsteps coming from each floor.
Shannon’s door was open too, but the lights weren’t on. I checked inside from the hallway and saw a man in a facemask and sanitation suit with the letters CDC printed on the back. He was crouched down, working in the dark. I started getting nervous that they would actually find something hazardous, especially with my apartment being right next to hers. It must have been pretty bad if they were checking the entire building and not just the victim’s floor.
The door to my place was still closed, so they must have not gotten to it yet. Before I saw the worker next door, I was thinking of staying here. Now I felt like they would need to examine my place, too. And what if they actually found something? It could be West Nile virus, or even anthrax or the bird flu. I hurried into my room and began throwing clothes in my bag, along with my toothbrush and anything else I could realistically fit.
There was a strange growling sound coming through the wall from Shannon’s apartment. It could be one of those police dogs they used to sniff out trouble, but why would the CDC need that? When I listened more closely, the growl was actually more of a guttural croak. I had heard it once before at the veterinary office where my mom worked; it was the sound of a sick animal dying. A wave of sadness washed over me as I listened to the poor animal’s struggle for breath grow louder. Coming here was a terrible idea after all.
Back in the hallway, I could still hear the unnerving death rattle from Shannon’s place as I locked my door. I peeked in to see the CDC worker still crouched in the dark. There was no dog that I could see, but it sounded as if the noise was coming from him instead. He got up slowly. When he turned around, it hit me: the weird noise I was hearing was the respirator of his mask.
Feeling a little stupid for letting my imagination run wild like that, I quickly walked away and took out my phone. Of course, it was still dead, and in my haste, I had left the charger behind. I ran back into my place, tripping over piles of laundry and unpacked boxes as I rummaged around in the dark.
The sound of footsteps entering the apartment put a stop to my search. I had left the door open when I came in, so the CDC worker probably thought this was the next room to check. Right now I wasn’t even worried about being kicked out, seeing as how I wanted to leave as soon as possible anyway. I stepped out to the living room where the worker was standing to announce myself.
“Sorry, I’ll be right out. I was just picking up some stuff.”
If this thing was airborne, I might have already exposed myself to whatever it was in my stupidity. Now they were probably going to need to decontaminate me. Dad would know what to do in case I did catch something, but that would mean going home.
“There you are.” I spoke to the charger while reaching under the bed for it.
A gloved hand clamped down on my shoulder from behind. I jerked away, putting the charger in my bag, and got to my feet. It was the CDC worker coming to reprimand and evict me.
“Look, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to come in to get some of my stuff. I know it was stupid, but my landlord said he was coming in so I figured it would be fine …” I didn’t get to finish firing off excuses before he reached out with both hands to grab me.
I backed up into my night table, just out of his reach. He smelled awful, like he had just vomited. I recoiled from the stench, trying my best not to be rude about it. I would have expected a chemical smell from sanitizing, but the smell reminded me more of the homeless man on the subway.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go with you,” I said, louder this time so he could hear me over his respirator.
Headlights from a passing car illuminated the room just enough for me to get a good look at the man behind the mask.
“What the hell?” I shouted and backed up further.
His mask was cracked and large cysts covered most of his face. Immediately, I realized it wasn’t the respirator on its own making that noise. The man’s mouth was covered by the growths, making any attempt at breathing or talking result in an eerie death rattle that reverberated in the breathing device. Some sort of black fluid had leaked out and covered the front of his suit, causing the horrible stench.
Part of me thought this was some sort of sick dream I was having. Maybe I’d fallen asleep during the movie. I had never seen or even heard of anything like this happening to a person. I went to move past the poor guy, but he blocked my way and lunged at me.
“Stop! Get away from me,” I pleaded.
He wasn’t listening. He still had a surprising amount of strength left for someone in as bad of shape as he was. When he got closer, I saw that the whites of his eyes were black and the iris was grayish like a film negative. His skin was so white and flakey it was like it had been painted.
I ducked under his grasp and backed into my living room, but the man wouldn’t stop coming after me. He made a mad dash through the apartment, plowing through everything in his way. I almost escaped when he grabbed my bag, pulling me back inside. This guy had completely lost his mind. I had no choice but to let my stuff go and make a run for it.
I slammed the door shut on him and called for help, hoping one of his buddies was still around. As I ran down the hall, the mutated man kept banging and clawing at the door from the other side. I was halfway down the corridor when another of the CDC workers coming up the stairs answered my screams.
“Hey, you have to help me. One of your men is in my apartment. He’s hurt really badly and going crazy …” My voice trailed off as he turned to me.
He was in even worse shape than the other guy. This one’s suit was ripped down the front, exposing most of his body, which was lined with blackened veins. Bulbous tumors swelled through the cracks in his chalky skin. He was missing a glove, which showed how badly deformed his hand was
. The tips of his fingers jutted out in the form of sharp claws.
This had to be a nightmare, but it seemed too real. I doubled back, looking for anywhere I could hide. The first man was still pounding on my door to get out and now the other man was right behind me. He was running alarmingly fast for someone who looked like he should be limping.
The only place easily available was Shannon’s. I ducked inside with the crazed man at my heels, but something on the floor caused me to slip and fall. I didn’t even want to think about what the wet, sticky substance was, nor did I have the time to check.
I was scrambling away when I felt him grab my hair and pull me back. The claws from his ungloved hand dug into my scalp as I attempted to break free. All I could do to defend myself was strike wildly behind me in an effort to break his hold. The man was hissing and snarling like an animal. I could hear his jaw chomping the air as he tried in vain to bite me through his mask.
By using all of my strength, I twisted his wrist around until I heard it snap. He didn’t even flinch in pain or back off at all. His broken hand flailed lamely at the end of his arm as he continued to reach for me. I scrambled around in the dark for something I could defend myself with, but Shannon’s apartment was immaculate except for the CDC’s mess.
The only useful thing I found was a wood chair. I had to try and knock this guy out so I could make a run for it. I dodged to the side as he came at me and then swung with enough force to break the chair, although it didn’t stun him for long. I had just enough time to slip past and get out the door. I wanted to lock him inside like I did the first man, but this one was too fast. His fingers were stuck between the door and the frame, preventing me from closing it. It was an uphill battle trying to keep the door closed with him being so much stronger than me.
