by Brian Harmon
Eric was afraid that the cowboy would recognize Paul, that he would have gotten a look at him as they raced by in his truck…the same truck that was parked right outside, now that he was thinking about it… Perhaps that was how he’d found them. It wouldn’t have taken much. He only would have had to drive around to all these strange, hidden places and look for the truck that sped away from the restaurant.
Damn it.
But if the cowboy recognized Paul, he didn’t show it. He walked on without a second look at the hairy man sitting alone in the booth.
Eric turned and looked the other way, contemplating his chances of slipping around the table and out the other side of the room. But as soon as he glanced over, he saw it. The door was there again, large, heavy, out of place in its surroundings. It stood out like a vault door against the surrounding décor.
He didn’t bother taking the time to wonder what made it appear again. He didn’t even take the time to make sure no one was watching him. Afraid that it might disappear again before he could use it, he grabbed the handle and let himself into the dark stairwell behind it.
That was a close one.
But it wasn’t over. If the cowboy could see the restaurant (and presumably the asylum), then it stood to reason that he could probably see this place, too. It was only a matter of time before he discovered the door and came to investigate.
In fact, now that he thought about it, it might very well be that it wasn’t Eric he was looking for in the tavern at all, but the door. With no way of knowing that he hadn’t been able to see the door, the tubby hick might have assumed that he was already upstairs.
As he began climbing the steps, he withdrew Karen’s phone and said, “Isabelle, call Paul’s phone, tell him about the cowboy, and have him tell you what he’s up to. If he loses sight of him, let me know immediately.”
GOT IT
Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, he hurried up the last of the stairs and shoved open the apartment door.
There, directly in front of him, stood Aiden. He’d just stepped out of the hallway and into the open living area where the table stood with its mysterious map. He was frozen like an animal in the glare of approaching headlights, his eyes wide with panic, an open backpack hanging from his hands.
“Aiden…” breathed Eric. “Hey… Relax, okay?”
But Aiden didn’t look like he had any intention of relaxing. His wide eyes darted from Eric to the table and back again.
Eric followed his gaze. There, atop the map and amid the tools, was the Taser he fired into Paul’s thigh a short while ago, freshly reloaded with a new cartridge and ready to fire again. Eric looked from it to Aiden. Aiden looked from him to it.
“No,” said Eric. “Don’t. Just listen to me, okay?”
But Aiden wasn’t listening. His eyes darted back to the Taser, back to Eric again, judging, debating.
“Don’t…”
The Taser. Eric. The Taser. His muscles were tense. He looked wired. He was going to bolt for it any second now.
“I swear to God, I will kick your ass so bad!”
Aiden went for it.
Left with no choice, Eric went for it, too.
Aiden was faster. He snatched it off the table and swung it around, but Eric seized his hand and shoved him backward, forcing the business end of the weapon toward the ceiling.
“Drop it!” Eric shouted. “Damn it, I’m not going to hurt you!”
Aiden twisted around, struggling to free himself. Clearly, he didn’t believe him.
Throwing his weight into him, Eric forced him back against the wall, but Aiden used it for leverage and shoved back, swinging the Taser toward him again. Catching his balance just in time, Eric once more managed to wrench the weapon away from his face.
Aiden cried out as his wrist twisted painfully backward and the weapon fired harmlessly into the ceiling.
“Now calm down!” demanded Eric.
But Aiden had no intention of calming down and he was both strong and lithe. He squirmed around, managing to turn himself until he was facing the other direction, and then stomped on Eric’s foot.
Eric grunted in pain and lost his grip. Immediately, Aiden jabbed the Taser into his chest, delivering a surprisingly painful jolt that finally made him let go.
He hadn’t even known that a Taser worked that way.
Aiden might have been gone at this point, taking the advantage and fleeing, but their feet had become entangled during the struggle and both of them stumbled and fell. The Taser struck the floor and bounced away.
Aiden was quick to regain his feet, but so was Eric, who caught him with a fast right hook and knocked him back to the floor.
“Quit it!” he shouted.
Aiden sat there, his back to the wall, stroking his jaw, bewildered. “You hit me!”
“Yeah, well, you had it coming.”
“You going to kill me now?”
Eric gawked at him. “Kill you? Why the hell would I do that?”
Aiden cocked his head, confused. “Why would he do that?” he repeated, as if asking some third person that Eric wasn’t aware of. “Why wouldn’t he do that? Isn’t that what you people do?”
“What people?
Before Aiden could answer, he felt Karen’s phone vibrate against his thigh, alerting him to a new text message. When he pulled it from his pocket, he saw that he had four new messages. The last one read, GET OUT OF THERE!
Isabelle was supposed to warn him if the cowboy was on his way, but he must not have noticed the incoming messages during his scuffle with Aiden. Which meant…
He turned around, but it was too late. The cowboy was already standing in the doorway, his gun trained on Eric’s face.
“Shit,” was all he could think to say.
Chapter Eighteen
“Shit is right,” growled the cowboy as he took another step toward him, his immense form fully entering the room. “Lots of shit. You’re up to your eyeballs in it.”
Eric nodded begrudgingly. “That pretty well sums up my life, I think.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Up close, Eric could see the bruises spreading around the man’s eyes. He’d really done a number on him back at the restaurant. It was a surprisingly well-aimed hit. Again, he wondered if the only reason he didn’t already have a bullet in the back of his head was because this guy couldn’t see straight at the time.
“Congratulations, boy. Not many people can piss me off quite as bad as you’ve gone and done.”
“What did I do?” snapped Aiden.
“I’m not talking to you.”
Aiden glanced up at Eric. “Then why’d you call him ‘boy?’ He’s like forty or something.”
Eric glared at him. “Don’t make me punch you again.”
“Both of you knock it off,” bellowed the cowboy.
Eric decided not to point out that Aiden started it. This was one fat redneck who did not look like he was in the mood for nonsense.
The cowboy glanced over at the table with all of Aiden’s work scattered across it. “What’re you two up to in here?”
“Dungeons and Dragons,” replied Eric. “I’m an elf mage.”
He took a step toward Eric, thrusting the gun at him. “You know, I’m not sure I need to keep you around, smart ass. Maybe I should just blow your head off right here and now?”
Eric tried to step aside, but there was nowhere to go. All he could do was circle the room, and this man was bound to pull the trigger well before he could make it to the door. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I just had my hair cut last week.”
“Shut up.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You have one chance to tell me what the hell you’re doing up here before I shut your mouth permanently. Understood?”
There didn’t seem to be any more options. Eric really had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. “Like I told you, I’m just trying to figure out why these places are here.”
The cowboy glared at him for a moment in silence. Finally, he said, “Then I guess I don’t have no use for you, do I?”
Aiden had been sitting silently this whole time with his back against the wall. Suddenly, he bolted.
Terrified for him, certain that he couldn’t possibly make the door before this psychopath shot him dead, Eric cried out, “Don’t!”
But Aiden wasn’t going for the door. He was going for the Taser.
Startled by the abrupt movement, the cowboy swung around and fired, but Aiden was faster. The bullet entered the wall as the Taser connected with his calf, wrenching a startled cry of pain from the fat man.
Eric stepped forward and swung his fist. He wasn’t strong enough or trained well enough to knock a man of this size unconscious, but he was able to unbalance him and knock him to the floor.
Aiden used the Taser again.
The cowboy howled with pain.
Eric rushed over and kicked him in the side of his head, knocking the big hat across the room and revealing the shiny, bald crown beneath. He then knelt down and pried the gun from the man’s fat fingers as he lay dazed.
He thought it was over, but as he tried to step away with the weapon, the cowboy’s plump hand shot up and snagged his ankle, tripping him.
The gun landed on the floor, just out of reach.
Eric cursed bitterly. What did it take to stop this guy? Shouldn’t a man this fat be gasping for breath and clutching his heart by now? It wasn’t fair.
Even as he struggled to pull his leg free, the pudgy psycho was already sitting up and crawling toward him, probably intending to strangle him with his sweaty bare hands.
Aiden jabbed the Taser at the cowboy, wrenching from him an agonized scream.
“Get him off of me!” shouted Eric.
Aiden thrust the Taser a second time, this time aiming it at the cowboy’s clenched hand. But he hit Eric’s ankle instead, wrenching another curse from him.
“Knock it off!” yelled Eric.
“Don’t yell at me!” Aiden shouted back. Then he turned and fled from the room, leaving Eric alone with the relentless fat man.
The cowboy grunted and reached out for him.
He drew his free leg back and kicked at him, striking him in the shoulder. But he still refused to release his grip. Again, he kicked the man, this time, landing a blow squarely to his face. Finally, he let go, and it was no surprise. Between the loud crack of bone and the sudden deluge of blood, it was certain he’d finally broken the man’s nose.
Yet, he was still struggling to rise to his feet.
Eric scrambled backward, away from him and retrieved the gun. He really, really didn’t want to have to kill this guy, but he was beginning to think he wasn’t going to be left any choice in the matter.
Then Aiden ran back into the room, an empty tequila bottle raised over his head.
The cowboy caught sight of him and turned his watering eyes toward him as the bottle sailed downward with an audible whoosh.
The sound it made when it struck was awful. It was a soft, cracking thud, like the sound of a melon being cracked open. And then the cowboy dropped like a stone, finally unconscious.
Aiden looked at the bottle as if he’d never seen it before. “Huh. Thought for sure that’d break.”
Eric laid the gun on the floor beside him. He didn’t want anything to do with it. For all he knew, it could have been used in countless murders.
Aiden cautiously bent over the cowboy, examining him, then he lifted the bottle again.
“That’s enough!” Eric shouted. “Jesus, he’s down!”
Aiden looked at him, perplexed. “This guy was going to kill you.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
“Thanks to me.”
“And I appreciate that, but you can’t just kill the guy.”
“Why not?”
Eric stared at him. “I’m not arguing morals with you, just knock it off.”
“You knock it off!”
Before Eric could reply, Karen’s phone began to ring.
Aiden looked around the room in bewilderment at the unexpected sound of nineties pop music.
Pulling the phone from his pocket, Eric said, “I need to take this. Just…don’t kill anybody for a minute, okay?”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Isabelle when he lifted the phone to his ear. “I was so scared!”
“I’m all right. Things just got…”
“Intense. I know.”
“What’s going on downstairs?”
“Who’s downstairs?” asked Aiden. “Who’s he talking to?”
“You guys put on a nice show. Paul says the light fixtures were really shaking over the bar. That bartender lady’s beside herself thinking it’s her ghost.”
Eric grinned. “Well, maybe we’ll let her keep thinking that.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Her husband went upstairs to check it out. I thought for sure he was going to find you guys.”
“He came upstairs? We didn’t see him.”
Aiden cocked his head. “Who didn’t we see?”
“The bartender.”
“He probably went up to the third floor.”
“The third floor?” Eric had only seen two floors from outside.
“Yeah. That’s where they live. Only the second floor is unseen.”
“The second floor…?” Eric recalled Brooke’s claims that she’d heard voices and footsteps from upstairs when they were in the tavern and vice versa. If there was a floor between those two floors that she didn’t know was there—a floor on which Aiden had been squatting for the past few weeks—it would explain all the recent paranormal activity. And if only the second floor was hidden, it explained the curtains he saw from his car. He would’ve been looking at Brooke’s apartment windows, not the ones in here.
“Both apartments have private stairwells,” Aiden explained.
“That would explain it, I guess,” said Isabelle.
“I guess so. Did anyone hear the gunshot?”
“No.”
“That’s weird. I wonder why they can hear some things but not others.”
“It’s because of how specific this place is,” Aiden explained. “Compared to the others. It’s only the one alley, the second floor and the stairwell leading down to the bar. I’ve never come across another one like it.” These were the most words he’d spoken at once, and Eric found him curiously spastic. “It makes it harder to find, but it leaves too many gaps. Some things always get through.”
Things like footsteps and voices and the downstairs light fixtures shaking whenever Aiden walked over them, Eric was sure.
“I guess that answers your question,” said Isabelle.
“You know a lot about this stuff,” observed Eric.
“I do. Who is he talking to?”
Eric glanced around the apartment. There didn’t seem to be anyone else here but him, so he replied, “A friend. What is all this? Why are these places here?”
Aiden picked up the backpack he dropped when he went for the Taser and walked over to the table. “We really don’t have time to go into it here. If you’re really determined not to kill that guy, we’d better not be here when he wakes up again.”
“Yeah. I suppose so.”
“He’s right,” said Isabelle. “That guy’s trouble. You’ve got to do something about him.”
“You think I should kill him, too?”
“No! God, no. But you need to tie him up or something.”
“Nobody else can see this place. If we tie him up, he may never be found.” That was worse than killing the guy now. It might be dooming him to die slowly of thirst.
“Well you have to do something.”
Eric considered it. “Okay,” he decided and hung up. After returning the phone to his pocket, he knelt next to the cowboy. He was in bad shape. Blood ran freely from his busted nose and soaked into the carpet beneath him. There was already a large lump forming on his fo
rehead where Aiden clubbed him with the tequila bottle. His whole face was going to be bruised. He gripped the man’s heavy arm and lifted him into a sitting position. “Give me a hand with this.”
“What’s he doing?”
Eric glanced around the room again. They were still alone. “Who are you talking to?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Just help me.”
Together, and with a considerable amount of grunting on both of their parts, the two of them hoisted the unconscious fat man to his knees and then dragged him through the door and down the steps.
“This guy seriously needs to lay off the Taco Bell,” groaned Aiden.
Eric couldn’t argue. He was heavy as hell. But now wasn’t the time to stop and discuss it. “Just keep moving.”
But the words were barely out of his mouth when Aiden lost his grip and the cowboy tumbled headlong down the last few steps and thudded on the concrete below.
“What the hell?” shouted Eric.
Aiden threw his hands up. “Sorry! The guy weighs a ton! And he’s sweaty. It’s gross.”
“Just hurry up.”
They heaved the fat cowboy up to his knees again and dragged him to the metal door.
“Now if I’m right about all this, nobody can see us while we’re in the doorway. Is that correct?”
“That should be true. There are exceptions, of course. Like you, me and fatso, here.”
“All right then, let’s do this.”
Eric eased open the door and propped it with his foot. The three bikers were still sitting there, just a few feet away, still bitching about all the world’s problems. He hoped he was right about this. By now, the cowboy’s bloodied nose had run all the way down his chin and neck and was soaking into the front of his western shirt.
But so far, the bikers didn’t seem to notice them.
“Ready?”
The cowboy groaned and lolled his head back.
“Better make it fast,” Aiden warned.
“Alright. One… Two… Three…”
With all their strength, they shoved the cowboy through the open door and onto the table. Glasses and plates scattered and fell to the floor, shattering. Two of the bikers leapt to their feet. The third merely leaned back in his chair with a comically shocked expression on his face.
