Apartment Building E

by Malachi King

  Apartment Building E

  By Malachi King

  Copyright 2011 by Malachi King

  Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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  http://www.untreedreads.com

  Apartment Building E

  By Malachi King

  Jack Bronson walked into the office of Riverside Acres Apartments hoping to be hired on the spot. A sign on the door read: MANAGER’S OFFICE—BILL FRISK.

  Jack had earlier seen an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position at Riverside. It had been tucked neatly under an ad looking for someone who knew massages “like the back of your hand” and on top of one that shouted “WORK FROM HOME! $1000-5000 PER MONTH.” He remembered thinking, what kind of fool would call that number? The torn paper in his hand had the ad for the janitor’s position he was applying for, and part of the WORK FROM HOME ad. I might be that kind of fool if I don’t get this job, Jack thought. He stuffed the piece of paper in his jeans pocket as the office door closed behind him.

  A fat, sweaty bald man looked up from his desk. He had a book in his shaky hands and his reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. Jack made out part of the book title: …House of Usher.

  “Yeah?” Bill Frisk drawled. The room smelled of sweat and cigar smoke. Fat Man smokes Swisher Sweets, Jack noted.

  “I saw an ad in the paper for a janitor’s position and I think I’m your man.” He had rehearsed this and it had sounded good at home in front of the bathroom mirror. Now it just sounded rehearsed and Jack’s voiced cracked when he said “man.”

  Mr. Frisk got excited. “Oh. Yes! We certainly are. Glad you came by! Have a seat, have a seat.” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk with a wave of his hand.

  Jack sat and extended his hand. “Jack Bronson. I’ve worked as a janitor for Thomson’s Middle School for two years and right now I’m between jobs.”

  There was an ashtray full of cigar butts and a pack of Swisher Sweets lying on the desk. Bill Frisk leaned forward and shook his hand. Jack noticed with disgust that Bill’s hand was clammy and wet with sweat. Gross. This guy’s a pig.

  “We are certainly looking for someone, no doubt.” Bill fidgeted nervously with some papers scattered in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth. “Can’t seem to hold on to ’em…” His voice trailed off.

  Jack smelled whiskey. Maybe I’ve come at a bad time, he thought but didn’t say. He needed this job badly and wasn’t about to leave just because this guy acted like he was going to have a nervous breakdown right in front of him. Just give me the job first before you off yourself, he thought.

  “Well, I can keep the building clean and maintained if you like. No problem there. I used to be a plumber, actually. I worked in Carson City for five years before—”

  “I see, I see.” Bill interrupted. Then he looked Jack in the eye, “Have you ever had any trouble with people?” His placid face was pale. He looked desperate.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then the job is yours. You’ll be in charge of Apartment Building E, the last one down at the end of the lot behind the big willow tree. There are forty units, ten each floor; you’ll get ten dollars an hour. Here’s the keys. The maintenance room is around the back.” Then he added, “Good luck.”

  Jack got the feeling Bill Frisk wanted him to leave. The feeling was mutual and Jack left.

  Riverside Acres Apartments had been built in a middle class neighborhood and began with one building built and owned by A.R. Wallace. He was a descendent of the famous Alfred Russell Wallace, collaborator of Charles Darwin and the theory of natural selection. Wallace had developed his ideas the same time as Darwin and they published a joint paper before Darwin’s Origin of Species went to print. It was speculated that Wallace was selected out of evolutionary history because of his distasteful involvement in the occult. There were rumors he even experimented on hybrid plants with psychedelic effects.

  Jack drove into the apartment complex and took note of the beautiful maple and apple blossom trees that adorned the landscape. Apartment buildings A and B were mostly white vinyl and well made, the sidewalks clean with black shutters framing the windows. There were parking garages along each building with several cars huddled together in small groups throughout the lots.

  Nice, Jack thought. His own home was just around the block, two stories and sixty years old. It had pale green siding and several trees in the back yard; a large weeping willow was his favorite. He thought of his wife who was probably home right now with their son who had just turned six and was learning the joy of climbing trees. Twice now Jack had to bring a ladder to a tree after his son climbed so high he couldn’t get down and had shrieked loud enough to rouse Jack from deep within a novel.

  He passed Apartment Buildings C and D, equally clean but a little older, and approached a sharp turn in the drive. As he made the turn he nearly ran into a newspaper boy on his bike.

  Jack swerved sharply to miss him and his truck bounced over the curb. He skidded to a stop and looked just in time to see the boy peddling furiously to get away. The boy looked over his shoulder at Jack for a split second and his eyes were apologetic, but there was something else. A deep seated fear. He saw how the boy was gripping the bike’s handles with white knuckles, his eyes wide and his legs pumping hard on his peddles. Geez, kid. It wasn’t THAT close. Jack watched him race around the corner. He shook his head and looked forward.

  A monstrous willow tree was inches from his bumper.

  Its long branches dangled over the hood of his engine, they were dark and stringy. He had never seen a willow tree so huge. The trunk was at least ten feet around and emerged from the ground in great ropy bulges extending twenty or more feet in the air before it was lost in a great sea of branches. Jack spotted little rivulets of what looked like green moss growing on its ancient trunk. There were gaping crevasses extending deep into the tree and Jack was amazed that the mammoth was still alive. It looked to be hundreds of years old.

  He slowly backed his truck onto the road. He gave a low whistle as more of the tree came into view. It dominated the entire front acreage of Apartment Building E. Branches extended over the paved drive and dangled onto the other side, hanging in massive strings like a forest of very tall weeds. The front lawn of Apartment Building E was covered by these hanging branches as well and they obscured most of the building from view. Jack drove forward under the branches, hearing his tires crunch over a mat of dead willow stringers that covered the road.

  He pulled into the parking spot on the other side of the tree and got out. The front door of Apartment Building E was visibl
e although it was covered with a thin layer of moss the same shade of pale green that Jack noticed on the willow trunk. The rest of the front side was totally obscured by branches that were pushing against it. They were thick and bunched together, long sinewy strands that seemed to be a part of Apartment Building E itself. It was hard to tell where the wall started and the branches stopped.

  Jack shrugged off the chills and wondered why people would live in such a dump. He made his way around the corner of Apartment Building E and walked along the side to the back. There was trash scattered along the foundation and he noticed great cracks in the concrete running the entire side. The sidewalk was uneven and jutted out in several places making it difficult to walk. Jack had to be careful to prevent jamming his foot on the raised edges. He envied the janitors of the other apartments and could imagine them sitting around jeering at the poor sucker who had to maintain Building E.

  The maintenance door had a dead bolt lock which only opened with considerable effort; Jack nearly wrenched the key in two trying to unlock it. The door swung open and with nothing to stop it, thudded against the wood siding.

  It was dark inside and he fished along the wall for the light. Jack clicked it on and saw a maintenance room that was dirty, smelly, and totally inadequate. There were dusty shelves holding old bottles of various liquids, all dark and mysterious. The right wall was lined with a variety of shears, spades and saws, each with old worn handles. A table was at the far end covered with tools that had been tossed there by the previous user. A lazy, dirty bastard, Jack thought.

  Jack knew he’d better inspect the rest of the building to see what he was really up against. He headed for a door at the back and stepped over moldy boards and piles of dirt. He brushed against a broom hanging on the wall. The broom had pale green residue on the ends of the bristles.

  The door opened into a dimly lit hallway with red carpeting. A light flickered at one end, with a stairway beyond. Doors lined the walls every twenty feet and Jack headed towards the stairs noticing the uneven plaster, the large ornate trim around each door. The place looked like it was built in the 1800s. He began to wonder if he shouldn’t have called the work-from-home number in the newspaper instead.

  At the end of the hallway there was a door marked BOILER ROOM. He pushed the door open with effort and saw an enormous furnace that looked recently installed. It was fed by a natural gas line that crept up the wall and exited through a hole to the outside. It wasn’t running so Jack checked the pilot light to make sure it was lit.

  “Are you the new handy?”

  Jack spun around and saw a little girl standing in the doorway. She had bright green eyes and black hair and she wore a white sun dress with red polka dots. She held a Tootsie Pop in her hand.

  “Yes. My name’s Jack.”

  “My name is Madeline. I’m six years old. Mommy says not to talk to people here, but the last handy was funny and he fixed our door. Do you fix things?” Her voice sounded earnest.

  “I try. Do you need something fixed, Madeline?”

  “I sure do.” She paused. “I’m scared of our walls.”

  “Your walls?”

  “And the floor is green,” she said.

  “Well, let’s go take a look. I’m sure there’s no reason to be afraid.” Jack hoped he sounded more convinced than he was. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Apartment Building E and it wasn’t the cracked foundation or the run down interior. It’s that damned tree.

  Jack knew it was common for trees that grew too close to houses to spread mold over the roof. The tree would drop spores on the roof and the shade would keep the sun from drying it out. The area became damp and moldy and eventually the shingles would have to be replaced or the tree cut down. He wondered why someone didn’t cut that monster willow down ages ago.

  Madeline led Jack up the stairs and into the second floor hallway.

  “Mine is at the end.” Madeline said and replaced the Tootsie Pop in her mouth. “Ong za right.”

  Of course, Jack thought. The same side as the willow.

  When they got half way down the hallway, large pounding sounds broke the stillness and caused Jack to stiffen. It sounded like they came from behind the next door. Jack glanced at Madeline. She looked unconcerned.

  “That’s just Marge. She’s got cats.” As if that explained it.

  Jack began, “Does Marge—”

  The door flung open and a large elderly lady emerged and nearly bowled Jack over. She was frantic and held a cat under her arm. Bare feet, wearing a pale yellow gown. Curlers in her hair. The cat had sharp greenish eyes and was scratching and biting, trying to get away. It had drawn blood on Marge’s side, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I didn’t do it! Tell them I didn’t do it! He’s still alive!” Her eyes glowed a deep green. They had the same faraway look Jack had seen in his cousin’s eyes when he went to visit him in the nuthouse.

  Marge lowered her head and ran between Madeline and Jack. She knocked Madeline to the floor and pushed Jack against the wall.

  When she got near the stairs she turned and cried, “If you don’t believe me ask Verde!” She swung her right arm and the cat sailed through the air screeching wildly. Jack ducked. An outstretched paw managed to catch Jack on the cheek, scraping three parallel lines across his face.

  The cat bounded off the wall, barely managing to land on its feet. It ran across the hall and butted its head against the plaster. Hissing, it sprinted back into Marge’s room. Jack could hear Marge laughing on her way down the stairs. It was a crazy person’s laugh; long, hollow, and unnerving.

  Jack grabbed Madeline by the shoulders. “Are you all right?” She was crying and nodded her head. He picked her up and headed down the hall to the last door. Blood tickled his face as it ran down his cheek.

  He passed the open door to Marge’s apartment and saw branches covering the ceiling. There was green mold on everything.

  He panicked and ran.

  They approached the last door on the right and Madeline pointed down. Jack looked and saw a green film extending out from under the door. He grabbed the knob and twisted. It was locked.

  Jack set Madeline down who was sobbing. “Madeline, listen! Is your mommy in there?” She sniffled and nodded. He knocked on the door. No answer.

  There was a creaking and then a loud crash at the other side of Apartment Building E. Madeline screamed.

  Jack pounded on the door. “MISS! Your daughter’s out here!” He had no idea what the crash was. It took all of his will not to turn around and get the heck out of there. He couldn’t just leave Madeline sobbing in the middle of the hallway.

  I am going to knock this door down if her mother doesn’t answer. Jack was getting desperate. He could hear hissing from the other end of the hall; he imagined it was burst water pipes. He hoped the natural gas lines were still intact.

  There was a tugging at his side. Madeline was grabbing at the keys on his belt, tears streaming down her face. “Mommy,” she muttered.

  The keys! He fumbled through the ring of keys Bill Frisk had given him. He realized he had no idea which one to use. He picked one and tried it. No good. He grabbed another one and tried it. It worked. The door opened and Jack was immediately greeted with scratchy branches brushing his face.

  “Stay here, Madeline!” he yelled. He heard another crash, this time closer. There were voices yelling in the hallway behind him. Jack charged into the apartment with his arms out in front sweeping aside bundles of whip-like branches hanging everywhere. The floor was slick with mold. It stank of vegetation and mildew. He stayed low and moved further into the room. There were pieces of furniture coated with dark green ooze and he scanned for any sign of Madeline’s mother. “ANYBODY HERE?” he called out. No answer.

  He was about to turn back when he heard a soft moan. It sounded like it was coming from his left, but he couldn’t see more than a few feet through the branches.

  “Are you there?” He took a few step
s in the direction he heard the moan, pulling the branches back with his arms.

  Then he spotted her. Or, at least what he thought was her. There was a large hump in a mass of thin leaves crowded against the wall. Jack knelt down and began to tear away pieces of willow. The thin branches were wrapped tightly around her like a net, tough and stringy. Jack felt the branches from above closing in on him, settling on his shoulders.

  He brushed them away and continued to tear at the branches holding Madeline’s mother against the wall. “I’ve found her!” he yelled to Madeline. He grabbed leaves and branches with both hands, tore them away, and finally exposed a woman’s arm. He pulled on it with one hand and pushed branches aside with the other.

  Madeline’s mother came free.

  Her eyes were closed and she was covered with the greenish mold. Jack grabbed her arm and lifted her up enough to dip his shoulder under her stomach. He stood. The putrid smell of the ooze filled his nose and he coughed, forcing his way towards the door. He held his breath as long as he could, remembering Marge’s green and insane-looking eyes. That’s not happening to me, by God.

  Jack pushed himself to the door, the hanging willow branches seemed to hold him back. They brushed his face and hundreds of thick and stringy branches settled around his shoulders. He slowed against the pressure and his feet began to slip.

  A small hand reached through the greenery and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

  “Pull, Madeline!” Jack shouted. His shirt tightened and the extra force enabled him to stumble through the door into the hallway. Madeline’s mother tumbled to the floor, a mess of green ooze and twigs.

  Jack was out of breath. “We have…to get out of here.”

  Madeline was staring at her mother lying on the floor. The woman was breathing short raspy breaths. The girl stopped crying. She reached down and wiped the mold-slime from her mother’s face.

  Jack looked down the hallway toward the stairs. He could still hear a hissing noise in the building and a few voices were arguing. He wanted to get out of there, badly. He thought a wall had collapsed somewhere and damaged some water pipes, or even worse, a gas line. This could blow any second.