The Noxious Neighbors Part 8
PB can see right down the barrel of the shotgun. He can see the darkness in the tunnel and waits for the fire to flash out and bite him. Someone gets out of the passenger seat of the Lexus but PB doesn’t look over. All he can do is stare down into the darkness.
“Why you asking about a girl?”
PB looks over at the man who has left the car and is speaking to him. The man has a thick neck and tattoos along the collar of his t-shirt.
“What do you mean?”
“Why you asking about a girl man?”
When the man with the thick neck repeats the question the rest of the passengers exit the car including the one with the shotgun, a skinny little guy with a dark soul patch that sits flat below his mouth. PB looks at the skinny man’s eyes and then back into the barrel and into the darkness.
“I was just trying to figure out what is happening,” PB says absently and the thick necked one drags a large revolver from the waistline of his pants and points it directly at PB’s head.
“You are stupid,” the thick neck says “And so dead.”
“Stop!”
The waitress from the restaurant has joined them in the parking lot and as she approaches them the heels of her shoes make sharp cracks against the pavement and the men look at each other uncomfortably. She speaks to the thick necked one in Spanish and he lowers the gun. She walks passed him and stands directly in front of PB, her big brown eyes probing into his face.
“Who are these guys?” PB asks.
“Do you know Lupe?” she says, slapping his question away.
“Who’s Lupe?”
“Our cousin from El Salvador. She was attacked last night and taken up into the hills.”
“Do you know where she is?”
The skinny man with the soul patch pulls back the pump on his shotgun.
“Why you want to know? Who are you?” the girl demands.
PB tells them everything. He describes the light and the sounds that came from behind his neighbor’s door. He tells them of following his neighbor up into the hills and of the people in cloaks that murdered a goat in front of him. He talks about Lupe and how he fought the people with cloaks using a large tree branch before he and Lupe escaped and Lupe disappeared.
“She’s not in no danger,” the girl says “She’s already on a plane back home. She got in a car that was running and came back to my house and I helped her ditch the car this morning.”
“That was my car,” PB points out.
“That piece of shit?” one of the men says and flexes his chin in the direction of PB’s old Honda.
“These people, these freaks, they grabbed Lupe off the street and put her in a van,” the girl explains “They said they would kill her to raise a demon.”
One of the men laughs but PB keeps his composure and nods wearily.
“They’re a bunch of dungeon and dragon nerds but they mean business. They tried to kill me today,” he mutters.
“Lupe heard them keep saying that they needed the blood of a fertile woman to raise the demon,” the girl say and the wonder and fear mingle together in her voice.
Her brother and his friends chuckle and light up various cigarettes and sticks of rolled up marijuana.
“We’re going to find these fools and smoke they ass,” her brother growls.
The men get in the car and drive off with a screech, bass and smoke drifting off in their wake. PB unlocks the door to his own car and gets in.
“You saved my cousin’s life,” the girl says to him through the window.
“No problem,” PB replies and pulls out of the parking lot.
He heads down San Pablo towards home. All he wants is to get some sleep. He has been in a never ending nightmare and his entire body can feel the toll. His ribs are bruised from being punched. His back is sore from falling off a subway platform. He wants to close his eyes and forget the last twenty four hours.
He pulls up into the parking lot behind his apartment. He knows he won’t be able to sleep with Owen across the hall. He’ll grab a few things and get a motel and bring Ellie if she’s willing to go. He approaches the building and can see the light still on in his window. He trudges up the stairs and doesn’t take his eyes off the neighbor’s door as he unlocks his own and slips inside the apartment.
The boxes still sit on the carpet with the mattress pushed off to the side. Everything is very still.
“Ellie?”
The door across the hall swings open and PB turns to see her standing in her own apartment, posted like a statue down the hall. Her face isn’t blank anymore, there’s a strange tightness around her eyes and mouth but it’s hard to make out in the semi darkness.
“Come here,” she says.
“Is everything alright?” PB asks and steps through the threshold.
“Come here,” she repeats in her flat empty voice.
PB takes a few steps in, slowly, cautiously. Ellie doesn’t move, she just stands there, and as he gets closer PB can see the tightness in her face is clearly fear.
He stops short before the bedroom door to his left and a shadow flashes across the wall as the blade of the Great Shadow sword swings down through the door way. PB falls back, the blade barely missing his face. Jerry the long hair steps into the hall, his crimson cloak billowing out behind him. He lifts the sword to take a second blow. PB is sprawled out on the floor and he pushes himself back, sliding along the rug.
The blade comes down beside him, dust and carpet flying up into the dim light. The narrow hall of the apartment is full of cloaks now, Jerry in front with the sword, the rest of them bringing up the rear. Ellie is obscured by crimson.
“Destroy him!” a voice cries out and PB knows it is Lord Zaldig.
Jerry has brought the heavy sword back up to his shoulder to strike again. PB can see that the long hair is out of balance. PB lunges forward, throwing himself into Jerry’s gut.
One cloak crashes into another cloak and they’re all falling back. The hall is a crimson wave and PB is riding on top. He swats and slaps at Jerry and then staggers up, back pedaling out of the apartment. The whole group is cursing and struggling to get up, their heavy cloaks slowing them down to slow motion. PB is already in through his own door and has it locked before they gain their footing.
He scans the empty studio for a weapon of some kind. It’s just boxes and cheap carpet, nothing to swing. Someone is throwing themselves against the door, the hinges stretching. He goes to the window and looks down. It’s not that far but it’s too far. He’ll survive, sure, but something is going to break and when it does, what then?
“Mr. James?”
There is no more commotion behind the door. It is eerily quiet and still.
“Mr. James? Are you there?”
It’s Zaldig’s voice, that deep obsidian voice that enunciates each word with a slithering of the tongue.
“Mr. James, I know you are there.”
How does Zaldig know his name? What does the bald bastard want?
“We do not need to break this door down Mr. James. There is no need. You will come to us.”
PB spots the empty bottle of tequila sitting on the carpet. He plucks it up by the end and turns towards the door.
“How’s that Zaldig?!” he says.
“The great shadow will bring you to us.”
A low hum begins to come from behind the door and PB takes a few steps back. The hum grows and then nine voices are speaking a grotesque and unintelligible language and the volume is slowly rising until it sounds like they are in the room, chanting the words.
The lights in the apartment dim as the volume of the chant increases and PB feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Continued in Part 9
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