Niteblade – March 2009

Still silence, then the call dropped. Melanie closed the phone and began to put it down, but it rang again. “Hello?” she answered it.

Silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing, except the faint sound of rustling. Someone was there, she could tell. Then, the line cut out. A few seconds later it rang again. Melanie pried the phone open and shouted, “Look! I am not in the mood for this, all right? Stop. Calling. Me.”

A faint voice on the other end said, “Get out of my head. Please. The cop is dead…”

Melanie threw the phone across the room as hard as she could.

When Walter came home an hour later, she was still sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chin, staring at the phone on the floor. Walter didn’t seem to notice her at all, his face was distant and he seemed upset and fidgety. He threw his coat and keys on his small kitchen table, then just stood in the middle of the room staring off into space.

“Wally, someone called me.” Melanie finally said in a small voice.

“Hmmm?” Walter snapped out of his reverie and looked at her, then followed her gaze to the phone on the floor. He bent over and picked it up. “Why did we throw our phone?” He opened and closed it several times, the flip mechanism hanging at an awkward angle. “I think you broke it.”

“Someone called me, and they wouldn’t talk. Just breathed at me.”

Walter sat down on his ratty recliner facing her, still holding her phone and absently opening and closing it. His eyes looked distant. “Did he say anything at all?”

“He told me to get out of his head, and that Jerrod was dead. Who would do that?” She pointed at her phone. “His phone number is still in there, probably. What should I do?”

Walter’s eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the phone, reading the last number on her caller ID. “We take this phone number to the police, and we do it right now. It’s probably just a coincidence or a sick practical joke, but we should let them know all the same.”

Melanie nodded numbly, and got up. “This is the worst day of my life. Every time I think it’s as bad as it can get, it finds a way to get worse. I’m terrified to leave your house.”

“I’ll take care of you. It’s my life’s work.”

~*~

Melanie sat on a hard bench in the police station waiting area while Walter went in search of a coffee shop for one of his five or six daily caffeine injections. She shared the room with almost a dozen other people. Contrary to what she’d seen on TV police dramas, it was impossible to tell who were the criminals and who were not. No one wore a black leather jacket with a switchblade sticking out of their back pocket. No obvious mafia toughs. No outlandishly dressed hookers. Just people who looked like her: tired, disheveled, and vaguely frightened. She smiled at the safest looking person in the room, a motherly looking woman sitting across from her, and got flipped off for her trouble.

Melanie looked at her watch and hoped Walter would be back soon. The cop had come to speak to her, and Walter had vanished on his coffee hunt. But the cop had left soon after to run the phone number, and now she was alone. She found herself getting irrationally angry with Walter for leaving. When she looked up, a man was sitting next to her. She hadn’t seen him come in. He caught her eye and smiled. “Hi. Been waiting long?” he asked.

Melanie looked him over uneasily. He was late middle aged, thin black hair styled in a desperate comb over with far too much open territory for the few remaining strands. He had a large beak nose over a severe overbite. And his thin frame was covered by a yellow and orange leisure suit that had probably been the height of fashion in 1972. His smile seemed genuine and friendly, though, so Melanie smiled back. “Not too long.”

The man stuck out his hand. “Bob. Bob Doyle.”

She shook, and was surprised by his firm and dry handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re a pretty girl.”

Melanie’s skin began to crawl. “Thanks.” She managed to work up a watery grin.

Bob looked her up and down, and Melanie wished she could disappear into her chair. Leave me alone, she thought. Please, can’t something go right today?

Across the room and to her right, a heavyset man stood up and charged over to the counter. He began shouting in slurred sentences.

Melanie wanted to turn away from this, but that would mean turning towards Bob. She ducked her head and put her hands in her pockets. The woman across from her joined in the shouting. To Melanie’s right, a small skinny man began shouting back. The large, heavyset man’s yelling became louder and when Melanie glanced at him, she saw that he was trying to lean over the counter.

“Everyone back!” a male officer shouted. He wasn’t one that Melanie knew.

One Response to “Avatar”