The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 8

"Okay, he we are." Audra pleasantly announced as she parked her blue, 1973 Monte Carlo in front of a three story apartment building.

Charles sat in the passenger's seat and looked out the window at the aged building in a subtle, if not somewhat passive glare as to say that the tenement wasn't what he expected.

Slowly climbing out of the car with his cane in hand, Charles watched as Audra, dressed in a pair of brown corduroy pants and an orange jacket, practically raced around the vehicle to open the trunk.

"Now don't you go gettin' my bags for me!" Charles limped over towards the woman. "I am perfectly capable of carrying my own stuff." The man politely smiled as he secured his two duffle bags from Audra.

Smiling right back, Audra said, "Okay, but don't you go trying to climb those stairs without me." She shut the trunk and walked beside Charles.

The sharp, morning wind scooted both individuals up five stone steps that led to the front door of the brick building. Audra pushed open the door and held it for Charles behind her.

"This door is left unlocked until 8 p.m." Audra explained. "Everyone has their own key, so if you need to get in then it shouldn't be a problem."

"I understand." Charles graciously made his way inside. "Shucks, at my age, I'm in the bed at 8 p.m." He snickered.

"Me, too," Audra laughed back.

Charles stood for a moment or two and examined the downstairs area where to his immediate right was ten mailbox slots. Straight ahead was the kitchen, as well as another door just shy of the threshold.

"As you can probably tell, this is the second floor." Audra presented. "I already put your name on your own mailbox.

"Thank you very much." Charles grinned.

"Down that way is the kitchen. Now, each apartment has its own icebox and stove, but the kitchen is primarily used for the big meals like Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter." Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

"I see." Charles nodded his head.

"And that door there leads down to the basement." Audra pointed. "We have a few folks in here that keep their bikes down there. We actually had a woman that tried to hide her Doberman down there once."

"Are you serious?" Charles looked shocked.

"Oh yes, I had to kick her behind outta here."

All of the sudden, both Charles and Audra spun around at the clamoring of what sounded like feet tumbling down the stairs next to them. Charles staggered back a bit to see just what was happening.

"Oh, it's you!" Audra caught herself.

It was a young, white man with a curly, brown afro who was clothed in an all blue jogging suit and tennis shoes.

"Oh, sorry, Mrs. Watson, I was just on my way out." The man suddenly stopped short of the front door.

"Robin, I want you to meet Mr. Mercer."

"How are you, sir?" Robin gladly extended his right hand.

"Good to meet you, young fella!" Charles gregariously greeted the boy with a hearty handshake.

"Mr. Mercer is gonna be staying in room six."

"Oh yeah," Robin lit up. "That's right next to me."

"Well, that's good to know!" Charles exclaimed as he studied Robin from head to toe.

"Well, I gotta get out and get running." Robin began for the front door.

"Get running?" Charles questioned. "Gettin' your exercise in?"

"Something like that, sir. You see, I'm training for the Olympic

"You don't say!" Charles grew bright-eyed.

"Yes, sir, it's been a dream of mine ever since I was a kid, or at least ever since Bruce Jenner."

"Oh, the fella on the cereal box," Charles smirked.

"That's right." Robin laughed. "Well, everyone have a good day, and it was great meeting you, sir!" Robin said as he bolted out the door.

"I'll see ya around, young fella!"

"He's a good boy." Audra began for the upstairs. "Always runnin' around here and there."

"He's a good boy, a good boy indeed." Charles followed in behind.

"Can you make it up alright?" Audra turned with a worried face.

"I'll make it the best I can." Charles strained up the tall steps.

"I'm sorry that all the rooms are upstairs." Audra lamented as she made it to the third floor.

Meeting her, Charles said, "Now you stop apologizing, this place is like a castle to me. Besides, the doctor said that I need all the exercise I can get. So those steps will do just fine."

Audra carried on down the hallway with Charles bringing up the rear. With every door that they passed there seemed to be a different story attached. One door had The Floaters', 'Float On,' playing behind it, while another door had the smell of chicken frying on the other end.

To Charles, and after so many months, everything that surrounded him was a complete and utter mystery. All the shut doors might as well have been dungeons as far as his superstitious intuition was concerned.

"Here we are." Audra stood in front of apartment number six with a key ready to unlock the door.

Charles waited and watched as she opened the door and stepped right in. Inside was a small stove, a couple of cabinets above it and an icebox, while in another room adjacent from the tiny kitchen was what appeared to be the living area, complete with one couch, a small table beside it and a television in front of the couch.

"Everything is self-explanatory as you can tell." Audra said.

"It's a whole lot bigger than my last place, I can assure you that." Charles grinned from ear to ear.

"Beyond that door is the bedroom." Audra directed. "The last gentleman that was here made sure to keep the place in good shape before he left."

Charles just stood in the middle of the kitchen floor and gazed all around at his new environment with the same subtlety that he carried with him out of the car moments earlier. On the outside he was marveling, while on the inside he was falling.

"I sure do hope and pray that you enjoy yourself here." Audra handed the key to Charles.

"I'm quite sure I will, Mrs. Watson." He happily took the key.

"Now wait a minute, you and I have known each other since July, and you're still calling me Mrs. Watson. Why is that?"

Blushing, Charles replied, "Well, that's just the way I see it."

Taking Charles by the hand, Audra leaned forward and said, "You can call me Audra. This is your home now."

Charles humbly nodded before looking around some more and saying, "Now, I'm gonna tell you something, Mrs....Audra. I don't plan on just sitting around here and doing nothing morning, noon and night." He adamantly stated. "I plan on going down to that little diner on the corner and seeing if they have anything open. Add to the fact that I get my early retirement, too."

"But what about your condition," Audra looked concerned.

Patting her on the hand, Charles replied, "I'll make do with that."

Audra placed her hands on her hips and stared around the apartment for a while before focusing back on Charles.

"I'll tell you what, we need a maintenance man around here. The last one we had couldn't seem to stay off the booze."

"I know how to fix stuff." Charles' eyes grew two sizes larger with excitement.

"That's good, and it definitely beats having to go out and look for work. You pick up the maintenance duties around here and we'll see what we can do about your ren

Charles just glared back at Audra with a suspicious hint in his eyes, as though he could sense that the gears in her head were moving at lightning speed.

"It'll all work out for the better." She pressed her lips together.

"I surely appreciate it, Audra. By the way, do you have a phone here? I wanna try and see if I can talk to my grand boy for a while."

"It's downstairs right before you come to the kitchen."

"Good, good." Charles sighed. "I haven't seen that little scratch in months."

The two quietly stood opposite each other for at least ten seconds before Audra turned and began for the door.

"I gotta go and see how Mrs. Howell in room four is doing." Audra mentioned. "She has Alzheimer's and I don't like leaving her alone for too long."

"I surely understand." Charles hobbled over to the door. "And, Audra, thank you." He whispered.

Audra herself just blushed as she turned and walked out. Charles shut the door all the way before turning back around and standing. The man remained in place for the longest time, breathing in and out before picking up both of his bags and carrying on into the bedroom to find a perfectly made bed and a bureau seated right beside it. He placed his bags onto the floor before sitting his weary body down on the bed. There was a window in front of him that overlooked the still quiet, inner-city neighborhood. The sounds of children running to their school buses and freeway traffic growing increasingly louder had no choice but to enter into the bedroom.

Charles dropped his head into his hands and stayed that way for a few minutes before raising back up and unzipping one of his bags. From within he pulled out a framed picture of his wife and son before

placing it on the bureau next to his bed. He then took out two books and sat them both beside him on the bed.

"Well, here we are again, you two." Charles thoughtfully mumbled at the picture.

He sat and stared at the frame until a car's horn from outside the window shattered his attention. It was a bit chilly inside the room, but with his jacket still on, Charles wasn't in any particular rush to cut on the radiator, instead, he laid down on the bed and looked up at the brown ceiling and plaid wallpaper that covered it.

Ever since being inside the hospital for the past few months the man had the energy of an entire football team on Superbowl Sunday, but at that instant, inside his room, all that exuberance had vanished. All he could do was become a permanent fixture upon the bed he was occupying. In his ears were varying sounds from outside and within the building, but all he could focus on was what was lingering about inside his own head. As bad as he wanted to get out of the hospital, was just as much as he wanted to leave his new home; suddenly, everything was non-existent.

Ever so hesitantly Charles turned his eyes down at the books that were lying beside him on the bed. For a moment the man was uncertain on whether or not he should even entertain the idea of picking the books up, but after so much shifty eye movements his right hand just couldn't contain itself any longer. Charles reached and pulled forward both books. He lifted one which on the cover read 'Shape- Shifting in the 20th Century.' While the other title bore the name, 'Lycanthropy: Real or Hoax?'

All Mr. Mercer could do was lay and stare dolefully at the books before his right hand grew too tired to hold them up any longer. Just the thought of having the books near him caused his body to spasm all over. The very subject was so beneath him, and yet, the books were still there beside him waiting to be read.

In a mighty stretch Charles draped both of his arms across the bed to where they were dangling off to the sides. He remained that way for about a minute, relaxing his drowsy eyes before his mind ultimately stumbled upon an explicit memory from a specific time ago. Every so gradually, he lifted both arms back to his chest before looking over and down at both sides of the floor and exhaling. The man laid there in his bed for what seemed like, at least in his head, an eternity, before rolling over onto his side.

"Lord...where am I?" He sighed so wearily.

Charles wallowed about on the bed for a while before eventually sitting up and wiping his drowsy face. He sat and gazed all around the bedroom before getting up and taking his cane with him into the living room. Charles stood directly in the middle of the floor and just studied the small space from one end to the other in a sulking dismay, as to say that his surroundings were caving in on him. Soon, both of his hands began shaking right where he stood.

He made a move towards the door. Before long, he found himself out in the hallway. Charles shut the door behind him and quietly crept down the hall past one door after another. Behind one door he could hear Audra and another lady converse, while beyond another he overheard a telephone ring incessantly. Charles kept on until he reached the stairs where he staggered on down and looked around the area for a moment or two.

Past the mailboxes on the wall and into the kitchen he ventured right up until he met the basement door. Charles stood and stared at the white door in a sullen boldness; skittish, but far from afraid. Soon, he could hear someone begin coming down the stairs above him. That was when he swiftly opened the basement door and descended down the steps one by one until he made it to the very bottom. His right hand reached over and searched the wall until it connected with the switch.

Instantly, the entire basement exploded with light. Directly in front of Charles was an old, huge furnace where he noticed the pilot light simmering from within its caged enclosure.

To his right was a collection of boxes of all sizes and three bicycles parked right in front of them, while to his left was a lawnmower and other garden utensils. He even saw an extra mattress lying just shy of a tool cabinet where only a hammer rested.

Just then, the fire from the furnace began to roar to life. Charles stood and watched the blue and orange flames inside the cage grow with such intensity.

"Okay...here I am." Charles grunted. "I know you're here in this place with me. I know you've been hunting me down. Take me out now while you can."

Charles stood and gawked all around at the basement where only he was scooting about. "You've been waiting for me to get out of that hospital; waiting for the right moment. Well...now is that time."

But still no movement or action of any kind occurred. The man's heart didn't even race or skip a single beat.

"I'll be seeing you around then...real soon." Charles defiantly grumbled as he turned and began for the stairs.

He cut off the light switch and waited for a few seconds in the dark before heading back. Even before he could clear the steps, Charles could feel a seething heat slither down his back.