Small Town Dead End

Chapter Three

Eric awoke to a knocking sound, one in which his head seemed to pound in unison with. He felt his head and touched a sore spot, a knot in the very back. It throbbed as his brain beat against the inside of his skull. The knocking persisted.

He climbed to his feet, shaking the mire from his mind. His thoughts were cloudy as they tried to advise the rest of his body what had happened. Eric walked to the door. He remembered his phone ringing. He remembered standing in front of the mirror. He remembered the voice.

Eric… the voice echoed in his mind.

Eric felt the tentacle grip his throat. He grabbed his neck but nothing was there. It was like a lingering feeling of dread stretched through his entire body causing him to relive the horrific events he had witnessed. He shook the voice and imagery from his mind and peered through the peephole. His heart sank as he saw his landlord, Helena Pence, standing on the other side of his door. He grimaced and turned the knob.

“Ms. Pence…” his voice cracked. "It's good to see you.”

She pushed past him and stepped into the apartment. He watched her old neck whip around as she glared at the large room. Helena was, in his mind, older than the town and, as he had joked to friends before, old enough to remember when America had yet to be settled. She was energetic for her age, her mind sharp, and her tongue sharper. Her small, wiry frame could surprisingly move gracefully, a trait Eric was somewhat jealous of at times. Beneath her bonnet was a cloud of white hair, small, beady eyes, and a long, slender cigarette that never seemed to extinguish.

“This place is a pigsty,”she said, the cigarette bouncing between her lips. Surprisingly enough, the ash hanging on for dear life at the end never fell off.

“Well, I've been working weird hours and haven't had a day off to clean up…”

“No excuses! I know how you work," Helena fired back. She stepped toward the couch, running her finger along the back of it. “You think because you’re some sort of celebrity, the rules don’t apply to you, right?”

Eric, for the most part, hated the woman. She was constantly in his business, randomly stopping by unannounced, and always threatening to have him evicted. When his Small Town Monsters piece dropped, she came by almost daily, fussing to him about what was going to happen to the town. He knew it was no use arguing her, so he would simply tell her what she wanted to hear, promise to try harder, and then hope she would leave without her patented long discussion. “No ma'am, I don't think that at all- I'm no celebrity.”

“You're exactly right,” she said, turning to face him. She narrowed her eyes, scrunching her face ever so slightly. “You're not special one bit.”

“I know,”Eric replied. He watched her turn back around and start examining his things. She saw his laptop and started walking toward it. Knowing she would probably pick it up and start snooping, Eric casually strolled around the couch and picked it up before she could. "I forgot that was there. It'd be a shame if you stepped on it.”

She said nothing and simply acted as if his work was not important enough to matter, even if she stepped on his laptop. He watched her walk toward the large window that overlooked the downtown district. She stared out the window for a moment before turning around to face him.

“I think you don't pay enough rent. This town is growing and I'm sure I can get more for this apartment than you’re paying me now,” she smiled.

Eric sat his laptop on a small table and, knowing this was another one of her games, figured he had to entertain her. He looked up and, for a split-second, saw her face contort. It twisted into this pale-green monster, like something out of a horror film. Her eyes shone black and enlarged, her face drooped and elongated into almost a snout, and a long, snake-like tongue flicked outward. He gasped and almost fell backward at the sight of the old woman and her lizard-like appearance.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone one of no-nonsense and indifference.

He rubbed his eyes and she was normal. Helena Pence was an old woman standing in front of his window, staring at him curiously. She's going to think I'm on drugs and evict me for sure now he thought.

Eric rubbed his head. “I'm okay. I just got a little dizzy. I fell the other day and hit my head.”

“Well, now, about the rent…” she didn't miss a beat. Eric sat down as she straightened up, flicked the ash from her cigarette into a planter, and cleared her throat. “Next month you're rent is going up two-hundred dollars.”

Eric almost fell off the couch. She had to be insane. That was almost a third of what he was already paying. “I-I can’t pay that much!”

“Oh, the celebrity thinks he's too good to pay rent? Do you know I can get double what you're paying out of this apartment?”

Eric stood up and felt his blood pressure start to rise. For a split second, he fantasized about pushing her through the window, ending her once and for all. She was mean, manipulative, and no one would miss her. He seriously considered it before realizing he wasn’t a murderer and he would never get away with it. He felt his shoulders slump and sighed. “Well, I guess you get what you want then. I can't afford it, so I'm going to have to move out. I'll need thirty-”

She smiled devilishly as she cut him off. “Oh, no dear, you have until the end of the week. According to the lease you signed, I don't have to accept a notice from you and can ask you to leave at any time as long as you have forty-eight hours' notice. Well, you have seventy-two. Good day.”

And with that, Helena Price strutted across the apartment and showed herself out. Eric was left standing, confused and angry, in the middle of his over-priced apartment.

Eric sat in the corner of Sylva's Pizzaria, a small restaurant a few blocks from his apartment. He stewed in anger, wondering what his next move would be. He didn’t have enough money to afford much else. Even though he was making a living as a writer, he wasn’t able to live the type of life most expected. He wasn't a celebrity like Helena Pence called him. He loved living downtown, as everything was in walking distance, but he may have to find something else further away because a lot of the real estate costs were escalating in the area and driving the monthly rent up for tenants.

The waitress dropped a plate in front of him, but he hardly noticed. Two piping-hot slices of pepperoni and sausage pizza steamed on the table but he didn’t seem to care. It was like he was going through the motions- as if life were somewhat of a giant blur. He smelled the pizza in front of him but wasn't hungry. Instead, he just stared at the food, thinking of what options he had. He didn’t want to leave his apartment. Picking up to move now, while he was in the middle of- Eric stopped and thought about it. What exactly was he in the middle of? Had he been hallucinating? Was he going crazy? Why was he seeing those… things? Had he really spoken with the mayor and watched him die? There was only one way to find out.

Eric flagged down the lady who waited on him and handed her a ten. “I hope that covers it. I have to run.”

The young lady looked him up and down curiously. He was sure she thought he looked disheveled and homely. She motioned toward the pizza she had set in front of him literally two minutes prior. “What about that?”

Eric wasn't hungry. “Give it to someone else.”

“I can't,” she said. “It's been delivered to your table. I'd have to throw it away.”

Frustrated, Eric began to eat the food. He forced as much down as he could, eating ravenously as the waitress looked on. He smiled at her; trying to give some sort of comfort he wasn't crazy. She stared quizzically at him as he washed the food down with his soft drink in two big gulps. He wiped his mouth, burping as he stood. “Thanks,” he said as he ran past the waitress and headed for the door.

Eric ran from the restaurant and checked his watch. He didn't have much time, maybe fifteen minutes, to make it to the court house. Regardless, he ran.

The court house wasn't far, but it still took him a bit to run the distance. Halfway there he started feeling sick to his stomach, a side-effect of scarfing down the pizza and soda quickly. He shook off the stomach cramp and kept going. Finally, after about seven minutes, he sped up the large steps in front of the court house.

Eric ran through the giant, wooden doors and into the lobby. He checked the directory for the mayor's office. It was on the second floor, so he knew he had to hurry. He ran down a nearby corridor, looking for an elevator. After turning around, he finally found an elevator and hit the up button. He waited for what felt like an eternity and the doors opened. As they opened, a woman stepped out. Then, just behind her, Mayor Williams stepped into view. Eric felt his stomach drop. It was like seeing a ghost.

“There he is,” Mayor Williams said with a smile, "my favorite reporter!”

Words clung in Eric's throat like a fly in a spider's web. He froze, unable to comprehend seeing the mayor step from an elevator. It was so surreal. Seeing that appendage, that tentacle, wrap itself around his throat. He knew the mayor had been killed, but now the man stood right in front of him, hand extended.

Eric shook off the feeling and shook the mayor's hand. It felt cold, like the time he touched his uncle's hand as he laid in the casket. He looked the mayor directly in the eyes. The returned stare shook him to his core, as Mayor Williams' eyes seemed glassy and dead, as if he were no longer in his body. Then, before looking away, they became solid black. The man smiled at him. It was a broad, sinister grin.

“It's good seeing you again, Eric," the mayor said, his voice hanging on Eric's name.

Eric retracted his hand and nodded. “You, too, sir.”

“Is there a reason you're here? Are you investigating anything… interesting?”

The way he said interesting, his cold grip, his black eyes- Eric knew there was something wrong with the mayor. The man gave off an evil vibe, one in which he felt completely trapped, vulnerable, and scared just being in his presence. Eric wanted to run, to escape. He wanted to be anywhere than where he was at that exact moment.

“I-I'm looking into some leads…” Eric answered, trailing off.

The mayor stepped past him yet never looked away from Eric. A cold chill ran up his spine as the mayor, a man he presumed dead, glared at him with a dead man's eyes. “New Bound is a wonderful town, one in which we all never want to leave. I hope your story is a hit!”

With that, the mayor was met by the woman from the elevator and they turned a corner. Eric was alone. He felt as if he had seen his own grave. He was in complete shock from his encounter and was still trying to process what had just happened to him. He was stunned at the thought of having hallucinated the mayor being attacked. Even though he was sure he saw what he did, he felt as if his mind were unraveling. It was like he was going mad. As he stood in the hallway of the court house, Eric had no idea what was real or imaginary any longer. Was the attack on the mayor a dream? What about Helena Pence?

No, it has to be real he told himself, thinking about the blackened eyes Helena had. The mayor had them, too. Only briefly, but he had them. What is going on?

Eric checked his watch. The court house had to be closing any moment now. There was no one around. Thinking back, he hadn't even seen any security in the lobby when he ran in. He walked back toward the lobby, following the path the mayor took. Upon reaching the large, open room, he saw no one around. The place appeared to be deserted.

“Hello?” Eric shouted, testing his theory that no one was around. He waited and heard nothing in response.

He stood in the lobby, waiting for someone, anyone, to appear. Five minutes later, no one came. As he stood there, thinking about everything that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, Eric decided he would figure out once and for all if there was something going on in New Bound or if he was losing his mind.

Eric headed back toward the elevators ready for answers.