In the between

Part IV

His hearing came back first. There was a booming, a thump, distant vibration, then noise charging in his direction, ricocheting off of objects. It was more rhythmic than chaotic though, almost like music. Breathing in, David caught the stench that triggered memory. He jerked away from the contemplations, feeling sore muscles beneath naked flesh. Wood pricked his skin, and glass, and cold. He creaked his eyes open to see a blurry room with skeletal walls and unevenly spaced floorboards. A gaping hole in the structure cast blinding brightness on his prone form. David tried to move again and recoiled from the pain.

He remembered what would usually follow the disorientation and mystery. People with their hands on him, grabbing and pulling, faceless assailants that always ushered him back to the cage. The pain was much greater this time, and the soreness, to the point that this time, even though he knew they were on their way, he would not try and hide. He had killed again. David had a vague memory of a terrible monster killing a group of the guards.

The stench made him frown. Made him realize that time was passing, and he could sense no one approaching. Just the strange, booming music, and now and again snippets of unintelligible conversation. David tried his eyes again, and found the scene around him clear and in focus this time. He turned his head. That didn’t hurt too much. At first, when he laid eyes on the very large man, he didn’t recognize him at all, then things in his mind conformed to the shape of awful reality.

Again, David tried to move, but gingerly this time. He groaned as he rolled onto his side, then screwed up his face as he sat up slowly. The man, the giant, was at one of the skeletal building’s windows, looking out. He seemed to have no awareness, or at least care, for David’s movements.

After David was sitting upright, panting from his efforts, there were footsteps. No, not footsteps. The building cried at each step’s application of weight on its old braces. The big man made no sound at all, unto himself.

David turned to see him moving in a wide arc, around and into David’s field of vision, but he was several rooms away, visible through the framing beams. Between two slats, the giant placed an old radio, and then turned it on. At first, it was only static, and then, with a few careful adjustments, the device began playing voices.

More music. David had never heard Jazz before, but assumed that’s what he was listening to. He waited through the trumpets and drums and piano for things to make sense. He looked into the face of the man, and saw the same expression from… how long had it been? David opened his mouth, and the big man went back to twisting on the dials.

This time following the static was a conversation between radio DJs about speculation of recent violence in Charm City. One person spoke about the police discovery of the bodies of several men on the top of a parking structure, and the other questioned if it related at all to the wild animals that tore through the shopping district. They joked about the kind of animal that would kill a dozen men, then go on a shopping spree. They both agreed that people should stay in doors come nightfall, and that it would be another bad winter.

The giant turned off the radio with a succinct click.

David didn’t know what to say. He looked down at his body. He knew how to take whatever nick or cut or bruise and extrapolate what actually happened. He was blue and purple in places, injuries he couldn’t place. He had been cut and he had been bruised, to the point of bleeding.

A wallet flopped in between his legs. “There was nothing else among what remained of your clothes,” the giant said.

David’s ears twitched at hearing the voice. It was a deep and hollow sound, like wind blowing through a rotten tree. There was no life to it. He picked up the wallet and opened it to see his ID card. He still hadn’t gotten around to taking the driving exam. David closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. It felt strange, and it felt wrong, but he could not have fathomed what would’ve happened had the police found his wallet so near the murder scene. Murder. His eyes opened again. “Who are you?” he asked. When the man did not answer, he turned and looked.

Those same pitiless eyes were boring down into David’s head. “Jarvis.”

David waited for a last name. Which reminded him of Dr. Alex, and his job, and his life. He slowly, slowly stood up, wobbling on unsure legs.

“Why are you here?” Jarvis asked.

David wondered that himself. He observed the hole in the side of the wall, but found no real evidence aside from that. But no, Jarvis would know why David was there specifically. It was difficult to understand, a lot of things were, but he had brought him. Jarvis wanted to know why David was in Charm City.  “I’m,” it was a strange time to be honest. His being naked pronounced the horror. “I’m hiding.”

“Good,” Jarvis said.

David watched him pick up the radio again, a bit carefully, and walk deeper into the building, toward a set of stairs.

“Go back to your life and pretend like this never happened.”

David watched him go, resolved to do just that. “I don’t know where I am. And I don’ have any clothes.” He felt the words coming, but didn’t think about whether or not he should say them. They just came out. He was back on the parking structure landing again, thinking about up or down.

Jarvis stopped, but did not turn around. Then he kept walking, down the stairs.

David felt dejected and abandoned. He also felt better, that Jarvis was out of the vicinity. All the shudders and chills not brought on by the weather afflicted him and David crouched and clutched at his wallet.

When the music outside stopped, David remembered it had been on the entire time, far enough away that it was just in the background. He snuck to the same window Jarvis was using and looked out. He appeared to be on the second floor of an incomplete housing community. He could see other buildings that had been faced, or were just frames, others without roofs that sagged from having water rained on their insides. There were lines drawn out to pour concrete and an empty fountain surrounded by a dirt and gravel turnabout.

In the circular driveway was a colorful sedan, bright green with wastefully enormous wheels. It had stylized writing on the back window and exhaust fumes flowed from aggressive tailpipes. The trunk was open, and two men were watching something intently together. Jarvis entered the scene and the men with the car cautiously greeted him. David frowned in thought. Jarvis wasn’t dressed very similarly, but his attire and theirs could be classified as urban. He looked like their big brother, or father, if they were children.

Their conversation was brief and looked a lot like a robbery. One of the men surrendered his jacket, and the other his pants and boots. Jarvis gave them a whole wad of money. No one died. After that, the two men rolled away in their bizarre vehicle. Moments later, Jarvis was presenting David with the clothes.

“Thank you,” David found himself saying again. And again, he found himself speaking to Jarvis’ back as the big man walked away. “Why did you kill those men?”

This time when Jarvis stopped, he also spoke. “You said you were hiding. You may have had some idea of what you would have to trade to keep your freedom should you be discovered. Now you have a better idea.” Then he walked off.

After David navigated his way out of the modern ruins, and to a bus stop, and then onto a recognizable bus, he wondered about the things Jarvis said.

When David closed his apartment door behind him, he sighed. He locked it, too, as if maybe turning the mechanism would turn back everything that had happened. He was famished. He checked his messages while he cooked and worked on an alibi as he ate. He cleaned his teeth and steadied his voice before making the return calls. Something had hit him after he left work. Not feeling well, he went right to bed and woke up the next day, only an hour previous. He was feeling much better now. Truth was the best vehicle for lies.

That night, he did not run. The oddest thought occurred to him when he realized that Jarvis knew his address because he had returned his wallet. He thought about the huge man swooping in through one of his windows. And doing what? He had his chance to kill David, and he didn’t. Not like all those men on that roof. Or the two strangers with their green car. David thought about what his father had told him. It probably wasn’t all lies. He probably told his son whatever he needed to, to garner the desired results. But he didn’t lie outright. Truth was the best vehicle for lies.