It was dark again when he returned home. He didn't care what time it was exactly. The walk was long and tiring to say the least. All Russel wanted to do was to get off his feet, get out of his dirty clothes, and take a hot shower. When he reached the top of the stairs, Noodle was standing outside of the flat. She was pacing back and forth in front of the slightly ajar door. She noticed him on the spot and immediately approached him. The fright in her eyes was hard to mask behind her purple bangs.
"Mister H," she said; her voice almost a whisper. "I was worried sick about you. Are you okay? How did you get back here?"
She must have been searching outside the building for him. "I walked," he replied.
"You saw something in that fog. Something terrible, didn't you?" she asked.
With all the answers he could have given her, he went with something simple to describe his whole ordeal. "I saw monsters," Russel answered. "Scary, terrible monsters."
Not a second passed and Noodle was holding him in close for an embrace. For a moment, Russel stood with his arm out. He wasn't expecting something like this to happen. With all that happened to him during the past several days, he needed this; someone on his side for once. Russel wrapped his large arms around the smaller woman and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry I made you worry…" he muttered in her ear.
Their hug lasted for several minutes because neither wanted to let go of the other. But they couldn't remain standing in the middle of the hallway. They finally broke apart in understanding silence and quietly reentered the flat, closing the door behind them.
The bathroom called his name and the slightly disheveled state it was in was almost welcoming to him. This time, Russel believed that he deserved a warm bath instead of a hot shower. He needed a night of self-care for all the craziness he found himself in as of lately. He opened an old wooden cabinet and pulled out a small woven basket from its dusty depths. It was full of bath salts, body washes, and bath bombs colored in cute pastel colors that had collected a layer of dust. He hadn't touched the basket ever since he bought it ages ago. Tonight was the night to finally break in his little self-care kit.
The scent of lilac and lavender filled the entirety of the bathroom as Russel relaxed in the purple tinted warm water. For once in his life, he wasn't anxious or depressed. Not quite content with his life as of now, but it certainly beat being sad all the time or wrapped up in an anxiety attack. It felt nice to feel unburden by his emotions for a moment. He closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the water, almost dozing off in the tub. The world around him began to melt and bend together as the bath water its magic.
"Mister H," Noodle's voice pushed its way through the mental haze and Russel cracked open his eyelids. The woman was standing in the bathroom doorway, looking at him. "I need to ask you something. Can I come it?"
Russel sat up in the bathtub and knitted his eyebrows. "I'm kinda busy at the moment. Is it something important?" he asked.
"Very important," Noodle replied dramatically, "The fate of the whole world is at stake!"
"You can come in as long as your eyes don't wander other places…"
Noodle scoffed at his statement, "Mister H, I'm pretty gay. I had a girlfriend, remember? Guys don't really interest me, anyway. I think seeing you partially naked is pretty fine."
With a sigh, Russel gave in, "Fine, come in." He made sure his abdomen and below was hidden under the water. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was still odd for someone half his age just stroll in when he was in the bath. He realized that he never really asked for her age. She had to be in her mid to late twenties, give or take.
Noodle entered the room and stopped at the front right side of the old ivory bathtub. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled. "I'm cooking up some pancakes," Noodle said, "Thought we deserve a hot meal after all that happened. What do you want on yours? We have chocolate spread, strawberry jam, maple syrup; you have quite the collection hidden in your cabinets."
Russel perked up at the sound of food and his stomach growled in agreement. He hadn't had a good meal ever since the night he tried to kill himself. And the hospital food that the staff were feeding him wasn't real food to begin with. He was pretty much starving at the moment in time. "Oh, nice," he said, "Can't go wrong with pancakes. I'll take two of each, please."
Noodle laughed a bit and nodded her head. "Good choice because I made enough to feed a small army. I will let you get back to your bath now." She turned on her heels and exited out of the bathroom, giving him a wave goodbye.
With a drawn-out exhale, Russel sunk back down in the water and rested his head on the back of the tub. He closed his eyes once again and relaxed himself in the warm waters.
The smell of pancakes wafted in from the small kitchen, eliminating the slight mildew scent of the entire flat. Dirty dishes filled the sink, which Noodle was standing over and had started washing them. Russel sat at the small table by the large floor-to-ceiling window, parallel to the world outside of the flat. His plate in front of him had been empty for a while with a dirtied fork placed on top of it. It had been a long time since he had felt so full. Hell, it was ages since he had something as delicious as pancakes. He was so used to eating bland pre-packaged dinners that barely took any energy to make that he almost forgot what real food tasted like.
"Never have I had food or breakfast that good in years," Russel commented as he patted his stomach. He handed his plate and utensil over to Noodle, who took it and started cleaning them. "Where did you learn how to cook like that?"
"It's something my guardian taught me over the years," Noodle answered while she turned off the faucet and discarded the sponge. "He was the best at making food from all over the world. Though cooking up something as simple as pancakes was fitting." She then approached Russel's side and stared out of the window. A soft drizzle had settled in with the gray clouds hanging in the sky above. Noodle sighed, "Looks like we have gotten the rain back. I almost felt like something was missing."
"Do you think it will ever stop?" questioned Russel, looking out the window also. The way the raindrops hit the smudged glass and left trails as they fell. It was both sad and yet calming. "I mean, what if it doesn't?"
"Then it will rain for a million years…" Noodle said.
Together, the odd pair retired back to Noodle's borrowed room. The ugly lime green curtains fluttered in the damp breeze coming from the stuck, open window. Russel settled himself on an old wooded chair that could hold up his weight while Noodle sat herself on the bed. She had her laptop on the bed next to her with its screen open to a page that Russel didn't recognized. He wasn't up to date to the latest technology, so he was staring at a bunch of words and symbols that he had no idea what they were. Time had passed since he even used a type of computer.
"I'm not sure I get it," Russel said dismissively, "What's the point of that? And what did you say it was called again?"
Noodle groaned, "For the third time, it's called social network. Why is it so hard to remember?"
"I kinda find the whole idea really dumb," Russel admitted, "Why would I want to tell people that I'm having a shit day?"
"So maybe you would feel better for sharing it with your friends."
Russel looked away, casting his eyes down on the old carpet beneath his feet. "But I don't have any friends…"
"You wouldn't with that attitude," said Noodle.
He blinked and looked back at the luminated screen. "You, on the other hand, seem to have 274 of the them! How is that even possible?"
Noodle chuckled, "Well, what can I say? I am very likeable." She turned the laptop back to herself and began to type away on it. After a few moments, the young woman turned the laptop towards Russel and motioned to it. "I have created a profile for you. Maybe you will learn how to use it?"
"What am I going to do with it?"
She replied with a shrug, "Just look for people know. Invite them, talk to them. It's a good way to keep in touch. Maybe you could refresh some old friendships?"
Russel shook his head. "I don't know…" he said. "I can't think of any names. I probably never really cared enough about anybody."
"How about people you went to school with?" she suggested. "Your old colleagues from work?"
"Nope," Russel said flatly. "Friends: zero. At least they're right about one thing."
Noodle rested a hand on his knee and gave him a supportive smile. "I will add you later. That will be a start."
Holding two hot cups of coffee in each hand, Noodle entered the tiny living room from the kitchen. She set a black mug on the far end of the table. Sitting herself down on the opposite end of the table, Noodle took a slow sip and then rested her mug on the table. She noticed Russel leaving his room and smiled up at him.
"I made us some coffee," Noodle said, pointing to the mug across from her. "Sit down and talk with me for a bit. I could use the company."
"Sure," Russel responded, "Coffee sounds good." He did enjoy a good pot of coffee from time to time. His body relaxed as he sat down in the matching old chair and he drank from his favorite black mug. Dark and strong; just how he liked it. Noodle must have been a mind reader if she knew how to make his coffee.
It was night once more outside the next to the table. The aged, cream colored curtains waved in the light, cool breeze. Russel barely noticed the change in daylight from yesterday. He had been trying to get sleep for the last 12 hours, resulting in him tossing and turning for an unknown amount of time. He already used up his sleeping pills and he was definitely wasn't getting prescribed that medication for a long time. He wasn't sure how long Noodle was awake, but it seemed for a while.
Russel set his mug down; the cup was halfway empty now. "What's bothering you, Noodle?" he asked.
"Well," Noodle said, blinking slowly. "I'm not sure how to get started with this thing. I've been thinking about it the last few days and I just don't seem to get any good ideas." She frowned, "Maybe I have been a fool all along. Deluding myself that I could find where that sick bastard is hiding."
"Maybe I could help?" Russel suggested then dug around in his pants pocket. He took out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it to its full size, and set it down on the table in front of her. "I have plenty of free time, you know. So, I drew up a map of the building and all its 4 floors. There are two flats for each floor."
Noodle seemed surprised. "You really want to help me?" She then clasped her hands together. "That's great, Mister H! How will I ever repay you for this?"
"I'll think about that later," Russel grabbed a ball point pen from the table. "But we haven't found him yet, have we?"
"No, but I have a feeling that together we stand a chance." She took another sip from her mug. "So…let's talk about it. What do we know already?"
Russel replied, "For starters, we live in the middle of the building, in Flat 4." He wrote down Russel and Noodle in neat, cursive handwriting. Then he looked up at the ceiling above their head. "And I know a rude, teal skinned mechanic lives in Flat 6, the one above us. I told you about him, didn't I?"
"He's that guy who came complaining about the noise, right?"
"Yep, that's Kurt." Russel said his name with disgust. He didn't want to waste his breath on a man like him. "I heard someone else in the flat with him from time to time. But that all I know about him. I try my best to avoid him."
"I'm pretty sure one of the bottom flats is empty…" Russel continued, scribbling down his words on paper. "And a married couple lives next door."
Noodle straightened her back in the chair. "Yeah? What do you know about them?"
"I know that the man goes by the name of Incredibox," he said, "Strange, right? I think it's just a stage name, like for a rapper or DJ or something. Never gotten his real name. He seems alright; a quiet guy. But I heard shouting a couple of times and he sounded like a different person. Like a madman, you know. They must have some serious relationship problems and they try to sort it out behind closed doors. It's impossible to hide this personal dirt from your neighbors." Russel drank from his mug as he glanced to the side. "But that's none of my business…"
"And the wife?"
"Jenny," Russel recalled, "Or was it Stacy? I can't remember right now. Anyway, she's very polite. Always says hello to me when we pass each other in the hall."
"Anything else?" asked Noodle.
"They used to have a cat named Lucifer. I wonder what happened to the little guy. He had the blackest of fur and these bright yellow eyes…"
"Mister H, focus."
"Oh, sorry," Russel apologized, and then he continued speaking, "There's an old man in Flat 5, opposite to Kurt's place." He knitted his eyebrows in deep thought. "There are strange noises coming from Flat 7 though."
"Interesting. What kind of noises?"
"Like screaming," he described, "Explosions and gunfire. Then there are threats and insults shouted loudly at someone."
Noodle was quiet for a moment in thought before speaking up again. "I think I might know what is going on there. But it is worth checking anyway. Do you know the person who lives in that flat?"
"Not the slightest idea. Sometimes, I hear a dog barking on the first floor though. And there's a woman and a baby living upstairs."
"No husband for the mother?" she asked.
Russel shook his head. "I'm not sure. I hardly ever see her. When I do, it's usually in the hall when she's pushing a pram with her baby inside. She always had tons of shopping handing from it. I nearly asked her once if she needed to carry it upstairs…" His voice trailed off as he eyes wandered. He then returned his sight on Noodle and said, "I think that's all I know at the moment." What Noodle said next caught him off guard.
"You mentioned a pram…" she said, "Reminds me that I had found an old baby pram in my bedroom among all the stuff. Do you have children, Mister Hobbs? You never talk about it."
Russel froze in place and his mug hovered over his still lips. He recollected himself then drank the rest of his lukewarm coffee. "Why do you want to know?" he questioned sternly.
"I'm just curious," said Noodle. She leaned back in her chair and grasped her mug in both hands. "I like meeting new people and getting to know them. I can tell there is some dark secret you have been keeping to yourself for a long time." Her lips upturned into a comforting smile. "You might feel better if you share it with someone."
He rejected, "You don't want to know about my problems…"
Her smile transformed into a frown. "I just really want us to be friends," Noodle said, "I swear I could use one…"
"I'm not very good at friendships. I thought that was damn obvious!" Russel slammed his mug down and the table shook. Noodle didn't even flinch.
"Friends should trust each other. That is why I told you everything about me." A wave of sadness washed over the woman's face. "Why can't you just do the same?"
Russel pointed a finger in her direction. "You told me all that stuff because you wanted to! I didn't force you, did I? My private stuff is nobody else's business!" He immediately got up onto his feet and spoke to no one in particular, "Why does everyone want to remind me of this all of a sudden? Isn't ten terrible years of suffering enough to let go and never bring it up again? Even…" he closed his eyes and released a breath he held on to. "Even for me?"
Russel then shuffled pass Noodle, heading towards the kitchen. He was tired, tired of the memories and tired of people's prodding inside his head. Were they just waiting for him to fall apart again? He stopped in the doorway connecting the living area and the foyer when he heard something hit the floor.
"Mister Hobbs, I'm so sorry," he heard Noodle apologize to his back. "Your mug, it was an accident, I swear."
Russel glanced over his right shoulder. His favorite mug was gone just like that. He said, "You know what? Just leave it. I don't even care anymore."
There were a series of hard knocks on the front door, which Russel was heading towards. He cursed under he breath; he wasn't expecting anyone to come over and he certainly didn't want to see Kurt's ugly face at that time. "Who is it?" he called out bet received no answer. He hoped it wasn't some prank. Russel opened the door and what he saw surprised him.
Before him was the most beautiful bouquet of various types of flowers he had ever seen. The man holding the bouquet was a middle-aged man with greying long hair and matching ragged beard hung on to a thin, frail face. He wore dirty, white sleeveless shirt and paint covered old jeans. This man didn't look like the type of person to be delivering flowers door to door. He stepped into the flat without saying a single word and Russel backed up automatically.
"Flowers?" Russel said with a raised brow. "You got the wrong place, man. I didn't order any kind of flowers…" It was then he realized that the man held something in his free hand; something metal and shiny.
Russel backed up again as the man brandished a pistol pointed right in his face. He dropped the bouquet to the floor and brought his booted foot down upon it, grounding the pedals into the carpet. His finger rested on the trigger. Russel turned around to flee deep into the flat and warn Noodle, but the man pulled the trigger without hesitation. The 10 mm bullet pierced Russel in the back of the head, shattering his skull into pieces and exiting out from between his eyes. He was dead within seconds and his heavy body collapsed onto the floor in a heap.
The close cawing of a crow caused Russel to stir from his unnatural slumber. His white eyes cracked open and he rose to his feet. The crow, perched on a barrel, outstretched its black wings and it flew out an open door leading to the outside world. Where Russel stood, it appeared he was located inside of a ship. The entire inside was made of metal. Old paint peeling away revealed rusting metal. An old oar rested against a wall near the entrance and dirtied metal barrels filled with boat parts and junk where scattered around the area. There were four places he could go to; outside, the two doors within the ship, and a dark doorway that led deeper inside the ship. Russel knew where he was again: another part of the world of the dead. Russel delegated to search deeper in the bowels of the ship.
The environment changed as soon as he passed the threshold. It was his own living room but in a state of complete disarray. The cabinets were broken with its doors swinging at the hinges. His piano appeared to be elevated off the ground by the uneven floor underneath it. Pass the piano, the walls of his living room turned into human skulls stacked upon each other. Dust and cobwebs decorated the skulls; what a macabre scene to see. Russel walked further into the room, noticing his old table, the broken mirror, and the spare bedroom. The living room ended at an unmoving wall of skulls where it would lead to his bedroom. The spare bedroom was locked.
This room, Russel thought. Why did it have to be that room?
He didn't want to deal with it, so he retraced his steps. He couldn't go back from where he came because a wall of skulls appeared before him to block his path. He pressed his body against it, but the wall was too strong for him to push inwards; he needed a weapon of sorts to break down the wall. He then returned to the middle of the room where the mirror and coffee table stood.
A glimmer under an old, torn piece cloth on the table gained his interest. He lifted the grimy tablecloth and found a butcher knife under it, which he took along with him. Knives were useful. The sharp knife reminded him of the Alfred Hitchcock film Psycho. The infamous shower scene scared the hell out of him when he was a little boy. Perhaps it wasn't smart to show a child that movie…
A secret panel in the back of the mirror was too small for his thick fingers to pry open. Russel wedged the tip of the knife into the tiny gap between the panel and the wall, popping the drywall panel off with ease. Hidden in the compartment was a lever and a small key. He knew the key was for the spare bedroom and he pulled the lever down. The wall near the frame of the mirror crumbled away to reveal the same sharp pipe he used to kill Doctor N with. He brought it with him, just in case. Then he unlocked the spare bedroom with the key and…
He was back in the candle room in the King of Maggots' home. He knew this song and dance already. Russel approached a lit candle and blew out its flame without a single thought about it. He returned to the stranger version of his living room; the door closed shut behind him and locked itself once again. Done with the room, Russel began to exit the room, but he soon remembered the skull wall blocking his way. Taking his pipe weapon in hand, Russel stabbed the wall and pushed down on it with all his weight. The wall creaked fell apart, leaving behind a large enough hole for him to fit through. He crawled into the hole which returned him to the inside of the ship.
One of the doors, much older than the ship itself and a different type, was locked up tight with just an old padlock. Somehow, Russel knew the lock's combination and entered the numbers 384 into the spinning dials. The dials stuck fast on their correct numbers and the padlock unlocked with a click, hitting the floor with a thick THUD.
Inside the room was filled with heavy machinery compared to the same machine that he saw in the shed the first time he entered the realm of the dead. Everything was painted a rustic orange-red and smelt of iron and copper. There were strange panels attached to the floor with the main panel at the end of the room, nearby to the complicated machine. A long, horizonal mirror on the wall showed his reflection but he wore different clothes than the clothes he wore now, as if it was his doppelganger from the past. It didn't follow his movements unless something physical made him move. Like a heavy section of machinery threatening to crush. While messing with the panels, Russel pushed down a lever and a section of the ceiling dropped in the reflection. His doppelganger stepped forward to avoid the falling machine. He knew what he had to do here in this place. More of his own blood had to be spilt to start the machine to power…what exactly? He didn't know. He couldn't see where the machine's power led. He just knew he had to get the power going.
Russel alternated between lever pulls to slowly lead his doppelganger closer and closer to the dangerous machine. At the end, his doppelganger was directly next to the machine and Russel pushed down the lever for the main power panel. A massive circular sawblade shot out from a section of the machine and his doppelganger's face filled with shock and terror. His attempts of fleeing were in vain as the blade sliced right through his body vertically. Blood sprayed like a fountain onto the machine as he was reduced to a pile of meat. As the blood droplets splattered on the metal surface and the machine roared to life as it did in the shed a week and a half ago. Two rooms down, one more to go.
The unlocked room beside the machine room was almost the same to the other room. Another long, horizonal fixated in the wall showed another one of his doppelgangers in the reflection. This doppelganger wore a hospital gown and wobbled with every step Russel took, as if he was medicated with sedatives, following him. Also, in the mirror was a spider-like monster which was frightening because it looked somewhat like himself as it tore away at bleeding wounds. Russel stood in front of the monster, which made his doppelganger stand before it. He took the kitchen knife in hand and stabbed the air before him. The doppelganger raised his own knife over his head and plunged it into the monster. The spider monster let out a deafening screech as blood spurted out of its body then it collapsed into nothingness on the floor. The lights faded out and as the lights came back on, Russel's doppelganger appeared right by his side, tangible and living.
The doppelganger looked completely out of it. His eyes were glazed over, greyed out pupils stared through him. His shoulders were slumped and drops of drool fell from his slightly ajar mouth. Russel knew obviously that his doppelganger wouldn't be up for idle conversation.
Russel exited from the room and the ship with his doppelganger in tow. The world of the dead looked more livelier with the blue sky overhead and white, puffy clouds floating by. What a strange place this was. The wood creaked underneath both men as they walked together down the length of the old dock. Rotting dingeys and rowboats littered the waters around the dock, abandoned and left tied down. Al the dock's end was an elevator that hung over the ocean's dark surface with a red flashing light over it. A sign next to the elevator read that the minimum passenger handling was only 2. How bizarre was that? Russel stepped inside the elevator and so did his doppelganger; the light above turned from red to green.
"Goodbye, other world," he said, and he pushed the lever down and the elevator door locked shut in response.
The elevator shook as it lowered itself into the dark, cold waters. Deeper and deeper underwater the elevator dived, the more the metal box around him rattled as if it would fall apart at any moment. Russel hoped it stayed in one piece until he reached the land of the living again. The sound of metal creaking interrupted his thoughts. The noise grew loud and the elevator began to collapse on itself. He backed away to the middle of the elevator. Shit, he forgot all about something technical like the ocean's pressure. As the pressure was building, the elevator completely collapsed on itself. It crushed Russel between sharp pieces of metal.
