ISSUE SIXTEEN

777

            Johnny sat at a bus stop by himself, fuming at the audacity of his father. At least he was finally away from it all. As of right now, he was trying to figure out what to do next. The only luggage he had with him was a backpack and a small suitcase, both of which weren't very heavy. He had few possessions that held much worth to him. His stereo and stash of paintings in the attic were the only things he couldn't carry with him.

            His plan was to go as far as his money could take him. Exactly where, he had no clue. He was just working on what he was going to do once he got to his mystery destination when an old, blue BMW pulled up to the bus stop and rolled down the window.

            "Need a ride, little boy?" A familiar voice asked. Johnny smirked.

            "Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," He replied.

            "I got Fiz Wiz?!" Jez offered.

            "Well in that case…" Johnny tossed his stuff in the back seat and jumped in. "Wow! I didn't think you were tall enough to see over the steering wheel!"

            "HEY!"

~          ~          ~

            "That's so mean!" Jez exclaimed in that little kid way that made her so unique. Johnny had just finished his story of getting kicked out. The two were now back in Jez and Kit's apartment, standing in the small kitchen. The kitchen itself was that typical off white kitchen color. The rest of their apartment was decorated in anime and art, just as Johnny had imagined it would be.

            "Your dad has problems!" Kit continued, fitting a set of pointy dog ears to her head.

            "You have no idea…" Johnny mumbled under his breath.

            "So, what're ya gonna do now?" Jez asked, not hearing him.

            "Well, I was gonna take the bus to somewhere far away, like Kentucky or something…"

            "Where everyone is married to their cousins? Yeah, right! (AN: No offense to anyone from Kentucky intended!)" Kit said sarcastically.

            "You got any better ideas?"

            "Well, why don't you stay at our place for a few days, and look for a job."

            "Where?"

            "Well, I heard this NERVE place was looking for artists…" Jez piped up.

~          ~          ~

            Vicky didn't wake up until way past noon. It was almost dinnertime by the time she tried to drag herself out of bed. She gladly gulped down the laid out aspirin to quell her pounding headache and hangover. She trudged grumpily into the hallway and paused outside her brother's door. She supposed she should say 'thanks' for taking her home before she did something even more stupid. Vicky knocked on the door. When she got no answer, she stuck her head in a little bit, sometimes he had his headphones on. No Johnny.

            So Vicky shrugged and headed downstairs. After looking for awhile, she went to ask her father. But he had locked himself in his study, which was never a good sign.

            Vicky tried the kitchen next and found nothing but two ripped pieces of paper on the floor. She picked them up, pieced them together and scanned through the letter. She instantly felt ten times more horrible then she already felt; this was an acceptance letter to his dream school. She knew what must have happened. But before she could think anymore, she ran to the bathroom to vomit.

~          ~          ~

            A few days later, Johnny was in an office for an interview.

            "These samples are very impressive, Mr. Jonathon C…" The interviewer started, wearing a grey suit and black tie. Johnny found the stitches across his forehead weird, but he tried not to stare.

            "Please, call me Johnny," Johnny cut him off.

            "Mr. Johnny," The interviewer corrected himself, placing the samples back on the grey desk in front of him, which matched the dreary colored room. He extended a hand. "I believe you have a job with us." The two shook hands. "Now, on your résumé here, you don't have a place of residence listed…"

            "Yeah, I'm still looking for a permanent place to stay," Johnny started.

            "Really?!" The interviewer was instantly piqued for some very odd reason.

            "Um…yeah, I was kind of kicked out of the last place I was living…"

            "Just one moment please! I need to call the Boss," The interviewer said quickly. He sounded almost excited. He spun around and quickly punched some numbers on the phone. A second later he was speaking in a hushed whisper. Johnny quirked an eyebrow and stared at him. A few moments later, he turned around.

            "The company has a house you can stay in completely on us while you work here,"

            "Huh? Just like that?"

            The interviewer nodded.

            "What's the catch?" Johnny narrowed his eyes.

            "No catch! We always take care of our employees…" The interviewer grinned evilly.

~          ~          ~

            The very rude cab driver with bad breath pulled to a halt. Johnny got out of the car, wishing he could strangle the man with the seatbelt instead of paying him. As the cab pulled away, Johnny looked at his new home, 777.

            "Fixer-upper my ass," He commented as he stared in disbelief at the dilapidated one story building that looked as if it should be next on the demolition list.

            Johnny sighed deeply and walked into the unlocked front door. Luckily, the place was already furnished, well, if one could call the bare couch and bunny eared television set 'furnished'. Johnny dropped his bags on the floor and took a step into the kitchen. It was empty with the exception of a stove and some empty cabinets. Johnny went back to the 'living room'.

            Johnny looked around the room to see if there was anything else to it when he noticed stairs going down. He followed them down into complete darkness. At the base of the stairs, he found a light switch and flicked on a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He was awed by the huge collection of knives and other weapons piled haphazardly around the room. He figured the last occupant must have collected them, though it struck Johnny as odd that some looked 'used' and there was no case for them.

            Johnny shrugged and went back upstairs. He hadn't found a bedroom, so he fell asleep on the couch.

~          ~          ~

            Vicky was woken up by a crash from the next room. She rolled over and looked at the clock; it was one in the morning. She figured it was just her father coming back from another party and tried to go back to sleep. It was another crash followed by someone cursing loudly that made Vicky jumped out of bed. She looked out her window and down at the driveway. A beat-up BMW sat in the driveway with the headlights on.

            ~*That's not Dad's car…*~

            She grabbed a good-sized bronze statuette from her chest of drawers and quietly stepped out into the hallway as more cursing came from her brother's room. She went over to the doorway and stuck her head in. Inside, a thin, dark figure was trying to pick up Johnny's stereo system, the CD scattered on the floor. Vicky raised the statue, snuck up behind the figure and brought it down as hard as she could on the burglar.

            "FUCK!" It screamed as it dropped to the floor. "What the hell was that for?"

            Vicky quickly flicked on the lights.

            "JOHNNY! I'm sorry; I didn't know it was you!" She dropped the statue and tried to help him up. He shook her off.

            "Well that was obvious," He muttered as he straightened up.

            "What are you doing here?"

            "Retrieving the last of my belongings," He said, pointing to some paintings in the corner. "The rest of my art is in my friend's car. I just need my stereo and photos…"

            "So you're really leaving," Vicky said.

            "You think I really want stay here with our psycho father?"

            "Why don't you stay at least till graduation! You'll need a…"

            "No! I can finally get away from this hell, so I'm going to. There's nothing you can say to stop me," Johnny turned back to pick up his CD's.

            "But Johnny, this is stupid. You're going to throw away your education just to screw Dad over?"

            Johnny paused.

            "Yup, pretty much."

            "You're being a pig-headed moron," Vicky said spitefully.

            "Am I? At least I'm not a spoiled little princess who doesn't give a damn about others…"

            "What the hell does that mean? I do to care…"

            "If you cared you would understand why I need to leave," Johnny was starting to get pissed of.

            Vicky pulled a photo off the table. It was a picture of when they were younger, before their mother died. The twins were giving the photographer huge smiles that showed the quiescence of youth with their mother's hands resting on their shoulders. She held it up so Johnny could see.

            "Remember when we were younger?"

Johnny didn't respond. He went back to packing his CD's. Vicky got fed up with him.

"What would Mom think of this?"

            Johnny slammed the CD's on the table.

            "Leave her out of this."

            "Why, because you're afraid of what she would have thought?" Vicky pushed.

            "No, that has…"

            "Because she would have said you're being a coward?"

            "Vicky, I mean it…"

            "Because she would have…"

            "WELL SHE'S DEAD NOW ISN'T SHE?!" Johnny screamed. Vicky stopped, bewildered.

            "Johnny…"

            "She's dead; she's gone, so her opinion doesn't matter anymore!"

            "How can you say that?!"

            "It's the truth and you know it!"

            "I can't believe you! Have a nice life!" Vicky ripped the photo down the center, left one half on the floor, and ran back to her room.

~          ~          ~

            Johnny stuffed the rest of his belongings into the trunk of Jez's car and slammed it closed. Fuming, he got in the back of the car and slammed the car door. Kit and Jez turned around from the front.

            "You ok?" Jez asked.

            "Yeah, I'm fine, let's go," Johnny mumbled. The other two shrugged and drove off back to Johnny's house. Johnny pulled the ripped photo out of his pocket and sighed.

            ~*I wish you were here, Mom…*~

~          ~          ~

            About a month later, Johnny had turned in his first piece of work for NERVE. They loved it and gave him a bonus on his first paycheck. Johnny used it to refurnish one of the rooms in his house (one of the ones with the least amount of funky stains, Johnny didn't bother trying to figure out what they were from) as a drawing room. In the room adjoining it, he put all his other works.

            As time progressed, NERVE started requesting revisions of his work. At first they were normal, but then they started to get a little bizarre. Johnny didn't say anything, as he figured they probably knew best; this was his first job in the business after all.

            The second check his used to buy a car, a used car. A really, really, beat up, tiny, grey car. But hey, it got him from point A to point B so it had its use.

            Also with his second check, he bought a pet rabbit. His boss had told him to buy one so he get some 'inspiration' for the cover he was working on.

            Which was what he was working on when it started.

            It was about one in the morning. Johnny was in his drawing room, sitting at his desk trying to sketch out the cover before he started painting it. Nearby, on the floor in its cage, his little, unnamed rabbit was squeaking. He hadn't feed it since he bought it, which was about three days ago. He'd been too busy working on the forsaken piece that was in front of him. He threw down his pencil so hard it broke.

            "FUCK! How the HELL am I supposed to put a rabbit in to a cover about brain-frying aliens?!" He screamed, to no one in particular. His pet continued to squeak.

            That's when he first heard it, the indistinct sound of someone mumbling. He spun around.

            "Who's there?!" He looked frantically around his drawing room. Nothing.

            He heard it again. It almost sounded like a voice, but it was much too gargled to understand. It was like trying to listen to a radio station when the dial isn't set just right. All the while the rabbit continued to make noise.

            Johnny's head started to throb as the snuffled noise got louder in his head. The rabbit squeaked again.

            "SHUT UP!" Johnny turned all his anger to the little defenseless animal on the floor. "Do you HAVE to make so much God damn NOISE?" He ripped it out of its cage. For some reason, his anger had become unreasonably…well…insane. Reflecting on it later, he didn't know how it had occurred; it just seemed that all his pent up rage popped out at once.

            "How's THIS for food?!" He grabbed a hammer and nail from the floor, and rammed the nail through the rabbit's soft body, attaching it to the wall. As the blood trickled down the wall to the floor and the dying creature stopped wriggling, the voices faded from Johnny's head, as quickly as they had come. Johnny shook his head, suddenly tired for some reason. Not having bought a bed yet, he went upstairs and collapsed on the couch.

~          ~          ~

            As Johnny slowly came to, he vaguely felt that he was not on the couch anymore. He figured he must have fallen on the floor again and so didn't think anything of it as he sat. He went to rub his eyes when he realized he was holding something in his hand. He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked at the dripping paintbrush he held in his hand. The liquid dripping in audible 'plops' on the floor was quite thick and was a deep crimson color. Johnny stared at it quite confused. He didn't remember falling asleep while he was painting.

            Johnny looked up to see what he was working on; he thought it might jumpstart his memory. Only he didn't see a canvas in front of him. In front of him was a large wall, on it words were scrawled in the same color as his brush. He felt a low rumble through the floor and so jumped up, startled. Completely perplexed, Johnny stepped up to the wall as he read the still wet words.

            ...blood…death…wall…kill…redrum…

            "Did I do this?" He asked himself, not expecting an answer.

            Much to his surprise, he answered himself.

            Yes… His mind told him. Johnny paused, trying to remember what he had done before he had gone to sleep. As he stood pondering, another drip from the brush in his hand fell and plopped on his shoe.

            "What is this stuff anyhow? Strangest paint I've ever seen…" Johnny started inspecting the brush again.

            Blood, of course… His mind answered for him again. Images were vaguely floating in his head. It was like being told a story by someone outside but it was his own voice telling him. So it had to be memories, right?

            "Then where the hell did I get blood from?" Johnny asked, a little afraid to know.

            Corner, in the barrels… His mind directed him. Johnny turned and looked. In the corner, a dozen, huge, rusty metal barrels stood. He stood and took a step closer. Each and every one was filled to the brim with a thick, dark, congealing liquid. Johnny gasped and dropped the paint brush, backing up.

            "Di…did…did….I…"

            No, they were here when you got here…

            Johnny gulped, totally unnerved by it all. Not wanting to be in that room any longer, he rushed out and locked the door, not even noticing the dead little rabbit corpse was on the wall next to the barrels.

~          ~          ~

            Johnny chalked it all up to over exhaustion. He figured he must have been sleep walking when it happened. Johnny tried to forget about it and didn't think it would ever happen again.

            He was wrong.

            About a week later he found himself in the room again, more words scrawled on the wall in the blood. And again he answered himself the same way; it was his voice in his head, but it felt like someone else speaking. This time, he saw the rabbit too. Truly freaked, he threw the rabbit in a garbage can, and blockaded the door with a couple filthy tables that were in the lower levels.

            But another week and he was back in the room. Johnny decided to stop sleeping altogether.