Scratch Vol.1
Based on the characters created by Len Wein, George Perez, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby
Part.1 - Act 1
Dark orange and maroon flames twisted together in a wild and terrifying dance, climbing higher and higher as they did so. They greedily licked at the walls, the outdated wallpaper bubbled and began to peel away as if retreating from the flames. The room's decor, from the 1960s blackout curtains, patterned comforters, and frilly pillows fed the inferno, all of it engulfed by the fire's many thick tongues. Thick black smoke swallowed whatever light the flames created, turning the room black and red. The scene rapidly became obscured and hazy through the smoke and heat. Beds, nightstands, tables and chairs were now just fuzzy, charred figures with dark red auras.
The raging fire builds and builds, so loud it dampens the sound of the building crumbling around it. Debris falls from the ceiling, erupting into sparks, swallowed by the fire below. Somewhere behind the flames, a shadowy figure emerged. It stood up as if unfurling itself before looming large and menacing in the middle of the room. Noise from the fire grew into a deafening cacophony and suddenly the figure lunged forward.
Nicky's eyes wrenched open, waking with a sharp and desperate gasp. She jolted upright, grasping the sheets tightly. The violent action made the bed beneath her rattle, the wooden frame creaking under pressure. Soft, white moonlight peaked between the opaque curtains of the bedroom window, lighting her face. The green gemmed necklace hanging off her neck glinted against the light, as did the sweat on her forehead.
Steading her breathing, she braced herself against the wall with her left hand. With the other, she wiped her brow. She pulled the bedsheets back exposing the rest of her sweat-drenched skin to the cool air, with nothing but her thin nightshirt to protect it. She shuddered violently.
I'll need to change the sheets, she thought glumly, rubbing a hand over the fabric, feeling how damp they had become. Turning her head towards the bedside table, she spied a retro, digital clock which, with pale, red digits, blinked 3:33. Nicole groaned softly. No point going back to sleep now, she figured.
Nicky climbed out of bed, flinching as her bare feet made contact with the cold, hard floorboards. Across from her stood an old, wooden desk; a relic that had been there before she had moved in. The desk had been nestled against the wall between her bedroom door and a standalone wardrobe; another remnant from the previous owners. Books and binders, arranged in order and bookended by a pair of novelty mugs filled with pens, sat atop the desk's top. Hanging above the desk was a large cork pinboard that sported a calendar, pinned with notes, reminders, and bills. Elsewhere on the board were clippings of recipes, flattering report cards, certificates, and photos of Nicky standing outside a food truck, its name obscured. Perched on the desk's accompanying chair was a set of neatly folded clothes, she had thoughtfully prepared hours before. She grabbed the outfit and headed towards the bathroom.
Cautiously, she opened her door, wary of its squeaky hinges. Stepping out into the hallway, she had to wait for her eyes to adjust before taking a couple more steps to the bathroom. Now standing on icy cold tiles, she switched on the bathroom light. Warm light filled the room and spilled out into the hallway. From the other end of the hall came the sound of snoring. There, her housemate slept, his door wide open, allowing the guttural snorts and snores to echo in her direction. Nicky peered around the corner of the bathroom door, staring into his room. She could barely make out the young man sleeping, belly-down, on his unmade bed. Specks of light reflected off the sequinned dress shirt he was still wearing, never changing his clothes after returning from the club hours earlier.
With the bathroom door now shut behind her, Nicky peeled off her damp night shirt and shorts and tossed them on the floor. They landed against the tiles with a slight slap. Turning the faucet, water sputtered out of the tarnished brass shower head, taking a minute or two to warm up. Once under the shower stream, she let the water cascade over her, standing there quietly with her eyes closed. After a moment or two, it suddenly struck her that she had been holding her breath. Reflexively, she gasped and a hand rose to her throat. It ached, feeling almost as if she had been smoking.
A thick fog formed, thanks to a broken fan. The opaque vapour swirled upwards and obscured the ceiling light. It was like a sauna, the steam keeping the room warm when Nicky left the shower. Wiping condensation from the vanity mirror, she inspected her reflection while drying her wavy, black hair. Half curls drooped below her ears, some falling to her shoulders. She combed her hair with her fingers, pulling it into a bun and tying it back. While the rest of her hair stayed in place, her fringe flopped down around her grey-blue eyes. Absent-mindedly, she readjusted her necklace, her fingers grazing the silver cage that housed its green gemstone.
Nicky let out a little sigh, which caused the steamy air near her face to swirl and dance away. Opening the mirror vanity, she scanned the two shelves within. The top shelf was stacked with numerous assorted types of make-up, perfume, a bottle of purple shampoo, and a tube of whitening toothpaste next to an electric toothbrush. The bottom shelf, in comparison, was sparse. All that lived there were a bottle of generic brand cleanser, roll-on deodorant, and a bamboo toothbrush beside a half-rolled-up tube of toothpaste paste. From the latter, Nicky grabbed the cleanser and began washing her face.
Returning from the bathroom, now clean and dressed, Nicky gently closed the bedroom door behind her. Just as she had reached to turn on the lamp on the bedside table a large shadow darted across the room. Flinching at the unexpected sight, Nicky jumped backwards slightly. Her back now hugging the wall, she looked around the room cautiously, searching for the source of the shadow. Turning her head towards her bedroom window, she saw the shadow return into view, moving across the window ledge before settling in place. Its slender figure painted a long black silhouette across the middle of the room. Steeling herself, Nicky silently tip-toed towards the window and peered through the crack in the curtains, trying her best not to disturb them.
Perched atop the balcony railing of the building across from hers was a black cat. Its tail flicked back and forth as it looked towards the waxing moon. Nicky leaned in for a closer look, her nose brushing against the opaque curtain ever so softly. As she did so, the cat's head whipped around, glancing in Nicky's direction. Its sudden movement sent Nicky reeling back in surprise. Feeling embarrassed by her reaction, Nicky muttered to herself disparagingly. She walked over to the lamp and switched it on, filling the room with light and causing the shadow to dissipate. Now determined to leave, she wasted no time putting on her coat and beanie, before grabbing her backpack, which hung from her desk chair, and heading downstairs towards the front door. Without turning on a light downstairs, she walked over to the door before stopping to grab her boots from the shoe rack nearby.
After hastily tying her laces, she unlocked the front door. As she reached to turn the handle, a chill travelled up her spine. The eerie sensation made her spin around to look behind her, half expecting someone to be there. The living room of the two-bedroom townhouse was dark and quiet. She pricked her ears but all was still in the house and the only sounds were the faint hum from the old fridge and the occasional snore echoing from her housemate's room upstairs. Straining her eyes, all she could make out was their funky old couch, TV, and the small dining set for two, which stood near the front window. With the hair on the back of her neck still standing, Nicky gritted her teeth, sucked in a deep breath, and turned again to open the door, stepping out into the cold, dark morning.
The cool autumn air caused Nicky's breath to fog as she walked up the street. It caressed her face like a pair of cold hands, making her cheeks blush. Above her, the atmosphere began to change, causing the stars above to fade away and the sky to change from inky black to deep purple. She had been walking for some time, traversing many a quiet street, before she came upon the local market.
The streets around Lexington Market were always a hive of activity, especially in the early morning. Street sweepers were crawling up and down the streets, while grocers, bakers, merchants, and delivery drivers were arriving at dawn to prepare for the day ahead. So it was, every day. At this time of year, there was the added commotion of civic workers climbing ladders to hang Halloween decorations from lamps on the street outside the market's main entrance. To the uninitiated, it would all appear chaotic. But for market regulars, it made sense. Everyone worked with purpose, routine, and timing. Almost as if there were a rhythm to it all; one that Nicky could synchronise with as she weaved amongst foot traffic in her second-hand, vintage Doc Martens. Looking ahead, Nicky focused solely on her route, aware that the later it gets, the busier the district becomes making patrons and workers alike less patient. With little effort, she navigated herself through all the commotion.
She was some ways up the main street when, from the corner of her eye, a shifting black mass captured her attention. It darted in and out of her peripheral vision as if teasing her for attention. The cat? Nicky wondered, turning her head slightly. For a second, she slowed down and spied a black tail darting behind a parked car. She returned her attention in front of her just in time, narrowly avoiding bumping into a portly man wearing a high-vis vest carrying what appeared to be a large, cut out of a witch's cauldron. Cringing uncontrollably, she awkwardly manoeuvred out of the man's way as he grumbled in frustration.
"Watch where you're going," the man grunted. Nicky muttered a quick apology before picking up her pace and continuing on her way. It took a moment for the burning in her cheeks to subside. Meanwhile, the voice in her head chastened her for the blunder. She kept her head down the rest of the way, determined not to get distracted again.
A few blocks later, Nicky turned into an alley, her footsteps echoing off the red-bricked walls. A tall, burly man with a ginger beard wearing a cream knit jumper stood atop a small, concrete staircase ahead of her. He leaned casually against the metal handrail using his forearms to prop him up. As he exhaled, the air fogged with a combination of steam and residual smoke from the last toke he took; his cigarette glowed in between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Noticing her walking toward him, the man nodded in acknowledgement before adjusting his charcoal, woolly beanie, taking another drag from the cigarette. As Nicky drew closer, the smoke reached her nose. She recoiled at the smell.
"Phew, Shannon, that stinks," Nicky said wrinkling her nose, "what is that?"
"My very own special blend," Shannon replied, exhaling a thick plume through his nose, before flicking the dying bud into the alley.
"And that's littering," Nicky added, facetiously, while she climbed up the three, large concrete steps and through the door Shannon had just opened for her. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, unimpressed with her comment.
Thunk, Thunk, Thunk. The kitchen filled with the steady rhythm of chopping. With her kit on and hair tied back, Nicky meditatively worked at her station, preparing the Mise en Place. This morning it was a medley of shallots, garlic, rosemary, thyme, and some egg wash. Slicing the ingredients and scooping them into their designated metal tins, she made sure to wipe the chopping board clean as she went. Above her, a lightbulb flickered softly.
"Behind," Shannon grunted as he walked behind her, shouldering a large tray of dough loaves. Recognising this as a cue to clear her station she joined the baker in dusting the now-clean workspace with flour before shaping the loaves and adding the toppings. Nicky garnished each loaf meticulously, making sure each was uniform and neat. There wasn't a need for her to be so meticulous. However, she gained immense satisfaction from exerting this level of attention and control, like scratching a good itch.
After basting the loaves with melted butter, Shannon tasked Nicky with loading the trays into the large, old-school baker's oven. With the tray perched on her shoulder, she opened the oven door, yanking the solid hunk of metal and glass with her free hand. Carefully, she slid the tray onto the middle rack. Inside, the roar of the flames seemed louder than usual. Such noise made Nicky look deep inside, cautiously. The light emanating from within cast an ominous dark yellow glow, which hit her face with intense heat, causing her breath to catch in her throat. As she stared, the flames glowering from the back of the oven seemed to become brighter and louder. Transfixed on the twisting orange tongues, she recalled images from her nightmare mere hours before.
"Where's the danishes?" A shrill voice called from the distance, snapping Nicky out of her trance. She quickly stood away from the oven and turned to see a short, incredibly tanned man looking intently across the room. "Are they ready?" The short man continued curtly. Nicky followed his gaze which met Shannon's expressionless face across the room.
"They're still proofing, Louis," Shannon called back laconically, standing stiffly beside the cooler. "Why?" His hands slowly reached for his hips. He was effortlessly intimidating for his size. The smaller man looked away, sheepishly.
"Never mind," Louis muttered disappointedly, quickly turning to leave the kitchen. Shannon glanced at Nicky and rolled his eyes.
"Him and his danishes," he sighed. "Every damn morning." Nicky looked back at the oven. The roaring had stopped and the flames were back to their usual size. Frowning, she shut the door and switched on the timer.
Hours passed by as the pair continued their work. Dozens of trays of baked goods found themselves kneaded, shaped, and cooked in the ovens before being sent to the front of the restaurant, ready to be devoured by hungry patrons.
After cleaning her station one last time, Nicky checked the time by looking at the analogue clock above the back door. She gave a questioning look at Shannon who responded with a curt nod. With his blessing, she wandered to the back of the kitchen, where a pair of lockers stood. There she switched out of her kit and back into her street clothes. Once she laced her shoes, she turned to her locker to finish packing her bag. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she turned around in surprise.
There, Shannon stood, holding a brown, paper bag. He held it out to her without saying a word. Taking it in her hands, she could feel it was warm. The smell of freshly baked bread and caramelised onions wafted upwards.
"I was gonna buy something for lunch," Nicky replied, meekly accepting the freshly baked savoury treat.
"Sure," Shannon scoffed, returning to his station, turning his attention to a large tray of focaccia dough, piercing the bloated mass with his fingers. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Nicky wandered to the back door, reaching for the door handle. She stopped and looked back at the burly man, who was now quietly deflating a tray of focaccia dough.
"Thanks." The word left her lips softly, almost like a whisper. Shannon nodded solemnly in acknowledgment. Stepping outside, the alleyway was now bright with sunlight and the street was noisy with foot traffic and chatty people lining up to enter the boutique little cafe.
The classroom at Baltimore's Technical College was a sterile, dimly lit box. The walls were plastered with monochrome instructional posters on food safety and definitions of basic business terms. Above her, the fluorescent light flickered sporadically. The old tube strobed, blurring Nicky's vision slightly.
Ahead of her, the class tutor prattled on drolly about inventory management, occasionally pointing at the whiteboard behind them apathetically. The light flickered again and Nicky groaned quietly, rubbing her dully pulsing temples; a headache was building. Looking down at her notes, she realised she had barely written anything down all class. She glanced at her watch, the secondhand Casio flashing 12:30 with grey digits. Still an hour to go… she thought miserably.
Sitting up, she readjusted herself, trying to pay attention. While she stared intently at the lecturer, the light above her kept flickering, this time more aggressively. She looked up at the faulty light, wondering if it bothered anyone else. It flickered, dimmed, then shone brightly for a second before fading to a low light. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a shadow seemingly materialising in the corner of the room. A trick of the light? Or was a migraine coming on? She thought as she squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling through her nose deeply.
"Scratch…" a voice uttered, so quick and quiet it could barely be registered. Nicky motioned to turn around to search for its owner.
A car horn blared, squealing loudly above traffic. The sudden noise shook Nicky and she looked down to see her feet teetering on the sidewalk's edge. Gasping in surprise, she stepped back, taking in the busy street with many cars whizzing by closely. She was so close to the street's edge that she could feel the wind come off each car that passed. Her mind buzzed in confusion. What's going on?
"Nicole!" Someone cried out from behind her. She whipped around to see one of her classmates waving her down, jogging towards her. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she soon realised she standing in front of the college. How did I get here? She wondered, checking her watch The clock now read 12:40 and a panic rose in her chest. Where did those ten minutes go? Footsteps grew louder and she looked up to see the student jogging up to her.
"Hey!" They said breathlessly, keeling over slightly. "You just up and left. Are you ok?"
"I…" Nicky trailed off. Am I? She thought almost aloud. How the hell did I end up here? The dull pulse of an incoming headache thrummed between her temples. Come up with an answer, the voice in her head spat.
"I felt sick," she started, trying to hide the panic which was still rising in her chest. "Needed some air." That's a shit lie, the sentence echoed in her head. She pushed the thought aside, reasoning it would have to do for the time being. What else was I going to say? Oh, I lost ten minutes, blacking out and found myself outside precariously close to oncoming traffic?
"You didn't even grab your bag," her pursuer exclaimed. "The tutor was freaked out a bit." They cocked their head at Nicky, studying her with a concerned look on their face. "You gonna be right to come back?" Nicky began to nod meekly before a strange sense of dread gripped her. Instead, she found herself shaking her head.
"I… I think I'm gonna go," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She had managed to suppress the panic, but the sense of dread lingered as did her confusion.
"What about your stuff?" The student asked incredulously. Nicky looked down. They had a point. She didn't even register when they said she had left her bag behind. Feeling her pockets, she realised she hadn't even grabbed her phone. Holy hell, I really did just up and left, she thought.
"I'll be up in a minute," she wrung her hands unconsciously. The student shrugged and began making their way back towards the building. Nicky watched them walk away, deciding to check her watch again: 12:45 pm. She noted the time, took a deep breath and followed the student back into the building to grab her belongings.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the silence as Nicky walked down the street. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she drew out the exhale, really letting herself deflate before stopping to fish out her phone from her pocket. Her thumb swiped upwards against the slightly scratched screen.
The screen lit up and a calendar notification popped on the screen reading "1:45 PM - MGMT CLASS - 15-minute reminder." Her brow furrowed in thought as she considered going back to school. She still felt uncomfortable about what happened earlier, leaving her motivation to return low. Besides, she reasoned she wasn't far from the market, having already made a good time heading down towards Fells Point. Shoving her phone back in her back she continued on her way down the street, rows of townhouses and New England-style buildings in their uniform sizes, passing her by. The wind blew softly, causing the stray curls that poked out of her beanie to sway gently.
Nicky's mind churned over. First the bad dream, now she was losing time. Alarm bells rang in her head. What if this has happened before and I just didn't realise? The more she did the mental calculations, the worse she felt. Stop ruminating, she scolded herself. Just get through the day and get a decent night's sleep. Things are just trippy because you had a bad night's sleep, she reassured herself.
With that resolve, she picked up the pace and crossed the street.
The smell of saltwater and fish carried on the wind and hit Nicky's nose before she even got close to the water. Now carrying a small calico bag she filled at the market, she scanned the pier for the familiar sight of the Ford Step-van parked on the waterfront. It was navy with the words "Manzo Mobile" printed on the side. Once spotted she continued surveying the area until she saw a tall man wearing a black shirt with "Manzo Mobile" emblazoned on the back, adjusting the canopy attached to the van's flank. As she approached the van, its owner noticed her and waved. Nicky raised the calico bag in a half wave.
"Yo," the man called out as she got closer. He was a head and a half taller than Nicky, and slimly built. Despite the height advantage, he always seemed to lean back when she was nearby as if he was trying to elongate himself and appear taller. Scratching his short-trimmed beard, he looked over Nicky inquisitively. "What's that you got there?" He said with a hint of cheekiness in his voice, almost as if he was going to answer his question with a joke. Nicky opened the bag, peered inside and inspected its contents - a medley of fresh vegetables and herbs.
"I passed the market," she said, still looking at her purchase. "Thought you might be hungry." She shrugged slightly.
"I could eat," he smirked before making a more serious face, "but you know the rules. Don't adjust the mess around with the oven or -"
"Or we'll never get the temp right again, yes, I know, Tony," Nicky sighed as she climbed up the back of the van and into its kitchen.
Soon, the bag's contents were set out on a tea towel, freshly washed. Red and yellow capsicum, a deep purple aubergine, and green zucchini glistened in the sun, the tiny residual droplets left on their surfaces sparkling. Taking care to wipe them dry one more time, Nicky began cutting the veggies followed by some garlic and red onions. She sliced the garlic and onion sliced them paper thin. After that, she finely chopped some parsley. As she prepped, she occasionally looked out of the van to see Tony vigorously wiping down some fold-out tables and chairs.
Switching on the stove, she fried her vegetable medley in oil and butter, making sure not to burn anything. The medley became soft and fragrant. Adding a squirt of tomato paste she let it simmer while she toasted a hot dog bun in a separate pan. A quick taste test confirmed Nicky's suspicions - it was as good as it smelt. Once everything was ready, she plated the bun in a red, plastic basket, before topping it with the medley, finishing with a small dusting of parmesan. Happy with the final result, she rang the bell on the counter, signalling to Tony she was done.
Outside, Tony selected a fold-out chair to perch himself on and awaited his meal with his arms crossed. Rolling her eyes slightly at her boss' demeanour, Nicky placed the basket on the table in front of him. Tony regarded the dish and smiled.
"All those fancy lessons and they got you making peperonata? I could have taught you this," he chuckled before taking a big bite. He moaned slightly as he chewed. "It's good though," he mumbled through a mouth half full of food, nodding in approval. Nicky leaned on the table, unconsciously tapping her foot and toying with her necklace.
"They all looked so good, the veggies. Like really fresh," she said rubbing her neck with one hand, fiddling with her necklace with the other. "Pepreonata is easy to make. Cost-effective too." Tony nodded as he took another bite, "And you know, vegetarians. We could add breadcrumbs and make them into veggie meatballs or something, maybe just with the aubergine, but I like having the other veggies in there too." Tony cocked his head towards her with a raised eyebrow.
"You trying to change my menu?" He asked putting the sandwich down. Nicky stopped tapping her foot, straightened up and crossed her arms defensively.
"No," she shook her head. "It's just a suggestion. And lunch." She shrugged.
"And that's why you're here early?" Nicky felt her cheeks start to turn pink while her stomach flipped. Tony straightened up, leaning back on his chair slightly. "Class doesn't finish until 3 on Tuesday."
"It was cancelled," she replied as convincingly as she could. Tony simply stared at her intensely in response. His icy, blue eyes looked like they could see right through her. "And anyway," Nicky continued, "I can make up for it next week." Tony sighed and got up off the chair, which squeaked under him. He took a second to scratch his head before stepping towards her.
"You can tell me if something's up, you know?" His soft voice reverberated with sincerity. Nicky regarded the older man. He was only ten years older than her but he seemed older than that. Not because of his appearance, although the crow's feet were starting to set in. He just seemed to have the aura of a man much older, someone who has been through a lot. She knew he had been through much. Tony sighed again. "Look, I get it. I'm not your old man. But, I mean…"
"Do I look like something's up?" Nicky interjected, bristling. She hated hearing him talk like that. It always left a bad taste in her mouth when he brought up their lack of family ties. And while she knew he was only trying to be nice, that he was only trying to show he never wanted to overstep any boundaries between them, it always felt condescending, rubbing her precisely the wrong way. She didn't have to be reminded they weren't quote-unquote family. But that was Tony. Always trying to toe the line between being kind and conscientious.
The initial flash of anger quickly soured into regret. Fuck, I'm not that fragile, her voice rang out internally, realising she had snapped. Why couldn't I just have had some goddamn composure? she thought. She resolved to apologise but it was too late. Tony shot an incredulous look back.
"How long have we known each other?" He responded, this time his voice slightly raised and with a thick layer of disdain in his voice which made Nicky's skin prickle. "Yeah, you look like something is up." An awkward silence followed. In it, Nicky felt lost, unable to come up with an answer. She didn't want to fight, nor did she want to lie. Yet, she didn't particularly want to tell the truth either. Telling Tony the truth meant admitting she had a problem, And what's worse, he'd try to fix it. She wished she hadn't come early.
Tony sniffed. Looking out at the water, he began playing with the ring on his finger. Nicky looked away, a knot forming in her stomach; one made of pity and grief. He always played with his wedding ring when he was upset.
"Whatever it is, Nicky. If it's school, work, rent. Whatever. You can tell me. It doesn't have to be right now, but just know I'm in your corner. I get you are, you know, off on your own and all that, and you've got a plan. But I'm still here. Even when it's all done and you're working some fancy gig somewhere in New York or wherever I'll…" he trailed off. Tony shot Nicky another look. It was still intense, but this time, there was sadness in his eyes. Still, at a loss for words, Nicky stood there silently. Finally, Tony let out a long sigh. "Alright, go and get ready," he said gesturing to the van. Without looking at him, Nicky motioned towards Tony's sandwich basket. He promptly waved her away. "Hey, hey," his infliction changed slightly. "I'm still eating that. Don't you go running off with my sub." He brought the basket close to his chest as if to protect it from Nicky. "It's damn good," he mumbled before taking another bite, a small smile crept across his lips. Nicky's face screwed up, unsure of how to feel and she quickly spun around and headed back to the van.
"Look alive, we've got a rush incoming," Tony called out as he handed change to a customer. Ahead of him, people gathered towards the van and started to line up. The sun had set, string lights and street lamps lighting the harbour and its piers in its stead. "Milo, watch those buns, buddy," he continued, his voice straining slightly from raising his voice over the din. "A couple were a touch burnt. Check the temp. DON'T touch the settings, just check the temp. If it's too hot, let me know. Nicky, three more subs, hold the cheese on one." Tony pegged two orders above Nicky's station.
The night so far had been buzzing. All around Fells Point, particularly around the piers, many of the bars were hosting their weekly "Uni Night." Students from across the city flocked south to take advantage of the half-price drinks. Afterwards, they'd stumble along the piers in search of the food trucks to find something to absorb all the alcohol. Hence the strategic placement of the Manzo Mobile that night. Pier Four was always a safe bet according to Tony. Above the usual din of chatter and kitchen noise, Nicky could hear a familiar laugh grow louder and closer.
"Oi, Oi, big man, beautiful nigh' tonight," the familiar, slightly slurred, voice sang out. Nicky smirked in recognition.
"How's things, Ches?" Tony replied in his usual jovial tone. "Another late one?"
"Ah yeah, you know how it is," Chester said, his thick London accent separating him from the rest of the crowd. "By the time our lecture finished, we needed a drink. Plenty of blood and guts today. Bloody wild. Hey Nicky!" Nicky whipped around briefly to see her housemate waving at her in his big puffy coat. She gave a quick nod and waved before turning back to the burner.
"The usual then?" Tony quipped.
"Yeah, just four regular subs, please," Chester sang out.
"You heard the man, four regulars," Tony yelled, feigning a serious tone. He turned to Nicky and gave her a reassuring look followed by a wink and a thumbs up. She returned the thumbs up before turning back to her station. She was glad it was busy and had been for much of the night. The non-stop orders kept her mind occupied. It was fun working this way and she felt in her element. But then, all of a sudden, she felt it. A pang of dread. It came and went quickly, but it was too late. The feeling recalled her nightmare and soon images of the burning room flooded her mind.
Nicky felt her entire body jerk as she awoke from the nightmare. It had been the same as before. The strange room. The flames. The shadowy figure. She groaned as she wiped the sweat off her face. Once again, she was just about soaking wet. Begrudgingly she rolled over to check the clock. 3:30 am. It was as if the flashing digits signalled her muscles to ache with fatigue and she groaned once more realising she'd barely slept four hours.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a figure at the window again. This time she bolted to the window and aggressively wrenched the curtain open. Unlike the night before, she was met with a balcony ahead of her. Nicky sighed, letting her shoulders drop and her head lean against the window. The glass felt cool against her forehead and she realised she was still sweating, her skin burning slightly.
Part.1 - Act 2
The walk to Louis' cafe had been a complete blur that morning. She barely registered anything happening around her as she trudged through the market district, keeping her head down, focused on the path. Exhausted from the night before, she operated on autopilot as she got herself ready and travelled to work.
Once in the kitchen, she relied mainly on muscle memory to get through the prep. An hour had flown by and she barely noticed. She had blinked and she was halfway through her shift. The fatigue and lack of focus frustrated her. At least she had most of her faculties about her and could still function. She hadn't been bothered by any feelings of dread or panic that morning either, which she considered a plus. At her station, she quietly shaped loaves while Shannon measured ingredients for dough into the industrial mixer which sat a couple of arm lengths beside her.
"Shannon!" Louis' voice sang out from the office. "Can I get you to look at this?" The larger man dropped the sack of flour he had been pouring into the mixer onto the floor, sending a small plume of flour in the air. From afar, Nicky couldn't help but overhear the pair talk inventory. As she tried to focus on her task, the voices seemed to become more distant and fuzzy.
"Nicole!" Louis's shrill voice pierced the air. Nicky looked up and realised she was no longer at her station, but standing in the back doorway. A cool breeze blew fallen leaves at her feet and into the kitchen. Her jaw dropped in shock and she quickly closed the door with a loud thud. "What are you doing?" Louis cried, incredulously. Nicky stood there, her mouth agape, searching for an answer to give him. It happened again, was all she could think. I blacked out again.
"Is the truck there?" A deeper voice rang out. Nicky reflexively shot a look at Shannon, who had been standing behind Louis, and shook her head.
"I thought I heard a car," she blurted out the lie quicker than she anticipated.
"Deliveries aren't due until 6:30," Louis retorted, clearly agitated.
"She's allowed to check Louis. Relax," Shannon loomed over Louis, puffing his chest out ever so slightly. Louis opened his mouth to continue speaking when he was interrupted by his phone ringing. Irked, he audibly huffed, pulled the phone out of his pocket and moved into the front room. Noticing she was still standing by the door, Nicky quickly returned to her station. As she put her head down to continue her work, she felt Shannon come up beside her. "What was that?" He asked in a hushed tone.
"I dunno," Nicky admitted, shrugging. "I'm just half asleep. Needed some air, I guess." She hunched over her station, never looking up at Shannon.
"You've been off all morning," he crossed his arms. "Did you work last night?"
"Yeah. I know," she muttered. Shannon sighed and moved past her, back to the mixer. "Thanks for covering for me, by the way," Nicky said meekly. Shannon stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath.
"Just sort yourself out, yeah?" He spoke over his shoulder. "Before you burn out." He bent over to pick up the flour sack. "You're of no use to me burnt out." And with that, the pair worked in silence the rest of her shift.
Wednesday's classes were practical, Nicky's favourite. Not that she disliked the more academic stuff. The kitchen was simply where she felt content. She belonged there. Not behind a desk or in a classroom. Nicky felt far more alert now than she had back at the cafe, thanks to the coffee she bought before class. It had certainly done its job. However, the incident at the door had left her feeling paranoid. Every other minute, she found herself checking her watch, making sure each minute was accounted for. As far as she was aware, she hadn't lost any more time that morning. So far so good, she thought as she adjusted her apron. Perhaps it was just fatigue.
Using her favourite knife she minced shallots and garlic. The carbon steel paring knife glided effortlessly as it cut the garlic, her hand clasped around the chestnut handle. Afterwards, she switched to the boning knife to work on some salmon. Nicky poured all her effort and concentration into the task, still riding her caffeine high. As she sliced the delicate salmon flesh, she felt a tug at her elbow, the fabric of her whites pinching against her skin. She reflexively raised her head and looked behind her only to find space. Scanning the classroom, it was clear that none of the other students were close enough to have touched her. Furthermore, the tutor was on the far side of the room. Shaking off the strange occurrence, Nicky dove back into her task.
The locker room was filled with lively chatter, laughter, and the sounds of metallic doors opening and closing. Standing at her locker, Nicky quietly changed from her whites into her street clothes. Across the room, a man dressed in a white button-up t-shirt and brown capri pants with a clipboard appeared in the entryway.
"Hi Green Class," he greeted the students and was met with lukewarm hellos. He smiled a sickly, facetious smile as he approached the closest nearby student. As soon as he had entered the student's orbit, he began interrogating them, speaking quickly and frequently referring to the clipboard. Other students around him shuffled uncomfortably as the man scribbled, the pen scratching against the board almost aggressively. Meanwhile, the poor subject of his attention looked around the room, his eyes pleading for someone to save him. After a moment or two, the chatter in the room resumed, however more subdued this time.
"Thanks, Greg," the man loudly said, before moving in Nicky's direction. Nicky grimaced as she felt the admin officer come closer.
"Hi Nicole," he sang with his usual fake cheerfulness. Nicky braced herself and turned around.
"Hello Phil," she responded flatly. Phil gave her a thin smile and looked over his clipboard. Of all the admin officers the college employed, Phil was the worst. It was as if he had a special talent for making people uncomfortable. He effortlessly got under people's skin with his condescending tone and propensity to niggle people over seemingly unimportant details. Then there was how he'd make students feel as if they'd done something wrong or project shame on them if there was a missing payment or god-forbid had an incorrect detail somewhere on their records.
"We have one last invoice for this term coming up," he clicked his tongue. "Just checking in to ensure your payment details are correct, this time." He looked up at Nicky, still smiling while his eyes betrayed his judgmental thoughts. He handed over the clipboard. On it was a photocopied tuition form with her details. Phil clicked the pen he plucked from his pocket and passed it to Nicky. As she looked over her paperwork, Phill peered over the board, watching her write. "Also…" Phil, leaning closer, "I overheard you were unwell yesterday so I checked your emergency contact details. Thought it might be good to check if that was up to date. Is.." he grabbed at the board, snatching it out of Nicky's. "Tony … Car-ee-do still your contact?"
"Yep," Nicky replied curtly, clicking the pen and handing it and the clipboard back.
"Oh, good," Phil nodded. "Ah, you didn't have his relation box filled out. He's your father? Uncle?"
"No." Nicky gritted her teeth.
"Ok, what should I put down then? Next of Kin?" Phil asked clicking another pen he fished out from his pocket, poising it over the form.
"Legal guardian," she breathed.
"Ah ha," Phil voiced an octave higher than usual as he scribbled on the form. "Thanks" he flashed a toothy smile and sidestepped away, disappearing amongst the other lockers and students. Nicky bristled and went back to packing her bag. Just as she zipped the bag shut, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She was just about to curse at Phil when she turned and realised it was another student.
"Hey! Sorry, we were just talking," she said, motioning to the remaining students in the room behind her. "We're going to Inferno tonight. Wicked Wednesdays. You should come." Nicky opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of laughter from across the room. Her head darted towards the source of the laughter where she saw a young man sitting on a bench, chuckling while he tied his shoes.
"She's not going to come, Flo," he said without taking his eyes off his laces. He looked up and smirked at Flo. "She's gonna say "Sorry, I've got work", aren't you Nick?"
"Really, Mike? She can speak for herself." Flo turned to Nicky who shrugged.
"I do have work."
"Boo!" Another student called out while others groaned. Flo sighed and returned to her locker.
"Sorry," Nicky continued, "It's a trial shift at Chesapeake's this evening. I can't miss it."
"What? No way," Mike scoffed. "How did you land a trial there?"
"Uh, my boss, well, one of them, caught wind that the head chef is looking at hiring an apprentice sous and put in a good word." Nicky slung her bag over her shoulder. "I had spent some time there as a bussy a few years back, so they were open to letting me have a go, 'cause they kind of know me already."
"Wow. I heard the head chef there, Pierre?" Another student piped up, looking around the room for nods of approval from others. "Heard he was a bit of an asshole. The owner too."
"I guess they were a bit intimidating when I was last there, but it was a while back," Nicky mumbled looking down at her watch.
"Well, good luck with it all," Flo smiled, warmly.
"Thanks," Nicky said looking up from her watch briefly. 2:45 pm, she noted down the time in her head. She backed out of the room, giving the remaining students a half wave before leaving.
Part.1 - Act 3
The sun beat down on Nicky's face as she waited at the bus stop. She raised her hand to shield her eyes while squinting at her watch for the umpteenth time: 3:00 pm. A bead of sweat rolled down her brow. Turning to the sign attached to the bus stop sign, she checked the timetable once more. Not long now, she thought.
Looking down at her feet, she realised that she had been incessantly tapping her foot. Relax for fuck's sake, she told herself, forcefully stiffening her legs. Once still, she closed her eyes and mapped the journey in her head: 15 stops, about a five-minute walk. The trip should take half an hour, forty minutes tops. I'll be on time. The foot tapping resumed as she pulled her beanie off, giving her some relief from the afternoon sun which felt unseasonably warm. She sighed, checking her watch again: 3:01 pm.
Suddenly, she was overcome with the feeling of inertia. She looked up just in time to find herself lurching forward towards the back of a seat directly ahead of her. Her hands flung upwards in surprise, grabbing its plastic frame, preventing a collision between it and her head by half an inch. Tensely, she took in her surroundings. It became clear she had somehow gotten onto a bus, which had hardly any passengers. Looking ahead, she noticed her knuckles were white as she clung to the seat. When did I get on the bus? With her mind racing, she apprehensively turned her wrist slightly so that the clock face was visible. The black digits blinked 3:48 pm. Her eyes widened in shock.
Still clutching the seat tightly, she turned her face towards the window. Scanning the street outside, she searched for any signs or any landmarks she could identify. Once she had her bearings, panic began to fester in her stomach. This is the wrong route, alarm bells rang out in her head. Turning her attention to the the front of the bus she noted an old lady sitting two seats ahead; the closest passenger. Leaving her seat with an air of urgency, she moved down the aisle to approach the stranger.
"Sorry," Nicky spoke, her voice wavering slightly. The old woman regarded her with a polite smile. "What bus is this?"
"This is the CityLink Lime, honey. Heading towards North West Hospital," the woman responded sweetly.
"Thanks," Nicky replied breathlessly, trying to ignore the sensation of her stomach dropping. Fighting the bus's inertia, she clamoured towards the front and signalled for the next stop. She stepped off onto the busy street, pulled her phone out of her bag, opened the maps app and typed in Chesapeake's address. A loading icon spun around for a moment before charting the course. As the animated route loaded on her screen, she felt her breath catch in her throat. She had gone over half an hour in the wrong direction. It would now take her a full hour to get to Canton. She was late.
A can horn startled her, making her look up just in time to see another bus arrive on the other side of the road, clearly going in the opposite direction she had come. Without thinking, she ran across the street, narrowly missing a car or two, and jumped on the bus.
"Is this CityLink Navy?" She panted beside the driver's seat. The driver looked her up and down with a concerned look on their face.
"Yeah, southbound," they replied in an uneasy tone.
"Thanks," Nicky wheezed as she paid her fare and headed to the nearest vacant seat. With shaky hands, she hastily unlocked her phone once more, switched to the phone app and scrolled for the restaurant's number. As it dialled, Nicky could hear her heart beating in her ears.
"Chesapeake's at Canton. This is Marian. How may I help you?" A voice crackled on the other end of the line.
"Marian!" she blurted out. "It's Nicky, Nicole, Nicole Scratch. I'm so sorry, I got the buses mixed up and… and…I dunno… I've ended up on the wrong side of town but I…" A loud beep filled the speaker and the phone went quiet. Nicky looked at the screen. The cell reception icon flatlined and somehow she was out of cell range. No signal, you can't be serious. Nicky bit her lip, hoping the icon would change and bars would appear. The bus carried on down its route for a few minutes and the icon remained unchanged. All the while Nicky stared at her phone, pleading for it to change, while also keeping an eye on the time. Minutes ticked by each making her later and later for her first day.
Despite the bus making good time, it had still taken her over 50 minutes to reach Canton. She hit the next stop button the moment the sign above the buses door flashed Fleet Street. As soon as they stopped she launched herself off the bus and ran into Chesapeake's. The restaurant was empty as there was still an hour or so before it opened. Nicky barely took a moment to compose herself before making her way towards the kitchen. Ahead of her, she could hear the staff busy preparing for the opening.
"Whoah! Excuse me!" A high pitched voice called out from behind her. She turned to meet it and out from amongst the teak, mid-century dining tables emerged Marian. "What do you think you are doing?" He stared daggers as sharp as his outfit.
"Marian, I'm so sorry," Nicky exclaimed. "My bus! It took me the wrong way - "
"I'm going to stop you there," Marian cut her off, waving a hand. Despite desperately wanting to speak, Nicky's mouth snapped shut. "We've been calling you for an hour. No answer. You're an hour late and then you barge in here like some vagrant off the street."
"Wait!" Nicky croaked. She held out her phone, hoping to show him how it wasn't working, when she noticed its reception restored and notification bar full of missed calls. Her face fell.
"No," Marian spat. "That's unacceptable."
"If I can just speak to Chef Pierre," she pleaded, shoving the phone into her pocket. She could feel the eyes of some of the staff staring at her now.
"I said no," Marian continued. "We don't accept tardiness. We don't accept lame excuses. Your bus took you the wrong way? How old are you? I've heard teenagers with better excuses. No. This," he gestured at her condescendingly, "isn't what we look for in new hires. This is Chesapeake's, Nicole, not some food truck. We're a starred establishment. I suggest you leave. Now." Nicky took one look around the restaurant as if to search for someone, anyone, who she could plead with. But all she was met with was stares of secondhand embarrassment from the other staff. Trembling slightly, Nicky took her cue to leave and numbly wandered out of the restaurant.
Nicky couldn't say how long she was standing on the sidewalk, lost in the feeling of dejection and disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried fruitlessly to make sense of what just happened. How did I end up on that bus? She tightened her grip on her phone, trying to stop her hands from shaking. Taking a steadying deep breath, she unlocked it to check the time again. 5:15 pm. A small sob escaped her mouth and she shook her head. When she first lost time, it was only for a few minutes. This time it had been over half an hour. What the fuck was happening?
Feeling her nose become damp, Nicky wiped her face with a gloved hand. Looking down the street, she spotted a public restroom and resolved to go inside. Once inside, she locked the door behind her, walked over to the sink, and turned the water on. Taking her gloves off, she then cupped her hands and held them under the stream, letting the water pool. She splashed the water onto her face, which felt icy against her skin. Wiping the excess water from her face with a paper towel from the dispenser beside the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror. How could I fuck this up? A wave of anger and disgust washed over her as she stared at her reflection. She sucked in a deep breath in a vain effort to calm down, but the anger simply rose again, climbing from her belly to her throat, bursting to get out. She opened her mouth to let it out. "FUC-"
Suddenly it was dark, as if someone had turned the lights off. It had become eerily quiet too, so quiet all she could was her ragged breathing. Her hands were shaking again and she noticed her knees were damp. Somehow, she was now kneeling. Every nerve in her body felt as if it were pulled taut, about to snap. She waited a moment as her eyes adjusted and strained them to make out her surroundings. Soon, she could make out shrubbery and tall trees. Moonlight poked through the gaps between the tree's branches, illuminating small patches of dirt ahead of her. Wherever she was, the air smelt of soil and iron. A cold breeze passed through the trees, giving her goosebumps, and she realised she was no longer wearing her coat.
"Shit," she cursed. Desperately checking her pockets she quickly realised she didn't have her phone either. Nicky leaned forward, her fingers combing the earth, hoping to find her belongings. Reaching out haphazardly, she soon felt the smooth surface of her phone graze her right hand. She sighed in relief and crawled forward to pick it up. "Ow!" Nicky yelped. A sharp pain flashed across her left hand and she recoiled. Cradling her injured hand to her chest, she picked up the phone with the other, unlocked it and switched on the flashlight, turning the light towards her so she could inspect the injury. Her hand was filthy, covered in dirt and a thin, red line appeared across her palm which began to ooze dark red blood. Groaning, Nicky then cast the light towards the ground to search for her coat.
Noticing what looked like her coat and bag just ahead of her, she angled the light upwards to see better. She edged closer and just as she was about to grab her coat the light bounced off something bright red and shiny. Nicky fell back in fright, sending the phone flying through the air. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled to pick up her phone again. She quickly grabbed her coat and bag before hightailing it out of the bushes.
Not watching where she was going, she tripped on some garden edging. The fall was short, though, and Nicky quickly found herself climbing up a small hill, almost on all fours. Her hand grasped onto clumps of grass as she awkwardly made her way upwards. Spotting lights ahead, she broke into a run, moving as fast as she could through what she realised was a park until she found herself back on a main street. Curb-side, the sounds of thumping music, crowds, and traffic filled her ears. Lights on the street glowed deep red and orange.
Having run some way, Nicky had to stop for a moment to catch her breath. While doing so, she tried to gather her surroundings and figure out where she was. Looking in the direction of the music, she saw the words "Inferno Club" glowing in deep red neon lights. Her heart sank. She had somehow ended up back on the other side of town, right where she started after blacking out the first time.
Now under better lighting, she realised just how dirty she was, and immediately felt self-conscious. Nicky put her coat on, making sure to raise her hood. As her breathing steadied, she slung her bag over her shoulder and cautiously started on her way home, silently praying she would get there without any further interruptions.
Rounding the corner over her block, relief beckoned. She had managed to make it within sprinting distance of home without blacking out again. However, she pushed the feeling aside, hesitant to let her guard down. The entire way she had mustered all the energy she could to focus solely on getting home. She didn't want to ruminate on what had happened, lest it somehow trigger another blackout or some other strange malady.
The townhouse was within eyesight now. With barely fifty metres left to go, a bristling sensation began creeping up the back of her neck. Sick with the feeling she was being followed, Nicky slowed down. Steeling herself, she conjured the courage to stop, turn around, and look behind her. Pigtown could be sketchy sometimes and it would be just her luck that her night would end with her being followed home by some creep.
Behind her, the street was empty. A sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head, relieved. She was about to continue walking when some movement ahead of her caught her eye. Out from the shadow of a parked car emerged the black cat, as if manifesting from the darkness itself. It slinked onto the pavement and positioned itself under the light from a nearby streetlamp, setting its sights on Nicky. There was a strange energy in the air when Nicky blinked back it and realised it was the same cat as the night before. The feline's wide green eyes stared, unblinking, as its tail flicked back and forth sharply. Unsure exactly why the cat gave her such weird vibes, Nicky began backtracking towards the house, slowly placing one foot behind the other, never breaking eye contact.
Without warning the cat darted forward, causing Nicky to turn on her heel and run as fast as she could home. Bursting through her gate, she glanced back to see if the cat had followed her and found no trace. Perhaps it has hidden in the shadows but she was not keen on finding out. She jumped the steps of the porch and skidded to the front door. Hastily, she opened the front door and slid inside, shutting it behind her using her back. Another sigh escaped her. This time it was a longer one with her body almost collapsing in relief.
Noise from the kitchen grabbed her attention. The exposed globe hanging from the kitchen ceiling did its best to light the small room but failed to cover the entire space, creating dark shadows that spread into the living room. Under its warm glow stood Chester, standing there in his navy blue scrubs. He looked at her in shock, holding a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other.
"What's this then?" Chester exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised.
"Hey," Nicky replied exasperatedly. Feeling spent, she tried her best to casually kick her shoes off but wobbled, bumping into the wall.
"Hey? What are you doing here? I thought you were at Chesapeake's tonight." Chester placed the jar on the kitchen counter, followed by the knife, and looked at his silver wristwatch. "I wasn't expecting you until, like, one." He eyed her inquisitively. Still trying to act casual, Nicky started walking towards the stairs.
"They, uh, let me go early," she said, wishing she had done so more convincingly. "Quiet night."
"Uh huh," his brown eyes narrowed at her, clearly sceptical. He stepped around the counter and switched on the living room light. With the room now brighter, he gasped at the sight of her. "Girl! What happened to you?" He barged across the living room to get a closer look. Standing quite close now, he inspected her coat, clicking his tongue in disapproval. He then grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him but she pulled away, shooing him with her hands.
"I had an accident, ok? I fell off the bus and landed in some mud. It's no big deal," Nicky mumbled brushing him off, moving closer to the stairs.
"You fell off a bus," Chester replied incredulously, crossing his arms, "how?"
"I missed the bottom step," Nick continued as she slowly started making her way up the stairs. "Too busy looking at my phone." She looked back at him and forced a grin. Chester rolled his eyes at her.
"Right. Ok…" he said sarcastically and returned to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, she hurried up the last couple of steps and went straight to the bathroom.
Taking her time, she inspected the wound on her hand, which had now dried up. Despite hurting, it looked totally innocuous. A quick wash with rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit kept under the sink revealed a thin cut, barely a few millimetres deep; hardly worthy of a bandage. After cleaning it, she then got undressed, ready to wash the rest of her body. In the shower, she watched the water turn dark as she cleaned the dirt off of her body. Her hands were particularly dirty and, to her horror, there appeared to be blood under her fingernails. Her mind involuntarily flashed back to the scene in the bush and she shivered.
Finishing in the bathroom, she returned to her room and collapsed onto her bed. Laying atop the covers, she tried to relax, focusing on her breathing. Despite feeling so tired, she was tense. Today had been a nightmare. As she reached to turn off her bedside lamp, she found herself looking at the board above her desk. School bills and rental notices hung stiffly, stuck there by little red pins. Losing the gig at Chesapeake's will set me back, she thought. A familiar mix of anger and grief made her stomach churn. Turning the light off, she laid back down, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She lay there without moving for some time and didn't even stir when the silhouette of a cat appeared in the window.