Somewhere Else

Chapter 29: Freak

The knock at the door was not answered. He stood on the doorstep with one hand in his overcoat and one hand pressed to the door in anticipation of it being opened. When he still wasn’t greeted ten minutes after the knocking had started and was instead being inspected through the windows of the neighbors, he peeled his lips back and hissed, very much like a feral animal. Though the night was dark, the light from the street lamp barely caught his fangs and they gleamed, enough to send the peeping tom back to bed. Both hands were in pockets now and he wished the night air would not cling to him so. Turning, he resolved to walk to the apartment of that god-forsaken cop. Surely he’d find his ‘fearless leaders’ cozied up inside.

As he walked he went over everything he’d seen in his head once more. The flat, smooth surface that he touched in his closet had brought on such a torrent of emotion and memory associated with a death that the only thing he could conclude was that Kray himself had killed this person and felt absolutely remorse for it. Over and over he played it in his head, as though he was missing some essential piece. He ought to just take it at face value. The man didn’t seem the sort to care about who he wasted in the streets while on duty anyhow. After all, he was just another cop.

The drugs that he’d inhaled so deeply were finally taking effect. As he made his way to the complex, he spread his arms wide and let the cold wrap securely around him. Surely it was a good thing he’d dressed for the occasion because otherwise he might catch his death while being out in the night. How amusing to think that after his worlds collapsed around him and he was forced to live one single life for all of his days, until he simply expired, that he would catch his death of a cold just a few nights after every was set in cement, after total chaos and destruction would come. What a shitty way to go. That’s what he’d been trying to avoid in all these centuries, was to not have to die like all these other losers. So many were afraid that he’d overdose on drugs. He thought it might be nice to simply stop existing in mid-flight.

By the time he reached the stairs, he was pretty sure he was seeing double. At the very least he was standing beside himself, examining everything this place had to offer. He knew where he was. He knew the place inside and out. If he’d kept that key he could have invited himself in and he wouldn’t have to face this stranger. The stranger that he knew so intimately well that he could honestly say he hated the man.

The door looked different to him though. Another color than he remembered perhaps. With all the diving that he’d done of late it was hard to pick up on such minute details though. Keeping his hand open and just turning it around to connect knuckles to door, for the sake of not curling his fingers to his palm and puncturing his skin with his long nails, he continually knocked until he heard some shuffling inside of the apartment. If Brecker wasn’t here the night would be far worse than before. If not in his shoebox though, he could only be here.

Finally he heard the deadbolt disengage and a voice from the other side, through the door rather than being face to face. “Who are you?”

Giving a name as he often did probably wouldn’t go over well in this instance. He’d long ago abandoned any formal name, any Christian name, and adopted the nick that everyone had given him so casually decades ago. In fact, though he’d been asked at least a time or two since then, his birth name had been forgotten entirely. Whenever expected to introduce himself by anything more normal than ‘Freak’, he simply made up a name. In this case he drew a blank though. The one standing beside him dissolved into a fit of laughter when he realized he couldn’t think up a common name for the life of him.

“Brecker, is he here?”

Rather than answer the question, he thought asking one of his own would be for the best. Cut to the chase and get things taken care of. That seemed like the reasonable thing to do. Both hands had again found their way to his pockets, enveloped in warmth that was only lasting so long as he believed in it. If he thought there was snow in there, he most likely would suffer from frostbite.

“No.”

The response came so quickly that he imagined he’d lied on his behalf, wondering what some stranger would want with him at this hour of the night. A cop was always suspicious he was sure. Something else to hate about them. Drawing in a deep breath, he hung his head slightly. The man would be able to see him, as he had positioned himself right in the center of the door, for the sake of the view hole being on his side should Brecker be the one that came to the door.

“You’re a liar.”

The deadbolt was engaged once more. He’d made things worse but he couldn’t help it. That didn’t help the fact that he still needed to talk to Brecker though. He wished he still had that house key. If he’d only taken longer, or not visited Brecker right away when he was through, this wouldn’t be a problem at all.

“Go away. You’re trespassing.”

Now, he didn’t have any formal education in the way of the law but he was pretty sure he could stand on the porch of an apartment with no problem at all. He wasn’t going to press the matter though because he was hell bent on getting inside of that apartment or at least talking to Brecker. He wasn’t sure how to get through this guy though. Maybe if he wore a false mask of sincerity, created a problem that Brecker would have to deal with immediately. A sense of urgency would help him to forgive that he appeared on his doorstep at the ungodly hour of four in the morning. What was worse though was that he’d come on behalf of Kray, the very force that was keeping him apart from Brecker.

“Listen Kray, I’m sorry that I woke you and all but I really need to talk to Brecker.”

Now the lock was disengaged once more and the door was opened, revealing a man in pajama pants and a white t-shirt, one who obviously just woke from sleep, and who was also sharp enough to catch that he knew his name. Brecker had probably told him his name, but the only friends that Brecker ever mentioned were Oskar and Lane and this…well this man was neither of them. He’d never met Lane, but he had a good idea of what the man looked like.

“In regards to what? How is this so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

Now that was something he couldn’t answer because by the looks of it Kray still hadn’t been broken. He still wasn’t accepting the idea that Brecker was trying to plant in his head. Hell, if he had, he wouldn’t be here right now. Kray would already know the trouble going on in his own life and he’d be helping himself out. To hell with it all though, he didn’t care. He’d spill whatever hadn’t been explained.

“There’s someone that needs his help. It’s a matter of life and death. If you want to stand in the way, by all means, be my guest. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing though. He told me that if anything bad happened, he needed to know right away. This is about as bad as it gets. So either you can let me talk to him or I’m going to hold you personally accountable for what’s going on.”

There was more he wanted to say. Lots more. He wanted to accuse him of being the weak link in all of this. He wanted to inform him that if he’d just step up and do his job that he wouldn’t have to cover for him as well. In fact, if Kray had just done as he was told, he’d be taking care of this himself and he could remain indifferent and off to the side where he wanted to be. The anger inside of him was growing at an alarming rate but he’d never lash out, not so long as he still had control of himself. He knew the repercussions of that. Brecker illustrated them well.

“I’ve already asked you to leave. Brecker doesn’t need to be disturbed.”

From behind him though, Freak heard a noise. Obviously the arguing at the door was enough to wake him. Maybe he was a light sleeper in the first place. If ever there was a time to be grateful for small miracles, now was one of them.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m up. Who is it?”

Kray glanced over his shoulder and nearly glared at him. With a sigh, he stepped to the side and opened the door wider so that he could see who stood on his porch before sunrise, demanding to see him. If there weren’t enough strange happenings already, there was this to top them all off with.

Brecker rubbed his eyes and then focused on the figure in the doorway. Malachai was tall, much taller than he was, but this man exceeded that height quite generously, leaving him with no doubt in his mind who it was. Shuffling along, he stopped right alongside Kray and then yawned. He had to wonder if this was a side effect of the drugs he took, never sleeping.

“What is it Freak?”

“You need to move Brecker.” There was a subtle tip of his head in Kray’s direction, brows lifted in some morbid amusement. “He’s about to eat his gun.”