Lemniscate

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounded like someone scratching against the wall.”

“These old places just have old lathe and plaster walls, behind them miles of free space for mice.”

“This is different. It's just too rhythmic. More like a pattern, not what I would expect a mouse to scratch as it moved along the ancient lathe work.”

“Oh well, suit yourself. Just a mouse I am sure of it.”

“Quiet. Listen.” He put his fingers up to his lips in that universal symbol of shut up. The two of them sat there on the sofa heads craned listening intently. “There. Don't tell me you didn't hear that? I am telling you there is something behind that wall.”

“Come with me.” Together they rose and went outside the apartment to look at the wall from the outside. “I am telling you it was either a mouse or one of the other tenants walking down the hallway, running their fingers against the wall making the sound. I'll prove it. Sit inside and I will demonstrate.” She ran her fingernails along the hallway.

Poking her head back inside the apartment. “So? Anything?”

“Yeah, you are right. Just someone in the hallway.”

“Mystery solved. I'll call you later. Get some rest, you had a long thirty six hours in the ER. Have a beer. Watch some TV.” She kissed him on the cheek then disappeared down the hallway. Her perfume lingered then faded as he closed the door, got himself a beer and sat down on the sofa. Maybe it was the beer, but probably just exhaustion and soon he drifted to sleep.

When he awoke the room was dark. The scratching was louder and it seemed as if it was coming from behind his head. Startled he stood and ran his palms along the wall’s surface, stopping where he heard the noise. He placed the side of his face, his ear against the wall and waited. Nothing. His eyes studied the surface, he watched as the wall bulged for a second as the scratching began again. He jumped back and almost vomited from nerves.

For the longest time he sat there and studied the wall. The scratching came and went and wherever the scratching originated that part of the wall seem to bulge out as if something was moving under the skin of the plaster. It reminded him of how the family cat use to move under the blankets at home like some disembodied spirit moving along under the blanket.

Quixotically quizzical musings began to turn to fear. What if there was something evil buried in the wall? Some long lost unrequited lover or the soul of a victim of a long forgotten serial killer. It must be exorcised, removed. He began to contemplate his options. I am a surgeon I can remove something like a cyst in a wall, this should be simple compared to the last two days of surgery. A wall cyst should be simple compared to bullets, bullet fragments and shattered bone, the results of drive by shooting sprees between inner city gangs.

From the kitchen he grabbed a long bladed knife. He pulled the sofa away from the wall, then turned on several lamps and waited. His phone buzzed, a text message asking if he was okay. Did he get some rest? He leaned down to read the message and as he did the wall came alive. The scratching began in the top left then moved closer to the floor. It moved to the center where a large bulge tried to force its way out of the wall. He screamed and stabbed at it with the knife. The noise moved closer to the floor. He watched and waited, it seem to pulse as if it was breathing he stabbed at it again. The scratching grew louder as it moved with rocket sped from the lower corner up to the top of the wall by the ceiling. He stood back and stabbed repeatedly wherever he saw it move.

The battle raged on through the night. The surgeon stabbing at spots in the wall as he watched the wall cyst move about scratching its way through the wall. As he stabbed he saw scenes from the days before of the children being brought in to the hospital. Shot up, bloody, dismembered, dying, and dead. Finally he watched as it seem to stop, out of breath, confused it sat there along the baseboard of the wall for what seemed like forever. He snuck up and stabbed in to the heart of the bulge. He swore he heard screaming. He swore he saw blood shoot out of the white wall in to his living room. He dropped to his knees with the exhaustion of a hunter who had stalked and finally cornered his prey, then he passed out.


She convinced the landlord to let her in. The two of them slipped in to the apartment around the couch propped up against the door. Against the far wall sat the surgeon huddled under a blanket staring at the wall digging the blade of his knife in to the floor cutting away at the wood. Laughing.

“You thought I was hearing things. I was crazy. What do you think now?” He pointed toward the wall, “there was an army of them in that wall. All trying to come out and get at me. At us. At all of us.”

The two of them looked to the wall. There were several holes in the plaster. It looked random at first. As they stepped back the pattern became evident, like one of those connect the dots pictures you did when you were a kid.

“It says something doesn't it? What's it say?” The landlord stared, scratched his head, looked to the woman and then looked back to the huddled doctor.

“It says, god help us all.”