บท 6: NYC - Names, Yards, Cages
I was in front of the store. It was dark out. There was definietely a moon in the sky, but it didn't give off any light. Neither did the stars. I tried to peer into the darkness that I knew was the store. I could hear voices, or maybe it was just one voice and a bunch of echoes. The voice was feminine and very familiar. It took me a bit to realize it was Joline. I lunged forwards and ran into the store. The overhead lights buzzed on. Their flourescence blinded me for a second. My vision returned. And there they were.
The yellow-eyed people. There was at least seven of them, standing in a circle around me. People from all different races and ages. I almost choked on my spit even though my mouth felt dry. And then I saw Joline. She was behind one of the men, a big burly black guy who's teeth were as yellow as his eyes.
"Help me." She said. I tried to step forwards. It was as if the floor had turned to a tread-mill. I broke into a run but never got closer to here. I couldn't move a single inch. I felt the sweat trickling down my temples. I picked up my pace. Sprinting faster than I ever had before. "Why aren't you coming for me, Mack?" I couldn't answer either. My chest felt tight. I realized that I was unable to inhale or exhale. "Why are you leaving without me?"
I woke up and shot out of bed. What the fuck. I hadn't dreamed in an eternity. Why was I dreaming? Was there something wrong with me? Had the creep at the store gotten into my brain? Did I have a brain tumor? Had something happenend to Joline and God was sending me a sign? I was freaked out.
I ran to the door but the second my hand touched the cold metal doorknob I pulled back, almost as if it had been hot to the touch. I gave my head a little shake. I wasn't being realistic. It was just a nightmare. I used to have those a lot. There was nothing wrong with dreaming. I took a step back. But I still stared at the doorknob. It wouldn't hurt to go check up on Joline...
I quietly rapper a knock-knock on her door. A minute later she opened it. She was still half-asleep. Her hair was a mess and her voice cracked when she said my name. She sounded more exhausted than surprised. "Mack?"
"Hey. Joline." I searched her eyes for something - anything. I didn't find it. "I just wanted to see if you were alright." But my voice was flat and emotionless. Why was I so beaten all of a sudden? She was struggling to keep her eyes from closing. I realized it had been a bad idea to wake her up. "I'm sorry for bothering you. Go back to sleep Joline." I turned and walked away. The door closed behind me.
I trudged down the staircase, slipped back into my apartement and started to pack my clothes. There was no point in staying at NYC. Apart from Joline I had no friends, and she wouldn't hold me back. The other woman, Margot, had told made it clear that she never wanted to see me again. She was probably embarrassed with herself for sleeping with a stranger. Fuck it.
I grabbed my favourite sweats, pocketed the knife, some matches and a little bottle of dininfectant. I took my bomber jacket and pocketed my other three knives into it. I managed to stuff some of the canned food into those pockets as well to create more room for new food in my backpack.
I stared at the saggy rucksack. It was old and beat up. But I didn't have anything better. I put it next to the door. I planned to leave at dawn. Then I'd head to the store, grab a couple more cans and avoid the back of that shithouse. I'd start to walk north-west. And then hopefully I'd find my way to the outskirts of NYC, find a place to spend the night and keep walking in the next morning.
I mapped out my journey to my new home. I circled all the names that I assumed would help keep me on track. It was a long night.
I felt the urge to take a walk. I was scared. Panic promised me that the weird yellow-eyed people would be out there, parading through the streets like zombies. But I knew I was wrong. They weren't out there.
As I exited the building I realized I could wake Joline up. I'd pormised her I'd wake her up once, after all. I hurried up to the ninth floor. Once again I knocked on her door. She opened up, this time wide awake. There was a spark in her eyes.
"A while ago I promised to wake you up if I ever wanted to go-."
"I'm coming." She grabbed a coat off the chair next to the door, threw in on over her nighties and stepped into the corridor. "I couldn't sleep anyway."
"Not since I woke you up?" I asked.
"Yeah. You totally fucked me up." She smiled and locked her door. Her's only had three locks. "Where do you plan on walking."
"We could go to one of the courtyards?" There were plenty of nice courtyards with fountains and gardens around. I usually didn't take myself there, it's only fun to walk through them with company. She agreed. Minutes later we were already strolling through one of them.
"I forgot how beautiful NYC can be." She said absentmindidly.
"I don't miss the crowds." I joked. She laughed and touched my arm lightly.
"Me neither. But I do miss..." She didn't finish her sentence. I didn't ask. The oak trees on either side of us were intimidating but also provided shelter. They made me feel at home somehow. Safe. I got an idea. I pulled her over to one of them and took out my knife.
"What's your full name?" I asked her.
"Joline McConnel." She answered. I smiled at her. I took the knife and started to carve her name into the wood. She laughed and rolled her eyes. "We're not in high school, Mack."
"We're also unemployed motherfuckers in a fucked up world that's not going to get any better." I answered somewhat bitterly. She seemed taken aback at my words. I apologized for snapping. "I'm an asshole sometimes, sorry."
I finished the design. I'd written; Joline McConnel and Emmanuel Hart. I raised my eyebrows at her. "Should I draw a heart around our names?" My question made her laugh. She must have thought it silly. But she agreed. I carved it. She asked for my knife and, quite professionelly, carved a message under it: we were only fucking. I laughed heartily and hugged her.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
I would like to say we had kissed after I brought her home. But we didn't. I'd like to say that I felt a sharp pain in my chest. But I didn't. Looking back on it I think we were both probably too traumatized to realize that we were actually in love. When I think about it now, the way she'd reacted when I said I was going to leave NYC, drawing her robe closer to her body, meant she was nervous or angry or cold or all three. She definietly wanted me to stay; or to invite her along. But my brain was incabable of making the connections. I could do so many more things than I used to. But at the same time, I could do nothing at all. At least nothing, that used to make me human. No feelings, no real consioucness, just animal instincts and desires.
I was a native. And I was caged.
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