BACK INTO THE HILLS

 

It was a small office, a corner office, at the back of the building, over-looking the intersection of two narrow alleyways big enough for trash bins, and a truck to collect them. The windows opened, but the smell, especially in the summer, was brutal. Even the air-conditioned air stank of it, when the air conditioner worked, which was ‘sometimes’. It was a closet of an office, squeezed between two larger firms, but it was a corner. Third floor, of six, too close to the trash to matter. Other than that, it was of suitable size for one, and one is all there was. A desk, chair, a small sofa for guests, donated by a friend leaving town, folded down to a bed, but necessitated the desk being moved to accommodate it. Not that it mattered, he had a bachelor apartment, not much bigger than his office, but still ‘home’. But home was lonely, so he opted for the office to work from, and the occasional sleep over, when tax season rolled around. It was on such an occasion that he heard the sound. It was a muffled cry, about two A.M., he had just started to fold out the sofa and thought, at first, it may have been a function of the springs decompressing. He stopped and listened, but there was no further noise. He continued to unfurl the bed, when he heard the moan and knew his bed was not to blame. He went to the windows, there were two, each looking onto the alley, one to the south, and one to the east, but he could not see down directly, and from what he could see, there was nothing stirring. His instinct told him to ignore it, and tuck in. It had been a long day, but he considered his options instead. If he called the police, it would be hard to be specific. He didn’t know what he heard, and would be hard pressed to describe it.

“A moan…and a groan…nothing else…no, I saw nothing from my vantage point…probably some vagrant...but, still, do you think you could investigate…?”

It was starting to mist and the prospects of 'personally' going out to investigate were even less inviting than they had been a half hour before. He sat on the edge of bed and listened. Silence. Maybe he should forget it, and yet he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he knew for sure. He grew restless and paced his tiny space. The growing drizzle was unexpected, but unprepared as he was, out he went. Down the darkened hallways, he made his way to the elevator and descended. He used his key to open the building’s door and locked it behind him, which gave him a cautious pause  “…what if…” he wondered. He went out onto the empty street, and felt the chill. He ‘embraced’ himself against the weather, and proceeded around the corner to the alley. It was pitch black and uninviting. He pressed on, but cautiously. What he wouldn’t do for a flashlight...but no such luck. Half way down he was overcome by the notion that this was a terrible mistake, and he stopped. The drizzle was turning to rain, the skies grew darker, and the wind picked up. Still, he decided he had reached ‘the point of no return’, which, in itself, was delusional - of course he could return, head back to his office, and crawl into bed, as if nothing had happened. But he was soaked already, and would have to head home at some point to get dry clothing before the next work day, so he pressed on.   

He finally reached the juncture of the two alleyways, his heart beat, strong and rapid. “Hello?” he ventured, but no response. “Damn it…” he cursed his rotten luck. Then he heard it again, loud and clear, but decidedly not human. Cautiously, he made his way to a dumpster. Looking inside, he was overcome without so much as an exclamation. It snatched him and devoured him.

Satiated for the night, it would be off the streets before sunrise, and back into the hills.

 V