Black Hands

Paul sat at his desk in his office, finishing up on a couple of e-mails before heading home. After hitting the last “send” with a sigh of satisfaction, he turned off his desktop computer and stretched out on his huge reclinable leather chair. Spinning around, he stopped to admire the view of the city skyline, by far the best perk of the corner office he earned when he made partner at the firm some five years back. The buzz of an intense day of work died down as he was transfixed by the palette of yellows, oranges, reds, blues and purples that painted the faces of tens of thousands of buildings, stretching to the horizon and beyond. The bustling city always felt so peaceful from the 42nd floor of the office tower that housed his firm. The ring-tone of his cellphone snapped him out of his lull. He fished the device out from under one of the dozens of stacks of papers strewn across his enormous wooden desk. His favorite picture of his wife taken during a trip to Europe before they got married announced the caller.

“Hey babe,” Paul answered.

“Hey hon, how was your day?” The soft voice of her wife Lauren washed away the last vestiges of the day’s stress from Paul’s mind. He was ready to go home.

“Not too bad, I’ll tell you over dinner,” Paul replied, getting up from his chair and heading to the hanger where his suit hung.

“Okeydoke. Hey, do you mind picking up some ice cream on your way back?”

“Sure thing. Wha-” Paul was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was his best friend and associate, Jerry. He stood peeking in through the doorway.

“Sup pal, great work on the new account today. You knocked it out of the park.” Halfway through the sentence, Jerry realized his friend was on the phone with his wife. “Let’s go out and celebrate, tits and drinks are on me.” He added in jest, raising his voice to make sure Lauren overheard on the other side of the call. Paul chuckled and put the phone on speaker.

“Very funny, dickless. Why don’t you run on home before I tell Mandy to slap the shit out of you again.” Lauren’s voice sounded through the speaker.

“Jokes on you, I like it when she’s rough on me.” Jerry fired back.

“You’re disgusting,” Lauren replied.

“Love you too, Lauren!” Jerry answered, cracking up.

“See you tomorrow, bud.” Paul bid his friend farewell as he turned off the speaker and held the phone to his ear again.

“Ok, see you in a few babe.” He hung up, put on his suit and turned off the lights before heading out across the deserted office.

Down the high speed elevator to the underground parking area, Paul walked to his car, a massive black sedan. The beep of the unlocking doors echoed across the empty garage. The engine roared as he sped up the ramps of three floors and onto the street. Twilight had already enveloped the ground level of the city, not a trace of the myriad colors he admired from above. The thrum of the engine bounced off the walls of the narrow empty streets as the heavy shiny sable vehicle glided on, like a huge killer whale swimming across a dark ocean. Paul stopped at a red light and noticed a disheveled old homeless man crossing the street. The image was unfortunately something that had become quite ordinary in the city, but there was something about this man that caught his attention. He could not really place it, but Paul felt he somehow recognized him. Surely, his tired mind was failing him, but still he followed the man with his eyes as he dragged on in front of the car. As he crossed the dazzling white beams of LED light shining from the headlights, Paul realized that the man was not that old, rather his long unkempt hair and beard and his torn clothes gave him that appearance. Black stains of varying sizes and patterns adorned his entire figure. Paul pitied the man’s fate, while still being unable to place what exactly made him stand out in his mind. Just before exiting the bright shaft of light back into the gloom, the man stopped and slowly turned to face the car. Expecting the man to approach his window asking for a charitable gesture, Paul started patting the pockets of his coat looking for change. But the man didn’t move. He stood motionless in front of the car. Strange. His gaze still fixed on the mysterious figure, Paul watched as the man slowly took his hands out of his pockets and extend them in his direction. The gesture he made was not of someone begging for alms, but rather like someone sorrowfully holding up a dead pet. Only his hands were empty. Paul realized that what the man was wanting to show were his hands, which stood displayed in stark detail. Dozens of cuts, sores, scabs and sickly pustules covered his skin, which was coal black with filth. Long, outgrown broken nails extended from his fingers. Paul was hypnotized by the image, he could not look away. The sudden shrill of a horn coming from a car behind startled him. The light was green. He drove around the man, who still stood motionless in the middle of the street and headed home.

Paul parked in the private garage beneath the luxury apartment building where he lived with his wife and two kids. The doors to the elevator slid open, revealing a slender man leaning with his back against one of the slick steel walls smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in an impecably fit dark pinstripe suit, shiny black Oxford shoes and a blood-red tie held to a neat cotton shirt with a gold tie-pin. Straight lines governed his narrow face, his mouth only a thin straight slit across his complexion, interrupted only by the butt of his cigarette. His skin was unnaturally pale yet flawless, contrasting with his long jet black hair which he wore tightly combed back. His empty, beady dark eyes and pointed nose gave the man an overall rather sinister look, like some sort of crow. He nodded to Paul in acknowledgment. Paul nodded back, too tired to ask him to put his cigarette out, or even ask who he was since he had never seen him around the building before. He pushed the button to the 18th floor and noticed that no other button had been pushed. Again, he pushed doubt aside, he just wanted to get home.

The doors slid open on the 18th floor and Paul stepped out, the slender man nodding once more. He stood on the landing in front of his door waiting for the elevator to leave, a white shopping bag with ice cream in his hand. Once it did, he keyed the door and entered, only to be attacked by a small girl and a boy, who screamed in laughter as they hugged his legs.

“Help! I’m being ambushed!” Paul pleaded. He grabbed his daughter by the waist and slumped her over his shoulder upside down, she shouted in delight. Then, with the hand still holding the bag with ice cream, he grabbed his giggling son by the arm and raised him off the floor. He walked past the living room and into the dining area, where Lauren was finishing setting up the table for dinner.

“Seems like you have a vermin infestation, ma’am. What shall I do with these two rodents?” Paul inquired lowering his voice to invoke a grave tone. The kids still laughed and screamed and writhed in his grasp.

“Settle down kids, dinner’s ready,” Lauren said with a smile. Paul put the kids down and they sat. He approached his wife and gave her a kiss before sitting down at the head of the table after taking off his suit and tie. The four of them chatted about their day as they ate. When they finished, Lauren readied the kids for bed while Paul took over dish-duty. Once done, they sat together at the sofa in the living room and talked over a glass of wine, winding down before going to sleep.

“Tomorrow I won’t make it home for dinner, babe. We’re taking out this new client from abroad.” Paul said between sips of red wine. He hated not being home for dinner, especially if it was because of work. He tried to make a point of keeping his work-family balance in check, but this was a big account. Closing on it was a huge deal for the firm, so he agreed to make this one exception. Lauren caressed his face and pulled him in for a kiss before telling him not to worry. They made love on the couch, hushing each other and laughing beneath their breath every time they made a loud noise that might wake up the kids.

The next day went by in a flash for Paul. He worked like a man possesed, not even stopping to have lunch. He felt good, in the zone. Unstoppable. The end of the day arrived and with it, the outing with the new client. He met with Jerry and the other associates at one of the top restaurants in the city for an evening of wining and dining, and hopefully closing deals. He felt time pick up speed as the night progressed and intensified. Everything started to blur, like a fast-forwarding VHS tape. When he came to, he was bidding the clients farewell as they drunkenly stumbled into the back seat of a cab outside a nightclub that was on the other side of the city from where the night started. Once the cab drove away, Jerry appeared from behind and hugged him in excitement.

“We did it, buddy! You did it! We’re gonna be rich!” He shouted. The rest of the associates joined the celebration. Paul was the man. He was happy, he was proud of himself, but he wanted to get back home. So he said his goodnights and jumped into a cab of his own; he had left his car at the office, knowing the night was bound to be intense.

His head was still spinning and his ears were still buzzing when he got to his apartment building. He got out of the cab, almost tripping on the sidewalk.

“Are you OK, sir?” The doorman asked Paul as he opened the door to the building for him.

“Yea, Charlie I’m fine, thanks. Long day.” Paul sighed, trying to get his bearings back.

“Very well sir. Have a good night.” Charlie nodded curtly.

Paul entered the elevator and almost struggled to push the correct button on the pad. The doors slid open and he stepped into the landing, fumbling for his keys. In his stupor, he didn’t notice him at first. He had to blink and focus for a second to confirm that it wasn’t a hallucination. The slender man in the pinstripe suit was leaning against the wall to the right, smoking. A sudden rush of adrenaline gave Paul a moment of half-clarity as he confronted him.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Who the fuck are you?” Paul shouted into the crow-like figure’s face, which remained immutable but for a slight smirk he made with the corner of his mouth that was holding the cigarette. The lack of response made the back of Paul’s ears heat up in anger.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” Paul tried to project the most menacing tone he could muster, but in reality, he felt uneasy and disturbed. He pointed toward the elevator, which was still open, as if it was waiting for the thin man to leave. With his grinning expression intact, he nodded once more and quietly left.

Paul took a minute to compose himself before slowly fitting his key and opening the door to the flat. The silence within eased his mind and helped quiet down the pounding in his head. He walked past the living room and took a left at the door to the kitchen into the hallway that led to the rooms. Before going to bed, he wanted to kiss his kids goodnight. He went to his daughter’s door first. Wincing as the door creaked open, he peered in to see the bed was empty. She must have had a bad dream and was sleeping with her brother. She had done that a couple of times before. He closed the door with a faint smile and walked to the next door down the hallway and opened it with the same care, expecting to find both of them curled up together like little cubs. Another empty bed. He sighed, realizing that they must all be in his own room; the bed was going to be crowded tonight. He shuffled to the door at the end of the hallway and entered his room, already shedding his clothes on the way to the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks when he realized his bed was empty too. A shiver went down his spine. Something was awry. Not just the fact that his family was missing, but suddenly he could not piece together how he had got to where he was standing. It was as if his mind had flushed out his memory. Confused, he padded his clothes searching for his phone. He froze when he heard a whimper and hurried steps coming from the other side of the apartment.

“Lauren?” He called out, surprised at the fear in his tone. He turned and paced toward the sound. As he neared the door to the kitchen, he heard sobs moving away from him, toward the entrance. “Guys?!” He added, alarmed as he turned the corner. He saw his daughter’s foot slip out the door before it closed with a loud bang. Paul’s confusion morphed to fear. He could not explain why, but he started feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness and guilt. The only reaction he was able to manage was to run after them. He bounded to the door and tried to pull it open. It didn’t budge. He turned and shook the handle in despair, only to be met with quiet, unflinching indifference. “LAUREN!!!” Paul banged on the door, screaming. This had to be some sort of nightmare. He turned back around and saw the pinstripe man again, standing in front of the kitchen door, the lighted end of his cigarette floating in front of his shadowed face. “YOU!” Rage fueled Paul’s entire body as he broke into a sprint toward the invader. Before Paul could reach him, the man walked into the hallway that led to the rooms. Paul slowed down to turn left at the kitchen door and slammed into a wall. He fell back and realized in horrified astonishment that the hallway was gone, an empty wall taking its place. His mind was a haze and he couldn’t move. The blurred sight of the door to the apartment was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

Paul woke up screaming in a cold sweat. He was on the couch in his living room, daylight shining through the windows. The sense of unease and loneliness still weighed heavily on him. Confusion also crept in when he sat up and took stock of the mess surrounding him. Dirty clothes piled up on every chair, discarded takeaway food containers littering the entire floor. Stacks of filthy disorganized paper were the only decoration left on the shelves and tables. What the hell was going on? He stood and walked toward the hallway, calling out for his family. His heart started pounding when he saw the blank wall staring back at him. “No, no, no, no, no.” Sobbing in disbelief, he entered the kitchen and had to immediately cover his mouth and nose. The unbearable stench of rotting food, humidity and human filth was so intense that it made his eyes water. He reached for the lights and revealed what could only be described as the result of years of sloth and abandonment. Dirty plates overflowed the sink and piled up on every visible surface. Pieces of charred melted plastic hung from the blackened stove. Brown splash stains covered the entirety of the white microwave. Even the lightbulb that lit the kitchen was covered in some unknown filth that gave the whole room a sickly greenish hue. Paul kicked aside mounds of rubbish to get to the fridge. The light inside timidly flickered on as he opened the door to reveal scores of maggot-infested food populating every shelf and drawer. Paul gagged beneath the cover of his forearm and ran out. Once outside he gasped for air and spotted him again, now standing in front of the open entrance to the apartment. This time, the crow-man didn’t give him a head start, he just nodded with his sinister grin again before turning around and leaving the flat, closing the door behind him.

“NOOOOO!” Paul ran to the door, terrified. He reached the handle and pulled hard, and it swung open with ease. Only there was no landing on the other side, just another empty wall. Paul broke out in tears. He started stepping back, shaking his head in disbelief. A movement to his right caught his eye. He turned, startled and saw a disheveled figure staring back at him in a soiled mirror. He approached it and inspected himself in horror. His face was skin and bones. Uneven and discolored tufts of hair sprouted from his scalp. He opened his mouth and wailed as he discovered only half a dozen teeth still clung to his rotting, blackened gums. Raising his hands to touch his face, hoping the reflection was somehow lying, he saw two filthy, dark, unkempt mitts, covered in cuts, sores, scabs and pustules. His heart froze. The realization hit him like a knife stabbing his very soul. The homeless man crossing the street on the night that now seemed like years ago. He had recognized himself.

Paul collapsed to the floor. He was hopeless, helpless. Paralyzed by fear, loneliness and guilt. Guilt to which he could not find a rational explanation. Then again, he was unable to explain anything rationally anymore. He heard a soft clatter coming from every direction, but he was unable to identify a source. Despite daylight trying to timidly pour in through the windows of the living room, the mountains of garbage that had sprouted everywhere seemed to consume the light, plunging his surroundings into an oppressive, gloomy darkness. He felt them before he was able to see them. Hundreds of thousands of cockroaches of every shape and size crawled out from under the filth and onto his body. All he could do was whimper as they covered his entire being, entering through his nose, mouth and ears, consuming him, claiming him to the darkness, plunging him to the realm of the forsaken. To oblivion.

Well, this one took a rather sinister turn…

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