24 - Hour Short Story Contest Entry - "Who is M. Turchi? "

Here is my entry into the 24 Hour Short Story Contest courtesy of @mctiller. Thanks MC!

The prompt for the story is : A lonely man develops the ability to see through walls.

Here is the link to more of the contest particulars and how you can also enter!
https://steemit.com/twentyfourhourshortstory/@mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-twenty-four-hour-short-story-contest-for-july-24a-lonely-man-develops-the-ability-to-see-through-walls

It’s been five years since Daniel Allen’s wife died. It has been a lonely existence in apartment 6A ever since. Daniel wakes at the same time every morning, 5:00AM on the dot. He retrieves the daily paper and brews his one cup of coffee as he sets into his daily routine.

It’s funny when you’re alone you start to notice all the little things, you know, about them, your neighbors. Right now Edith Scrantz in apartment 6B is making breakfast for her husband Billy. The fatty smell of bacon creeps in through the very seams of the aging building. If you close your eyes you can almost hear it sizzle. Billy has health problems, cholesterol, blood pressure, all of the things you associate with a middle aged, heavy set drinker. The pharmacy drops Billy’s medicine off every two weeks at their front door. Daniel’s looked at it. He’s also seen the whiskey bottles in the trash, heard the fights, seen the concealer on Edith’s face. Bacon and eggs. She does this every morning.

Then there’s Linda at the end of the hall. She’s a late riser. Won’t be any activity in that direction until closer to noon. Daniel often bumps into Linda returning from his errand runs before lunch. She is older than she pretends to be but that doesn’t stop the revolving door of gentleman callers. Since his wife’s death she has on more than one occasion insinuated that he shouldn’t be spending his time alone. If he ever needed any company……….yeah, right. He’s seen her medicine to.

Daniels coffee is almost finished when he hears the door across from his slam shut. Right on time, 5:57 AM. That would be Mr. Turchi. It never fails, like Swiss precision. Normally this would be the sign for Daniel to move on with his morning. Shower, shave, dress. Today he has already done these things, today he breaks from his routine. There’s one thing that is different from the rest here at Melrose Commons. Different from the battered broken things like Linda, Billy and Edith. Daniel. That thing is Mr. Turchi and today Daniel intends to find out why.

He’s never spoken to the man, been introduced or invited over. His mail slot in the lobby simply has a strip of masking tape and M. TURCHI in black marker written in block letters over it. He’s caught glimpses of him in the hall coming and going, always at the same time 5:57. AM and PM. Face concealed by one of those wide brimmed fedoras and sporting a gray trench coat. A cliché. No visitors or deliveries. The pipes are never moving water to or from. When the door shuts behind him, no footfalls, just silence.

No trash, no sounds, no smells.

He waits the required moments for taxi cab C-7A to pull up for Mr. Turchi. It’s always the same one. He begins his descent to the lobby, taking the stairs, the elevator long since reliable. He climbs into the one vestige of his previous life, his married life. A van, a family man’s van, a family that never came. He knows that in three blocks the taxi carrying Mr. Turchi will take a left onto Pike Street and then………..Well, Daniel had better catch up. That’s as far as his foot based observation has ever got him.

Daniel makes his own left onto Pike. Two blocks up he can see Turchi in the back of his cab waiting at a light. Daniel had never been much for this spy stuff. Yeah, he’d become overly nosey and read his share of Ludlum but actually following an enigmatic stranger…..well, that was something else.

The light turned green and Daniel accelerated in time with the taxi, keeping his distance to two or three blocks. That is what you’re supposed to do, right? After many more turns and miles it became clear to Daniel that they were headed away from the center of the city and into the industrial park.

The taxi pulled into the graveled parking lot of an inauspicious warehouse. Shattered windows and rusted steel paneling. Daniel idled to a stop at what he hoped was a safe distance, one can never tell. The queasy feeling that had been building in his stomach over the course of his pursuit grew in intensity. A light headedness had suddenly come over him.

The taxi cab discharged its occupant and proceeded to leave travelling in the opposite direction from which they had come. As the silhouetted figure of Turchi strode toward the boarded up entrance of this dilapidated monument to dying industry, he stopped, and looked back. Daniels heart clenched in his chest.

Did he see? Does he know?

A low humming in his ears, a pulsing sensation began to build, starting low and slow in Daniels body. From the tips of his toes it crept through him, spreading like a disease, a million dull needles. The sound amplified by his now throbbing head as his body was gripped by fear. Paralyzed by the unknown. Bright flashes began to strobe all around, were they a product of this otherworldly sensation or actually there, surely this would draw attention, help. It was too much for his rattled brain. As he slipped into the darkness, a fedoraed silhouette approached.

Daniel awoke to the sound of a door being slammed shut. In bed, his bed. It was 5:57 AM. That must have been his neighbor Mr. Turchi leaving for the day. It wasn’t very much like Daniel to have overslept. He had been a habitual 5:00 AM waker since his wife’s death. The body needs what the body needs.

He wandered into the kitchen to start to the morning pot of coffee but instead reached for a tall glass of water. He was extraordinarily parched this morning and had a pounding headache. He was usually a picture of health, hadn’t drank in years. Took care of his daily business by foot. There was something else…….something hazy in his vision, blurry around the edges. Something fuzzy in his head, a memory, just out of reach. Maybe just another sign of dehydration. Maybe he should’ve gone to the doctor. He decided to just wait it out.

He took his customary seat in his favorite chair. Didn’t turn on the TV, didn’t fetch the paper. Just closed his eyes. When he opened them he was staring into his bedroom. He wasn’t in his bedroom but there it was. Nightstand, bed, dresser. It was there, in order, as should be. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe he hadn’t opened his eyes after all.

He blinked twice and shook his head. Still there. Turning toward the window facing the street, he hoped some natural light and maybe some fresh air would help alleviate these ails, but there it was, the street and then the park beyond. No window, no wall to speak of, just the great outdoors. But something was wrong, well, on top of the obvious. There was no wind, no sound or scent. Daniel reached his hand outward to touch a gently drifting leaf, caught in the wind. He came up well short as his hand encountered the unseen pane of glass. Moving his hand over the smooth surface he encountered the wooden frame and then the plaster of walls, still unseen.

He heard fast footsteps coming up the stairs and heading down the hall. That could only be Linda back from retrieving yesterday’s mail. Is it noon already? It was Linda alright. He could see her plain as day. Blonde ponytail, handful of mail and his paper, coming straight for his door.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Mr. Allen!” Linda said in her soft voice, slightly raised.

Bang, bang, bang.

“It’s me, Linda. I saw your paper downstairs and brought it up for you. Is everything alright? It’s not like you to miss your paper.”

She was standing right in front of Daniel so close he could have touched her. He could see the lines of her face, etched concern, for him? But why? Kind eyes. She couldn’t see him of course, one inch of wooden door stood between them. She looked….younger today? Maybe that was just Daniel’s imagination.

She waited just moments longer and stooped, leaving Daniels paper on his ragged welcome mat. She turned to leave, receding down the hallway toward her own door. She stopped, paused and looked back over her shoulder before entering.

He was starting to get the hang of this. He wondered what Edith Scrantz was up to, Billy would be at work by now. He imagined she was likely sobbing into her bedsheets or planning other subtle ways to speed Billy to his, admittedly deserved, grave. That would be the wall of the kitchen, it abutted what would be the Scrantz’s living room. And there it was. Much more orderly than he would have imagined. Everything in place, no signs of domestic malcontent, slothful tendencies, drinking. And there was Edith, dancing to unheard music. Smiling from ear to ear, broom in hand. She was even wearing one of those laced aprons. The ones like June Cleaver used to wear. Not a care in the world.

Daniel Allen sat back into his favorite chair and began to process what he had seen. Beyond the development of this bizarre ability, what he had seen went completely against who he thought these people were. Might be. Linda seemed a genuinely thoughtful young lady who was likely just looking out for his best interests. That was rare in these times. She didn’t seem at all to be the burned up, desperate husk he had so often encountered in the past. Had he? And what about Edith? If there were any problems going on in that household he certainly hadn’t been able to tell from his invasive peek. It all seemed so out of sorts and contrary to his known views.

And what was going on with his vision………

BAM! The door across the hall slammed shut. 5:57 PM. Mr. Turchi was home. Wait, wasn’t he following Mr. Turchi? Had he? Daniel was almost certain of it. This morning in fact. It was coming back to him now, right up until the warehouse. The lights. His body seizing. That was enough. He had to confront this man right now. Had to know what had happened.

Steeling himself at his door he peered across to Mr. Turchi’s door, trying to get a glimpse of the man that awaited him inside, but there was nothing, just a drab grey door like all of the others. Walls to match. Never the less his resolve was set. He opened his door and stepped forward, toe striking the paper that Linda had previously placed and with it, a rattle. Last Daniel checked papers didn’t make any noise. He bent low to move the paper inside and found a brown sack next to it. A piece of paper was stapled to it. A receipt.

TURCHI'S PHARMACEUTICALS & SODA FOUNTAIN

Inside the bag were two bottles. Both prescribed to him. According to the labels one of them was to be taken daily, in the morning, to prevent seizures. The other was an anti-psychotic and anti-hallucinogen. This was Daniel’s medicine. He looked at the receipt again. The date was from five days ago. How long had he been without his medicine? He needed to take these right away.

He carried the brown bag and newspaper back into his apartment and shut the door behind him.