The Apartment At the End Of the Hall

Aaron Harvie

1.

Bedford, 1982.

The billboard across the road from the Flamingo Apartments asked Do You Know Where Your Children Are? in big red letters, its paint old and faded and peeling. Ironically, there was a long bank of missing persons flyers posted below.

Eli Ellis got out of the car and stretched after the long drive. He was short for fifteen with a tight black afro, acne and the beginnings of a bad teenage moustache.

“Well, here we are. What do you think?” his father asked as they looked over at the dilapidated apartment complex.

Eli wanted to say was this place was a shithole and that he hated him for moving them halfway across the country away from their family and friends, all so he could take some crappy security job. But he didn’t. Instead, he mustered a weak grin and said, “Yeah it’s great, Dad.”

“See, I told you you’d like it,” his dad smiled as he unloaded the first of the suitcases. “Now make yourself useful and give me a hand bringing this stuff up to the apartment. It’s Number 20 on the second floor.”

Eli grabbed his backpack and carefully unloaded a blue BMX from the back of the station wagon and wheeled it inside the Flamingo. There were two things that struck him as soon as he walked into the courtyard. One was just how rundown the old building was. The U-shaped, two-storey complex looked like it was about to crumble to the ground, its pink painted stucco facade was faded and chipped, two of the units were boarded up and fire-damaged and at least half of the remaining apartments looked like they hadn’t been lived in for years. Even worse, the huge swimming pool his father had boasted about looked like a green, scum-filled pond.

The second was the smell. A rank odour hung over the complex; it was kind of bitter and sweet and dark and moist all at once. It reminded Eli of the time a rat had died in the ceiling of their old place.

“Nice bike,” a voice said. “I got the same one.”

Eli looked around. There was a kid about his age wearing a football jersey and an infectious grin sitting on the steps nearby.

“My name’s Cory.”

“Eli.”

“Are you moving in?”

“Yeah, me and my dad. Say, do you know what that smell is?”

“You get used to it. The caretaker says it’s a broken sewer line. You want a hand with your stuff?”

Eli nodded and handed him his backpack.

“You ride much?”

“Every day back home.”

“Yeah, me too. There’s a pretty gnarly bowl in the park near here. You should come for a ride sometime.”

Eli picked up his bike and followed Cory up the stairs. “Yeah, okay, cool.”

Just then the door opened from an apartment on the opposite side of the courtyard and the most beautiful girl Eli had ever seen walked out.

“Who’s that?” he asked, his wide-eyed gaze following her as she walked down the stairs.

“Oh, that’s Tracy. Pretty, huh? She lives in Number 14 with her dad.”

“She’s beautiful,” Eli agreed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Tracy’s face was perfect, with teased blonde hair, frosted eyeshadow and coral-coloured lips. She wore an old jean jacket covered with pins and badges and when she popped the collar and flicked her hair, she looked just like a movie star walking in slow motion to her own theme music.

“Get in line, man, everyone in school is in love with Tracy, including me…and I’ve got a girlfriend,” Cory laughed. “Shame she dropped out. I hear she’s working up at the Buy ’n Save as a cashier now.”

Eli watched her leave. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, an older guy called Wayne. He’s the caretaker here and a total burner, but he’s pretty cool, I guess. She’s totally out of his league man. In fact, she’s out of all of our leagues.”

They reached the door to Apartment 20 and Cory handed Eli his backpack.

“So what are you doing later?”

“I dunno. Helping my dad unpack.”

“Me and my girlfriend are going to hang out at South Deering Park and watch the skaters for a bit. You can normally scrounge a beer or two if you’re lucky. You wanna come?”

“Sounds cool.”

“Awesome. Pick you up round seven, okay?”

For the next few hours Eli helped his dad cart boxes and suit­cases up to the new apartment. When they were finished, they got hamburgers and shakes from the local diner and watched the news on TV while they ate. Most of it was the same old boring stuff, some country invaded some island, the space shuttle was launching again, blah, blah, blah…but one story caught Eli’s attention. It was about the search for a missing teenager named Tommy Anderson who had disappeared three weeks ago from South Deering Park. The same park Cory had invited him to tonight. The news said that Tommy could be the latest victim of the so-called serial killer The Stalker who was believed to have been abducting children in Bedford for the last ten years.

Eli felt a little creeped out. He knew there was no way his father would let him go to that same park after seeing the report, especially because he was starting his new job tonight. But what his father didn’t know wouldn’t kill him so when there was a knock on the door a bit before seven, Eli said goodbye and ducked out, promising he’d be home by ten.

Cory and his girlfriend were waiting for him outside.

They couldn’t have been more opposite. He was tall and goofy with bad hair and a permanent grin and she was dressed in black from head to toe with the sunny disposition of a nuclear winter.

“Eli, this is Jessica. Jessica, Eli.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she said unenthusiastically as she prod­uced a silver flask from her pocket. “You want some?”

Eli looked back through the window at his father, who was sitting on the couch cracking a fresh bottle of whiskey.

“No, I’m good.”

Jessica shrugged indifferently and took a swig. “More for me.”

Eli followed them down the stairs to the courtyard. The smell assaulted him immediately; it was even worse than this afternoon and he curled his nose in distaste.

“My god, that reeks. How do you stand living here?”

“It’s worse at night, don’t ask me why.” Cory noticed a little old man who was exiting the apartment on the ground floor directly below Tracy’s and waved. “Hi, Mr Orlok.”

The old man stopped and looked at them strangely. He was frail and stooped over and pale as a ghost. Mr Orlok wore a black suit, coat and gloves. His head was covered by a big woollen cap pulled all the way down over his brow and ears.

“Jesus, who the hell is that?” Eli asked.

“He’s harmless,” Cory replied. “He works nights over at the chocolate factory on Irvine Street.”

“What is he, like a thousand years old?”

“You want some candy?” Mr Orlok asked in a heavy European accent, his gloved hand fishing around in his overcoat pocket.

“No thanks, Mr Orlok,” Cory said.

Mr Orlok gave a close-lipped smile and shuffled on his way while Eli followed Cory and Jessica three blocks to the park.

2.

South Deering Park was the popular hangout for kids around the area.

It was nothing more than a large concrete expanse dotted with dozens of dying spindly trees, a few wooden tables and benches, and a large skate bowl in the middle. The bowl itself was lit by four towering floodlights that bathed the area in brilliant white light and cast long shadows down either end of the park.

Cory, Jessica and Eli hung out and watched the skaters till Jessica got bored and demanded to go. When Cory said he wanted to stay a while longer she whinged and complained until he relented and followed her to hang out with the group who were drinking down the far end of the park.

There were about ten kids perched on tables and benches drinking. The smell of dope was heavy in the air and loud rock music blared from a boombox. Eli noticed that Tracy was sitting there on a bench and drinking a beer, her arms draped over the legs of some guy who was sitting on the table behind her. He couldn’t help but stare till she noticed and he dropped his eyes in embarrassment.

“Who’s that?” asked the guy Tracy was draped over.

Cory smiled and tried to be cool. “Hey Wayne. It’s me, Cory… Jessica, too.”

“Who’s that with you?” Wayne squinted to see in the dark; it was obvious he was very stoned.

Wayne was in his early twenties, tall, muscular and handsome with long blonde hair and the start of a beard on his cheeks. He looked at the world through round wire-rimmed glasses and wore blue jeans and a tight Judas Priest shirt with a packet of cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve.

“That’s Eli. He just moved into the Flamingo today.”

“Really?” Wayne sat up, suddenly interested. “You guys want a beer or something?”

“Thanks, Wayne,” Cory said a little too eagerly.

Wayne passed them each a beer and lit a cigarette with a silver zippo with a W on it.

Eli took a drink and winced from the sour flavour. He’d only ever been drunk once before. Although he tried not to, his gaze fell on Tracy again. She ignored him or pretended not to notice.

But Wayne did.

“So new kid, where you from?”

“Ridgeway.”

“How you liking our little town so far?”

“It’s alright I guess.”

“You guess? What’s wrong with it?”

“I dunno. There’s a lot of posters round town for missing kids. It’s kind of creepy.”

The other kids snickered at this and someone said, “Look out, he’s afraid of The Stalker.”

“I saw them talking about him on the news just before. They said some kid disappeared from this park three weeks ago. Tommy something, did you know him?”

The others stopped laughing and fell silent.

“Tommy lived over on Elm Street two blocks from here,” Jessica said.

“I’ve known him since I was ten,” said another.

Wayne looked less than impressed with the conversation.

“The Stalker is bullshit, alright. It’s made up. Everybody knows the cops and the media are using it as a cover to hide the people that are dying from the chemical dumping in Rayburn Lake. Besides, Tommy was a fucking disease, everybody hated him. He probably ran away or some shit.”

He produced a joint from his pocket, lit it and took a hit before holding it out for someone to take. “You guys wanna get high or what?”

Jessica snatched it greedily and took three deep draws before passing it on to Cory. He looked terrified. It was obvious he’d never smoked before and when he puffed on it he held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he spat and coughed and turned red.

Wayne held the joint out to Eli.

“No thanks,” he said.

Wayne didn’t like that at all. “What are you, a fucking narc or something? Either take a hit or fuck off, new kid.”

“Alright then.” Eli reached out and took the joint, puffing several times before inhaling deeply.

The smoke was thick, hot and acrid and it burnt his lungs. All he wanted to do was cough but he held it down and casually blew out a thin plume of smoke. Eli handed the joint back to Wayne, then wandered off and sat on one of the nearby benches and sipped his beer. He felt like he was a passenger in his own mind, like he was in the back seat watching someone else operate his body.

The next few hours were a total blur. Eli tried to talk to Cory and Jessica but he kept on losing his train of thought and trailing off halfway through a sentence. At some point another kid that lived at the Flamingo joined them. His name was Ritchie. He seemed like a nice enough guy, big with shaggy red hair and kind of simple. He was telling some story about how he’d seen members from the band Kiss at the mall earlier today and that they’d asked him to come on tour with them as their new guitarist.

Eli couldn’t tell if Ritchie was being serious or not but Wayne called him a fucking liar and everybody laughed him. Eli did too and once he started he couldn’t stop and he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks and his sides hurt.

Cory and Jessica left at some point. Eli was so stoned that he just sat and smiled and waved goodbye. It wasn’t till Tracy came over and sat next to him that he snapped out of his haze.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Eli nodded, not wanting to slur or say something stupid.

“First time?”

He nodded.

“Don’t sweat it. My first time was the same. I laughed so hard my dad thought I was having a fit and called an ambulance.”

Eli smiled and looked at her. “Really?”

“Swear to God. So, you gonna tell me why are you always staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Every time I turn around, I catch you. You haven’t taken your eyes off me since you moved in.”

Eli felt the hot heat of embarrassment prickle up his spine. “I didn’t mean too…”

“Well cut it out, alright? It’s fucking creepy.” Tracy glanced around then reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pill bottle with the word Percocet printed across the label. “Want one?”

Eli shook his head.

Tracy swallowed the pill with a swig of beer, then tossed the empty can. “So, why’d you move here?”

“You don’t want to know that.”

“Sure I do. I asked, didn’t I?”

Eli looked at her, his eyes round and earnest and innocent.

“My dad lost his job and the bank took our house. He said living here was the best we could afford. He gambles and he drinks a lot. When my Mum was alive… I dunno, I guess he…”

Tracy gives him a reassuring smile. “I get it. My Mum died too.”

“I didn’t know…”

“We used to live in Plainview before we came here. My dad was pretty cool back then. Not like now. My mum, she killed her­self a month after we moved into the Flamingo.”

Tracy’s eyes grew dark.

“There’s something off with that place. Can you feel it?”

“I dunno, I just moved in today.”

“It’s like there’s something evil in the building, I can’t explain it. All I know is my life’s turned to shit since we moved here.” Tracy lit a cigarette. “Can I give you some advice? Get the fuck out of Bedford. I hate it here. I don’t even sleep anymore, every night all I have is nightmares.”

Tracy stood up. “It’s getting late, I gotta go. See you round, okay?”

“Yeah alright, see you round,” Eli said, a dopey grin plastered across his face.

The next few hours were a blur.

Wayne gave everyone another hit off a joint and insisted that they all shotgun beers. At some point the police arrived, the glare of their headlights causing the party to end. Wayne said he knew somewhere to go where they could keep on drinking but Eli muttered that he had to get home and wandered off back to the Flamingo.

It was almost midnight by the time he got back to the apartment.

Eli’s father would have been furious if he found out he was out that late; luckily, he was working his first shift at his new job and wouldn’t be home till three. As Eli plodded up the stairs, he could hear a loud argument coming from apartment 14 where Tracy lived with her dad.

Eli stopped and stood on the landing and listened in.

“…because you’re a fucking slut, that’s why,” her father shouted. “What, you don’t think I don’t know about those pictures you let Jim Eidelman take of you last month? The whole town knows!”

“I was modelling, he said he could help my career!” Tracy shrieked back at him.

“How’s fucking him gonna help your career? You’re eighteen, he’s a sixty-year-old wedding photographer Tracy… that’s disgust­ing!”

“Disgusting?” The outrage and pain was thick in Tracy’s voice. “Is it as disgusting as what you do to me, is it dad?”

“You shut your fucking mouth!” he growled at her.

Then the sound of a slap and crying.

“I swear to god, if you touch me again I’ll kill you,” Tracy screamed. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

Eli started down the stairs to break up the fight then froze when he heard laughing and saw two figures stumble into the courtyard. They walked over to Mr Orlok’s door and knocked loudly.

After a few moments the old man opened the door and greeted his guests with a smile. It was the creepiest smile Eli had even seen, the kind of smile a serial killer flashed at a little kid while trying to lure them with candy. The figures entered the apartment and Mr Orlok closed the door behind them.

One of them was that kid Ritchie from the park.

3.

Eli and Cory sat on the stoop looking over at Richie’s grand­mother who was talking to the police from the front door of their apartment. Her eyes were black pits of worry. Nobody had seen Ritchie in a week.

Eli hadn’t told anyone what he had seen, simply because he was terrified his father would discover he was out so late. He was mean when he was angry, and lately it didn’t take all that much to set him off.

Things had been tense since they moved into the Flamingo. Eli had been plagued with nightmares and his father was barely sleeping. They seemed to argue all the time.

“Eli, get your ass down here and give me a hand with the groc­eries,” his father snapped at him from the bottom of the stairs.

Eli knew better than to argue.

He scampered down and his father handed him two bags of groceries and pushed past him on the way up to the apartment. As Eli followed, he saw Tracy run out of her apartment in tears and slamming the door behind her. She had a fresh welt on her cheek.

“Hey Tracy, are you alright?”

“Just leave me alone,” she yelled. “Everybody leave me the fuck alone.”

Eli had heard fighting coming from Apartment 14 every night. It was getting worse. Tracy was right, there was something wrong with this place.

He hated living at the Flamingo.

Upstairs the TV was blaring and his father was poring over the paper while fixing himself a drink.

Eli dumped the groceries on the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

“I picked up Chinese.”

“Again?”

“Yeah again, you got a problem with that?” His father looked up from his paper and glared at Eli, almost challenging him to keep on complaining.

Eli shrank back and remained silent. His father took a deep, calming breath before he spoke again.

“Look, I got two hours before work. I’m tired. I just want to have a bite to eat and a drink before I have to get ready, okay?”

The news cut to another story about Ritchie. They’d stopped mentioning that Tommy kid altogether.

His father watched the report, then looked over at Eli. “You know that kid?”

The guilt Eli had been carrying around all week knotted in his stomach. Even if he was going to catch hell, he had to tell his father.

“Yeah, I met him…” Eli said, biting his lip nervously. “Dad, if I tell you something, do you promise you won’t get mad?”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you do now?”

“Why do you always think the worst?”

“Coz nothing good ever comes after saying ‘promise you won’t get mad.’”

“The night we moved in…when I went down to the park with Cory…I…”

“Out with it.”

“I think I saw Ritchie go into that old guy Mr Orlok’s apart­ment before he disappeared.”

His father’s eyes opened so wide the whites stood out like saucers. “You fucking what? Are you telling me you saw that kid a week ago and didn’t tell anyone?”

Eli nodded and his father loomed over him.

“Why?”

“Coz I stayed out late and I was drunk and I didn’t want you to find out.”

Eli shrank, expecting his father to explode in rage but he just stood and stared at him incredulously.

“You stupid, selfish little shit.” He looked at Eli like he didn’t even know his own son. “All this time the police and that poor woman are looking for that missing boy and you don’t say nothing. What the hell is wrong with you?”

His father walked over to the phone and started dialling.

Eli felt hot tears welling in his eyes.

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m calling the police, and you’re going to tell them everything you know.”

An hour later Eli was standing with his father and two police officers in his lounge room repeating the story about everything that happened the night Ritchie went missing. Well, almost everything. Eli left out the parts about smoking pot; he was already in enough trouble.

“So your excuse for withholding evidence from a police investig­ation is that you didn’t want your dad to find out you were out late and drunk, is that right?” Officer Bradbury asked.

Neither of the police looked very impressed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And how old are you, son?” Officer Harris asked.

“Fifteen.”

The two officers looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Is Eli in a lot of trouble officer?” his father asked.

“Depends what happens to that boy, I guess,” said Officer Bradbury, grimly staring at Eli and shutting her notebook. “Here’s what we’re going do. Officer Harris and I are going to go down to Apartment 11 and see if we can have a word to Mr Orlok about what your son said he saw last week. Mr Ellis, I’m going to ask that you and your son wait here in your apartment until we’ve concluded our interview just in case we need to speak to Eli further.”

Eli’s father cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried his best to smile. “Uh, look officer, I don’t wanna be any trouble but I’m gonna be late for work if I don’t get going soon. Any chance we could come down to the station in the morning and you could chat to the boy then?”

“I understand this is an inconvenience, Mr Ellis, but we’re talking about a missing child. Time is of the essence. Now I need you to stay here with your son until we sort this out, are we clear?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Officer,” Eli’s father said, glaring at his son. “We’re clear.”

4.

It was almost dark by the time the police left Eli’s apartment.

Outside, the sun had all but dipped below the horizon and the fading daylight had painted the dilapidated apartment complex in muted pastel hues, its weathered facade casting long, distorted shadows across the courtyard.

Eli walked out onto the landing outside his door and watched the two officers as they made their way down the stairs and across to Mr Orlok’s apartment. Inside he could hear his father on the phone trying to explain why he was going to be late for work.

Eli watched as Officer Bradbury knocked on Mr Orlok’s door. There was no answer. The officer waited, then knocked again, harder this time. There were several other residents at their windows now, watching what was going on.

Just as Officer Bradbury was about to knock for a third time, Mr Orlok’s door opened a crack. It was dark inside the apartment and from where he was standing Eli couldn’t see who’d answered the door. In fact, all Eli could clearly see was the backs of the two police officers as they began to talk to whoever was inside.

He needed to get closer.

Eli licked his lips nervously and glanced back over his shoulder at his father, who was arguing with his shift supervisor. He’d catch hell if he caught him leaving the apartment but he needed to know what they were saying.

“Fuck it,” Eli whispered to himself, and he stole down the stairs and ducked down near a half-dead bush by the pool fence.

“…wondering if you might have a few minutes to answer some questions?” asked Officer Bradbury.

Mr Orlok stepped out of the apartment still dressed in the same outfit Eli had seen him in last week, his hat pulled low over his brow and his hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“Do you mind if my partner has a quick look around inside while we chat?” asked Officer Bradbury, trying her best not to choke from the smell.

Mr Orlok shook his head. The hunched-over old man looked bewildered and meek, like a frightened child.

“Mr Orlok, are you aware of the ongoing investigation into the disappearance of a teenager named Ritchie Brown who lived in the building?” Officer Bradbury asked while her partner Officer Harris disappeared inside the apartment.

Mr Orlok shook his head again. In the dim light his skin was the colour of porridge.

People were standing in their doorways now, watching keenly as the drama unfolded.

“Well, sir, this young man hasn’t been seen for the past week and his family are very worried. We received some information today that Ritchie Brown and an as yet unknown acquaintance were seen entering your domicile around midnight last Friday.”

Mr Orlok looked up over at Eli’s apartment on the second floor and nodded and smiled his close-lipped smile at Officer Bradbury.

“Yes. I saw a young man and his father move into the building last week.” His voice was frail and shaky.

Officer Bradbury did her best to hide her frustration. She fished out a picture of Ritchie from the breast pocket of her uniform and showed it to the old man.

“No, no, Mr Orlok, I don’t think you understand,” she said, speaking louder and enunciating each word carefully. “This is Ritchie Brown; he went missing last Friday. Did he come over to your apartment last week?”

Mr Orlok looked utterly confused. “Nobody has set foot in my home for ten years, Officer.”

Just then there was a commotion and Ritchie’s grandmother Martha Brown came bustling over in a fuss.

“Have you found my Ritchie? Do you know where my Ritchie is?”

She grabbed at Mr Orlok’s shirt with tears in her eyes, her face as red as beet.

“Jesus, this is all we need.” Officer Bradbury motioned to her partner inside the apartment. “Officer Harris, can you help me with this?”

Martha Brown became hysterical, falling to the ground and wailing. Eli looked around. It seemed that everyone that lived in The Flamingo was coming down to the courtyard to see what all the fuss was about.

It was time to get back home, before his father caught him.

Eli got up and made his way towards the stairs. His father was standing at the top glaring, thunderheads gathering in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, boy?” Eli’s father looked so angry he could spit. “Get your ass inside this instant.”

Eli ran up the stairs and into the apartment. His father follow­ed him inside and slammed the door behind him, yelling and cursing at the top of his lungs. Eli didn’t say anything, he just stood and stared at his feet until his father was interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was the police again.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr Ellis, do you have a minute?” It was obvious they’d heard him screaming at his son.

Eli’s father smoothed back his hair in an effort to calm his temper and he smiled politely at the officer. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, sir, we’ve had a word with Mr Orlok down at Number 11 and had a look around his apartment. There doesn’t seem to be any evidence that Ritchie Brown or anyone else for that matter has been in that apartment for a long time. Maybe Eli was mistaken.”

Eli couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d seen Ritchie walk into that apartment as clear as he could see Officer Bradbury standing in front of him right now.

“I’m going to leave you with my contact information, Mr Ellis. If you or your son can think of anything else, please give us a call.” Officer Bradbury handed Eli’s father her card and started to leave.

“So that’s it?” Eli asked indignantly. “You just go down there, take a look around, ask a couple of questions and leave?”

The two officers stopped and turned to look at Eli.

“What do you mean, is that it?” Officer Bradbury said. “There’s no one in there. That little old man isn’t capable of looking after himself, let alone abducting a sixteen-year-old boy. The only thing we have to go on is the word of a minor, who was, by his own admission, heavily intoxicated at the time.”

“But I’m sure I…” Eli started but his father cut him off.

“That’s enough, Eli.”

Officer Bradbury turned her attention to Eli’s father. “Now, I don’t know what this boy did or didn’t see, but I do know that a fifteen-year-old shouldn’t be out drinking and doing God-knows-what at twelve o’clock at night. My advice to you, Mr Ellis, is to take a stronger hand with your boy, or he could find himself in some serious trouble. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” was all Eli’s father said.

He closed the door and waited till he heard the police officers’ steps trail down the stairs, then turned to his son. He looked at Eli like he was going to kill him.

“Dad, I can explain…”

Eli’s father exploded, smacking him across the face with the back of his hand and sending Eli sprawling across the room.

“Not another fucking word,” his father seethed. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Eli’s father grabbed his coat and stormed out the front door, slamming it shut so hard the wood almost cracked from the force.

Eli sat on the floor for a moment, still in shock and rubbing his cheek ruefully. He couldn’t believe his father had hit him. He’d done a lot of shitty things in Eli’s life, but he’d never hit him before.

Eli got to his feet, crossed to the window, and pulled open the curtains. He could see his father stalking angrily across the courtyard towards the car park. Most of everyone who lived at The Flamingo had already gone back inside their apartments, the evening’s spectacle already forgotten. Everyone but Mr Orlok. He was standing in the shadows outside his front door looking up at Eli’s apartment. He didn’t look like some frightened little old man anymore. He looked like he was the devil and Eli felt a chill slowly creep up his spine.

5.

Eli’s eye was swelling shut.

He examined it closely in the bathroom mirror, pressing tentat­ively at the large lump forming near the corner of his eye. He felt so mad he wanted to scream.

“Fuck him,” he said to his reflection in the mirror. “I’m not gonna fucking stay here and take this shit anymore.”

He was going to run away.

Back to the only place that was ever home.

Eli ran into his room, packed some clothes and wrote a note telling his father he was going back to Ridgeway.

He made it as far as South Deering Park.

The caretaker, Wayne, was sitting on one of the benches drinking beer so Eli decided to join him and get drunk.

“So why are you leaving?”

“Coz my dad’s a fucking asshole and I hate this place.” Eli tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat along with a mouthful of beer so he wouldn’t cry in front of Wayne. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

“Nah. I met your dad and I agree, he is an asshole.”

Eli tried his best not to laugh. “So where’s Tracy?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

“I thought she was your girlfriend.”

“Man, that chick is out of her mind, you can have her. What’s up with you and your dad?”

Eli told him about what he saw last Friday night and going to see Mr Orlok with the police. Then he told him about his father hitting him.

“So, you’re telling me that you think Mr Orlok, that little old man from Apartment 11, he’s the one that kidnapped Ritchie? Is that right?” Wayne looked very amused by what Eli was saying.

“Yeah.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head. “You were pretty wasted, man. I don’t think it played out that way.”

“How’d you know, you weren’t there.”

“Coz I know, that’s how. I’ve worked there for five years. How long have you been there, like a week?”

“Ten days,” Eli mumbled into his beer.

“Listen, dude, that old guy’s harmless, I promise you.” Wayne motioned to Eli to finish his beer and gave him another. “Ritchie, on the other hand, is a fucking liar, all he wants is attention. The dumb fuck is probably hiding out somewhere watching the news and loving it. I shit you not, he’s gonna turn up in a week spouting some crap story how he was abducted by aliens or some shit.”

Eli had to laugh at this. Wayne was probably right. He was cool, too.

“All this shit will blow over, man, I promise,” Wayne said, smiling. “So are you really going to run away, little man?”

Eli shook his head.

“Good. Say, why don’t you come with me? I’m going over to a friend’s house. We can smoke some grass and hang out. Sound cool?”

“Yeah, okay, cool. But I got to stop by my house first. I left my dad a note telling him I was headed back to Ridgeway; if he finds it before I get back there’ll be hell to pay.”

Wayne looked at him strangely and smiled a huge smile.

It was off-putting.

“You left your dad a note telling him you were running away?” Wayne asked almost as if he didn’t quite believe what Eli was telling him. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah.” Eli grinned, not knowing what was so amazing. “Why’s that awesome?”

“Oh, no reason,” Wayne said as he lit his cigarette with his zippo.

Wayne grabbed what was left of his six-pack and they walked back down towards the Flamingo. It took them fifteen minutes. All the way Eli pestered Wayne about where they were going next and who they were going to hang out with. Wayne never gave him a straight answer. Instead, he told him, “You’ll see” and “Don’t worry about it.”

When they rounded the corner of Elm Street onto Lamar Drive, they both stopped in their tracks. The street outside the apartment building was choked with police cars, their red and blue flashing lights lighting up the night sky. There were people everywhere rubbernecking, all of them crowded around the entrance to the Flamingo.

As soon as Wayne saw the flashing lights he turned pale as a ghost.

“I gotta go,” he said, backing away. “I’ll catch up with you some other time.”

Wayne ducked back down Elm Street, leaving Eli confused as to what had just happened.

“Hey, Eli,” a voice called.

Eli looked over towards the crowd. It was Cory motioning to come join him.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“At the park,” Eli said, jostling to get a better look.

Two paramedics came through the front entrance of the Flam­ingo pushing a gurney. On top was a black plastic body bag.

“What happened?”

Cory looked at him like he was from another planet.

“Tracy killed her dad. She fucking snapped or something. Then she shot herself in the head.”

“Tracy’s dead?”

Eli felt the ground drop out from beneath him. He couldn’t believe it; he just couldn’t believe it.

It was well past eleven before the police let them back into The Flamingo. Eli trudged up the stairs to his unit and stood on the balcony looking across at Tracy’s apartment. It was lit by yellow work lights that shone bright and cold like her apartment was a convenience store. There was yellow tape blocking the doors and stairs and police milled about logging evidence in plastic bags. Through the window Eli could see a spray of bright red blood on the lounge room wall.

Eli wondered if it was Tracy’s.

He opened the door to his apartment and walked inside. It felt different now she was gone. Empty, maybe. Almost as if the scant happiness he’d known in this place had simply disappeared into the putrid, putty-coloured walls.

Eli found the note he’d left for his father, balled it up and threw it in the trash. Then he sneaked a sip of whiskey from the bottle his father kept in the cupboard above the sink before he lay down on his bed, not even bothering to get undressed.

But sleep didn’t find him right away.

Instead, he tossed and turned for hours before he fell into a feverish slumber, his mind plagued with horrible nightmares.

Eli woke up with a start a little past two in the morning. He was shivering but it wasn’t cold. The room was dark and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Something felt off. He was sure that he’d just heard a sound coming from the lounge room.

But was that a dream or real?

Eli listened intently for a moment, then decided it was nothing, relaxed and closed his eyes again.

Then the sound again.

He sat up.

He didn’t imagine that. Was that the creak of a door?

Eli got up and stood next to his bed, listening for movement in the apartment.

“Dad?”

There was no answer.

Eli walked over to the light switch and turned it on. The dark­ness retreated and he was alone. But it didn’t feel like he was alone. It felt like there was someone in the apartment. He opened the bedroom door and peered down the hall. Shadows stretched along the walls as if moving of their own accord, each one spindly and deformed like some clawed demon creeping up into his apartment to seal his doom.

“Hello?”

No answer.

For a moment he considered going back to bed and waiting till his father got home. But instead, he stepped out into the hallway.

Eli tread carefully, trying his best not to make a sound. The air felt heavy and the dim light shining from his bedroom made the hallway seem to stretch endlessly before him. He listened intently as he made his way towards the lounge room, desperately trying to ignore the panic gripping his chest like a vice and making it impossible to breath.

Was there someone here in the apartment with him?

Was it The Stalker? The killer he’d heard about on TV?

Eli swallowed hard and walked into the lounge room. It was dark and lit only by the light of the moon. Outside, The Flamingo slumbered, the apartments all dark and quiet.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he noticed that the front door was wide open, the cold night air wafting in and billowing the drapes.

Ice water trickled down his spine.

He was sure he’d closed the front door when he got home.

But did he?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he forgot and came home, dumped his bag and went to bed.

“This is stupid,” he said out loud. “You’re being fucking stupid.”

Eli closed the front door and turned the lock, listening to the tumbler fall with a satisfying clunk. This was all about Tracy. Simple as that. It was no wonder he was creeped out; it wasn’t every day you came home to a fucking murder-suicide in your building. What he needed now more than anything was some sleep.

But before that, he needed a snack.

Eli opened the fridge and squinted at the cold, bright light, wait­ing for his eyes to adjust. He peered at the half-filled cartons of Chinese food till he found some wontons and satisfied, he stood up and closed the refrigerator door.

Standing behind, waiting in the dark, was a monster.

It was Mr Orlok.

But he didn’t look like Mr Orlok anymore.

He was tall and imposing, his head bald with ears pointed like a bat. Orlok’s eyes were black pits of nothingness and his skin was pale blue and translucent.

The monster rose before Eli and the shadows seemed to form around him like a cloak. Orlok stretched out his taloned hands and hissed, baring his horrible yellow fangs.

Eli screamed like he had never screamed before and soon there was only darkness.

6.

Eli woke to the damp-sweet smell of death.

It was overwhelming.

He was in a room. It was so dark he could barely see a shape in the inky blackness around him. Disorientated and in a haze, Eli tried to get to his feet but his hands were bound and shackled to the floor. He panicked, frantically pulling at his bonds as hard as he could and shouting out desperately for help.

A voice answered from nearby in the dark.

“Eli, are you okay?”

“Who’s that?”

Eli looked around in the direction of the sound. He knew that voice.

“It’s me, Ritchie.”

“Ritchie? What the fuck is going on man? Where are we?”

“Mr Orlok…” Ritchie began to cry hysterically. “I…I think he’s The Stalker. We’re gonna die Eli, we’re both…”

“Calm down, Ritchie, it’s alright,” Eli whispered. “Tell me what happened to you.”

“Wayne, uh, he invited me over to Mr Orlok’s place… At first they…” Ritchie started sobbing again and it took him several moments to regain his composure. “They tricked me, with the handcuffs. Wayne got out of them easy, he…he bet me I couldn’t do it…but when I put them on, I couldn’t get them off. Then they… Oh, God… They killed that Tommy kid right in front of me.”

There were sounds outside the room. Footsteps.

Ritchie began to cry loudly.

“Ritchie, calm down, please.”

But Ritchie wouldn’t listen. “Orlok…he’s…he’s a monster… He drank his blood…”

The footsteps were closer now.

“Ritchie!” Eli pleaded, desperately trying to keep Ritchie quiet. “You gotta help me. Where we are? How do we get out of here?”

“We’re never getting out of here, Eli. We’re gonna die in here.”

Just then the door opened, flooding the room in a harsh white light.

Eli scrambled away from the door as far as he could, shield­ing his eyes from the glare. The room was bare, the walls soundproofed, and windows boarded over. There was dried blood on the floor and claw marks on the walls. Ritchie cowered in the opposite corner of the room. He was emaciated and looked like he had been tortured to the brink of death.

Orlok filled the doorway. He was a nightmare.

“Take him,” Orlok commanded, pointing a long, curved talon at Ritchie.

Ritchie screamed hysterically and tore at the bonds on his wrists, trying to get away.

Wayne appeared in the doorway beside Orlok. “As you wish, Master.”

Wayne rushed into the room, kicking Ritchie square in the face, then pummelling him till he went limp. He freed Ritchie then dragged him out past Orlok through an open door across the hall and slammed it shut behind him.

“Please…please don’t hurt me,” Eli whined.

Orlok laughed and Eli’s skin turned to gooseflesh.

“You have caused me great inconvenience and for that you will know pain like no one has known before. Before night’s end you will pray for death, child, but like me you will not know its sweet relief.”

Eli felt warm urine soak his pants and he started screaming.

“Someone please…someone…someone please help me!”

“No one can help you.” Orlok jeered. “For millennia I have walked this earth, cursed with everlasting life. In my damnation I have seen empires fall and dynasties crumble to dust, yet I have remained. Through the ages I have been known by many names; vampyre, Nosferatu, master of rats, but tonight, you will simply know me as your doom.”

The fiend turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut and plunging Eli back into darkness.

7.

Ritchie’s muffled screams filled the darkness.

It had been more than an hour since he’d been dragged off. Eli was desperate to escape and panic overwhelmed him.

He had to get out of here before they came back for him.

He started to thrash about, wrenching against the bonds with all his might. But no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t get free.

Then the door opened again.

Wayne was standing in the doorway splattered with blood, a maniacal grin upon his face.

“Come here, you little shit.”

He overwhelmed Eli in a second and dragged him kicking and screaming into the other room. It was bare and soundproofed like the other. There was a small table in the corner and a blood-stained bucket beneath. An A-frame plywood torture board stood in the center of the room beneath a single bare bulb. Ritchie was strapped face down to one the other side, his wrists bound by thick nylon ropes affixed through holes in each corner.

He had either passed out or died from the pain.

Orlok stood watching as Wayne dragged Eli into the room and strapped him to the other side of the board. Eli struggled to get free but it was no use. Orlok moved slowly around the room and stood behind Eli, lingering for a moment before he leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

“It was I who corrupted Tracy’s simple mind, it was I who drove her to murder.” Orlok cackled malevolently, the stench from his fetid mouth like that of a tomb. “And when I have finished with you, I will make sure your father suffers the same horrible fate.”

Eli moaned in terror and he felt his knees buckle.

Orlok fell upon him, viciously tearing at his neck. White hot pain radiated through Eli’s body and every muscle tensed as he twisted and arched away from the monster.

But nothing could stop Orlok. He sucked at his neck, gulping down the gouts of blood that spilled from his vein. A horrible trance overcame Eli and darkness danced before his eyes as the terrible rhythm of his own heartbeat thumped in his ears, strong at first, then weaker and weaker and weaker.

He felt himself slipping away.

Everything became grey and slow.

And just when Eli felt himself begin to lose consciousness, the monster stopped and released his foul grip on his neck. Eli struggled to catch his breath as the room slowly grew bright again.

Ritchie was moaning on the other side of the board.

“It is dawn. I must sleep. Have your fun with this one, but Eli must be unharmed for tomorrow,” Orlok said, motioning to what was left of Ritchie.

“Yes, master,” Wayne grovelled as Orlok turned and left the room.

He waited for a moment, then smiled at Eli and Ritchie.

“Now I can’t hurt you, little man, you heard what the master said.” Wayne stared at Eli menacingly, then made his way over to the small table in the corner of the room.

He picked up a large hunting knife and slowly unsheathed it. “But that don’t mean me and Ritchie here can’t have some fun.”

Absolute terror and helplessness overwhelmed Eli. His heart beat like a drum and his breathing became short and shallow. He was almost paralysed with fear. Eli’s mind raced. There had to be a way to get out of here. He looked around the room, desperately searching for something that could set him free. But there was nothing. There was nothing that could… Then Eli noticed the large, loose knots in the thick ropes that bound his wrists. If he could reach one of them, he might be able to free his hand with his teeth.

Ritchie began to scream hysterically, begging for mercy and thrashing about on the other side of the board.

Wayne laughed and put the knife down on the floor between his feet. “I’m just gonna get a bucket for the blood, then we’re gonna have some fun, fat boy.”

Wayne turned and walked back to the corner of the room to get the bucket. This was Eli’s chance. He stretched up onto the tips of his toes and pulled down with his left hand with all his might, straining his neck till his front incisors snapped onto the edge of the cord. He bit down hard and yanked his head back, pulling the rope loose of the knot and allowing him to free his hand. His heart raced as he fumbled to undo the other knot.

Then both of his hands were free.

Adrenaline coursed through Eli and he quickly moved around the A-frame, bent down and grabbed the knife, just as Wayne turned back towards Ritchie.

“You ready for this?” Wayne laughed cruelly.

But his expression crumbled into fear as Eli rushed forward and attacked, swinging the knife wildly and screaming like an animal.

Caught totally by surprise, all Wayne could do was shield his face as Eli stabbed him in the neck. The knife hit bone and Wayne grunted, the color draining from his face. Eli ripped the knife from his throat and stabbed him again and again and again in a frenzy until Wayne fell to his knees, gurgling blood.

He gasped once, then started convulsing and died on the floor.

Ritchie struggled against his bonds crying uncontrollably. “Eli please…please get me out of here.”

Eli stood over the corpse for a moment, his mind blank, eyes staring at the growing pool of blood radiating from Wayne’s head. Ritchie called his name again and the sound snapped him back to reality.

“Are you alright?” Eli asked as he untied the ropes around Ritchie’s wrists.

Ritchie tried to walk but staggered and fell to his knees.

“I got you,” Eli said, putting his arm around Ritchie and help­ing him to his feet.

They stumbled out of the room and up the hallway. At the end was a plywood wall with a low-set, crude-looking door cut into the wood.

Eli pushed the door open cautiously, shrinking in fear as the hinges creaked loudly. He waited for a moment, listening for movement, then when he was sure someone wasn’t waiting for them on the other side, he helped Ritchie make his way through. They came out into the hallway of Mr Orlok’s apartment. An old wardrobe sat just in front of the doorway, leaving a narrow space for them to squeeze through. No wonder the police couldn’t find anyone when they searched the place: the wardrobe would totally conceal the false wall and the door when it was pushed back up against it.

Ritchie groaned and fell to his knees; he was pale and he’d lost a lot of blood. Eli had to get help before it was too late. He helped Ritchie to his feet and urged him to keep moving, all the while expecting Orlok to suddenly appear from one of the doorways and start ripping them apart.

But he didn’t. The apartment was deathly quiet and seemed empty.

Eli dragged Ritchie down the hall to the front door, his eyes wide, head darting left and right in terror.

“We’re almost out of here,” he whispered to Ritchie as they reached the front door and he twisted the handle.

It was deadlocked.

Eli’s heart sank.

“There’s gotta be a way out of here,” Ritchie said as he stag­gered over to one of the windows and pulled aside the drapes.

The windows were boarded up.

“We’re gonna die… We’re gonna fucking die…” Richie began to cry again.

“We’ve gotta find the keys,” Eli said, trying his best to not let the panic he was feeling overwhelm him. “You check the kitchen drawers. I’m gonna go check Wayne’s pockets.”

“I don’t think I can, Eli. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“We’re almost out of here, Ritchie, we’ve just got to push a little bit longer.”

Ritchie nodded, but he didn’t look good. He looked like he was dying.

Eli made his way back down the hall, past the wardrobe, and stood at the doorway looking at Wayne’s corpse. He almost expected him to be sitting there waiting for him, but his body was right where he left it in a puddle of blood, his eyes open and staring blankly at the wall.

Eli rolled over the body and checked his pockets.

All he found was loose change and his zippo lighter. Eli grabbed the lighter and the hunting knife for good measure, then returned to the kitchen. Ritchie was slumped down next to the refrigerator on the linoleum floor.

He looked like he’d passed out.

Eli shook his shoulder. Ritchie woke suddenly, his eyes opening wide like two huge saucers.

“What the fuck? Where am I?”

Eli tried to calm him. “It’s me, Eli. Did you have any luck find­ing the keys? Wayne didn’t have them.”

“Uh-uh. I could find them anywhere.” Ritchie shook his head, then pointed at two crescent-shaped grooves in the lino. “What do you think those are?”

They looked like old, worn scratch marks.

As if someone had pushed the refrigerator across the linoleum, again and again and again.

“Let me see if I can move this,” Eli said, grabbing one side of the fridge.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Ritchie said as he struggled to push himself up to his feet.

Eli shook his head. “There’s no way out of here, not without a key. We’ve got to find Orlok, get the keys from him and kill him.”

Tears welled up in Ritchie’s eyes.

“But he’s a fucking vampire, man,” he whispered.

“I know,” Eli said. “But either we stop him now or he gets away and keeps on killing kids. We gotta stop him, Ritchie.”

Ritchie nodded and Eli pushed the refrigerator across the floor. Beneath was a small hole that had been cut into the flooring, no wider than a man’s shoulders.

A ladder was propped at the opening, leading down.

“What do we do now?”

Eli looked at the hole. It was like a pit leading to hell.

“We go down.”

Ritchie shook his head. “I don’t know if I can, I feel cold and dizzy.”

“I’ll help you, Ritchie. Let me go down first.”

Eli climbed down the ladder. The room below was pitch black and the smell of death was overwhelming. When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he called for Ritchie to follow and he helped him make his way slowly down. When he finally reached the bottom, Eli retrieved Wayne’s zippo from his pocket. It lit on the second try.

It must have been the furnace or some old utility room. What­ever it was, it had been sealed up and hidden for decades. In the dim, flickering light, the room looked frozen in time, wrapped in an eerie stillness. The entrance had been bricked closed long ago, the air was heavy with the musty scent of dust and the darker, sweeter odour of decay. Every surface was adorned with cobwebs and long forgotten tools lay rusted and neglected in grime-covered pegboards.

Dark shapes lined the walls.

Eli took a tentative step into the room as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

And when he saw what was down there, he almost lost his mind.

The room was some kind of macabre tomb. Propped up against the walls were dozens upon dozens of desiccated mummies, their eyeless brown leather faces frozen in endless torment.

Eli did his best not to scream.

“Ritchie, are you okay?”

Ritchie nodded but he looked delirious.

“There’s another room up ahead. Lean on me, alright? We’re almost out of here.”

Eli put his arm around Ritchie and propped him up as they made their way past the bodies and into the next room. The stench grew worse the further they went and the lighter’s flickering glow barely kept the gloom at bay.

They reached the doorway to the second room and both stopped in horror.

Beyond, the room was piled with vile black earth. Worms and roaches twisted and squirmed amongst the diseased soil while rats, fat, slick and oily, lounged amongst the filth. Orlok lay sleeping, naked and buried to his chest in the foul dirt, his lifeless eyes open and dead to the world. He looked bloated, like a leech that had sucked too much blood, the black veins beneath his translucent blue skin pulsing like an undulating maggot.

“What do we do?” Ritchie whispered.

Eli glanced at the hunting knife tucked in his belt and briefly considered attacking Orlok as he slept; then he noticed the basement transom window up in the corner of the far wall.

It was boarded up just like the other windows.

“Sunlight kills vampires,” he whispered to Ritchie. “If I can pry a board free the light will shine in and kill him.”

“How you going to do that? It’s nailed shut.”

“Wait here a sec.”

Before Ritchie could protest, Eli turned and slipped back into the other room, grabbing an old, rusted crowbar from the pegboard. When he returned, he motioned for Ritchie to be quiet and crept across the tomb to the window. He carefully slipped the crowbar under the board and breathed deep.

“Here goes nothing,” he whispered.

Eli slammed the crowbar up, splintering the wood as the nail slipped out and the board fell away. A blinding beam of bright sunlight shone down into the basement crypt illuminating Orlok like a holy light from heaven. Orlok’s face twisted in an ungodly rage, and he screamed like a devil, rising ominously from the earth.

Smiles cracked the faces of Eli and Ritchie as they watched the foul vampire stand before them bathed in light, expecting his skin to blister and burn and smoke at any moment.

But it didn’t.

Instead, the fiend stood and laughed at them.

“Spineless worms. You dare try to destroy me while I slumber by shining a light in my eyes?” Nosferatu spat with contempt as he started towards them ominously.

“Don’t you realize that is but a stupid myth, a children’s tale told by simple-minded peasants so they can sleep at night? Two hundred years ago a woman in Wisberg tried the very same thing. She lured me into her home to feed on her, hoping to kill me with dawn’s light. But sunlight cannot kill me. It merely weakens my powers.”

Eli felt his bowels loosen as Orlok’s eyes fell upon him.

“I’ll tell you my secret, boy. To kill me, you must sever my head and hammer a stake through my unbeating heart. That is the only way you can defeat a vampire.”

The monster’s wicked laugh filled the tomb, and Eli and Ritchie fell to their knees in terror. Orlok rose and became one with the shadows as darkness engulfed them for now and evermore.