Level Zero by Dan McDowell (books that read to you TXT) 📕

when you let him. Could probably even call him clinical.”

Cut to the chase, lady.

“I got you. I know the type,” Todd said. “Too well. Bartender, I’ll take the check. Katrina, it’s been a pleasant chat. I’m sure I’ll run into you again one of these days. I’m a little old fashioned. I don’t feel quite right shooting the breeze with a potential divorcee. We can talk on the other side of it if you want. I am attracted to you, but I want to do things right this time.”

Katrina’s makeup ran down the sides of her cheeks. “This time? Don’t you want my phone number?”

“You know what I meant. I’ll talk to you later.”

Todd exited the Bridgewater Restaurant and headed down the block toward his pickup. He circled around and drove past Creepy Nights. All the lights in the building appeared off except the top floor. A silhouetted figure stood near the window.

A man hobbled into the road as Todd’s eyes studied the building. He came up next to the truck as it rolled and tapped on the glass.

His voice was scratchy and whiny. “You’ve got to help me. Help me out. I need money.”

“How about a five spot? That’s the best I can do.”

“That’ll work. Thanks, Todd.”

“Not a problem. Wait a minute. Who are you? You don’t know me.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you later. Heh-heh.”

The peculiar individual disappeared before Todd could speak to him. He vanished behind the Creepy Nights building.

People are strange.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

CHRIS WILKERSON targeted the streets, recruiting select numbers of the area’s homeless to work for him based on their imaginative states of mind. The individual’s coherence and conversational skills drove Chris’s decision-making process. He assumed many of these types would be well-immersed in alternate realities and fantasies because of their hyperactive imaginations.

Wrapping up morning recruitment, he sent them on to the Creepy Nights lobby, where a slew of the unshowered guests would later bombard Nancy. He carried a soup and sandwich out from the Corner Brothers Deli down the street, and walked back toward Creepy Nights. Creeper Joe sat on the sidewalk as a youthful homeless man in his first street-level appearance in over fifty-four years. Something had changed, and he blended in with the others that loitered in the area well.

I should talk to this guy. He might be a good fit for us.

Joe held a pewter cup in the air, as if expecting a donation.

“Have any spare change for me?” he said in a disguised and upper-Midwestern accent.

“Are you looking for work? I’ll give you part of my sandwich? Here you go, friend.”

Oh boy… it’s him.

Joe grinned. “Nope, but thanks for playing. Any thoughts on my costume? I clean up alright, don’t I?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “If you call smelling like garbage and looking like you haven’t bathed in weeks, then… yes. You clean up excellent.”

“No poking fun. That’s not fair.”

“Whatever you say.”

Joe stood up and wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulder while they walked back toward Creepy Nights. He took the sandwich from him, biting into it.

“What’s this about?” Chris asked.

Joe led them into an adjacent alleyway.

“It’s about time we have a chat. You are going to have to fulfill your commitment. I want you to collect Dale Creensteen. He’s an easy target. The type that pays no attention to whom or what’s around him — lost in his own little world the times he does. Here’s the address. Take this bottle of chloroform, too. Snitched it from someone at RGH the other day. It should help. Heh-heh. The signal fire’s lit. Now go get him before time runs out. I’ll meet you behind the building after dusk to assess your hunt. Don’t worry. He’s an easy capture. It’s the soul I’m after, not the man. That makes it more palatable.”

Chris scoffed, stopping in the middle of the alleyway. He studied the area for onlookers. “Joe, I don’t know why you think I’d go along with this. I’m a man of many convictions.”

Joe’s eyes yellowed, his voice grew fierce and more profound, and he yanked him closer, cutting into the side of his arm with his sharp fingernails. Blood dripped, and Joe dropped his pewter cup beneath it.

“We wouldn’t want to get the alley all dirty, now, would we? Dirty boy. Let me help you with that. A little Indian sunburn should do the trick.” Joe alternated his hands over the wound as the blood drained into the cup beneath. “Right as rain. See?”

Chris looked at his arm. The bleeding had stopped and coagulated.

Too weird.

“You want to ask me ‘why’ you would go along with it again?” Joe asked. “You know why. Don’t squeak or squawk to the cops, either. Otherwise, I’ll show you a whole new meaning to damnation! That goes from this point forward, pushover! Do as I say, so I don’t have to.”

“I need some time.”

“Time for what? Creensteen’s a pencil pusher. He won’t put up a fight. You’re a big man. Aren’t you, Chris? From head to toe! Heh-heh.”

They exited the alley, walking down the street together, and Joe mellowed.

I can’t handle much more of this. God help me.

The pair walked to the front door of Creepy Nights, bidding one another an awkward farewell.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Chris said. “You’d blend in just fine with the rest. I could use someone with your storytelling prowess.”

“Who said they were only stories? I don’t have any business being in there. I’ll see you later tonight. I’m told Creensteen drives a black ‘82 Prelude for what it’s worth. Good luck.”

Creeper Joe maneuvered toward the Level Zero entrance behind the building as he called out to Chris, “Catch you later.”

“I don’t know…”

The color of Joe’s eyes changed again as he clicked the back of his teeth loud enough to echo off the side of the dated structure.

Chris sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“See you later, Chrissy-Chris. Don’t forget about our agreement.” Joe dismissed himself.

I guess it’s about time I pack heat.

Chris stormed inside after the unsettling run-in with