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

in fact, Creeper Joe, though Wayne did not recall their being introduced.

The white sign featured permanent marker ink written at a slant.

We all know the world is going to end… Help a brother out.

Wayne reached in his pocket, feeling a couple of dollar bills. ”I’m sorry. I don’t have any cash,” he lied.

“Are you sure about that?” Joe asked.

“Of course I’m sure. My wife and kids took it all, pretty standard around here.”

What’s your deal? Memorize the guy’s description. When he’s done with me, I’ll go to the cops.

Joe stood up, and his voice elevated, “Guess again, Wayne!”

Dusk approached, and Creeper Joe grabbed Wayne’s neck, choking him as he carried him into a neighboring alley. He continued to squeeze tighter and tighter, speaking with an increasing rhythm and volume in his voice as he spewed words, “A lying tongue will get you nowhere. Absolutely nowhere! Why don’t I cut it out for you? What do you think? That might help. You know, take away your… livelihood. The thing you do best. Blah… blah… blah! I’m not sure you could handle that now, could you?”

I can’t breathe. Keep my feet on the ground. I’m smarter than he is. Play it that way.

Wayne shook his head. “I guess not,” he said, clearly winded as Joe loosened his grip, brushing the asphalt from the tops of his shoulders.

“Well then, come with me. I’m going to take you someplace you need to see. If you ever judge me with those haughty eyes again, I will hollow them out for you! Heh-heh!”

Play it casual. It’ll throw him off.

“Fine. I’m coming. I’m coming. What’s your name? Haven’t I seen you around here before?”

“I doubt it, Mr. Wallace,” Joe’s voice eased. “I doubt it. Call me Joe. Walk with me a little further?”

Must be a full moon tonight. Why would I? That’s right… Self-preservation.

Wayne studied the sky. The full moon made his heart sink.

“Sure. Show me a good time.”

Silence followed them as they went through the dark alleyway.

This day’s been too emotional for me. When I hit the sack, I’m taking three crazy pills.

Approaching the neighboring Oak Hollow District, Wayne spoke, “I know where…”

He fell to the ground.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

TODD ADAMS awoke in a dark tunnel as a rat ran across the top of his chest.

How long have I been out? Where am I?

He studied the ceiling above, observing its long trail of dim lights and a few bats hanging in the vicinity. Feeling post-concussive side effects, he noted a series of small, multicolored halos around each as it glowed. They billowed gray smoke, burning no brighter than ten or fifteen watts.

The lights are useless. The tunnel’s twenty-five, maybe thirty feet high, fifty feet wide. What good are they?

A radio kicked on in the background down the long corridor. The Creepy Nights commercial jingle came through the speakers at an overpowering volume and then transitioned back to the scheduled program.

“Thank you for listening to WGBO 530 AM. The only Riverton station for deplorable people like the dud-heads! I’m Wayne Wallace, and you all know my pointless, breath-stealing accomplice, Ramblin’ Ron Richards. Today, we’re going to talk… scary. It’s October 29th, 1982…”

1982? No. It’s 1983. What’s going on here?

“Halloween is just around the corner, and I want to give my half-brained buddy, Ramblin’ Ron, a chance to tell us a good yarn…”

The radio turned off, and the lights in the tunnel dimmed. Hobbling footsteps neared as they traipsed through puddles.

Where am I? Who’s there?

“Hello?”

It hurts to move. Who the hell is flicking my ear?

Feelings and memories of his childhood flashed in front of him, first being bullied, and later, memories of himself being the bully. He never was the bully, so to speak.

These phantom memories aren’t mine. Whose are they?

He turned around. A strange-looking figure lurked — his familiar face and eyes glowed a distinct amber. The character shined an overpowering flashlight beam into Todd’s eyes.

“You know why I have you here… don’t you, Todd?”

“No, not really. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so. I’m here to creep on you.”

“To what?”

“Creep on you, dummy. Don’t you get it? This is my funhouse. Not yours. Heh-heh. Let’s set you straight before you end up like all the rest of ‘em around here. What do you say?”

His face… What’s wrong with it? Is he even human anymore?

“Set me straight? I don’t follow.”

“You know. Cure you. Cure you of all of your impure thoughts about the ‘lessers’ around town. Pride cometh before a fall. Did you honestly think that giving them a few of your… hard-earned dollars was going to fix the problem? Why’d they end up on the streets to begin with? It’s a broken system out there.”

“Yeah, okay, sure. Don’t get preachy on me. I get the picture now. Please get on with it and set me straight.”

He heard the tug of a weedeater cord, and the unwelcome odor of aged gas hit his nostrils. After sputtering for a couple of seconds, the unit turned over. The silhouetted figure pulled the plastic trigger on the Red Helix weedeater.

VROOM… VROOM… ZZZZZZZZ… ZZZZZZ… ZZZZZZZZ!

Todd still wore his pair of khaki golf shorts, donning a tan that doubled as good advertising for the thriving tanning businesses popping up all over Riverton County. It was irrelevant. Without a hint of daylight in the tunnel, day and night no longer mattered. The weedeater wielding weirdo leaned in closer. Threaded six inches too long, the tight-wound cord cut into the front of his shins as the creep spun it.

He’s gonna kill me.

Todd worked to wrench himself away as pieces of his skin flecked off into the floor of the tunnel — some even landing onto the top of his parched lips as he cried out in agony. The torturer kept on. Todd shrieked and moaned as he heard growing amounts of unprecedented laughter coming from the subterranean bully. It echoed down the long tunnel.

“Ah! Ah! What are you doing?” Todd screamed, “That’s enough!”

“I’m just getting started on you, Todd Adams. You better roll over.