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

paper sack, mere seconds away from falling through the bottom to the floor with its lingering moisture.

It must have been Wayne’s.

Emotions compounded into an ugly mess. The tongue, the run-in with the creep, and the countless hours of brutal interrogation, left him threadbare.

Ron Richards. Nothing more than a useless wretch, hopeless and deserving of a meaningful end.

In his moment of darkness, he was no longer a husband, a father, a brother, a son, a radio host, or a friend to anyone — nothing but a failure, and that was the only thought racing through his troubled mind. Pulling the hammer to the revolver back, he rested his finger on the trigger, preparing to seal his fate with his only bullet.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

A knock at the door.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he tucked the gun beneath a couch cushion and prepared to greet the unexpected visitor.

Oh, the sweet taste of providence, divine intervention. That’s what I needed, a distraction, a diversion. Maybe not…

He opened the door, observing another twice folded, crumpled white paper sack on the doorstep. Before unfolding it, he took a deep breath. A slimy eye and a tooth sat motionless in the bottom. Reluctant to touch them, he carried the sack inside and retrieved a magnifying glass from his home office. He went back out to the porch.

I’m not gonna get this crap on my floors. I’ll take my chances out here.

Sitting on his rocking chair, he studied the tooth.

There’s a serial number on it.

Before he could ponder anymore, he vomited all over the front porch as disgust overtook him. Some of it landed on the scarecrow that stood to his right.

The one thing I got out of the divorce and now it’s covered in vomit. Why am I being tormented? I’ve had a rough enough life on my own.

He called 911. A few minutes later, a dispatch vehicle arrived as he sat there waiting. Detective Penske returned to investigate and collect the disconnected appendages.

Penske yelled at Ron from the window while driving up, “What are you trying to do? Make me earn my pay?”

“I’m sorry, Penske. I just can’t right now...”

“Are you okay? What’s going on, Ron? Why aren’t you saying anything else?”

After a minute of silence, he spoke, “I’ve got no words. Do what you need to. Bring me in again if that’s what it takes.”

He vomited all over Penske’s uniform and passed out.

“Ron? Ron? Are you with me?”

Ron trembled on the ground but did not reply.

Penske picked up his dispatch radio. “Yes, this is Detective Penske, unit five-tango-four. Send an ambulance to 3800 Bayshore Drive. I’ve got a guy that may need some medical attention.”

CHAPTER FORTY

TODD ADAMS awoke the next morning, continuing to explore the tunnel.

I’m famished.

He walked past a few fire pits and other items that hinted at the tenure of the others.

I can’t get over this. It’s like a world of its own. Just all the more perfect with Peter Gabriel coming through the speakers. Isn’t it?

He uttered a curse as pain raced through his leg.

Dark enough in here. Maybe I can avoid him for a while and get my bearings. I never want to see a Red-Helix again.

A woman sang to herself, but the song was unintelligible.

Just a made-up melody. I hate it when people do that. Unless you’re in the business, I don’t want to hear you try.

He approached the woman, noting her colorless dreadlocks, pale complected skin, and icy blue eyes. They were albino-like — reflective of the fact she had not left the tunnel in weeks.

“Hello there.”

“Hi.”

He extended his hand to introduce himself as the woman accepted, returning it with a weak and clammy grip.

“Todd Adams.”

“Ebony Ivory.”

“Ebony Ivory? That’s quite the contradiction…”

“My parents were earth-loving long before the hippies came on the scene. I don’t blame ‘em for it.”

“I get that,” he said. “So, how long’s it been?”

She picked up a pewter cup and drank from it. After she finished, she tucked it behind a rock. “I don’t know anymore. Month or two? I lost track. Diabetic coma did me in for a while and got me feeling all confused when I came back. It didn’t take long before Creeper Joe showed up on a street corner one night and told me I had a lying tongue. He dragged me down here.”

Go figure. I could have pegged you for a Pinocchio.

Todd furrowed his brow. “Well, did you?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Lying was always an issue for me. I worked in Creepy Nights on Level Seven. Stupid me… I snuck onto Level Five when Chris told me I didn’t get the job to spite him. Before the floor supervisor could approach me that night, I busied myself, and picked up a phone as it rang. You want to hear the story I told? It’s still locked in my memory like it was yesterday.”

Here we go again. Everyone’s living in the past. No one looking to the future.

“Sure. Let’s see what kind of story-telling chops you have.”

“Well, let me tell you about a time that a man lost his eye…

A few years ago, back in 1972, a gentleman lost his job at a bottling factory. There wasn’t much to be said about why. He entered the plant manager’s office and received the news.

‘Herb, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go. I hate that it’s the holiday season and all, but corporate desperately wants us to make some cutbacks to meet our numbers for year-end.’

‘Rick, that’s not fair. I’ve been here for eight years… I never called in sick. I never said ‘no’ to a single project that you assigned. Why me…?’

‘They decided over my head, Herb. I’m sorry. I like you and all, but we’ve got to work with younger and cheaper talent. Eight years of raises costs me a good bit more than the fresh meat I can get off the streets does. It’s just simple dollars and cents… nothing more. It’s not personal… just common sense. You get that, right?’

‘I’ll take a pay cut.