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

as we see the advent of automated phone answering systems and more cost-effective sales options — inevitably… leaving most of us looking for new jobs in sales or retail. Take heart, colleagues. Our portfolio of sister support companies will help you in your quest for your next role. The rest of our clients, as you know, are mainly in New Orleans and Little Rock. Ever since the main interstate corridors of Texas caved in last year, we lost our most significant market of clients. We’ll be donating our building’s cubicles to a homeless shelter to offer small domiciles to the… lesser privileged in a centrally managed habitat called Cubicle City.’”

The line went dead.

What’s going on? Did I bonk or what? What did I do wrong?

Harv came up behind him, shaking his head, as he tapped him on the shoulder. ”Didn’t you read the sign?” he whispered as he clicked his tongue. “It’s one of the Cardinal Rules. I could tell that wasn’t your story. You ripped that off, didn’t you? I heard it in the tunnel the other day. Never recycle someone else’s story as if it were your own. Too easy to have a lying tongue.”

Todd scoffed. “Are you serious right now?

Harv glared at him. “Dead serious. Like the commercial always says, CREEPY NIGHTS provides original, scary stories one-hundred percent of the time, or we’ll give your money back. We guarantee it!”

In an unexpected twist, the room transformed.

What’s going on? I guess this place is living up to its name.

Todd observed a weathered and worn Albuquerque city limits sign. Looking around, he noted that he and the others were now dressed as well-groomed, white-collar office workers. He turned around and saw the sizeable, pink-bricked building of the former Charismatique business firm referenced in his story.

“You all clean up, alright,” he said. “Let’s go toward the building. I bet we’ll find some help.”

No one else acknowledged him. Walking toward the corporate campus, it drifted further and further away. Todd stopped and turned around, looking at the group of followers.

Is this a dream or what? I recognized Harv. What about the rest of you? I’m not used to seeing you this way.

The bright New Mexico sun beat down on them with no shade for miles. Todd pivoted around. He walked away from the city limits sign as efforts to move past it remained futile. The group continued east, hurrying into the desert. Minutes later, evidence of heat influenced mirage manifested as their lips discolored and their sweat dripped into the sand.

Looking to the sky, he yelled, “Is this it? Come on!”

Without warning, loaves of bread and flasks of water began falling in an intriguing Old Testament fashion. He indulged, feeling refreshed with immediacy. The others did not.

“Why aren’t you guys having any? Don’t make me feel like I’m the glutton here. Did I miss an etiquette course or what?”

None of them engaged with him.

This is unreal.

He and the group continued onward.

Creeper Joe’s voice called out to him through an invisible garbled intercom, “Watch out! The earth caves in over here. Just like you wanted. Heh-heh.”

Todd’s mind flashed back to the drive on the interstate, maneuvering through Riverton in standstill traffic.

Joe’s voice continued, “You called it a wasteland, remember…? Unemployed hippies? Come on. What are you now?”

Todd looked in the sky toward the sun. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m dead. Is this hell?”

“Why couldn’t it be heaven? You have bread. Water. Followers. Riverton’s obliterated. What more do you need?”

Todd wiped the sweat from his brow and said, ”I just want to go home to knock down some blades of grass in my yard with my new Red Helix weedeater. That’s it!”

“No, you don’t, Todd. You…” Joe’s voice muffled as it faded into the distance.

As Todd peered into the sky, it turned scorched, and everything that surrounded became pitch-black. A phone rang in the distance.

He fell to the floor.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

 

DETECTIVE NEIL PENSKE’s recent promotion left him reviewing a variety of case files. His desk stood piled high, folder after folder with stacks of smeared Polaroids, chewed up Bics, and a pair of matching 35mm cameras. They were all strewn about in complete disorder, with many cases pointing back to families robbed of their loved ones. Handling these issues was a delicate thing and often a path to nowhere on a winding road to perdition. Perhaps it was the undetectable calculation to the disappearances that made them most ominous. They never occurred in a notable or measurable swoop, but instead one at a time and with care — an unobservable pattern that left them appearing coincidental.

“You know something, Jack. I want to sleep again.”

“A few more years of bumps and bruises, and you’ll get immune to feeling anything. It’s a tough road, but you’ll get there,” Detective Jack Herbert said.

Penske took a sip of his coffee as he stood up from his desk.

“There are just too many weird things around here. I’m ready to move back to Jersey. The families of these people never want to talk to us. It still breaks my heart every time. We’re only reminding them of the inevitable. No one wants to relive the fact that their sweetie’s dead.”

“Most of ‘em don’t. It’s surprising how many don’t seem bothered at all. Remember, foul play is never out of the question.”

Penske sighed. “Yeah. I know you’re right. I never want to give someone a false sense of hope when there isn’t one.”

“The sad thing is, half of the adult disappearances stem from relationship issues. Depression… affairs… a combination of the previous stated. Blame it on impulse control, I guess.”

Penske stared at the map that graced the wall behind his desk. He angled his lamp toward it. Charting the missing was difficult, as there was rarely a consistent or observable pattern. Pushpin after pushpin placed from one area to the next. He left them yellow to indicate hope. They were only red once a body was located, linking that with a small white string connecting the victim’s point of origin