El Greco
Part 5
The whole building was old and every time the wind howled outside it seemed that the whole story shifted, creaking, making the glass ring, and forcing me to open my eyes and look around, making sure that everything around me was the same. I was in the bed, still a foreign bed to me, and the coldness of the floor was still alien, as well as the smells that crawled into my room from downstairs. It was also weird to be in the bed so early, and it was strange to get up at eight o’clock in the morning, when workers came in from the back door. Colin didn’t employ a lot of people, just a couple of mates of his whom he met in college, who were destined to spend their lives in archives if not here, and who treated me with a distant friendliness.
I gave up sleep after a few attempts and sat up in the bed. I could gaze out the window at the opposite building – all windows dark except for a couple, the whole thing looking as if it were an old sleeping beast, heaving cloudy breaths into the air. A shiver ran down my spine and I got up, flicking on the small lamp by the bed, smiling a bit at my skittishness. The soft light fell around the room, and I saw a quick glimmer by the window. It was my acoustic, propped up against the wall, resting there abandoned and humble. My fingers became tingly and I smiled giddily, scooping it up and easing back on the bed, running my hand over the guitar’s curve, greeting it properly. I fingered its neck lightly, running my fingers over the strings, feeling the small ridges. Then I plucked a couple of strings, the sound resonating through the quiet room, and soon I started strumming lightly, humming, and closing my eyes. A familiar melody, the one I used to play when I was younger. It started at my vocal chords and traveled down my body, soft and serene, bringing me back as if the past years had been nothing but a dream.
I played for a long time, my fingers hurting a bit from absence of practice, stopping when the familiar sounds of the people coming on made me blush and put the guitar away, diving under the covers and listening to their steps.
Usually mornings started with a couple of employees coming in, if you could call them that, smelling of oatmeal and coffee, their hair shaggy and clothes already reeking of paper and ink. They were both of uncertain age, somewhere between mid-twenties and mid-thirties, two scholarly graduates with no particular craft in normal life, with no glint in their eyes until they reached the shop.
Today was different. I recognized Colin’s sharp footsteps and I threw the covers off of my body to wash up and go downstairs quickly, however I caught a sound of another in the building. Colin laughed softly and I heard a man’s voice, muffled quickly by Colin’s hiss and I heard “Thomas” thrown into the air. Clothes were rustling slightly and then with a soft clank kettle was put on the stove, and a chair creaked in the small kitchenette.
I stayed upstairs for the longest time, until the sun was high in the air and sounds of cars and passing people filled the air. Cursing myself for being ridiculous, I got up and 10 minutes later I was walking down the stairs carefully, washed and groomed properly.
I saw Toby sitting at the small table, leafing through a rough draft of the book Colin was preparing. What surprised me was the way Colin was leaning over him from behind, his arms wrapped around Toby’s shoulders and their cheeks pressed. I saw Colin turn his head slightly, not tearing his eyes away from the page, and press his lips against the corner of Toby’s mouth.
Blush crept up my cheeks and I considered sneaking upstairs again, but the floorboard creaked under my feet and Colin raised his head with a start, followed by Toby doing the same.
“Erm,” I said, scratching the back of my head, “Morning.”
“Hello,” Colin smiled, straightening up and stepping away from Toby, “Erm…you two know each other.”
I chuckled, despite myself and Toby grinned, throwing his head back and looking at Colin upside-down.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you being bashful,” he said, and Colin ruffled his hair affectionately, “This is when you ask him if he wanted some tea,” Toby whispered and Colin swatted at him.
“Thomas is at home, unlike you,” he said, letting go of Toby and crossing his arms on his chest, “He doesn’t need an invitation.”
“Well, if he didn’t get one in the first place, he wouldn’t be here,” Toby stretched his arms and looked at me, flashing a lopsided smile, “I must congratulate you, you are the last survivor of the Atlantis.”
“How do you mean?”
He beckoned me and I sat at the table next to him. He placed a newspaper in front of me, opening it and pointing at the article. Vandals Flood Basement on N. street.
“We tried to close it up, but they just broke through,” Toby shrugged, “It was either that or painting the walls baby blue and inviting senior citizen club for a bingo night. The public is watching it now and I suppose no scumbags would appear there once again.”
“It means they are somewhere else,” I mumbled.
“That and nobody’s skull had been broken, at least last night.”
“It means they are out on the streets right now,” Colin mused, placing a cup of tea in front of me and sitting at the table, “How do you want to deal with that?”
“I won’t, the police will,” Toby leaned back on the chair.
“Yes, the way it dealt with the club.”
“The thing is,” Toby rubbed his neck, “Those scumbags are normal in the daylight, respectively. They work somewhere and they are acceptable by the public. And they behave, because everyone sees their face. It’s only in that place they become maniacs.”
We thought it over for a couple of seconds.
“How about we mark them?” Colin asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you say, they are okay when people see them. Well, if me mark them, that would make them recognizable and, consequently, restrain them.”
“How do you propose we do that?” I laughed, “Put a ring on their ankles like pigeons? D’you want to brand them?”
“Shave half of their head?” Toby smiled quietly.
“What if we put a sign on the backs of their necks?”
“Paint’s toxic,” I shook my head, “That could hurt them.”
“Well, food dye isn’t,” Colin smiled, “And it doesn’t go away for a while.”
Toby laughed, but Colin continued.
“Thom, how many people d’you reckon showed up in your club regularly?”
“Erm…20, 25 maybe.”
“And you’ll be able to recognize them?”
“Some, yeah.”
“What do you think?” Colin turned to Toby.
“I think this is crazy,” he said, shaking his head, “But we could try.”
“Well.”
“Well,” Toby shivered, “This is just an experiment.”
“Yeah,” I sniffed.
It was the following night and we were standing outside a pub, waiting for our first target to come out. Toby was holding a bottle of chloroform and a cloth, and I carried a bottle of red food dye in my knapsack, along with a stencil. It was dark and cold outside, and we both felt a bit ridiculous. I restrained from laughing.
“Suppose he wakes up?” Toby asked.
“There are two of us,” I shrugged.
“Right,” Toby rolled on his feet, letting out a puff of smoke.
“Toby?”
“Yeah?”
“For how long have you known Colin?” I asked, a bit hesitant. He didn’t answer right away and I closed my eyes in the dark, cursing in my mind.
“We met when he came back from college,” he answered.
“And you two are…erm…exclusive?”
He glanced at me briefly, “Yeah.”
I started to talk, but he raised a hand and I stopped. The door to the pub opened a drunken figure stumbled out; I recognized the voice and nodded. We waited until he reached the corner and Toby leaped at him, pushing the cloth against his nose and mouth, holding him tightly. A moment of struggle and the body was sagging heavily. Toby’s knees buckled and I jumped to help him.
We dragged him into the alley and I got out a flashlight. We worked quickly, taping the stencil to the neck and then spraying the food dye carefully, Toby holding the head and me working. When it was absorbed we grinned at each other.
“Now for the fun part.”
An unconscious Caucasian male was found at the police station, tied and gagged, bearing a mark on his neck. In his pocket there was a letter to the police commissioner, listing the male’s crimes and stating that such occurrences will continue. The police doesn’t disclose any further information due to ongoing investigation.
“So what do you think?” Toby asked, watching Colin’s smile as he read the newspaper.
“I think Thom smudged the sign a bit,” he said, pointing at the picture, “But it was okay for the first time.”
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