Robert Bennett - The Company Man

“Is anyone there?” he called.

The crying did not stop this time, but he still could not see. It was as though it floated away from him. Then he heard it again, this time behind him, but the first voice did not stop. He heard a third voice, this time to his left, and all of them sobbed together, a child’s chorus weeping all at once in a circle around him.

Hayes reeled around, listening to the many voices. Then it struck him. A keening sense of such sorrow and grief that it brought him to his knees, sadness almost beyond human naming. Ancient tears. Wordless and timeless. He choked and fell to all fours as it filled him.

Then came the sound, a shrieking like metals being ground into one another with unimaginable force. Hayes screamed and lifted his watering eyes and looked down the alley to see a shadow on the wall, a human shadow, but it was blurred at every edge and it moved so fast it was little more than a smear. It was there and it was real, he could tell, and yet when he looked to see what was casting the shadow he could see nothing at all.

The shrieking stopped, leaving a ringing in his ears. Hayes took a breath and started clapping his hands together and was relieved when he found he could hear it. He checked his ears and felt no blood. Then he crawled up and sat on his knees and stared at the empty alley before him.

Garvey went to the safe house at eight, not sure if she would be there. He knocked and there was no answer, so he tried the door and found it unlocked.

She was asleep on the bed. He walked in carefully, moving as softly as he could. Her thumb was just inches from her mouth, as if she were just a few years out of infancy. He smiled and stroked her head and said, “Hey.”

Samantha awoke, blinking. “Donald?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, unable to stop smiling.

“How long have I been here?” she asked.

“Long enough,” he said. Then he stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and stood up.

He took her to the winter carnival, which was always open this time of year down out at Discovery Bay. They ate floss candy and watched the clowns before finally getting a ride on the Ferris wheel. The clanking architecture lifted them up into the cool night sky, the lights of the nearby buildings dipping below them. Then they looked across the waters and saw it. Glowing starlight-bright like crystal or ice. A city formed from dreams, drifting in the night like some mythical iceberg. It seemed as though such a place could not be made or populated by men, and both were struck silent for some time.

“Sometimes I think this city has a voice,” Samantha said.

“Do you?” Garvey said, smiling slightly.

“Yes. Out there.” She pointed across the waters.

“What’s it saying?”

“That there’s always tomorrow. And there always will be.”

When they were done they returned to the parking lot and looked back at the carnival. Samantha turned to look at the bridge and the city towering behind it.

“Home,” she said, and Garvey nodded.

They drove to his apartment just before midnight. Then as they crossed the little courtyard Samantha pointed to the trees at the center.

“Someone’s there,” she said. They both stopped and looked, and saw a hunched figure leaning against one of the trunks. A large wooden box was sitting on the ground before him. “Are people still watching your apartment?”

“No,” Garvey said. “Hayes checked. And if that guy’s a shadow he’s doing a terrible job of it…”

Garvey walked to the figure carefully. It did not move. Then he got in front of it, squatted, and said, “Shit. It’s Hayes. He’s passed out.”

Samantha drew close and coughed. “Lord. It’s like he slept in a distillery.”

“I thought he was doing better. What’s that?” Garvey asked, nodding at the box.

She opened it slightly. “It’s the files. The Tazz ones, and the ones from Savron Hill. I suppose it’s his present for you.”

Garvey’s eyes gleamed briefly. Then he nodded, jaw set, and grabbed Hayes by the arm and pulled him to his feet. A long stream of drool gathered at Hayes’s lower lip and then broke and spattered onto the cement. He muttered something and then said, “Good evening.”

“Goddamn it, Hayes,” Garvey said. He fought to gather all of Hayes’s errant arms and legs.

“Did you all have a nice evening?” Hayes asked, slurred.

“Shut up,” Garvey said.

“Yes,” said Samantha.

“Oh,” said Hayes. “That’s good.”

“Take that, will you?” said Garvey to Samantha, nodding again at the box.

They brought him inside the apartment and sat him on the sofa. Hayes sprawled across the beaten cushions, then opened his eyes and seemed to focus a little. He moved his limbs around like they were all new additions and managed to force himself into a sitting position. Then he blinked hard and said, “Thought I’d come by and get that address from you, Garvey-o.”

“Yeah,” Garvey said. “Yeah, I fucking figured.” He poured a glass of water and said, “Here. Drink up.”

“Much obliged.” Hayes held it with the knuckles of both hands, like an old woman with arthritis. He sipped it and smacked his lips. “I look forward to it. Look forward to doing you right.”

“What have you been doing, Mr. Hayes?” asked Samantha. “You look sick again. I haven’t seen you in such a state since our first day together.”

“I’m fine,” he said. But then he looked away, transfixed by some invisible presence, and whispered, “No. No, I’m not. I saw it again tonight.”

“Saw what?” asked Samantha.

“The thing. The ghost. The one we saw.”

“You did?” said Samantha. She and Garvey moved closer to him, propping him up to shake some sense out of him. “Where?”

“Out by… by Skiller’s tenement. Same place, sort of. In a little alley behind. No one died, though. No more deaths. I looked, and checked.”

“But what did you see?” she asked.

“Nothing. A shadow, twitching. And there was a voice. I heard it. It cried, I think.”

“Cried?” said Garvey. He sounded skeptical.

“Yes. Cried. Many voices, crying all along the little dark alley. And I wondered… I wondered what they had said before about it being a ghost. I mean, it’s the second time we’ve spotted it by Skiller’s tenement and all.”

“God,” Garvey said. “How loaded are you?”

“I don’t know. Loaded enough. Do you believe me?”

“Are you sleeping here?” Garvey asked, impatient.

“Here? Where, on your couch?”

“That would be the idea.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’ve already intruded.”

Hayes felt the couch springs, then took a pillow in his arms and squeezed it to his chest and rocked forward. “All right,” he said.

“Fine, then. I’ll get some blankets,” said Garvey, and he went back into his bedroom.

Hayes groaned and lay back, pillow still clutched to his body. “You believe me, don’t you, Sam?” he asked softly.

“I’m trying,” she said.

“I did see it. It cried. And I felt it. You know, with…” He pointed to his head.

“I understand.”

Hayes thought for a moment, his ivory brow crinkling. “I think it’s very sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yes. Very sad. I’m not sure why, though.” He sniffed, and then smiled fondly at her. “You know, I knew a girl like you once.”

Samantha turned to him, slightly uncomfortable. “Yes?”

“Yes. I was very young then. A boy. It was a long time ago.”

“What happened to her?”

Hayes paused. “She died.”

“From what?”