SoMa Literary Review - Good Fences

Good Fences

By Ray Adler

Dr. Henry Wilett made the three mile walk from his apartment to his office everyday without fail. He enjoyed the exercise and the time to think. He was a strict man with a strict schedule, but he also possessed an avid mind. Every Friday for the past fifteen years, Wilett would allow an extra twenty minutes for a detour. He wanted to know every aspect of the course. He considered this his personal time. A sacred time.

In truth, his "course" wasn't particularly special. It was but a stretch of the city occupied by apartments and small businesses. There were shorter routes between home and work, but this route was safest. Wilett wanted to walk. He was in his mid-30's and his health was slowly fading. Wanting to preserve his health, he sold his car and vowed to walk everywhere. A bit of a coward, Wilett picked a neighborhood that was of no interest to the element he wished to avoid.

The "twenty minute tradition" (as he called it) began early on. He had noticed a used book store in the neighborhood. Wilett had very much wanted to stop in and see what was being sold. However, the store always closed early on in the afternoon. On this particular Friday, the store was experiencing a surge in business and it continued to be open as Wilett passed by. While he normally would never break from his routine, Wilett found this too great an opportunity to pass.

The book store had a modest collection. Nothing too rare or hard to find (though he did end up purchasing a sci-fi novel that he had owned years earlier). As he was browsing, Wilett was amused at the stacks of books next to the shelves, the musty smell of old paper that hung in the air, and of course the jazz station being played on a twenty year old radio. The young girl working the register was no more than fifteen. She had the look of a young loner, with cropped and dyed-pink hair, a nose ring that was way too large, and faded boy's t-shirt that was probably manufactured when she was in diapers.

Walking home that evening, Wilett decided to make this excursion a regular tradition. Not visiting the bookstore, he'd seen what they had and wasn't impressed. He decided that every Friday afternoon he would take a detour for twenty minutes and explore a part of the street. And, if possible, try to "experience" the area he was exploring.

The following Friday, he went into the shoe shop and purchased a pair of decent walking shoes. This was actually something that needed to be done since his office shoes were murder on long walks and too expensive to replace due to wear and tear.

The next Friday, he stopped at the ice cream shop and treated himself to a single scoop of mint chocolate chip.

The Friday after that he decided to take a risk. There were several apartment buildings along the street. They all looked alike from the outside and Wilett wondered if they had the same design inside. The following week he looked inside another apartment building. He looked inside every apartment building, one per week, over the course of the next 3 months. They were all the same. A few years after that Wilett decided to see each apartment manager, one per week of course, to get a tour of vacant apartments. And, sure enough, they were all the same. Even down to the brick fireplace with the gold-colored knobs, which each and every manager told him was unique.

Now, fifteen years later, Wilett looked around the street and realized that he had been everywhere in the neighborhood. He had explored every building, made a purchase from every shop, eaten an apple on the swing set of every schoolyard. There was nothing new. Nothing, except the alley.

The "alley" was Wilett's name for the sole alley on the entire three mile route. He noticed its peculiarity one day, in the seventh year, when it suddenly struck him that it was the only alley on the street. All other spaces between buildings were used as walkways (which he had already walked each and every one). Not only that, but this alley was packed with garbage and trash cans, which was also odd seeing as how every building on the street used dumpsters in various parking lots to store their trash. This alley made no sense. The reason Wilett had never investigated the alley was the feeling it gave him, like his heart skipping a beat or goosebumps on his arms. Each and every time he got near the alley, some primal defensive mechanism in his brain screamed out "STAY AWAY."

Wilett had never been a coward. He was cautious, but only if he could justify his caution as being legitimite and not irrational. And the "feeling" he had about this alley was something he just couldn't put his finger on, so therefore it couldn't be justified. He'd given the matter much thought during the work week and decided that no harm could come from simply looking in an alleyway. He had taken greater chances roaming the halls of apartment buildings. It would be mid-afternoon with plenty of people around, so there really was no danger. And besides, Wilett was a man who loved traditions.

Friday afternoon, 5:45pm. 45 minutes till dusk.

Wilett stood at the edge of the alley. He took a moment to scan it. The alley was situated between the "slum" and the pet shop. The "slum" was the nickname for the sole apartment building on the street that was filthy and cheap. As for the pet store, it was nice enough. Wilett had bought some birdseed there. He did note, however, that they didn't sell any dogs or cats. When questioned, the owner expressed a severe dislike for them and Wilett gave it no more thought.

There was no smell coming from the alley, which was odd given the amount of garbage sitting around in the summer heat. Wilett noted no side doors into either building. He could not see the end of the alley. This piqued his curiosity and he took a step in to see better.

As soon as his foot crossed the threshold of the alleyway, he could smell it. Rotting meat, fecal waste, and urine. The suddenness of the stench almost caused him to black out. Wilett had to put his hand on the wall to stabilize himself. He instantly pulled his hand back upon touching the cold damp wall. He wasn't sure what he had touched, but whatever it was made him feel ill.

Most men might decide to give up at this point, and Wilett was aware of this. He had always prided himself as someone extraordinary. He had made the plan to reach the far wall, and he was going to do it.

Each step he took touched down on some unknown piece of garbage that either crunched or squished beneath his weight. His steps uneasy, Wilett took several minutes to reach the far end of the alley. What he could make out, for most of it was still in shadow, was a hedge. Never having been to the street on the other side, Wilett had no way of knowing whether or not this hedge marked someone's backyard or a public park. Not feeling the same urge for exploration that he'd had at the end of work today, Wilett decided it was time to go home.

Just then he heard something. It was coming from the shadowy part of the hedge.

A grunt, a groan, a moan. He wasn't sure, but it wasn't a natural sound. There was someone or something there. Sitting there. Wilett couldn't tell if it was a homeless person trying to sleep, or a dog waiting to attack. He figured the best course of action was to be sure what it was before turning his back on it.

Wilett leaned in closer, but the shadows still obscured his vision. His eyes were old and, while he didn't normally need glasses, they were too weak to discern the shape in the shadows. Squinting and straining to see, Wilett suddenly felt a shiver, like a cold wind bringing with it a sense of intense fear.

Then everything went black.

Wilett awoke in the dark. He slowly stood up and tried to get his bearings. He surmised that he was still in the alley, but that several hours had passed. The sun had long since gone down, and all he had to guide him was the street light at the edge of the alley.

Confused, Wilett stood there. He felt hungry, he had a dry taste in his mouth, and there was a strong part of him that wanted to go back to sleep. So, the mile and a half walk home didn't seem like that thrilling a task. But then he remembered the creature. He turned back towards the hedges to see if it was still there. Darker now than it had been earlier, he knew that it would be impossible to see anything. But that all became moot when he heard the creature stir once more. At first it sounded like rocks grating against the ground. Then, as if his eyes suddenly adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the silhouette of a hulking manbeast sitting on the ground. As the man stood, he seemed to grow larger. As if he had been huddled on the ground and was now standing up and stretching out to his full form. As the form stretched, Wilett grew terrified. He felt the same chill as before, only now it was accompanied by a sudden pinching of muscles all over his body. He felt several tiny pinpricks in every region of his body. His heart began beating faster, his lungs seized up as if he were standing in a vacuum. The silhouette before him was now stretched to over six feet tall. A lanky, yet sturdy form. Wilett chose not to wait to see it fully revealed.

He ran down the alley towards the street, daring not to look back to see if he was being followed. Along the piles of garbage, Wilett ran as fast as he could. Several times he slipped and fell, each time slamming against a metal dumpster or the brick wall. Each time he ignored the pain and kept running.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached the street. Collapsing to his knees, Wilett was gasping for air. A vague feeling in the pit of his stomach was screaming for water. His legs burned and ached. His mouth tasted of blood sweat.

Wilett looked around the street for help. It was completely deserted, not a soul to be found. He realized now that the drawback to this safe neighborhood was that it was occupied by families. By this time of night, the children were in bed and the parents were enjoying a bit of peace to put a happy ending on a long and stressful day.

Wilett leaned back against a wall and rested his head. His eyes felt heavy, he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Then he heard it.

Crunch, crunch.

It was the same sound his own footsteps had made in the alley. As the sound was getting louder and nearer, Wilett felt the same chill and tensing as before.

He stood and tried to run again, but all he could muster was a slow hobble down the street towards home.

For what felt like hours, Wilett moved along the street towards home. Every time he stopped for even a minute, the chill and pain would return. Now it was accompanied by the sudden howling of every dog within earshot, as if each hound was confirming Wilett's fear and urging him onward. And each time, Wilett found just enough strength to push on.

Finally, he made it. The steps up his porch felt steep and the climb was painful. The keys were slippery in his bloody and sweat-soaked hand. To his relief, Wilett's shaky hand was able to open the door and lock it behind him without further incident.

Standing in his house, Wilett felt a great swell of relief. He stripped his clothes and discarded them in a garbage bag. Each garment was fetor with strangely-colored stains from where he fell in the alley.

Wilett sealed the bag and left it on the floor as he headed off towards the bathroom.

As the shower water heated up, he looked over his body in the mirror. Several dozen tiny red marks covered his arms. He had a black and twisted ankle. And his neck had a deep purple bruise in the shape of a long finger. Wilett stared at the bruise and went pale at the thought of what caused it.

He stared at the bruise until his attention was drawn to the steam emanating from the shower. The thought of a hot shower took over and the bruise was forgotten.

Stepping into the hot shower, he felt the water stinging and cleaning his wounds. Wilett watched the rainbow of blood and colored oils-residue of whatever garbage was in the alley-stream off of him and down the drain.

Wilett stood there for close to an hour. The water went from hot to warm to cool. Then, suddenly the water turned ice cold. Wilett startled and turned off the water. As he stood there shivering he heard the front door shut.

Confused, Wilett was unsure if what he had heard was a product of his imagination. He wiped the water off his face and stood there trying to listen for more noises.

After a few seconds, there came a thump, then another. Then another. Then another. Like heavy feet dragging across the floor downstairs. Sounding more like large slabs of stone being half dragged half carried. Wilett dared not to move, dared not to even breathe.

Then heavy footsteps on the stairs. The floorboards creaking after each heavy footstep landed with a dull thud.

His eyes moved to the door. It felt like an eternity as the dull scraping footsteps dragged closer and closer. Closer and closer to the door. Louder and louder. And then silence.

Wilett continued to watch the door. The only sound he heard for several long moments was the dripping of the faucet and the beating of his heart.

Then the faintest sound broke the silence. Shallow scraping along the door, the ping of something very sharp tapping the knob. The knob wobbled momentarily and then began to turn. Wilett carefully and quietly drew the shower curtain closed once more. A naked vulnerable man's last hope for shelter.

The door swung open, Wilett saw the same silhouette through shower curtain. Wilett stood there, frozen. The silhouette was motionless. Wilett was too terrified to pull back the curtain. He foolishly hoped that this was a dream, that he had passed out downstairs. He half hoped that this thing wouldn't notice him standing behind the see-through curtain.

All hopes were dashed as the silhouette moved closer. And closer. He never saw the arm reach out for the curtain, but he did see the fingers wrap around the edge of it. They were long and dark black, and Wilett felt a swell of great fear at the prospect of meeting the owner of those fingers.

With a sudden jerk the flimsy curtain was torn open and the creature was revealed before him. The creature's hideous and rotted face caused Wilett to let out a shriek.

As the creature's hand wrapped around his throat, Wilett remembered what his mother taught him about good neighbors. If you invite yourself into their house, they might feel welcome to do the same.

Ray Adler grew up in the Bay Area. He now lives in downtown San Francisco. His main work has been in short stories and novellas. For more information, visit his homepage.