Chapter I.VI

Vitaly Ivolginsky

Always Visible (Another Prayer for the Dying Horror Genre)

First Act — Tempo De Construção Novamente

Chapter I.VI

Galbraith’s mood was ruined. Throwing the money on the counter, he grabbed a sweaty plastic bag and, going up the steps, began to unwrap it as he went. His first impression of this slice of pizza was correct – this cheap semi-finished product was barely chewable and none of its components had any taste. Maybe the point was that while the inspector was talking on the phone, the pizza had time to cool down, lying on the bar counter, but Galbraith didn’t want to justify himself to himself for his own stupidity – since he fell for the advertising, got what he deserved…

Without slowing down, he finished his breakfast without the slightest sense of appetite. Having crumpled up the plastic bag, he threw it into the trash can, which just happened to be on his way when he passed by the wall of a building. But then suddenly the aftersound of some lively discussion reached his ears. Brushing the crumbs from his moustache, the inspector turned off the road into a small alley. There, in a small nook, two cars stood in the parking lot – a brand new silver Buick Skyhawk and a nondescript red Eagle Premier.

Three African-Americans, dressed in some ridiculously large colourful suits for them, huddled around them. The three of them had their eyes hidden behind huge black glasses, and their hair covered their white caps with backward peaks. “These are definitely fans of gangsta rap”, Galbraith thought, slightly hiding. For some reason, he became interested in what these curious people were talking about in this secluded place. The tallest of this gang pointed his finger at the fat man standing opposite him and said angrily:

“Call me “jerk” again, and I’ll park your truck dead in your arse!”

The one to whom this remark was addressed pulled back and, turning to the short man standing on his left, said to him in a low voice:

“Bud, I’d bust this shit right now”.

“He ain’t gonna bust nothing”, the tall African American man said boastfully.

“I got nuts bigger than him”, the short one said calmly.

“Whoa, country-clod, maple-syrup mutt!”

It was the tallest of the gang who raised his voice again, who after this remark suddenly pulled out a pistol shining silver from the pockets of his wide pants.The two who stood opposite him did not take long to wait and also pulled out their firearms. Unlike their opponent, their friends had black and compact Colts.

“Yeah, you want some biscuits?”, shouted the short one.

“You want some biscuits?”, his fat friend echoed him.

“Suck it down!”, yelled their opponent.

“Just a little more and they’ll shoot each other with their pistols”, Galbraith thought. Imagining how these three African-Americans would simultaneously fall to the ground with holes in their heads, he laughed loudly. This saved the gang from their feud – they, forgetting about enmity, all turned in his direction as one. The muzzles of their guns were now facing the inspector.

“What does this white-skinned asshole allow himself to do?”, the tallest one screamed.

“No doubt, he just hitting on us!”, the short man answered him.

Galbraith, considering that it was now better to retreat, did not spend much time persuading himself – he, trying not to show fear at gunpoint of three pistols, slowly walked forward along the street. The fat man’s cries of “Hey, where are you going!” could still be heard in his ears, but, strangely enough, not one of this warlike trinity followed him – apparently, they just wanted to drive away the passerby who was interfering with their disassembly.

Convinced that the three gangsta rap fans were not going to follow him on his heels, Galbraith slowed down. Having satisfied his hunger, he no longer felt as sluggish as when he left the home. Now he was walking along a gradually narrowing street. The thought arose in his head that this nook in the center had not been rebuilt, probably since the nineteenth century – so unkempt were the walls of the awkward buildings in which the shop windows shone.

The inspector walked next to the display window, behind which stood mannequins dressed in ball gowns, and, passing under a concrete arch, turned into a deserted passage. Now he didn’t know where he was, but after yesterday Galbraith chose not to contact the metro – it seemed to him, that if he went there again, this strange man would be waiting for him there again, who looked as two drops of water like mister Yonce, who was lying in the hospital.

Deep in his thoughts, Galbraith noticed out of the corner of his eye that another person had appeared in the passage. It was a tall and thin man who gradually approached the inspector himself. The latter had no time to pay attention to a random passerby, but purely instinctively he tried to keep the person in his field of vision.Was it really the primitive instinct of a hunter, or a habit acquired during work in the police, but be that as it may, Galbraith decided that it was better not to relax – for in this passage, in which the further from the entrance it became darker, for some reason he felt uncomfortable being in it.

The passerby was already very close. Raising his head, Galbraith noticed that he had slowed down a little. Hmm, he thought, why would he… They simultaneously stopped a few steps away from each other. Inspector, trying to look at the stranger standing in the darkness of the passage, gradually stopped thinking about yesterday’s incident in subway. Something was wrong with this man, Galbraith thought, what made him freeze in one place like that? Was it really out of surprise that besides him, someone else decided to follow this path? After waiting for half a minute, the inspector got tired of standing in one place and he moved forward, but suddenly the toe of his loafer came across something invisible, preventing him from moving further.

Galbraith realized that this strange man was himself – for it was a reflection in a mirror that, for some incomprehensible purpose, had been brought to the end of a dead end. But this did not reassure the inspector. He took a couple of steps back and raised his hand up, thinking that the double in the mirror would repeat his movements. However, this did not happen.

He suddenly felt the same feeling of unease in his blood vessels as yesterday when he saw mister Yonce’s doppelgaenger. Galbraith again took a step forward and, trying to get in the man, touched the cold glass with his finger. No, it really was just a reflection in the mirror, but why doesn’t it repeat the movements of himself, but seems to be frozen in the same pose in which inspector himself was already a minute ago?

Looking at this creepy double, Galbraith suddenly felt the ground under his feet begin to shake. What is this, an earthquake has started? The seriously alarmed inspector, shaking his head from side to side, began to feverishly look for a way out of the situation in which he found himself. All he wanted was to get out of this passage, but behind him, instead of a view of the street, there was only black darkness – Galbraith shouldn’t have even tried to go in the direction he came from…

Meanwhile, the temblor became more and more intense. Old plaster began to fall off the shabby walls. Galbraith had to step back – a brick fell right out of the ceiling and crashed to the ground, raising a little dust. This is already as much as seven points, the inspector thought, estimating the level of the earthquake. If only I… He didn’t have time to think through this thought – he was shaking so much that it was not possible to cost guesses calmly.

In a panic, cutting circles around the tiny area of the passage, he again glanced at the mirror, which inexplicably did not crumble into pieces during this earthquake. The figure of his own reflection continued to stand in the same place and in the same pose, but Galbraith was much more worried about what was beginning to happen behind the back of the mirror double – from there, from a brightly lit street, a wave of dark red colour suddenly surged. The liquid looked somewhat like seawater mixed with blood. Galbraith turned around – there was nothing behind him, just complete darkness. He turned back to the mirror – there, from the street clearly visible from here, a huge wave continued to approach his double. What in God’s name is going on? Is this a hallucination?

His thoughts were in chaos. The inspector no longer tried to draw any conclusions – he simply rushed about in this trap, like a beast corralled for slaughter. He looked at the mirror again and almost fainted – a wave of dark red liquid, which had already gotten close to Galbraith’s reflection, rushed towards the inspector himself with a deafening sound of broken glass. He felt how this water flooded him from head to toe. His nose and mouth began to fill with liquid, which gave off a disgusting smell of blood. Trying not to suffocate, Galbraith began to frantically wave his arms, as if trying to swim to the surface, but he, unable to resist the power of this element, surrendered to the wave, which immediately knocked him to the ground…

He woke up to someone’s hands slapping his cheeks. It was difficult for him to open his eyes – it seemed that the eyelids were cramped. It’s good that he’s at least able to move his hand… He held it out somewhere forward and felt someone take his hand in theirs.

“I can’t believe I’m losing you. Or maybe not?”, finally, a someone’s voice reached Galbraith’s ears.

He wanted to answer a person invisible to himself, but his tongue also seemed to be numb. He tried to move his neck. Everything seems to be fine, no vertebrae are broken…

“Stop bang the head, come on get up!”

It finally dawned on inspector who the voice belonged to. Galbraith was finally able to open his eyes – he was lying on the ground, near the display window, behind which stood those same mannequins in ball gowns. And his friend bent over him, who, noticing that he had finally come to his senses, smiled.

“Looks like you was off, bud!”, said Pharqraut with some reproach.

“Sorry, what’s wrong with me?”, Galbraith asked him, slowly getting to his feet.

“Let’s go sit in the shade”, his friend ignored it. “Because the heat is fierce…”

Taking the inspector by the shoulders, Pharqraut headed towards a nearby bench. “So strange”, Galbraith thought, “When I passed here even before this strange earthquake, I didn’t see a single bench nearby… What really happened?”.

Pharqraut seemed to read his friend’s thoughts and said:

“Yes, I’m going about my deals, and I see you standing in the alley, looking at some rappers. When you laughed and began to run away from them, I decided to follow you – you never know, I’ll have to protect you from these trinity. And I noticed that you turned into a dead end. Well, I think that my friend, out of fear, without understanding the road, went wherever his eyes looked. I follow you and see that you are running circles in front of the mirror, like a dog that wants to catch its tail. I run up to you, and you open your mouth and your eyes are so bulging. I figured that you’ll be swinging. I couldn’t find any other way to stop your madness other than to hit you over the head and drag you out here”.

Having finished his story, Pharqraut exhaled and looked at Galbraith.

“You don’t got a headache?”, his friend asked with concern.

“No, it doesn’t hurt”, answered the inspector. “I just couldn’t open my eyes or move my tongue”.

“Probably numbness, or some sort of a paralysis. How did you even get into this condition? Maybe you injected yourself with something, huh?”

“Go take your narcotics away somewhere else, Pharqraut, you know me…”, with some resentment, Galbraith began to make excuses to him.

“What other word is there for it? Do you really want to convince me that you were so scared of those three African-Americans that you decided to hide from them in some dead end and, thinking that no one would see you there, you gave vent to your nerves?”

“I’m not going to persuade you, bud…”

“In this case, tell me what you yourself felt at that moment”.

“I swear narcotics have nothing to do with that”, Galbraith began. “I just left the bar and, on my way to Rollo Street, I happened to pass by an alley where three gangsta rappers were preparing to shoot each other over some trifle. I laughed to distract them from this idea, and calmly walked on. And, not knowing that this was a dead end, he entered the passage. But I’m afraid you may not believe what happened next…”

“I’ll believe you, don’t worry. Okay, continue”.

“Okay. In the passage, I came close to the mirror and suddenly noticed that my reflection did not react to my movements. And then I felt an earthquake begin. I wanted to run back, but everything was blocked behind me. And then a wave of blood poured out of the mirror onto me. Choking, I lost consciousness. Thank you for, as it turns out, following me all this time”.

“Don’t consider me your guardian angel, buddy. Well, you’ve taken a great trip…”

“You still think it’s a narcotic?”

“I don’t think so anymore, I just can’t describe your incident any other way. Good, come quickly…”

Pharqraut, wiping his hands directly on his jacket, rose from the bench. After him, after a little hesitation, Galbraith stood up. They headed towards the exit of this alley, approaching the road where cars were racing at full speed. Suddenly the inspector stopped. Noticing his friend’s puzzled look, he replied:

“Wait a second, I think my shoe is untied…”

He sank down and suddenly it dawned on him that he was wearing loafers. God, why did he feel like he was wearing new shoes now? Galbraith looked up and suddenly became speechless – Pharqraut with his head thrown back, fell slowly to the ground. Several holes were clearly visible on his white shirt, from which blood began to ooze. Rushing to help his friend, the inspector noticed a black sedan driving past them, from the back door window of which someone’s gloved hands were pulling into the cabin a long barrel of a weapon similar to a semi-automatic gun…

What happened after, Galbraith no longer remembered because of the shock that gripped him at that moment from the loss of someone close to him. It seems that some spectacled guy with curly hair then called an ambulance, then the orderlies arrived and put Pharqraut’s already motionless body on a stretcher and, in front of Galbraith’s eyes, took him away in an unknown direction…

He also remembered that, trying not to give way to tears, he slowly walked somewhere from that place, and some girl in a blue dress, from under which a pink sweater was visible, loudly said “Why is this ajussi crying?”. He remembered how her father, whose face amazed him with unusually long cheekbones, holding daughter’s hand, told her reproachfully “Shelby, how many times do I have to tell you – do not comment on passers-by!”. Inspector, who was seriously embarrassed by the words out of the mouths of babe, decided to get into a taxi so that no one would see his rare tears…