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Everything Jake.#763 Summer Vacation: Part Five: The Host written by Mike Rosenzweig Mercy knocked on the side of the wall and again felt unsure whether or not something was behind it. The man, who was standing behind her, seemed as nervous as ever. "Ohm telling you, nothin is behind there. Et's jus' a wall." To Mercy, the accent was annoying. She just wished he would shut up and go back downstairs. She tapped on the wall again. "You sure nothings behind there?" The man, tall, shabby looking, nervous, made a full body contortion where a simple headshake would have been ample. He didn't care if this wee American girl had given him a hundred-dollar bill; he didn't like coming up here, no matter what. "You got wot you wanted, I think et's time for you to-" "Look, Mr., ah, I don't care. I have good reason to believe that my friend is somewhere in this building. Now, you could continue to be a pain in the fucking ass or you could go back downstairs to your shop and leave me be. Ten minutes, that's all I need, to make sure." She added, "I have to make sure." The man was so taken aback he tripped over himself into the wall, which made a dull thump. He righted himself, made a little huff, and retreated back down the dusty set of creaky wooden steps. Mercy wanted to smile, but there was so much that didn't make any sense. After seeing that Jake and Kelly had just been hanging out with no real direction or sense of urgency, she decided to go and find faith herself. She had locked on her conscience, which was weak but steady. It was only a twenty-minute walk to the building. On the bottom floor, a shoddy looking Radio Shack style establishment. Above it there were windows, the building itself looked very old. Most things in London looked very old, but this building in particular. There were green patches on the outside architecture, the windows black, probably covered up for a very long time. She had gone in, and asked Mr. Nervous for a way upstairs. She gave the story that her Auntie Midge had lived here fifty odd years back and had just died, God rest her soul, and had left the apartment to her, the man didn't like it a first (he didn't own the building) but after Mercy gave him a nice smile and a Ben Franklin, he gave in. Auntie Midge. Mercy tapped on the wall that seemed to cover the whole upstairs again, thinking that the man downstairs would be as lucky to have her live upstairs from his smelly old store. The steps, which were located in the back of an old storage area, were blocked at first by a boarded up door. The nails were old and rusted to almost dust, the boards not much in better shape. The man said no one had been up there in almost fifty years. An exaggeration to be sure, but how much of one, she didn't know. The steps were old, half of them broken. The ascent up them was an experience in itself, the hall was narrow and covered in cobwebs, some fresh with plump spiders that Mercy thought was laughing at her. It was so dark you couldn't tell how high the ceiling went up, some part of her didn't want to see what was living up there. Once you got up to the landing, it was a wall. It was a wall, but it wasn't. It didn't look fifty odd years old, but it didn't look like it was built yesterday either. If it was just a regular wall, Mercy would have rechecked her GPS and explored the surround buildings. But it wasn't. It was round. Well, it had the potential to be round. Where the hallway was supposed to be was a convex wall with a shoddy wallpaper job. She wasn't sure but it seemed to keep going, and at the angle of the bulge, she figured that it could be a total 360 circle within the building. Faith was somewhere behind that wall, Mercy was sure of it. She couldn't access the GPS, something about the building blocked the signal. She couldn't step back in her mind and reach Jenkins, either. She had no taste for that and felt as if even if she tried, something was blocking that as well. Her only choice, to her, was to try and knock down some of the wall with a force blast. The man had definitely gone downstairs to leave her alone. She took a deep breath. She had used her power once or twice before, but never one purpose. Never to accomplish something. She hoped she had the control. She put her hands out in front of her, outstretched her fingers. Jenkins had said even though the power is in your head, you need an outlet. A gun to shoot your bullet. She had giggled when he said that, and a slight grin materialized at the side of her mouth. She took another deep breath, tried to relax. Her heart was pumping a thousand miles an hour. She would simple pop open a small hold in the wall, see what was behind it, if anything. If Faith were there, she would grab her and book. If the bad guy was in there… she didn't want to think about that. Mercy lowered her hands. What the hell am I doing? She stepped back for a second and looked at her situation objectively. To help get perspective. No, he could be killing Faith right now behind that wall. Break it. Perspective. I'm standing here, about to break open a wall in London. This time last year I was on the beach with my friends and the biggest worry was my tan. Stop being a wimp, Mercy. Break the fucking wall. Break the wall. She raised her hands again, and started to count to ten. (be back with two on Tuesday, then back on track!!!)    
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EVERYTHING JAKE is TM & (C) 2000-2011 by Mike Rosenzweig. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
