Level Zero Dan McDowell (books to read in your 20s female .TXT) 📖

will get busier… You know what? I might even invite your folks to stay. What do you think? Totally on the house.” He lit a pipe, inhaled, and puffed it out.

Joe grinned and replied, soft-spoken, “That would be great. I’m sure they would have an excellent time.”

“Joe, you know about the subway tunnels, right? They are going to run them right through this area, just underneath my hotel. It’ll be perfect. Think about it… great access to everything else in town. You know something? This entire facility would make my father so proud. God rest his soul. We buried him back there. You see through that large east window? He’s right under his favorite oak tree, right where he belonged. The man loved this place, and he wanted to make sure it remained in responsible hands. Who knows? One day you might even be the next man in line? Let’s not get hasty, though. I can’t just go off of my shallow assumptions now, can I?”

Joe answered polite but plastic, “Well, you could, but that would be… unwise.”

The man chuckled. “Well said. We have some staff quarters in the basement. Feel free to make yourself at home, and welcome to the family.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wasserman. You’re too kind.” Joe concluded the conversation and they shook hands with a firm grip. He wandered away to the basement quarters.

The memory ended.

Wasserman… I’ve got to let that name stick. Who is he?

 

.     .     .     .     .

Nancy waved at Todd as she spoke, “Todd! Hello. Are you there? You zoned out on me there for a sec.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. You know what happened. You told me you deal with it, too. Please continue.”

“I got it. I used to work there, you know?”

Todd’s eyes widened. ”Work there?”

Nancy nodded. “Yeah, at Creepy Nights.”

“You worked at Creepy Nights? When? Why are you here…?” Todd asked.

Nancy cut him off before he could continue, and her voice elevated, “Slow down with the questions! I don’t multitask well. That’s part of why I didn’t make it. I worked at the front desk for a while as Chris’s assistant. It stressed me out a lot. I started stealing petty cash and drowning my sorrows in the Reese’s from the vending machine, and now… I’m here.”

“Stress eating? What was so bad about being a receptionist?”

Nancy scoffed. “Everything! You have no idea. It wasn’t just the job. We’d get these moments where the building just went a little nutzo. It was unsettling.”

“Nutzo? How do you mean?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes, the power would go out. The entire floor would start howling and growling. I’d hear stomping. It would get so dark in those moments we could never see what was happening.” Nancy’s voice grew more uncertain as she continued, “This whole property above and below… is some kind of… special — that much I know.”

Well, aren’t you perceptive?

Todd scratched his head and looked away for a moment. “Wow. Okay, you gave me a lot to unpack. I’m still trying to get my bearings here. I need a few minutes. I’m sure we’ll catch up again. Thanks for the overview. It was enlightening. Is there anything else I should know about to help my chances at survival?”

She smiled, toothless, and with the breath of a corpse. “Chances? This place is full of those. Just explore and don’t let the claustrophobia get you down. The tunnels are larger than you might expect.”

“Thanks.” Todd turned around, gasping from the unforgiving odor.

His mind screamed.

Oh my… where can I go to get a breath of fresh air? That was miserable.

Chuckling to himself in slight disgust, he moved away from her. After a quick walk, he collapsed in his self-appointed nook, leaving “Breathy” Nancy, a pet-name he called the homely woman he encountered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

RAMBLIN’ RON RICHARDS finished the lengthy interrogation session. He began his exit after an all-nighter in the Precinct Three building. Walking through the hallway, he caught the scent of fresh coffee in the break room as another officer yelled on the phone in earshot.

As he moved toward the exit, Detective Penske bid him farewell. “Thanks for your time. We’ll call you if we have any more questions. Again, we appreciate your cooperation. Please let us know if you hear anything else from Wayne or see something strange. I called you a cab.”

How sweet. If you were the one to foot the bill.

“Thanks,” a weary Ron replied.

He walked out the door of the piss poor facility, peering at the twilight evening sky. The sleep-deprivation and long-winded questioning had pushed his anxiety to its limits. The yellow cab pulled up, and he climbed in.

“Hi. 3800 Bayshore Drive. Step on it.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll get you there. I’ve got a thermos if you want some coffee for the ride.” The driver leaned over to reach for it, his head brushing against the fuzzy red dice that swayed back and forth below the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know that coffee will do me any good at this point, but thanks for the offer. Forgive me if I nod off for a second.”

“I’ll do what I can to keep the ride smooth. Bayshore has a few speedbumps, though. No promises.”

As Ron drifted, the driver lit a Lucky Strike and smoked it. The car filled quickly as the driver cracked the window.

What a selfish move. I’m the client. You couldn’t wait ten more minutes for a drag; at least I keep my smoking in the designated areas. So typical.

Tension overwhelmed his body. The muscles in the sides of his face tingled.

Cynicism lurks in all of us. Control it before it controls the rest.

Exiting the taxi, he paid the cabbie and went inside. He headed to his bedroom closet, pulling out his .38 Smith and Wesson revolver from the shoebox under his neckties.

“Dad, I know you didn’t give this to me for this, but I’ve had enough. What else do I have to live for?”

He sat there, frozen and struggling with the image of the tongue laid out and soiling the white