Part I - Cycle III - Scene III

“Gotcha!” Adam exclaimed as he finally prized the chair apart. He felt a little foolish on account of realising that it hadn’t come apart not because it was jammed (although it was a little jammed), but because there was a large metal clip that held it together that he hadn’t unlatched. Once he had done so, a fraction of the effort applied previously and it sprang apart in his hands. He worked it closed and open a few times until he was satisfied that he would be able to unfold it easily enough without looking weak and / or pathetic. He pushed himself upright on his prosthetic limbs

wait how come I didn’t think I had them on when I tried to stand a moment ago

and carried the chair jerkily over to the door, placing it into it’s carry bag replete with shoulder strap, ready for when he was ready to go out the door. He suddenly thought about how he was going to get there, and wondered if he still had any taxi numbers. He would have stored some in his phone and, again, took out the dated handset from his pocket and scrolled through the contact list. 

There. Vinks.

That was the company he used to use on rare occasions when he needed to turn up somewhere and look suitably wealthy, even if he never was particularly wealthy (although a damn sight more than he was now). The owner was Vasily Vink, whom he had been introduced to by the agency. They were a slightly higher calibre of hire service, with a small fleet of top tier vehicles, and drivers who dressed and acted appropriately for the upper echelon of society. He didn’t think he had used them since he had moved in to the tower block and shrugged, pressing dial and waiting until the connection was made on the other end. 

It rang twice before picked up and answered, the female voice on the other end void of accent in the way that a lot of the elite service industry seemed to be. 

“Vinks,” she said. One simple word laden with potential pitfalls. It invited him to say the right thing, and only the right thing. 

“Adam Campion,” he said, attempting to sound as though he would have done when he he called on a semi regular basis. It was always a stretch back then, and doubly more so now. 

Only double? Get real. You’re earning the square root of zilch right now. Talk about an impostor. 

“Mr Campion.” A pause and the faint sound of clacking as his name was keyed into the computer, now doubt to bring his credentials up. “It has been a while.”

“It has.”

“When do you require a car sir?”

“It’s a little short notice actually. I was looking for a car this afternoon. Doesn’t have to be anything in particular, just whatever you have to spare. There’s an exhibition I have to attend at -”

“Yes. Raschold. For mister d’Marcan I believe.”

“That’s the one.”

“One moment.”

The line was filled with a flurry of keystrokes.”

“Three of our cars are attending. We have a vacant vehicle for you. Would you like me to send it over?”

“Please yes.” He didn’t know how he would pay for it. He supposed one of his credit cards still had a little left. It would have to do. He couldn’t turn up in a regular taxi, or walk. These people…He hadn’t seen them for years, and still didn’t know why the hell he was going. Yet Iris bloody Fleet had forced his hand somehow, and when he made a decision, he was very unlikely to unmake it. So he was resigned to attending, even if it meant paying a small fortune for what amounted to a glorified taxi service. 

“The address we have on file?”

“No, there’s a different address.” He told her. 

“Ah.” Silence followed. 

“Ah?”

“We no longer seem to have a car available. I apologise Mr Campion and thank you for requesting one of our cars. I wish you good da -”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean you suddenly don’t have a car?” Adam felt his temper flaring. 

“We no longer have a car. We did have one available, and now we do not. I can only apologise Mister Campion, as it seems as though it was sequestered during our conversation.”

“Bullshit. You don’t want to send a car here because it’s fucking beneath you. Screw your fucking car. Screw you. You fucking snobs.”

“Good day Mister Campion.”

The line was disconnected, and Adam seethed from his position on the couch. 

Fuck it, he thought. I’ll get one from down on the street. Get him to drop me off round the corner from the gallery and I’ll be golden.

why are you doing this

“Because she asked me to.” He suddenly spoke aloud. Words that rippled across the air. He wasn’t sure why he had. 

who

“Iris did, she wants me to go. I think I should go. So I’m going.” The words were flat and dull, yet he laced them with as much positive energy as he could muster, despite the fact he was a solitary figure sitting with rounded shoulders on an old sofa alone, still peering at the now blank screen on his phone in disbelief of he last phone call he had entertained on it. 

Ivy

“Iris, isn’t it? Or is it…” He left his voice to trail off, suddenly uninterested in the conversation he had began to hold with his inner subconscious.

It had grown again. Just a little, but he was sure of it. Further across the window. Of course it has,  you heard it. Had he? He thought he had imagined it. Did ivy grow so fast?

The phone vibrated in his hand. A missed call, yet it hadn’t rung. He checked the number, yet it was withheld. He knew he should look for his proper phone, instead of using this impostor, yet going by the time showing on the small display, he didn’t have time. He needed to have a shower and get dressed. He didn’t even know what he was going to wear. He had never even given any thought to what he should wear to such things in his life. He had never cared, ad Amber had always dressed him anyway. Not that he went to many things. Generally it was publisher book launches, there so everyone could put a face to the illustrator. He was normally glossed over afters the initial handshake anyway, and so often tried to avoid bright colours, content to fade into obscurity after that initial contact. The agency liked him to go however. Said it was important for their - and his - brand, in order to have everyone in attendance as much as possible. Amber would look out clothes for him the night before, something dark. A shirt, sometimes a waistcoat. A tie, sometimes a hat. Chinos and brogues. That was it. He would wear what she would choose for him. He just had ton hope that he had brought such outfits with him, and that they still actually fit him. It’s not like he had been bitzing the workouts of late, and knew that he was in very poor shape. He had to hope that he hadn’t filled out too much. 

He walked himself back into his bedroom and removed the prosthetics, preferring not to over do it, and settled on his chair in front of the wardrobe. In a short time he had selected an assortment of clothes he was happy with, and showered before dressing as best as he could. The prosthetics back on, he took a moment to admire himself in the full length mirror in his bedroom that he normally spent most of his time trying to avoid or cover up. He didn’t look good. He knew that, but he had managed to clean up as best he could and - once he straightened his back - he could actually pass for shabby chic, which was generally his look before his life shattered and fell apart around him. 

“You’ll do,” he muttered, taking himself into his loving room and gathering his phone (or, the phone, as he still didn’t believe for a moment that it was actually his).

WHUMP

The wall shook beside him, and a small cough of plaster dust fell from the ceiling.

He admonished himself. He needed to take action. To say something. Something more. He shouldn’t have to put up with that. What the hell was Yana doing in there?

He thought about banging on the wall and disregarded the notion. He was going out anyway. Nearly maxed out credit card in his jacket pocket. He would knock on her door on the way past and politely, but firmly, request that she desist with the banging. 

Taking the chair from where he had left it earlier, he slung it over his shoulder and opened his front door, turning to lock it. It was then he noticed something jammed in the door frame. A small envelope. He frowned and picked it up, needing to pull roughly to prise it from the door. He was unsure how long it had been there. He was going to open it, but decided to put it in his jacket pocket. He was late as it was. He could read it later. As he did so, he heard the elevator doors slide open at the far end of the hallway, and by the time he turned back, he could see Denys stride purposefully towards him. Something tensed within him then. Something was off about the way Denys was walking, to the extent that Adam moved back to his door until his back was resting on it. His heart began to beat a little faster. It was the expression etched across Denys’ face. Something so unnatural that for a second, as he passed under the dim hall lights, it almost didn’t look as though he had a face at all, just a carnival mask of hate. He was looking directly at Adam, his fists balled up by his side and swinging in syncopation with his large strides. 

Adam tensed. Suddenly, impossibly, bracing himself for some sort of confrontation that he had no idea what caused it. Had Yana told Denys about their conversation the other day? It had been fairly innocuous. He couldn’t recall any stress or tension during the brief chat.

Denys was approaching his own front door, and Adam was suddenly certain that he was going to continue walking right past it, stamping towards where Adam stood. He found himself almost bracing for a fight, as Denys’ face whorled and swirled, seemingly not holding focus for more than a brief moment before malforming again. 

He’s going to go right past and keep coming for me. He’s going to hit me. Or worse. What the hell is -

“Mr Adam! Adam! Hello!” Denys waved joyfully from outside his door, one hand aloft in a greeting, the other on the door handle as he began to turn it. 

“Hello Denys,” Adam replied, holding his own hand aloft and walking slowly towards his neighbour. He was very mistaken. There was nothing clouded or troubling about Denys’ expression. His large plain face seemed genuinely lit up to see Adam, with real joy in his voice. Adam noticed that the other man’s feet were stained dark with earth, and he had trailed footprints from the elevator to his front door. “Are you finished for the day?”

Denys nodded furiously, still beaming at Adam. “Yes I am done was hard day, thank you. And you? You are walking? You walk? This a new thing for you?”

Adam let himself smile, finding the good humour in Denys’ voice infecting him. “Yes,” he replied, stopping just short of Denys, who had still to actually push open his front door. “I have these,” he showed the prosthetic limb but lifting his trouser leg a little. The other man’s eyes widened. “I haven’t worn them for some time and I’m trying to get used to them again.”

“Amazing!” Denys grinned even wider. “And well done for you! You go out also? Go out for the evening?”

Adam nodded. “Just for a few hours. I have been invited somewhere.”

“Excellent! You look sharp eh? Ladies there?” He laughed and punched Adam on the shoulder. It was obviously a light touch for the large man, but Adam had to steady himself from the blow regardless. 

“Maybe, but that’s not why I’m going.”

“Sure, sure!” More laughter. “Well I go to my lady. You have nice night Adam on your legs. You maybe dance? Move yourself?”

Adam laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “We’ll see.”

Denys nodded and finally pushed open his door. The apartment beyond was dark in a way that made Adam feel uncomfortable, all traces of good humour draining from him as though someone had taken the plug out. From inside came another loud whump, followed by what could have been a child crying. 

“I meant to ask, if it’s not being rude,” Adam began as the large man’s shape filled his door way and blotted out some of that interior night 

Denys turned, a flicker of something passing over his face, before his genial smile returned.

“The loud banging. It’s just…it’s just a bit loud. From my side.”

Denys looked puzzled for a moment, opening and closing his mouth as though he couldn’t quite formulate the words. 

“You come in? You come in and you see?”

“No, no it’s fine. Forget I said. Honestly. I have to go. Don’t worry.”

“Just for moment! I show you something! You’ll like!” Denys placed a large hand on Adam’s shoulder and he found himself being pulled towards the doorway and through, into the darkness. There was more banging. Another large whump followed by what could have been a cat, if he was being generous. 

“I really need to -”

Denys was ignoring him, pulling him inside and shutting the door. 

“You see. You see.” His voice was low, almost inaudible. Adam wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or himself. 

A dark hallway, then through a doorway and down a corridor. Adam could see little, and they seemed to be moving in the opposite direction to the banging. To where, presumably, Yana was doing whatever it was she was doing. 

“Through here! Through here please!”

A dark room. The door closing behind him. He could hear Denys breathing heavily behind him. He could smell earth from him. Deeper. Darker. A rich fertile smell. 

Somewhere a switch was flicked on, and the the room filled with light. Adam took in everything at once, but what made him gasp was what was before him, hanging on a white, otherwise featureless wall. 

There she was. 

He found himself mouthing words, not realising he was doing so. 

“For Ivy…”