The Job

vase

  “We’re good right?” Brody asks the minute Ria crosses the threshold.
  “Oh yeah, we’re good,” she says, sucking a long hard breath in through her nostrils and breathing it out of her mouth, “really good,”

  “Hey, this place is pretty nice,” she continues, dropping her hold-all on the wood floor and looking around as she spins slowly in the foyer. Brody follows her in, closing the front door behind him with his foot.

  “Yeah, it’s a real palace, get to the bedroom.”
  “Oh Brody, I’ve been waiting to hear you to say those words all my life,” Ria sighs dreamily, grabbing the bag from the floor and heading for the staircase. She wishes Brody had slept before taking this case. She hates working with him when he’s cranky, and they are both on the forty-second hour of their day, running solely on Butterfinger Buzz candy bars washed down with Red Bull.

  The bedroom is a mess, a rushed escape evidenced in the scattered clothes and a half filled suitcase. By the looks of things Eleanor had made a break for it and the presence hadn’t liked it. Ria notices a large wet mark on the southern wall, broken glass and water and flowers scattered at the foot of it all. Things had gotten violent, it seemed.

  Ria had felt its vibe the moment she set foot in the place – not that hokey late night television psychic trash, with supposed apparitions having just escaped before the camera turned on – whatever. No, she felt it deep and hard and always had, her gut resounding with a feeling she used to mistake for fear. She took power in it now, a warning that evened the advantage any spirit had over her. 

  Brody walks in after having swept the house once and hurls his own tiny rucksack against the wall. There is no equipment to be spoken of, no EMF or spectrometer or cameras. There was she and he, and that had always been enough. He throws Eleanor’s suitcase off the bed unceremoniously and collapses onto the mattress, exhausted. He is asleep before Ria has even unhooked her bra, which had become uncomfortable about twenty hours ago, and is snoring by the time she lays next to him. As with Brody, sleep is an instantaneous gift.  Unconscious, they wait for the job to begin.

Advertisements

~ by Joseph Blame on August 27, 2010.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: