The coffee shop atmosphere was too much for Harvey Nelson. Observing
his surroundings, he saw nothing but a smokey room full of old folks. It had
reached eleven o'clock in this small Ohio town and the lunchtime crowd was just
begining to shuffle in. Harvey took another glance at the daily paper he was
holding.
He had gone to law school for two years but dropped out after the
mounting tensions between his parental units and himself caused him to move out
in an attempt to allay the matter. He'd spent the last six months of his
life in this hellhole of a town, answering odd jobs which were found on the
corkboard by the cash register in the hardware store, by word of mouth, or in
the local paper.
Harvey went through this time friendless and without hearing a single
word from his parents. He loved that part, as he simply could not get along
with people. It seemed as if everyone in his life was just trying to get
him down. He liked the current tranquility of his life, and, who knows,
maybe he'd get enough money together by winter to continue school. Living
here was okay - he paid rent for an apartment in the center of town. It had
a TV, bath, bedroom, and best of all, a cheap price. He had an old Plymouth,
a real jalopy but it got him where he was going.
This morning he had seen an ad in the town rag for cleanup help.
The ad plainly read, "HELP WANTED for building cleanup. $75. Call Vivian
Canburn 965-O394." After answering the phone, she gave him directions to the
building and told him to be there at noon.
He looked at the clock on the wall. Eleven twenty-four. Pretty soon
he'd be leaving. He sat there for a while, staring blankly at his dull
surroundings. The people he saw didn't seem to have any real purpose for their
diurnal actions, but rather sadly acted out their motions to pass time.
Harvey thought about this and suddenly realized that he didn't want to live long
enough to become old.
At noon he pulled into the building's lot from State Route 18,
definitely on the outskirts of town. The cement was cracked and
needed repaving, and the lawn was unmowed. A musty Buick lay parked on the
other side of the building. He saw Vivian Canburn, a shriveled elderly
woman, standing next to the building's entrance.
As he walked up to greet her, he noticed the building's lack of
upkeep. It was a sturdy structure, but the windows were dirty and it appeared
mostly untouched for many years.
"It was once a clothing store, but it closed in 1977." The woman had
a suprisingly youthful voice.
"And it hasn't been occupied since?" Harvey asked.
"No. When the store closed, my husband was going to rent it out, but
he passed away."
She paused. "You must be Harvey."
"Yes. And you are Miss Canburn?" he asked.
Ignoring his question, she unlocked the front door. "I just had an
inquiry about the building last week, and the fellow seems interested. It's
important that it looks nice," she said. Stepping inside, she fondled the side
wall in search of the light switch. "I think it's on this side … I'm almost
sure of it.." With that the lights went on.
"I had the power turned back on yesterday. I was a little nervous
about everything working. I'm having the lawn mowed by little Johnny Alberton , "
tommorow morning," she said. "Do you know Johnny? He's such a nice little
boy." The old woman poked around in the room. It was a large tiled room,
with white painted walls. There were water stains down the back end of the
right wall, and the paint was chipping in some areas. There was dust
everywhere, and it sure looked like it needed a good cleaning. There was a
door in the back of the room. "That leads to a bathroom, storage closet, and an
office room, if I recall correctly. It should take you a good four or five
hours, maybe longer. Do you have any questions?"
He thought for a moment. "No, I can start right away. I brought
everything I need in my car." She answered him, "That's great. I'll leave
the front door open while you get your things. It will lock when it's closed.
When you are done, go across the street over there, " she pointed to an old
stone house a good summer's walk down the road. "Alright," he answered her,
putting his cleaning materials into the threshold.
"There's a dumpster in the back," Vivian said as she walked past him.
She went into her car, eased it down the driveway, and left. Harvey walked
inside. It looked like easy work for seventy-five bucks, but the air was so
musty he could hardly stand it. He propped the front door open with a small
twig, wishing that some of the wispy July air would wash in.
As he bent over to pick up his broom, a small spider lowered itself
from its web on the ceiling corner. Harvey paused to look at it. "I am a
lot stronger than you are, buddy," he said with a torturous grin. He slowly
took his dustpan in hand and eased it down on the unsuspecting creature. It
was instantly transformed into a yellow smear on the floor.
Getting up, he proceeded to sweep the floor. The dust was quite
thick, as the floor had not been walked on in years. He felt a sort of spooky,
inexplainable feeling being the first manlike beast to tread on it in such a
seemingly long stretch of time.
As he swept out a corner, the webs of a spider's home clung to the
broom's strands. He saw a quarter-sized spider scuttle up the wall. 'Damn
those things… I hate them!' he thought. He blocked the spider's path with
the broom. When it hit the ground, he swept it into the pile of dirt and
dust. It crawled out. He swept it in again. Again, it walked out. The
broom came down upon the arachnid again, and again the arachnid crawled away.
Harvey played this game of in-out, in-out a few more times before he just
stepped on the damned thing. "Hah!" He felt a surge of glee.
The rest of the room was swept with a few more barefaced encounters
with the creatures, all of which ultimately ended with the death of the lesser
being. He soon had enough dust, debris and insect remnants to fill a trash
bag. The room looked almost useable now as he took the garbage bag out to the
dumpster in the back lot of the building. The bucolic woods and sylvan songs
put his mind to thinking of his present bodily location, a good distance from
town. He noticed an intricately crafted spider web nested along the back of
the dumpster, with arms slowly stretching up the brick wall of the building.
He didn't mess with it or give the sight any more thought than a quick shudder.
Walking back into the building, he let the door close behind him, locking in
place.
He proceeded to clean the bathrooms, moving his detergents and supplies
to the back hallway. He was able to get through this without much thought,
although he'd worked up an uncomfortable sweat. An air conditioning vent
gaped at him from the top of the wall. It was on, probably controlled with the
lighting, but it only emitted an uncomfortable mixture of heat and dust.
'Hmm.. gonna have to check out the main duct,' he thought.
He moved on to what once was an office room. The carpeted floor had a
faint snowfall of webbing on it. He did not see any of those demonic beasts
of nature, but rather a large variety of flies and cockroaches, dried up and
empty, void of their internal lifefluids. His previous feelings of twisted
joy now transformed into a fiery passion, lusting after each and every spider's
demise. He walked across the room and over the spiders' victims, their hollow
shells crunching like potatoe chips being eaten.