Radio Waves of the Macabre [On Hiatus]

Chapter 18 - Waiting (Part 1)

Erika pulled back with as much leverage as she could muster, straining until at last... the cork popped from her Napa Valley Cabernet. She smirked at the sound, her lips parched. She had waited long enough.

Her grip gently on the stem, she tilted the bowl of her glass and poured the wine, then swished it watching the thick sloshes of purple-black hug the curved glass. Normally, she would have taken a moment to savor that wine. Tonight, however, tonight had not gone to plan.

She tilted back the glass, drinking it in one quick gulp, then poured herself another. It went down smooth and sweet, but she didn't bother to pick apart the various flavors like she might have most evenings. No, instead, she cut her eyes to her phone.

The readout read 9:15 PM. 

David should have been here hours ago. True, he didn't move in for another week, but he always stayed over on Saturdays. Erika had hoped to surprise him with an evening spent celebrating the pending move, and its now public status.

Dinner had been ready for nearly two hours, two plates of coriander-planked salmon and risotto sitting cooled and untouched on the kitchen table beneath a long since extinguished candle. 

Erika shot back her second glass of Cabernet, only briefly considering the hangover she'd be due in the morning if she kept this up, and began typing into her phone.

You're not answering and I'm starting to worry.

Where are you?

She paused. She'd already rang three times, and texted twice, so what more was there really to say? As she considered this, three dots showed on her screen below her last message: David was typing.

She waited, but after a moment the dots vanished and no text followed.

She poured another glass, and resumed typing.

I know you're there.

Call me.

After two more glasses and no word from David, Erika dialed. The call went immediately to voicemail.

"Hi, this is David Li. I can't come to the phone right now, but, hey, leave a message and I'll call you back."

Erika hung up and dialed Khalid. The phone rang twice then at last a very quiet Khalid answered in hushed tones.

"Hi," he said. "What's up?"

"Why are you so quiet?"

"I'm at the library with my study group doing BAR prep."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yeah. How do you spend your Saturdays?"

"Sorry, just, I'm looking for David. Have you seen him?"

"Not at the library, no. Does he have a shift at the Haven?"

"No."

"Well, I'll tell him you called if I hear from him."

"Thanks."

Erika said goodbye and hung up. If he wasn't with Khalid he was normally with her or at his place, unless he had a shift at Acrylic Haven.

If there was such a thing as a dive art store, then Acrylic Haven was the textbook example. The place ran out of a house off Highland, art supplies tucked into every open space, including the upstairs bathroom where all the plumbing had been removed, but the linoleum and showerhead still remained signifying its past. To top it off, the register had been set up in small closet-like nook by the foot of the stairs near the entryway that always reminded Erika dimly of Harry Potter's bedroom with the Dursley's. Suffice to say she was not a fan of the Haven, though David seemed to appreciate its 'eclectic charm' as he put it.

Having had no luck with Khalid, Erika decided she might as well call David's work. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps David had a shift after all.

The phone began to ring and Erika waited, drumming her fingers against the kitchen table beside her empty glass of wine and the wasted dinner. No one ever picked up on the first ring at the Haven. You were lucky if they picked up at all as chances were the phone was buried under two tons of canvas and vellum. Much to her surprise, or at least minimal expectations, however, someone answered on the sixth ring.

"Hello?" The voice had a soft, soothing lilt - a woman's voice. Erika didn't know any women worked at the Haven, but she wasn't surprised to find that if one did, she lacked the same professionalism as most of the rest of the staff. Where was the formality - a simple, this is Acrylic Haven, or how may I help you, or something?

"Yes," Erika replied. "Is David there?"

"David?" The woman on the other end of the line paused, then yelled, obviously shouting for a coworker. "Has anyone here seen David?"

Another pause as someone responded in the background, then the woman returned to the phone. "Yeah, he's not here."

And with that the line went dead. God, Erika hated the Haven.

Erika sighed. With David neither at work nor with Khalid, that left only his place. Erika knew she'd had too much wine to drive, and not feeling like taking a Lyft, she decided to wait him out. 

She glanced to the wine bottle. Ah, the classic debate: half full or half empty? There was one way to settle the matter. She poured another glass.

***

Erika woke to the slow creak of her front door. She couldn't see it from her bedroom, but she could see the light from the apartment building's interior hall piercing into the apartment.

Then the door shut and she heard the bolts sliding into place and a giant thump as something fell to the floor. Erika jolted upright, pressing the sheet to her chest. Her head swam, the wine having already gone to work, and her stomach clenched.

Fear and a pulsing headache battled for her attention. The fear won out.

Her mouth constricted, the words "who's there" dying on her lips unuttered. In silence came safety.