More Questions Than Answers

Niz held his cell phone to his ear as his other hand switched his car off and began searching the dashboard for something. He asked,

"Well, how is she?"

The blonde waiter on the other end replied,

"She's alright now, still a bit shaken up. We did get her an entire meal and some more but she refused to stay in the kitchen and moved to the eating area."

Niz chuckled, still searching for something.

"Smart kid."

The waiter was quick to reply,

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

A long pause later, he picked back up the conversation with,

"She also looked as if she saw a ghost."

Niz' tone dropped a bit. He really wanted to find his ID card.

"Could be."

Another long pause. Then the tone of the waiter's voice changed as he asked,

"Hey, did you do someth-"

Niz' hand froze in place as he immediately cut him off with,

"Not a strand of her hair."

There was a sound of a chair leaning back from the other end. A little while later, a sigh accompanied with,

"���Okay. Sorry I implied."

Niz continued, his hand now elbow deep into the driver's side,

"It's fine. Did you see that she got safely to her home?"

"After my shift ended, yes. Until then, she was in the café and no one made any trouble."

Absent-minded, Niz replied,

"Uh huh, and?"

"Apparently, she lives in foster care."

Niz took the initiative now and asked,

"Did she seem… off when you dropped her off?"

The voice on the other end did not mask its interest and spoke rather quizzically,

"No, not at all actually. Say, what happened to her that day?"

Niz took some time to formulate a reply while his hand searched around for that darned ID card. He answered his question with another question,

"Did she tell you?"

"No..."

Almost immediately, Niz' hands touched upon a flimsy piece of plastic with his name and picture on it and a header of "VISITOR" in big bold letters. Feeling relieved, he quickly closed up the conversation with,

"Then neither will I. Now, I have to go, something came up."

The voice on the other end tried protesting but decided against it.

"But… Okay…"

"Oh and Ryan."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Hanging up the phone, Niz got out of his car and briskly walked towards the double glass doors of a building. Meanwhile, on the other end, Ryan finally finished off his chocolate glazed donut and began pondering of the weirdness of the entire situation, while seated on the counter. One day, the cafe is absolutely wrecked, the week after, it's fixed and then in the following days, the perpetrators die in a really bad way and then their cafe undergoes a big publicity boom which lead to a new staff member who he thought was too controlling and absolutely impossible to get along with who also brought along an entirely new menu of which he had no claim to and renewed enthusiasm in the manager that was ready to close up shop.Then his mind wandered off to the day when the last perpetrator got hit by the truck and his weak stomach churned a bit. It had been a couple weeks since then but he still hadn't gotten the gruesome image out of his head. Sure, he managed to keep his calm and even calm down the truck driver who ended up charged with manslaughter and was facing jail time but a couple sessions in court had the jail time dropped in exchange for community service.The one thing he still couldn't wrap his head around was the black-haired customer that was there at every one of the major incidents apart from the reporters flocking day and each time, there was an unnerving calm about him which was really uncomfortable to him. Lastly, the same black-haired customer whose name was Niz showed up just yesterday with a girl no older than seventeen with a grey blazer around her and a look of pure discomfort in her grass coloured eyes. He had never seen such eyes on a person before. Niz handed Ryan a crisp hundred bill and told him to fix her up some food and a hot drink and see to it that she reached her home safely. He even went to take the blazer from her shoulders but as if remembering something, let her keep it and told her to drop it off at his place, being kind enough to leave the address on a napkin for her.As for the phone call, Niz had dialled the cafe itself and the call ended up being on the company's charge, not that he cared about it.

Still something just didn't add up to him. Why had Niz not left the first day itself? Why did he not realize the visible coffee stains on him? Why did he tip a 20 for just being handed a towel? Why did he bring a girl to the cafe and leave her there in the care of a total stranger to her? Was he somehow, involved in the ill fates of the now late hooligans? If so, then isn't he a danger that should be reported to the police? But what if it's all just in his head, a big coincidence?

He had so many burning questions regarding this Niz and yet, he couldn't see any answers. He sighed in frustration and then went about closing up shop and headed out.

For a solid minute, he stood outside in the cover of the night mentally arguing with himself whether he should go home or try and get some sort of answers from the only place he could get some.

Not a second later, he briskly made his way to the place he had dropped the girl with the green eyes off at. Her home.

...

Niz sat in a folding metal chair, his hands resting on his knees opposite a thick pane of transparent plastic sheet, a small cut out highlighted the barrier with a squarely placed paper pad and a yellow pencil in it. On the other end of the plastic barrier sat an elderly man in a white gown and cloth slippers, wrinkles having overtaken his sagging grey face. His hands rested on his knees, shaking with a constant fervour. The short strands of hair atop his head were faded of any colour apart from off-white and at places, entire patches were missing. Intent of unknown nature was communicated in the man's gaze directed towards Niz. Niz' peculiar look had captivated the old man's attention yet there was not much of a reaction from him. Finally, Niz broke the seemingly never-ending silence since the two had entered the small white-marbled room with,

"How've you been, dad?"

A resolute silence resounded out as the old man stayed quiet, not a movement conveyed apart from his constantly shivering hands. The skin atop them was leathery and thin, as were the protruding veins, mostly due to the lack of muscle surrounding them.

"Feeling any better, dad, since sobriety took you?"

Silence, once again. Niz now moved forward in his seat and straightened his silk red tie and fixed the button his dark gray blazer. Peering through the hole in the barrier, he noticed the man's visibly unstable hands and pointed out,

"Your hands still seem shaky since I last met you but your mouth should work just fine, right? Or have you even the lost the ability of your worthlessly sharp tongue?"

The well-built male nurse on Niz' ends uncrossed his arms and took an audibly loud step forward. He sincerely hopes that he would not have to intervene this time around. He gave a slight nod to the other nurse on the other end and even he prepared himself to step in. Meanwhile, Niz reclined back into his seat and sighed before continuing the dead conversation with a mocking tone to his voice,

"Tough luck with those shitty illegal drugs, eh? Heh, who knows? I might've ended being treated a little better if you'd found your peace in them instead of cheap alcohol. Would've died and gone to your grave too. I bet you'd enjoy the fucking silence a fuckton, won't you?"

A weak sigh escaped the cracked lifeless lips of Niz' father as his eyes dimmed slightly. His shaking hands reached for the pad and pencil and without a second's worth of delay, both the nurses had appeared at the seated people's side, their hands at the ready to stop any form of altercation.

Slowly and rather crudely, the old man begins to glide the pencil tip across the paper forming scribbles of uneven depth. For minutes long, Niz sat there, more interested in the reactions of the nurses than the weak scrawling of his sick father. A cough permeated the slow silence before the old man turned the paper around and scribbled something shakily. With much difficulty, he folded the paper unevenly and left it on the platform before reclining back into his metal seat, hands coming back to his thighs and resting there. His eyelids flutter slowly before closing as he rested; having been utterly exhausted from the most action he had taken in a day.

Niz sighed before moving forward and grabbing the paper. As he sat back down, he turned towards the nurse at his side and said,

"Do you mind?"

A calm and collected voice replied,

"In here after last time? Yes."

Turning his head around to gaze at the resting figure of his old and sickly father, a long forgotten feeling bubbled up in him but just as quickly as it had come, it had left. Knowing that the nurse wouldn't respect his privacy just because of 'last time', Niz got up from his seat and mumbled under his breath,

"Goodbye, father."

He turned around, pushed open the metal door and left the cold room, being greeted by a rush of warm air from the hallway leading to the reception and outside into the world he was more familiar with. He pocketed the paper into his pocket and made his way out, his black leather shoes tapping against the white tiles. His gaze fell on the auburn haired receptionist who was busy with the phone pressed against her ear. He passed by her, unnoticed and out into the parking lot. Approaching his white 350Z, he unlocked it and sat inside.

Placing his hands on the steering wheel, he sat there in a silence that mimicked the much too recent 'conversation' he had. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind but ultimately, he decided none of them mattered as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. The first thing he mentally remarked at was the quality –or rather the utter lack of- in the scribble. Turning it one way, he made out extremely crude stick figures, two hollow, four filled in and crossed out with a big shaky 'X'.

Tracing his eyes across, he saw two taller stickmen and four of decreasing height. Underneath one of the non-crossed out figures, he could make out the word "ME" and underneath the shortest figure, he could make out the word "YOU".

Like snakes moving across his body, goose bumps made their way down his spine and into his arms.

'Bullshit. There's no way in hell...'

Remembering something, he turned the page around and concentrated on the scrawl. It read "HOME" in rather small letters.

His mind had unravelled at a rather quick pace. Before the numerous thoughts and doubts overtook him, he started up the car engine, backed out of his spot and made his way to where he had spent the absolute worst time of his life; his father's home.

Niz stood at the foot of the decaying steps leading to a rundown front door of a rundown house, battered time and time again by the elements of nature. The roof was missing entire tiles, the cracked walls had numerous bugs seeping out and in, the entire structure lay bare and creaky and it was the only thing for which Niz was rethinking his decision to be here. His hand still clutched the paper albeit it had been crumpled numerous times. Drawing in a deep breath from amongst the freezing wind, he stepped forward, the stairs groaning loudly beneath his feet and threatening to give way any second. To be fair, it had been years since anyone last fixed them up, likewise with the doors and windows and the walls and the roof...

His hand reached for the doorknob and to his surprise, it still worked. The door swings open, barely staying on its hinges and gave way for Niz to look into what once was the place he knew as home. Not much of it was left now. The air was damp and musty with dust floating about everywhere. Cockroaches seemed to pass by on every surface and a part of the hallway wall had collapsed entirely, leaving debris along his path. He moved forward and gazed to his right, an all too familiar door in sight. A door he vehemently hated when it opened to gift him the sight of his never-sober always-drunk excuse of a father.

His thoughts wandered for a moment before he came back to the present and brought up the paper to inspect it again. Frankly, at the first couple glances, he had believed his father to have gone utterly cuckoo in the head but for some reason, his being was just not at ease since he had seen the other four figures. Plus the fact that they had been crossed out also contributed to his unease. Almost as if they had suffered similar unfortunate fates. Storing away that thought, he looked around and stepped into the room where his father had spent the majority of his worthless life in, the living room.

It was in utter disrepair now. The ceiling was sagging in one place and the wallpaper had been torn off in most others. The once red couch was now missing everything apart from some yellow crumbling foam and springs popping out here and there. The TV screen had been broken; a ball might've hit it from the looks of it.

Looking and poking around and finding nothing of note to him, he stepped outside and made way to the other room where Niz had spent the majority of his time lying wordlessly in his bed, gazing at the picture frame on the nightstand, the thin cover doing barely anything to keep the cold out of his being. The knob had fallen off some years ago so he pushed open the door and entered.

Immediately, his eyes swept across the dimly lit room and he saw a figure hunched over another, a glint at their necks. Before anyone had noticed Niz' presence, the glint disappeared for a moment before appearing somewhere to the side, a fountain of red blood following as the figure underneath squirmed and kicked their legs worthlessly. Their scream had been muffled and now, a watery gurgling and choking could be heard.

Niz' body reacted by grabbing the weakened doorway and pulling it sharply, a piece of wood snapping off with a loud 'crack' and the figure turned their head towards him. The man uttered a shout as he stood up but by then, Niz was already by his side, bringing down the piece of wood and hitting him square in the temple. The man went stumbling off and groaned in pain. Niz bent down and took a look at the figure.

A boy. No older than 11. A cut stretched across his neck, although shallow but life-threatening if not treated at the earliest. Niz rushed to remove his silk tie and began to wrap it around the kid's neck. He futilely tried to breathe and kept choking on blood. For a moment, Niz' eyes met the boy's and a message of terror and fading resolve was communicated. Niz placed his hand on the boy's head and said,

"You'll be okay now, you hear? Just don't let go of this no matter what."

He grabbed the kid's shaking hands and brought it up to the tie. The boy clutched it tightly on listening to Niz' words. Niz stood up straight, the wooden piece having being gripped in his hand again and his eyes coldly traced the now rising man who clutched his head. Niz walked over to the man and before he could stand up straight, Niz brought down his makeshift club hard on his back, receiving a loud groan in response.

Niz brought it down again and again and again until a piece of the wood fell off from the impact and he was left with more of a spear than a club. He kicked the man's throat and stabbed the piece into the back of his knee. The man tries to cry out in pain but his throat disregards his attempt as he worthlessly coughs and attempts to breathe. Meanwhile, Niz had already grabbed at the man's hand and pried it open to reveal a bloodied glass shard.

He banged the hand on the floor and kicked away the glass underneath the wardrobe. Then he quickly proceeded to the child's side and carefully picked him up by the shoulders and the knees and rushed straight out, not looking back at the very much hurt and immobilised haggard.

He rushed down the creaky steps and mentally thanked them for not falling away under him. The door of his car was shut and he cursed loudly as the boy lay in his arms choking. A nearby man in jogging shorts with headphones in his ear saw Niz and rushed over with the intention of intervening the supposed 'kidnapping'.

As he got closer, Niz' gaze met his and he stopped dead in his tracks. Pure killing intent leaked from him and he reflexively took a step back. Niz sharply called out to him,

"You! Open the fucking car door and get the fuck in!"

The man didn't stop one moment to question Niz. He was already sweating bullets and it wasn't from jogging. He rushed to the passenger door and jumped in. Niz lowered the bleeding boy into the man's arms and ordered clearly,

"Hold the tie to the wound and tell him it's gonna be okay."

The man nodded as the boy was placed over his lap and he brought his hand to the boy's hand, clutching it and he said,

"I-It's gonna be okay."

Wordlessly, Niz went around and got into the driver's seat and started the engine. The car sputtered to life as his fingers tapped away the emergency number on his phone. Hitting 'dial', in less than four seconds, a voice spoke from the other end. Niz put his foot to the pedal and the car lurched forward. He spoke to the phone,

"I need you to clear up the emergency ward of the hospital, a boy has been attacked and his life is in danger. Do it now and then send your entire available force to the abandoned house on 24 Street, the attacker is still present, I repeat, clear the emergency ward, IMMEDIATELY."

"Sir, I need you to-"

"Fuck you and your 'calm down'! Just do the fuck as I say! There's someone who needs immediate medical care!"

"I am doing it as we speak. How long before you're there?"

"Less than five minutes."

"Okay."

The voice on the other end spoke loudly to someone else, repeating what Niz had said. Since the call was on speaker, even the jogger heard them and he, in silent terror, concentrated entirely on the boy and keeping him alive, muttering to him that it'll be okay.

...

After a very long time of waiting in the hospital seats, Niz saw the double doors of the ward open and a doctor in slightly stained scrubs appeared. His face was covered behind a mask and a pair of round glasses rested on his face. Niz stood up and approached him.

"It's been three hours and even the police have finished questioning me."

The doctor raised both his hands and began talking,

"The boy is stable now and he's well on his way to recovery. I suppose that in a month, you can check him out."

Niz gave out a sigh of relief.

"Is he asleep now?"

"Yes, as is the case with most anaesthetics."

Niz chuckled lightly.

"You might want to get a fresh pair of clothes now, son."

Niz glanced down at his white shirt and noticed the dried blood stains. He glanced back up at the old doctor and stated,

"Take care of him."

"I assure you, we will see to his recovery into good health. What's his name?"

"You're gonna have to ask him yourself, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yes."

"You aren't related to him?"

"I don't suppose."

The doctor gave a puzzled look at him as Niz walked off towards the receptionist. She asked him of how she could be of help and he said,

"For the kid, whatever bills there are, have them sent to Static Field Limited, they'll front the payments. Receipts included."

"I understand. Could I have their mailing address?"

Niz took out a card from his back pocket and handed it to her. She glanced at it and placed it in a patient file and Niz took his leave.

Stepping out of the hospital, Niz flagged down a taxi and asked to be dropped off at 24 Street and paid double the fare upfront. The taxi driver cheerily accepted and told him to hop in.

The taxi puttered off and Niz sat down to collect his thoughts.

His abandoned home of many many years had been broken into on the very day that he decided to check it. That could be chalked up to coincidence. Then his trespasser also attempted to take the life of a boy, also on the very day he had decided to check it. Still could be chalked up to coincidence but there was no definite answer in doing that so he assumed that either the boy or the trespasser had been there for something other than food and shelter. Something that warranted an attempt on one's life was probably something to be of note so that's where Niz was headed to find out.

In a couple slow minutes, Niz had reached his destination, a taped-off location with no foot traffic in sight.

The sun had gone down and the usual hubbub with the police and reporters had passed. Sure, there might've been an officer or a couple still inside but Niz was determined to check his house and so that's what he did.

He walked back up the same creaky stair and back into his same old room and gingerly walked towards the bed and wardrobe. To his expectations, the police had missed the attacker's weapon the first time around so he had to phone it in for them to retrieve it, which they had sent to forensics.Apparently, by the time the police had appeared, the man had disappeared. Niz claimed that he was in no condition to move let alone escape. The police took his statement and then went about their business. He had sighed helplessly at the time and sat back down in humble silence waiting for the doctor to bring the news.

Niz checked the wardrobe and the bed and the nightstand thoroughly yet all of them were devoid and bare of all but dust and grime. He then headed towards the living room and poked around the trash and debris, hoping to catch something at his fingertips. No fruit bore of his work. Sighing, he headed into the bathroom and turned the faucet.

It gurgled and hissed as Niz remembered that neither water nor electricity was available in this place for a long time. He sighed and rested his hands on the yellowed sink, looking up into the pristine mirror at his face.

For a moment, he gazed at his eyes, only his eyes but then he caught on to something. Strangely enough, in a house where everything was caked in dust, there was a mirror that was pristine. His fingers traced the mirror frame before gently pulling it down, revealing a bare tiled wall. He felt around and tapped the tiles with his knuckles. A hollow knock rang out.

Immediately, he pried at the tile's edge and managed to pull it out. It revealed a black plastic bag that seemed to contain some stuff. He pulled the bag out and opened it, emptying the contents onto the floor. Amongst the contents of the bag was an empty revolver, a black file and a dull golden medallion or token of sorts. He picked up the medallion and traced his fingers along the figure of the Grim Reaper's Scythe on it and kept it on the sink. Disregarding the revolver, he picked up the file and opened it.

His eyes scanned the documents and without warning, he began to laugh. He laughed louder and louder, his voice echoing into the empty hallway and out past, scaring a passerby, shitless as he stumbled and scampered away.

Niz closed the file and put it back into place after picking out a scrap receipt from it, the revolver following suit. The medallion was swiftly pocketed and he hesitated before going back and taking the revolver.

'Just in case.'

He told himself as he put the tile back followed by the mirror and left into the darkness of the night.

Meanwhile, a doorbell rang out in a cheery household seated at a dinner table. A blonde green-eyed girl stood up and said rather cheerily,

"I'll get it!"

As the couple sat back down tending to their food. She hummed to herself as she made her way to the door and opened it. Her eyes were met with the sight of another blonde in a brown leather jacket with a goofy smile forming on his face as he saw her. She recognized him from the cafe and shivers went down her spine.

"Hi."

She stayed quiet and he continued,

"Listen, I know that you are not okay with me being here, given the fact you don't know me and I don't know you but I really do not know of any other place that could help me with my questions."

Medea eased up a bit, opening up to conversation with,

"What questions?"

"About Niz."

Her face paled and she said,

"Go. Don't come back."

Saying that, she shut the door in his face and locked it. He sighed and took out a card from his pocket and left it on the welcome mat before leaving, having more questions now than answers.