The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Charles, with his cane in one hand, and a tool box and steel snake gathered in the other knocked on door number 5 and waited
until Robin opened it.
"Good morning, young fella!" Charles said with a wide open smile.
"How are you, Mr. Mercer?" Robin smiled back while stepping aside to allow the man in. "Glad you could show up on a Sunday
morning."
Coming in, Charles replied, "Don't you worry about that. I got nothing better to do on these mornings anymore."
Robin's apartment was as cluttered and out of shape as one would possibly expect from such a young man. Jiffy Pop bags lying
on the couch, sneakers scattered in various spots around the living room floor and a few smelly clothes draped on and across
one of the chairs.
Charles just dragged himself along as though he were more than accustomed to the scene. "I figure the more I keep myself
busy, then that'll keep me out of trouble." Charles humorously stated.
"I try to do the same thing myself, sir." Robin remarked as he stood before Charles.
Charles couldn't help but to take notice of Robin's t-shirt that bore a very curious image pasted on the front. For a second or two
Charles had to take a double glance.
"I've seen that fella before somewhere." He pointed at the shirt with a grin.
"Oh, this," Robin proudly poked out his chest. "It's Lord Vader from Star Wars."
"Oh, that movie," Charles playfully rolled his eyes. "Man, you can't go anywhere without hearing about that movie."
"I saw it three times at the theatre over the summer."
"Three times," Charles nearly dropped to the floor. "I ain't never heard of no one seeing a movie three times! It must be that darn
good."
Laughing out loud, Robin said, "It's incredible! I've never seen anything like it. I sure hope they make a sequel sometime soon."
Shaking his head in jovial disbelief, Charles said, "My boy used to love going to the movies. I never did take him to see...a
movie." His voice suddenly hesitated without warning. "I never did." He then bowed his head for a moment.

Sitting himself down on the messy couch, Robin said, "I think it's still playing down at the Olen Theater. If you're lucky you can
still catch it before it goes away for good."
Waving his hand, Charles responded, "No thanks, Hollywood can have it. I went to the drug store down the street yesterday, and
there were all these little kids in there buying costumes that look like that fella on your shirt; and some Bigfoot character, too."
Giggling, Robin said, "Oh, you must mean Chewbacca."
"I don't know what his name was, but it looked pretty darn gruesome to me."
Just as Charles was about to make his way into the kitchen, his attention was suddenly snatched by Robin picking up a small,
black contraption from off the floor in front of him. The thing had a black stick protruding from out of its center. The man watched
in odd curiosity as the young man turned on the television in front of him and stuck a cartridge inside a medium sized box.
Drawing closer to the animated TV, Charles, with his mouth hanging wide open, asked in astonishment, "What on God's green
earth is that?"
"Oh, it's an Atari system, Mr. Mercer." Robin turned around.
But all Charles could see was shapes and hear sounds come from the television as if the thing were from another planet.
"It's a video game." Robin pressed on.
Charles shook his head, "A game, you say?"
"Sure." Robin held up another cartridge. "I've got Video Olympics in the box right now, of course, and this one here is Combat."
"Boy, I'm sure glad my son never asked me and his mama for anything like that. We'd never know what in the world he was
talkin' about."
"I figure I'd get in as much practice as I can when it comes to the decathlon, even if it is just a game. Definitely saves on not
having to worry about gas."
"I hear you there."
"So, how do you like it here so far?"
"It's just fine." Charles smiled. "Mrs. Watson sure does a great job keeping everything running smoothly around here."

"I know, she's really a nice lady. She's everywhere in this city. Ever since the incident back at that shelter some months ago,
she's always trying to keep busy."
Charles stood and glared on at Robin for a few seconds in the most peculiar fashion. "Tell me, young fella, does Mrs. Watson
ever talk about...you know what? It doesn't matter. What does matter is that yesterday I finally got to see my grandson after so
many months."
"That must've been great."
"It sure was." Charles blushed with a shining smirk. "That little scratch is getting bigger and bigger every time I see him. He's
shooting up like a weed like his father did at that age. But I'd sure like to know where the boy's mama is though. When I asked
Mrs. Glover she just changed the subject on me."
Robin stopped playing his game and turned around to face Charles. "I take it she and your son don't get along these days?" He
asked with a straight face.
Charles turned away for a brief second before looking back and saying in a polite tone, "My son passed on earlier this year."
Blushing, Robin replied, "Oh...I'm sorry to hear that."
"Oh well, these things happen, I guess. Now, if you'll just point me to your kitchen, I'll see what I can get my hands into." He grew
back his smile in an instant.
Jumping up from off the couch, Robin led the way through a curtain that revealed the tiny kitchen on the other end.
Approaching the sink, Robin announced, "Well...here it is."
Charles stepped forward and peered down into the sink to find it filled to the brim with thick, black ooze.
"At first I thought it was a sewage backup, but it doesn't have any smell." Robin commented.
"So I see." Charles carefully observed as he placed his cane down onto the floor, along with both his toolbox and snake. Then,
from out of his pocket he pulled out a pair of orange, rubber gloves and slipped them onto his hands.
"One moment I was getting some water after my run, the next thing I know, this crap comes out." Robin stated.
"It's probably just a—

Right then, the phone from the other room blared out. "I gotta get that. It's my mom."
"Go right ahead, my boy. Go right ahead." Charles said as he dipped his hands into the sink.
He felt all around until his hands eventually connected with something solid. Once he was able to grab a hold of it he began to lift
it back up. But what he brought out was something that not even he could have expected. It was his son's head dripping with
blackness all over. Out of shock, Charles promptly dropped it back inside the sink and watched as it floated for a while before
submerging back under.
He stood and stared for a brief moment before muttering at the sink, "So...you've found me."
The man hobbled backwards until his backside met with a small table. Immediately, his body began to shiver. His eyes could not
peel themselves away from the sink. He waited and waited for something else to occur; anything that would cause him to attack
something within reach.
"Did you find the problem?" Robin came back into the kitchen.
"Huh?" Charles shook back to life. "Oh...I was just taking a long view." He wiped the sweat from his brow before reaching down
and picking up his snake.
Then, ever so slowly, he approached the sink and shoved the snake into the drain. With hesitant muscles the man wrenched and
pulled until the sound of a belch could be heard.
Both he and Robin stood in breathless anticipation, even though their reasons for the eventual conclusion couldn't have been
anymore contrasting. It took the water at least thirty seconds to empty out. For Charles, it was those same thirty seconds that
lasted for an eternity. He actually attempted to stand in front of an excited Robin, but the young man was like a toddler awaiting a
prize on the other end. He stood next to Charles while pumping his fists by his side.
"C'mon, c'mon," Robin panted.
Soon, the white of the bottom of the sink appeared, and only the white. Everything else, as far as Charles was concerned, was
nowhere to be found.
"Thank God!" Robin exhaled.
"Yes...thank you, Lord." Charles whispered with his stone face drawn down to the floor's linoleum.

Turning to Charles, Robin said, "You don't know how much this really means to have you come down here right away like you
did, Mr. Mercer. Our last maintenance guy might as well have been dead with the way he worked."
Taking off his gloves and wiping his hands, Charles replied, "Don't mention it, my boy. If it happens again just let me know." He
mentioned while gathering his belongings and heading out of the kitchen.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, how did you end up hurting yourself?" Robin followed in behind.
Stopping between the living room and the front door, Charles turned around and said, "Well, a few months ago I had a real
bad...accident. The doctor said that I'd never walk again. But the good Lord had other plans. I just won't be able to walk straight
ever again. That just goes to show you, young man, don't ever grow old." He laughed. "Now, let me ask you a question."
"Sure."
"Why are you so far away from home? You look like you should still be in high school."
Blushing a red streak, Robin remarked, "Well...my parents and I don't get along too well these days. My father wants me to be a
banker just like him. When I told him that I wanted to enter the Olympics, let's just say that he wasn't too enthusiastic about the
idea. In his own words", 'No son of mine is going to be a running joke.'
Patting Robin on the shoulder, Charles said, "It may not seem like it at times, but us parents only want the best for our kids. You'll
be wise to remember that."
With his hands on his hips, Robin nodded his head. "I can dig it." He modestly responded.
"Good." Charles smiled. "Well, I'll be seeing you around."
"Take care, Mr. Mercer, and thanks a lot!"
"You're welcome, young fella!"
Just as Charles was about to head back down the hallway that led to the stairs, all of the sudden, door number 8 on the other
end of the hallway abruptly opened. Charles spun around to see a fairly young black man in a white, sleeveless undershirt. He
looked as if he hadn't slept or shaved in weeks. The sound of The Floaters', 'Float on' from inside his apartment shouted out into
the hallway to where every word could be heard perfectly.
"Oh, good morning, sir," Charles stood back startled with a gentle smile.

But the man said nothing at first; he just stared on at Mercer as if he were intruding on some sort of turf. His look was gruff and
drowsy.
"Oh...I thought you were Mrs. Audra." His deep voice muttered.
"No, sir, I believe Mrs. Watson is at worship service this morning."
The song inside the man's apartment was drawing to a close. The man kept a suspicious, glaring eye on Charles while slipping
right back into his apartment from which he ominously emerged to begin with. Charles stood there in the middle of the lonely
hallway staggered by the man's appearance. The event back inside Robin's apartment was jolting, but far from surprising. It only
let him know that where he was living and those around him were unsafe.
Charles began down the hallway, but not before taking another glance back at number 8, and listening as the same song that
had been playing repeatedly for the past few days started all over again.