The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

"Alright, Mrs. Howell, just make sure to rinse the tub out three times a day, and the ring should be gone by the end of the week.
Call me if you need anything else." Charles exited apartment four and stood in the middle of the hallway gathering his tools.
An older white man and woman walked by Charles down the hall as he sat his toolbox down onto the floor and scribbled on his
notepad. The man continued on before taking a slight glance down the other end of the hallway to see apartment eight. Charles
then slipped his pencil and notepad inside his back pocket and picked up his toolbox before carrying himself down to the door
and knocking. It took exactly two seconds for Russell to fling open the door.
Charles took an abrupt step backwards before looking up and smiling, "Good morning, sir."
"Oh, good morning," Russell sullenly mumbled before stepping aside to allow Charles in.
Feeling the coldness of his response, Charles made sure not to get too close to the young man as he entered into the darkened
apartment.
"Sorry I wasn't able to come last night." Charles said. "I had to wait for the drug store to open this morning so I could get some
supplies."
"Don't worry about it." Russell replied as he shut the door behind him. "Mrs. Fuller let me put my food inside her icebox until mine
got fixed."
Charles took in as much of the living room area as his eyes would allow at once. From one end of the room to the other was
nothing but dimness. Had it not been for the sun shining outside and poking tiny rays through the closed window shade it would
have been completely black. Much to Charles' surprise Russell's living room was neat and tidy; just a couch with an issue of
Playboy seated on one of the arms, a television and a bureau where a stereo was placed. Had he not known any better, Charles
would have thought that the man had just recently moved in.
Russell, who was wearing a brown sweater and a pair of blue jeans and socks made his way towards the kitchen.
"The icebox is in here, man." He suspiciously muttered.
Caught off guard for a moment, Charles came to and smiled, "Oh, okay, here I come." He followed the young man inside the
kitchen and right away saw the refrigerator before anything else.
"These old Kelvinator's ain't what they used to be." Russell scratched at his unshaven beard.

Cautiously approaching the icebox, Charles replied with a humble smirk, "No, sir, they sure aren't." Skittish at the thought of
opening the refrigerator's door, Charles sucked in his gut and reached out.
"I wish Mrs. Audra would buy some new ones." Russell blurted out. "She said these have been in here for years."
Quickly snapping back, Charles said, "I see." He then gripped the handle and slowly opened the door to find nothing but an
empty space where food once resided. Inside his own head he exhaled.
The man rooted about inside before saying, "Yeah, it's the motor alright." He observed. "I got exactly what you need right here."
Charles turned and reached down into his toolbox to pull out the equipment he needed. He then stood back up and noticed
Russell staring oddly right back at him before he continued turning back to the icebox. As Charles diligently worked he could feel
Russell's penetrating eyes burn a hole right into his back. He couldn't help but to think that something was stirring not only within
the young man's mind, but also with the evil that had been following him. Charles could feel it like an oncoming car wreck. The
longer the kitchen remained ominously silent the faster he seemed to work. The thought of getting out of the apartment as
quickly as possible gave him the vigor of a toddler.
"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your leg?"
Rolling his eyes, Charles kept on working while replying, "Well, I had a bit of an accident a few months back."
"Yeah, I have accidents, too." Russell sniggered.
Charles was taken aback at the reaction. In his ears it sounded accusatory rather than sympathetic.
Charles then turned back around to his toolbox and managed to catch a glimpse of Russell leaning against the counter with his
arms folded.
"Every time I pass by your apartment I always hear music going." Charles went back to work. "What happened today?"
"Oh, I guess I'm in one of those old funky moods." Russell said. "I really wanna go down to The Porter to catch the horror movie
marathon they got going on."
"Oh, I see." Charles grinned. "You like those kind of movies?"
"Not really, but they take my mind off of things sometimes." Russell sort of grunted.

Charles had to remind himself of where Russell had been before he opened his mouth and said, "Yeah...I can see how those
kinds of flicks could get your mind distracted."
"I heard that Bill Cosby and Sidney Poitier got a new movie comin' out, too."
"Oh yeah," Charles perked up slightly. "What are they up to nowadays?"
"They got a new movie called 'A Piece of the Action,' I wanna see."
"Shoot, I remember Sidney from a while ago." Charles said. "Really good actor."
"Yeah, man, I just wanted to make sure my fridge was working again before I head out for the day."
"Headin' off to work?" Charles asked as he examined a pair of wires inside the refrigerator.
Snickering, Russell replied, "Man, I don't work anymore. Nah, all I do is just hang around. Mrs. Audra caught me staring out the
window a few times. She said that I looked like Malcolm X, but without the gun."
Charles just chuckled right back before turning around with the pair of wires in his hand. "It seems that not only is your motor out,
but you got two frayed wires, too."
Russell stood at attention to study the wires for himself before he leaned back against the counter's edge once again, looking as
if Charles had the situation under control.
"You got something for that?" Russell asked.
"Well, I'll have to head back down to the hardware store to get what I need for it."
"That's solid. It's not like I have much to do myself." Russell once again scratched at his beard.
Shutting the refrigerator's door and picking up his toolbox, Charles began back for the living room with Russell following in
behind him. All of the sudden, Charles saw Russell step right past him on his way to the couch where his Playboy magazine was
lying. Russell took the magazine and promptly stuffed it underneath one of the couch's pillows. A bit startled, Charles stood in
place and stared strangely at the man for a second or two. Russell had the abrupt appearance of a person who was mortified.
With a nervous grin on his face, Charles steadily asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, man, I just didn't want you to see that." Russell blushed.

Shaking his head and giggling, Charles replied, "Brother, I know exactly what that is. This is your apartment, you do whatever
you see fit."
"I know, but...knowing what you do for a living, I don't want to offend you."
Charles' grin soon vanished before a concerned stare came upon his face. "What I do for a living?" He squared his eyes.
Stuffing his hands into his back pockets, Russell said, "Yeah, being a preacher."
Charles just dropped his head and blushed. "And just how do you know that I used to do that?"
"Used to," Russell appeared puzzled. "What, you don't preach anymore?"
"I'm afraid not." Charles lamented. "That was a while ago."
"But I was just at your church last year."
Charles' feet were stuck permanently to the floor. Suddenly, right before his very eyes he could see a brand new person
appearing before him. He wasn't at any more ease than he was when he first walked into the apartment, but at least he was
getting more than two words from out of the man's mouth.
"You've been to my church before?" Charles inquired with a curious eye.
"Yeah, I went last summer. You were preaching in the book of Exodus; something about Moses striking a rock."
"Yeah...yeah, I recall that sermon." Charles faintly muttered.
"Yeah, I remember your son was sitting up in the front row, too."
Charles just gritted his teeth right then. "I must have not left much of an impression on you if you only came one time."
Russell turned his head and smiled before looking back. "Man, I was in a bad place in my life at that time. I was just going
around...looking for something, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed your sermon. As a matter of fact, your church was the last
I ever went to. I just needed to be to myself for a while."
For Charles, it felt like his legs were being dragged underwater by an anchor at that instant. He was standing only six feet away
from Russell and he could feel so much heat and emotion emanate from off the man's body.

"What made you quit preaching?"
There wasn't a muscle inside of Charles' body that didn't want to turn and storm out the door. His patience and threshold of pain
were all drawing to a close.
Swallowing as hard as he could, Charles responded, "Just like you, I needed to be to myself for a while."
Russell stood and stared right back at Charles before he turned and began for the lone window inside his living room. "Yeah, I
can definitely feel that." Russell said as he peered outside. "I know you wonder why I listen to the same song over and over
again."
"It's crossed my mind a time or two."
"Ever since I got back to the states, I've been trying my hardest to find a song that makes me feel...good. But when I heard that
one song on the radio, I couldn't help but to fall in love with it. I ran right out and got the album. I listen to it every day, at least ten
times a day."
"I think I can identify with that." Charles stated.
Russell then pulled away from the window and sat himself down on his couch. "You didn't know that I served over in the 'Nam,'
did you?" He looked up at Charles.
Charles stood and stared down hard at Russell before muttering, "Hmm...ain't that something?"
Looking away, Russell said in a morose tone, "Yeah...yeah, it's something. I saw so much bullshit over there. And I don't care
what anyone says, it wasn't a white man's war. A lot of my homeboys were taken out over there. Black, white, Mexican. There
were even a couple of Japs serving with us. I saw so much blood and guts. Women and kids crying. I once saw this little boy, he
couldn't have been no more than six, get his entire head blown right off by some guy for not crossing the street in time." Russell
then looked back at Charles. "So yeah, I need a song to lean on every so often."
Charles couldn't help but to stand still. In all honesty, he really didn't know what was taking place at that juncture. Every so often
he would catch glimpses of a familiar soul residing inside of Russell, but Charles fought with all his might not to allow his own
frazzled emotions to bring him to his knees.
"Man, I'm 29 years old looking like I'm 50." Russell continued. "I feel like...like something has been happening to me. Something
that I can't seem to just shake off."

"Look, I've got other—
"I didn't need help with my icebox." Russell cut in. "I tore the wires myself."
Right then, Charles' stomach started to roll back and forth from agitation. He wanted to explode at the young man, but still, he
was trapped to the floor like a nailed down piece of carpet.
"Don't worry, I can fix it myself. I just think it's kind of...what's that word that starts with an I? You know, when something happens
out of the blue?"
"Ironic." Charles sternly answered.
"Yeah, that's it. It's ironic that a preacher moves into this building. And knowing now that you quit preaching, it makes me wonder
what could have driven you from your calling. It must've been something really, really bad. I had a wife and daughter before I left
for boot camp back in '69. But when I got back home to St. Louis, I knew I couldn't go back to see them. Not in the condition I
was in. So I came all the way here. I'm real messed up in the head, man." He began to shiver.
"It's just flashbacks and the such." Charles bluntly remarked. "You need to go back to your family like a man is supposed to do.
Be glad that you still have a family at all."
"No, no, it's not just flashbacks. My doctor told me the same thing. She gave me all kinds of meds, but still, I can't shake the
things I saw. I've been having hallucinations."
Becoming more frustrated by the minute, Charles stood and said, "Hallucinations are a part of what you experienced in the war.
I've never been to war before. I'm just an old field hand from the sticks who came to the city to become a pimp. You need to go
back to your doctor and tell her to up your medication." Charles harshly stated as he found the strength to turn and head for the
door.
"I walk all over this city, night and day!" Russell said out loud. "I walk here and there, just to pass the time. I see pimps, hoes and
homeless people. People in love walking in the parks. I walk all over this city, from edge to edge. But I know my mind is messing
with me because...because I walked into something this past summer."
"Boy, everyone in this city walked into something this past summer." Charles sighed.
Russell stared at Charles for a moment before saying, "In all that hotness, I was walking, and while I was walking, I saw
something crawl out of a sewer clear on the Westside of town."

"What, a rat?" Charles sarcastically snickered.
Russell just grinned. "Nah, this was a lot bigger than a rat. At first it looked like a dog, but then again, it was far too big to be a
dog. It just jumped right out of this sewer and went along on all fours towards some alley. Man, I've never seen anything that big
in my life. It couldn't have seen me because I was hiding in the bushes about fifty yards or so away. But I managed to follow it
before it came to the alley. The damn thing just stopped in the middle and began circling right before it collapsed."
Right there, Russell's eyes started to water as he wanted to speak again, but his mouth seemed to be having a hard time
pushing out a single word.
"You see...my mind, it, it doesn't think right." He stuttered. "I watched this thing, this animal, do something. It was shaking and
shaking, and then...it stopped shaking and started to shrink. It kept on shrinking until it finally stopped. I must've hid in those
bushes for at least an hour before I finally got the nerve to come out and see what was lying in that alley. I crept over, and right
there, I saw this naked, black woman. She was asleep with her eyes open. I mean, she was still breathing, but she was snoring
with her eyes wide open. I was too scared to try and wake her. I just ran away as fast as I could. Now ain't that about a bitch?"
Russell looked up at Charles with a face full of tears. "That's how messed up my brain is. That's what Vietnam did to me. That's
why I can't go back to St. Louis. How can I go back to my family with a brain that's all fucked up?"
Charles' red eyes were brooding down upon Russell like an owl upon a hapless mouse. The only thing holding the man together
at that point was the mere fact that his heart was still beating, besides that, he had taken a complete out of body experience.
There was no anger, fear or even sadness for that matter, Charles Mercer no longer existed as far as he was concerned.
Wiping his teary face, Russell belligerently asked, "So, tell me, preacher man, what messed up your mind bad enough for you to
walk away from the pulpit?"
Charles made sure his tool box was firmly locked before looking back at Russell and uttering in the deepest, most firm voice,
"Quit tearing up your appliances, nigga."
From there Charles turned and stormed out the door, totally forgetting that he was partially crippled. His dogged pace down the
hallway and towards the stairs was fierce. He dropped his tool box to the floor, allowing all of its contents to spill down the stairs
before he bolted out the front door.