The Dead Tenants

It is ghastly.

Ramiel honestly doesn’t have another word to describe what is going on. He’s sitting the open garden of the cafe, fidgeting in his seat and looking around for any signs of danger, while Charles has gone inside to get their orders. “Get their orders”, Ramiel has found out, actually meant going in, approaching the empty counter and typing the orders at the barely-working computers. He would then type their names on the side, too, and they would wait.

Minutes later, the order arrives.

This is the third time Natasha requested something and he’s sure she doesn’t need that much coffee.

When Charles returns, he’s holding only her cup. They have agreed that they would get Zero’s latte right before they left, so it would still be warm. It seemed like a nice decision to Ramiel.

“Why’s Zero not interacting with us?” He asks then, unsure if his choice of the words is right. He is one of them – he nearly feels it – but he’s not sure if they consider him as such yet. Maybe being in the same predicament means nothing to them, but then... he supposes it’s on personal level. To his understanding, Zero came here first and yet she did not mingle. Everything is individual. Nobody forces them to spend time together.

“She hates fun.” Natasha quips in and Charles makes something that is probably a sound of amusement, but sounds more like a chortle – Ramiel’s face remains passive.

“She’s been here for a while, right? You can’t avoid people forever.” The blonde isn’t sure why he’s asking at all. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s none of his business. “I mean, Simon refused to come with us, too—but he has said he would go tomorrow.”

Charles nods, mutters something about Simon diving and counting up his time, but otherwise he’s silent for few moments. Natasha seems like she’s got a comment to make – Ramiel isn’t entirely sure why she doesn’t, and instead she looks at Charles, giving him the word.

“She’s been here longer than two years. I’ve seen her exit the apartment four times.” He slurps at his coffee, but continues speaking undeterred. “To greet me and tell me how to get the key, to dispose of the body that all of us let in, to help us close the wall we’ve broken and once, somewhere around twilight or something, to kill several of those creatures when they’ve resurfaced. Never understood that last one.”

Ramiel doesn’t understand the first three, either, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“She’s mental.” Natasha concludes, voice scornful. “I don’t even know her name.” She spits out the word name as if though it is poison – Ramiel doesn’t blame her mainly because he doesn’t know any of them well enough.

“Well, I know her name.” Charles says instead. “Names don’t change anything. What would I do with that information anyway? It’s not like I could sell her out or anything here. Simon was secluded at first, too, but now he mainly agrees to come with us when we ask him to join us for whatever.”

Charlie doesn’t seem to be terribly bothered by the fact that woman doesn’t like them that much. He’s still displaying his normal laid-back attitude and even though he’s got a heavy step, he’s showed himself to be much lighter personality-wise.

Silence is comfortable. Ramiel’s taking in his surroundings, but the two others seem to be content with not speaking and either looking off into the distance (like Charlie does) or assessing their looks (like Natasha does). He doesn’t intrude on their inner peace and too manages to relax. But then Charles ruins it.

“The light bulb is still on.” He says, points somewhere behind Ramiel and blonde has to turn and twist in his chair to get it right. He doesn’t see it immediately; first he has to spot the building he first entered, but when he does, he notices that all windows except for two are dark. One is bright and the other somewhat duller, perhaps because the bulb is not as close to it.

“I didn’t mean it.” He says, feeling more guilty than he should’ve. “I just—I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t know there were other people here.” He didn’t know there were monsters here, either.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m blaming you—I honestly just wanted to annoy Darling. He doesn’t take a lot to snap, you know.” Charlie makes a dismissive wave. “As I said, if it wasn’t you, it probably would’ve been me.” Charles is looking back at the building and Ramiel and Natasha both follow; Ramiel doesn’t notice anything out of ordinary – anything he hasn’t seen already. There are still shapes moving by the window every once in a while. He knows better than to ask what it is.

“Those things, are they always in there?” He asks instead.

“All the time, or so Charlie here claims.” Natasha leans over and pats Charlie’s shoulder, but she even though she doesn’t seem to serious, Ramiel can see that she trusts Charles’ words. “I’ve never been inside myself—Darling found me before I could wander off. Darling’s been inside and Charlie has too.”

Ramiel figured as much. Moe did say that Charlie once drove a lot of them out, too.

“You’re the daredevil around here, then?” He’s smiling behind his cup when he says it; Charlies blinks at him, somewhat confused, and then snorts.

“Sure. It’s not hard to be brave when you know you won’t die.” It’s not. He’s fell off eleventh floor – off Natasha’s balcony. He probably would’ve been more careful if he knew he would’ve died. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s not brave anyway. Ramiel wouldn’t dare climb down the building, and he wouldn’t dare climb up the building either. And even though he’s already been inside once, he wouldn’t dare return to a building infested with who knows what. “Besides, those things are pretty easy to kill. You’ve seen how easy it is to remove their leftovers.”

Suddenly his coffee doesn’t taste as sweet.

“But either way, we try not to cross path with them. They’re malicious and will seek to destroy us, and we’re not sure if limbs grow back.” Natasha sounds more sad about the fact. Ramiel’s not sure why, or what it is about her that gives this feeling away – the way she waves her leg around, or perhaps the way she’s tapping away at her plastic cup with short nails, or the dissatisfied pout painted across her lips.

“They don’t. But we could fix them. Hospital’s three streets away.” Charles sounds dissatisfied, but Natasha peers at him, humming all along, and doesn’t press any further. Instead, she goes to pressing her hair up, fixing what she thinks doesn’t stand right without even looking. Ramiel is slipping – he forgets they have all the time in this world. They don’t have to worry about tomorrow, or the future. All they have to do is find something to kill time with.

Routines help. He’s tried to establish them, but having eaten once yesterday he found out he couldn’t do it once again today—he remember what he’s been told, so he figured he would wait until noon and eat then. Then he would shower in the evenings and accompany Charles in the morning, and have some time for himself, but for them, too. He’s not sure yet, because right now he doesn’t know them and he understand that he, too, is interesting to them.

Things will change once he settles in.

“Is there pharmacy here?” He asks out of the curiosity and Charles leans backwards in his chair, the metal legs creaking with the movement, but he doesn’t fall back. He stretches his left arm in the direction of it and uses his right for balance. Charles notices that he’s freckled – he’s noticed it on his face, of course, but now he notices it on his upper arm, too, right beneath the sleeve line. Even the back of his right palm is freckled. His left arm has a visible seam – right above the elbow. The skin is differently coloured beneath is, somewhat lighter. His hands look the same, but the skin is not freckled on that part.

It might be something like Moe’s purple eyes, or Natasha’s dull red ones.

“It’s right around that corner.” Charles explains. “We never had the need for it, though. If you need something real quick, Simon’s got the entire shelves of various medication.”

Natasha confirms Charles’ words, nodding. “We think he might’ve been a doctor before he died. Or a patient.” She gets up, although Ramiel’s anticipated the movement, with the way she pushed her empty cup away. “I’m going to get another.”

Ramiel watches her enter the shop and look around the menu for few seconds.

“He doesn’t talk about it?” He’s not sure why he asks. He’s just curious, he supposes, because this is the first time he’s seen these people. He doesn’t trust them, not completely, but they can’t kill him – he died once and he’s here. He can’t kill them and they can’t kill him, so it’s in their mutual interest to stay united and nice towards each other.

“Nobody speaks about it.” Charles’ drink is discarded and getting cold, but he’s playing with his straw instead. Natasha gets out of the shop, waves at them and then gets back, probably to get her own order. Ramiel fleetingly thinks how he’ll have to get used to this. “Not even you speak about it.”

Ramiel nods – indeed escapes him before he thinks about it. He sighs a little, but it’s mostly in resignation.

“Honestly I haven’t even been thinking about it. Mainly about the shot and all, but—the more I think about it the heavier it gets.” He doesn’t think about it. He purposefully pushes it to the back of his head and when these thoughts rise up, he pushes them back, pushes them down and buries them. He doesn’t want to think about it.

I had a sister – he nearly says it.

But, no. Ramiel keeps it in because he doesn’t know these people. Doesn’t know their names at all, doesn’t know if they’re lying or not or who they were before they died. All he knows for certain – all he has known since his arrival here – is that he is dead and that they, too, are dead. No more and no less.

“I think about it all the time.” Charles admits. “You don’t owe your thoughts to anybody. Your mind is yours only, to my understanding, and sometimes you have to escape to the privacy of it. And the past life, it was nice, but this is the eternity. I didn’t think so at first, you know, but I’ve been here for two years and I haven’t aged a day. I’m the Alpha – I came here second.”

“You found Moe.” He says and Charles nods. Moe said so – she said the Alpha helped her get the key.

“But honestly, I don’t think any of us cling to the past life too much.” Charles laughs, that one so characteristic for him, something between a full-blown laughter and a chuckle, something so rarely heard but at the same time, even though he’s dead, it seems to be the most alive thing about him.

“Not even Zero?” Ramiel asks and Natasha finally gets back, two drinks in her hands. The writing on one says Natasha. On the other – a circle, what Ramiel belatedly realises is a number. The woman doesn’t ask what they’re talking about, but her eyes are questioning and curious.

“Especially not Zero.” Charles shrugs.

“Come on, let’s go.” Natasha pulls at Ramiel’s sleeve, but lets it go as soon as he turns to face her. She does the same to Charles and the men get up. “We’re gonna pester Simon.”

She doesn’t sound like she wants to pester Simon. She sounds scared.

When Ramiel looks back to the Coffee Bean, everything seems to be in perfect order. His eyes return to Natasha, but she’s composed; he might’ve imagined it. He must’ve been.