Lock Down(Will Neill) ‘Lock Down’


12:14 am New York City: April 21st 2020


Toni Lorenzo’s Mother had a saying for every occasion and one of her favorites was- ‘’some people come into our lives and quickly go, some stay for a while, leave footprints in our hearts, and we are never, ever the same’’ Unnervingly apt he thinks and wonders how could she understand the way world was today. A virus, a modern plague had descended upon it, Covid19. Spreading across the globe like a fire out of control. Killing thousands of people in every city, town land and village, like invisible hands clasped around their necks. Choking until their lungs fill with the disease they carry before they eventually drown in their own body fluids. It doesn’t care about skin color or what church you prefer to pray in. It won’t stop at state lines or borders, no walls can be built high enough to keep it out. Not even the richest can buy their way to safety, yet still it is the poorest that are dying the most. ‘’Deaths will come in biblical proportions’’ he’d heard some Harvard professor declare one morning on Fox T.V as he sipped his breakfast coffee. An expert talking on how the infection would spread, a virologist, a balding man with spectacles in a somber gray suit narrating over graphs and numbers to indicate the statistics of projected fatalities.

A model he called it, of data, bar charts and graphs, to him they were just figures devoid of any emotional context. However behind each would be a name, a son, a daughter, father, wife brother or sister. Uncle, Aunt, grandmother or grandfather, people who were loved and treasured. Unmentionable souls, not something producers would want to highlight while Americans enjoyed their milk and Frosted Mini Wheat’s. Better to save the grim numbers until after the watershed. More people tune in then, maximum impact equals better ratings. Maybe, Toni thought, this was akin to a twenty first century ‘pass over’ and only the good and righteous would be spared like the children of Israel. Or perhaps this was Mother Nature fighting back against the ‘human’ virus which had been slowly destroying her for so long. Not that she hadn’t given plenty of warnings, most of which world leaders chose to ignore. His conclusion was the arrogance of man had brought us to this and had the time come for the world to be cleansed? Perhaps. Some newscaster had compared it to ‘’like fighting a war’'. he couldn’t remember when he’d heard it first or on what channel. Now the same term was being used in every media analogy to describe how doctors, nurses and paramedics were ‘battling an invisible enemy on the front line’. Yet amidst the daily death toll of tragedy feel good headlines soon appeared on TV of hero’s helping their vulnerable neighbors. Assisting those in need sentenced to a city in lock down, something totally unimaginable only a few weeks ago. Radio stations began talking about how volunteers were helping in food banks; charities were rallying around to help the homeless.
Yes, people on the whole were good, most were just like his mothers axiom. Some came into others lives if only briefly, others would stay a while and those were the ones who would leave footprints on the heart. But for every ying there must be a yang, for each portion of good there must be some bad. Nature has a way of balancing things, isn’t that how the universe works?

Lock down had seen the streets of New York deserted, unparalleled desolation in his lifetime. People may be advised to stay at home, but crime was still happening on the streets, so that meant he needed to be out there too. Burglaries were down by 20%, but domestic abuse had soared, alcohol and drug related deaths tripled in the first two weeks.

He was glad his Mother wasn’t here to see this and it wouldn’t have been right if she had become just another statistic on a balding mans graph. But God works in mysterious ways, he thinks; to have taken her before this invisible malevolence rained down its destruction. Looking back he is thankful now how she had enjoyed a wonderful thanksgiving and a peaceful Christmas before slipping away in her own bed. Yes, Mama Maria, a young post war immigrant from Naples who had come to America to make a new life, and did, went the way she wanted. What would she have to say about this cluster f**k? Not the words his mama would approve of, yet he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. Let’s face it, a cluster of germs had f**ked up the world, plain and simple. The thought of which makes Toni smile as he imagines her standing in her kitchen wearing her favorite floral apron. Her nose and cheeks peppered white with flour, hands placed defiantly on her hips while the smell of freshly cooked pizza embraces the room. She would’ve had quite a lot to say he was sure.

The sound of his radio crackles into life and pulls him from his thoughts. It's dispatch requesting his current location and he recognizes the voice as police officer Barbara Philips from his precinct.
He lifts the mike from its dashboard holder and squeezes the talk button with his thumb.
‘Detective Toni Lorenzo’ he replies, glancing up at the street sign outside his car window. ‘I’m currently stationary facing north on the corner of sixty ninth street and fifty first avenue not far from Queens Boulevard, go ahead’
‘We have a report of a jumper Toni’. She says.
‘What’s the twenty Babs?’
‘Bleeker street apartments half a mile from Forest Avenue ten minutes south of your position.’

Toni is familiar with the building, a 1970’s six floor dreary gray structure. With a couple of shops either side of its main entrance, a bakery and a florist. He tells Babs he’s on his way, after inquiring how her parents are coping, then places the handset gently back into its cradle and starts up the car. Pausing for a moment to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts. This would be the third suicide this week he’s had to attend alone, if that’s what it was, because his partner Bill Stone was currently self isolating due to his underlying health problems which put him in the high risk category. He thinks about calling him but it is quite late, or early depending on how you look at it. So he decides to let the notion slide until later.

The first was a really sad state of affairs. A seventy one year old Vietnam veteran climbed into his bath tub and put his old service revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Talk about a mess. The second was a woman in her fifties who had been laid off from her job working as a costume maker for the Winter Garden Theater on Broadway. Had done since she was sixteen years old. She’d over dosed on prescription pain killers they said. Loneliness and depression it would seem went hand in hand with lockdown for some, another element of misery to this virus’s web. Toni checks the luminous green clock on his dashboard; it reads 12:20, he gets the feeling this could turn out to be another long night.


March 23rd 9.00am 2020
(Four weeks previous)

When Ralph Burnett switches on his computer at his desk on the first floor of the Chase Bank, Park Avenue, it alerts him he has mail. Five in fact according to the very polite automated lady’s voice of his AOL account. One is from his younger brother Frank and his wife Lori in Michigan letting him know all is well with them and the boys and there is no more news since they’d Skype'd last Thursday wishing him a happy 45th. Both of whom apologized profusely about having not sent him a card this year. Regretful, they said they had other things on their minds due to the current shit storm. But promised as soon as this was all over they were going to ‘’come to the big apple and throw one helluva party, a combined freedom from lock down slash birthday celebration’’ they said. He told them he understood and said ‘’It really didn’t matter’’ with a contrived smile of course, but it did. He hated the whole face time thing; it made him feel more self conscious of the gray hairs creeping in around his temples seemed like even more so recently. And how his cheeks now resembled weather beaten saddle bags and never mind the little red jowl of turkey neck skin which hung under his chin was possibly growing bigger each day. When he peered at the screen as they conversed he imagined how a goldfish might feel looking out from its glass bowl into a strange world, patiently waiting for the giant hand of god to sprinkle food from above.

‘You're only as old as you feel’ he’d joked. Only it wasn’t a joke. If he had to be honest the whole virus thing had made him shit scared. He’d heard a lot of men and women his age were dying every day in hospital. Rumors were rife across the city that because of the lack of ventilators doctors were having to decide who lived and who died. He knew if it was between him and an eighteen year old kid, who they would choose….it was a no brainer really.
The next two are from his credit score checker site advising him he needed to make some changes to his spending habits if he wanted to achieve a better rating and ironically the second is Capital One offering him a card with a thousand bucks limit and a 29% apr interest rate. He unsubscribed from one and deleted the other. He can see the remainders are internal memos; the first has a time stamp of 9pm Sunday, the night before, which is unusual. He opens it and reads:

21.00hrs March 22 2020; Memorandum of Instruction to all Chase Bank Employees.

As you may know, on March 7th Governor Andrew Cuomo declared a state of emergency due to the wide spread infection rate of Covid19- There were 89 confirmed cases at that time. Since then this figure has rose dramatically to over 9,000 in the city and 15,000 statewide. There have been 210 related deaths. Governor Cuomo has affirmed today ‘’the apex is higher than we thought and the apex is sooner than we thought’’. In light of these rising numbers he has made the decision from 8pm Sunday March 22nd that all non- essential workers must work from home. Employee safety is paramount therefore please Shelter in place until further notice.
Signed: Thomas Heller branch Manager.

Ralph isn’t surprised by this pronouncement; in fact he thought it might have happened sooner, not long after Mayor Bill DeBlasio said he was considering a similar shelter in place as San Francisco, which went into effect on March 16th. So now it was official. The fingers of Covid19 were beginning to wrap themselves around his life and were tightening slowly. Suddenly the large office space he normally shares with so many others seems to be shrinking around him. He hates closed spaces; and even breaks into a sweat using the elevator in his building. How was he going to cope being in his small one bed apartment for god knows how long. Without his work to get him out every day it would feel like a prison cell. Only now is he aware he is the only one seated at his desk, the workplace noticeably eerily empty and quiet. He looks around and begins to feel anxious about being alone, but see’s a few people in another room partitioned by a glass wall gathering up papers into boxes and folding laptops into shoulder bags. Most are doing so without talking and those that are, are muted by the glass. But he could probably guess what they were saying. ‘Stay Safe and be strong’. wasn’t that the mantra everyone was singing now? and he wondered if he’d ever see them all again as they hugged each other before leaving.

The second email from human resources was a brief guideline on how the bank would continue to pay all employees’ their salaries for the next six weeks but intended to keep the situation under review. At least that was something, he thought, having his food and rent taken care of was one less worry. The rest of the message was made up of various helpline numbers and website addresses to assist those who might need them as they tried to get through the current crisis. It finished by highlighting how the building would go into lock down at midday and all workers must be gone by then. He forwards this one to his personal account (just in case) and then closes down his computer. Ralph leaves the building forgoing the elevator, preferring to go down the three flights of stairs avoiding the lobby to the car park in the basement. On the drive home, while cocooned in the quietness of his car with only the sound of his breathing, Ralph looks around. Outside a spring sun is shining; traffic is somewhat lighter than usual as too is the number of people on the sidewalks. Some shops are still open but there are waiting lines forming. In the distance he can hear the wailing of an ambulance and the accompanying screams of a police car. Distressing sounds which echo across the city such as these are unfortunately becoming even more frequent. For some reason his eyes are drawn to the sky where he half expects a cloud of blackness to be rolling across the heavens. Or see the mushroom plume of an atom bomb rising up between the skyscrapers ready to rain down its toxic death. Because that’s how this virus feels to him... as if the end of the world is beginning.

Regrettably Ralph knows when he eventually arrives back to his apartment building he longer has the choice of using the stairs. Living on the fifth floor and being out of shape meant he’d have to endure a short burst of claustrophobia in order to save himself from certain cardiac arrest.

It isn’t long before he gets to Bleeker Street and parks in his usual spot at the rear just below one of the few working security lights, which means he can see his car from his bedroom window after dark. A handy tip he used habitually, helpful advice he’d been given from a police officer friend a few years ago to deter would be thieves. Outside the car the spring sun he’d enjoyed driving home proved deceptive; the lot feels much cooler than his interior forcing Ralph to slip on the suit jacket he’d thrown into the back seat earlier. While he’s at it he grabs his shoulder bag and his un-eaten packed lunch he’d made the night before from the passenger side and shuts the door with his foot.

Once across the tarmac concourse he goes in through the back entrance. This time the three minute trip in the elevator up to his floor seems excruciatingly longer than usual. Never the less he’s happy knowing once he’s inside his apartment he’ll be safe, so it’s a small price to pay. The electric doors open with a ‘phisst’ and Ralph steps out into the hallway where he’s immediately confronted with the sound of someone coughing. Counting his, there are four other apartments on this level, 501 (his own) to 504, two overlooking the back and two facing the road at the front. The sound seems to be coming from Mr. Wilson’s apartment, a seventy one year old retired dentist who’s been living there long before he moved in almost ten years ago this fall. Ralph goes down the passageway a few steps, stops and places his ear against Mr. Wilson’s door and knocks it lightly with his finger.

‘Are you ok in there Joe? it’s Ralph, Mr. Wilson….Ralph Burnett from across the hall. Do you need any help?’ He asks in a low voice. ‘Maybe I should call your daughter Rose, what do you think?’
Ralph is pretty sure he can hear some movement from inside but Joe doesn’t seem to be responding to his question. He knows Joe well enough to appreciate if he could he’d be at the door already telling him he was fine and he shouldn’t fuss. Just as Ralph is about to knock again there’s another burst of disturbing sounds. This time he’s sure something is wrong.
He tries the handle, it’s locked. Shouting he bangs on the door repeatedly with the palm of his hand.
‘Joe it’s me Ralph, are you ok’ Still there’s no answer. Ralph's anxiety level is now so sky high he can feel his temples pulsing with fear; he’s so unsure what to do. Because he’s always been the man watching in the crowd at the scene of accidents, always been the one reading about the hero saving the day and wishing it was him. Except he isn’t a brave man, he’s the nobody, the guy everyone ignores at parties. The one who avoids confrontation. not this time however. this time he can’t walk away. He knows this time there’s no one else.
Ralph swings his shoulder bag round and fumbles out his cell phone almost dropping it to the ground. He keys in 911 and waits. A voice who sounds just like the lady from his AOL account answers after a couple of rings and asks him the nature of the emergency.
‘It’s my neighbor from across the landing’ Ralph explains ‘I think he’s ill, he might have the virus - I can’t be sure but he’s coughing a lot and I think he may have collapsed inside his apartment, I don’t have a key. Can you come now?’ After calming Ralph down the operator tells him her name is Valerie and reassures him the ambulance and fire dept will soon be on their way once he’s given her all the vital information. ‘Stay on the line Mr. Burnett, until they arrive, can you do that?’ she says.
He agrees and it isn’t long before two paramedics turn up with a gurney along with a firefighter.
Ralph spoke with a dry mouth ‘Please help him’ he pleads as they assemble in the hallway.
‘We’ll do our best’ one of the medics says. A thin Hispanic man in a blue uniform covered partly with a white plastic apron. Both men are also wearing masks and gloves.
‘Now I need you to stand back sir and let Officer Newman deal with the lock’
Ralph moves out of the way and watches as the able-bodied fireman places a heavy looking black metal device over Joe’s door handle. He begins to pump a lever in rapid succession until there is a loud crack, when this happens the door opens an inch or so before he pushes it all the way back into the hall. All four begin to rush forward but the thin medic stops Ralph.
‘I’m sorry sir but this is as far as you can go’ he says ‘Mr. Wilson may be contagious’

All he can do is watch while the men quickly flood into the apartment. He can just about see Joe lying on his back in the hallway half in half out of his bedroom, his breathing shallow and labored.
Ralph is suddenly aware of his own fragile existence, having just digested what the paramedic said.
What if he’d been able to gain entrance to Joe’s apartment alone? Tried to give him CPR (not that he knew how to) without thinking of the consequences. Would he be just like Joe in a week or a few days from now, lying gasping for breath? An ethereal voice suddenly seems to echo around him.
‘’they choose who lives…ves..es.. and who..oo dies..ies..’’ It whispers.
Ralph considers whether or not to hang around just to make sure Joe is ok, but the thought is fleeting. ‘’Better to be safe,….fe, sfa… than sorry..rry..rry Ralphly..yy’’ the unearthly voice keeps taunting as he hastily backs away. ‘’that’s..ats..ts…right..ght….tt..run..nn away…ay.ayy Ralphy…yyyy isn’t...nt ..nt that…at..at what..at..at..you..u..u always..ays..ays..do..oo’’
Ralph cups his ears with his hands and squeezes his eyes tightly closed. ‘You’re not real!’ he shouts, ‘You’re just in my head’ he says lowly as he unlocks his door with his trembling fingers and falls into his apartment.

This isn’t the first time Ralph has heard voices. The earliest he remembers was on the day his mother was buried. He was standing by the graveside when it came, singing a childlike rhyme. ’Ring –a- ring a roses a pocket full of posies. A-tishyoo a-tishyoo we all fall down’’
On and on it sang as he watched her casket being lowered into the ground. The bitter coldness of a November wind on his face and fingers as he held his fathers hand tightly. Can’t you hear it? He wanted to say.

He never told his Father, or anyone about what happened. He was afraid to; delusions of a five year old boy struck down with grief would have been the probable prognosis back then. Maybe, but not so easily explained away when that same boy becomes a man. This time the voice came deep and rich in a tone almost satanic in its verse. ‘’Its raining its pouring the old man is snoring, he bumped his head and went to bed but couldn’t get up in the morning’’

Twenty years later while he stirred a supper soup on his hob in this very same apartment, he can recount the feeling of terror he had in the pit of his stomach as it danced around him, being too sacred to look round, the torment only ending when his telephone rang. He can remember the numbness creeping over him as he listened while a police officer began to explain how regrettably his father had been killed in a car accident no more than an hour previous. They think he may have skidded on a wet patch of road made worse by a sudden downpour of rain, possibly losing control after falling asleep at the wheel.
It was his first night in his new apartment, he’d just started with the bank and his father had spent the day helping him move. Only just deciding to drive back to Greenport at the last minute because he hated the city. Should he have persuaded him to stay? Maybe then for all these years he wouldn’t have been alone. For every action there is an opposite reaction and consequences. Yin and Yang, good and bad, the balance must always be restored.

Ralph picks himself up from the hall and catches his reflection in his coat rack mirror. His skin is pale and there are red rings around his eyes. Sweat beads glint on his forehead from the glare of the hall light above. He sticks his tongue out and tries to angle his head so the brightness of the lamp will shine into his throat. He has no idea what he’s looking for of course. But it makes him feel a bit better seeing nothing seems to be growing in his throat. On the other side of his door as he continues his tonsil examination he can now hear voices which prompt him to look into to the spy hole. Through the fish eye lens he sees Joe being wheeled out on the gurney by the two paramedics, his head covered over with a white sheet. The thin Hispanic guy is confirming on his radio this was a D.O.A and they were going straight to morgue. Tears well up in Ralph's eyes; Joe was a good guy and a good neighbor. He remembers the hot summer nights they had on his balcony having long talks about how to fix the world while enjoying sweet bourbon chasers with their cool beers. And how on every thanksgiving Joe invited him to dine with him and his daughter Rose. he feels sorry for her because he knows this will devastate her for sure. Now all that is gone, every part of what he had with Joe has been taken away from him. His anger is now outweighing his fear; he wants to punch the wall to satisfy his rage. But what if he broke a bone in his hand he would have to go to the emergency room. However that be like walking into the lions den. no. better to stick to the rules. Do as the governor says - shelter in place.

Feeling weary Ralph ambles into his living room, throws his computer bag on the floor and picks up his TV remote from his coffee table before slumping onto his couch. He switches on the television and scrolls down the index to a news channel. He finds NBC4 with Darlene Rodriguez and co-anchor Michael Gargiulo in a mid stream conversation with former president of the New York Transit authority Andy Bryford. All three are debating the planned shut down of the subway system between 1am and 5am to allow for deep cleaning every day. Ralph has no interest in this; his concentration is focused on the sobering current death statistics which are rolling along on the info banner at the bottom of the screen. 20,000 infections in New York, of those 13% have needed intensive care and 157 had died. Make that 158, Ralph thinks, loosening his tie. Now is the time for one of those sweet bourbons.

I do hope Rose gives Joe a good send off, he contemplates while moving from the couch over to a small mahogany drinks cabinet at the wall close to his veranda doors. He’d recently heard some talk on the work grapevine some funeral homes had ended chapel memorials. Now they won't pick up families in limousines and private goodbyes the night before have been stopped. Prayers were being read off smart phones instead of communal books and hugging and handshaking discouraged. If all this is true he doesn’t see how she can. Ralph pours himself two fingers of bourbon into a small crystal tumbler (a house warming set of six given to him by his father - five of which have never been used). he throws it back swallowing it in one gulp. Then quickly pours another; that one was for Joe, he thinks, and the next few will be for all the other poor bastards who have already gone and the others who are yet to go. ‘Rest in peace my friend’ he says raising his glass.

Drink in hand he begins to saunter back to the couch but stops halfway. Does he really want to sit all afternoon getting drunk and depressed watching the death toll rise by the minute? Or endure countless dissimilar ‘experts’ giving their opinion on how the virus might behave from behind their computer cameras. No! If he was gonna die (and hopefully not, he thought), he may as well enjoy the sunset from the lounger on his balcony. Ralph turns towards his sliding doors grabbing the half empty bourbon bottle on the way. He pulls one side across and steps out, and there’s one thing he notices right away and that’s the silence, sort of. Normally the street below would be busy with the sounds of traffic, sometimes so loud on a week day it would be a constant heavy drone of car engines. Making it unpleasant to sit outside. today he could actually hear the wind as it rose up between the trees far below. Being so high he never ever heard the birds that nested in them, but today he could.
Maybe this lock down gig might just be OK after all, he begins to think, which leads him into taking a mental stock of his supplies. He’s sure he can last at least a month on what he’s hoarded over the past few weeks. ‘’Always be prepared’’ was his fathers motto, ‘’plan for the worst and hope for the best’’ he would say. He’d been keeping tabs on the situation for weeks since he’d heard the virus had gone global on his computer news feed. Live leak had been way ahead when it came to current events in Europe, on it you could find plenty of uploaded videos of vacant shelves in supermarkets due to panic buying. So each day for the last few weeks he’s discreetly been buying more toilet rolls than normal from his local store, extra canned foods like baked beans and soups. Packets of dried pasta and hand sanitizers, and of course a good few bottles of Wild Turkey just like the one he was holding now. Yeah! He could do solitary for four weeks easy. It’s not like he’s in prison or anything. He could go outside if he wants to.
However one must stick to the rules after all, otherwise chaos would prevail. No sir, Ralph Burnett was not a law breaker, he would do his time and who knows he may even enjoy it.

After his own little mental pep talk Ralph begins to feel somewhat more optimistic about his survival, then again the two whiskey hits in quick succession maybe is the lubrication of his current self confidence, he ponders. Tomorrow though he may not be so sanguine when he’s nursing a hangover.
‘So let’s eat drink and be merry’ he says looking up to the sky. ‘for tomorrow we die’

‘True words’ Ralph hears a voice say. ‘We should enjoy life as much as possible because it will be over soon. From the book of Isaiah, Ecclesiastes’
Ralph spins round quickly almost spilling the contents of his tumbler.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Isaiah also says in 26:20, Come, my people, enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until the fury has passed by’
‘Show your self’’ he says.
This time he’s sure the voice is coming from inside his neighbor’s.

Between each apartment there is a low sloping wall dividing each veranda which resembles a door wedge. It’s painted white and levels off onto a black balustrade facing out onto the street about a meter in height. Ralph walks over the ten or twelve feet of tiled flooring to the walls lowest level and anxiously looks over. To his surprise there is a woman standing dressed in what looks like a white camisole nightgown. Its sheer neatness accentuates the curves of her voluptuous body beneath and its hem just above her knees shimmers slightly in the breeze. Her auburn hair is shoulder length and her skin looks soft and pale like any baby’s would. She is motionless with her arms folded in a self embrace looking heavenward. Ralph is instantly besotted by this vision, this angel. When she sees him she turns and smiles. ‘Hello Ralph’
‘You know my name’.
‘Of course, we are neighbors after all’
‘We’ve never really spoken before, but I have seen you get into your car a few times and in the local store’ Ralph blurts out then suddenly realizes what he just said may sound a bit creepy, like she might think he was some sort of stalker or something. ‘I mean….. I’m not following you…. Or.. or , anything its just I—‘
‘Its ok Ralph, relax, I know you’re not an axe murder or sadistic rapist. Joe told me you were a solid guy who works for the bank. And that’s good enough for me. my name is Jenny, Jenny Barbour, and it’s nice to finally meet you’
‘Burnett, that’s my last name’ Ralph offers and reaches his hand out but instantaneously pulls back like someone has slapped him over the knuckles. ‘I’m sorry we can’t’ he says ‘we aren’t allowed to touch that’s the rules….you, you knew Joe?’
‘Yes I met him the day I was moving in; he helped me carry some of my stuff. He said I reminded him of his daughter Rose as we traveled up together in the elevator’
Ralph suddenly has a dilemma, should he tell Jenny Joe has died; he’d seen it for himself through the spy hole. What if he doesn’t and Rose tells her, then she’ll know he knew and didn’t say anything, besides how come she hadn’t heard the commotion in the hallway.

‘You’re a nurse right?’ he thinks by asking this (he already knows she works in Columbus Hospital) she’ll understand the unfairness this virus has unleashed. Identify with the fact its injustice has no age, color or creed barriers. In her line of chosen profession she would have undoubtedly been working closely with or at least been near covid19 patients. Breaking the news about Joe then would be the best thing to do.
‘I can’t be sure but I think Joe may have caught the virus’ he says diverting his eyes from hers; he was never much good at this sort of thing. ‘When I arrived home some time ago I heard Joe coughing loudly in his apartment, I shouted to him through his door trying to find out if he was ok. When he didn’t answer I called 911, they came, the paramedics, and took him away.’ He doesn’t want to say to Jenny he’d seen them cover Joe's face with a sheet.
‘I’m sorry but he looked quite poorly’
Jenny nods a silent acknowledgement, her lips thin with sadness.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Ralph offers holding up the bottle of Wild Turkey for her to see.
‘I can get you a glass, I…… I have plenty of spare ones’.
Jenny wraps her arms around herself again in a warming self embrace and visibly shivers like someone has walked across her grave. Ralph isn’t surprised she’s cold considering her poor choice of outdoor clothing. Looking at him she says ‘I’m feeling a little tired Ralph, do you mind if we take a rain check, maybe tomorrow?'

Ralph feigns a half smile and is feeling a little disappointed their conversation is being cut short as she goes back indoors. It would have been nice if it could have carried on for another while he had hoped. Lock down would be bad enough but worse if he was alone, he contemplates. at least this way he may have found a companion. Jenny is quite attractive and maybe only a few years younger than him. Perhaps god works in mysterious ways. Might this lock down lead to romance, who knows? And didn’t she say she’ll see him tomorrow, isn’t that sort of a date? While Ralph’s now fuzzy head is trying to process what has just happened inside his apartment his phone has begun to ring. He rolls his eyes and blows out his cheeks as he saunters to answer it. He really doesn’t need any more aggravation today and if this is one of those damn cold callers selling insurance again for once he’s going to tell them where to stick it. This is the third time in two weeks, all he wants to do is get drunk not buy some ill affordable cover for an expensive casket. Talk about jumping on the bandwagon, God damn ambulance chasers, he thinks.

‘Stick me in a cardboard box I don’t care’. He says to himself lifting the handset. ‘Hello?’- its Rose on the line and its clear she’s been crying by the sound of her shaky voice.
‘Daddy’s dead Ralph’ she blurts out. (He already knows of course but says nothing) ‘I just wanted to call you and say thanks for trying to help him today’ then whilst she goes on, talking about her disquieting covid19 experience she has endured over at Columbus, Ralph has poured and quickly drank another shot. ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ he says as she momentarily breaks off. ‘I’ll miss your Father’
After composing herself Rose reiterates her gratitude and compounds it by telling him she'll let him know as soon as she knows what the constrictions are concerning his interment during the current situation. Decisions will have to be made whether or not he can go into the family plot or be cremated. But no matter what, he is welcome to be a part of any service if he wants.
Ralph conveys his condolences puts the phone down slowly and hangs his face in the palm of his hand in a sorrowful reflection of all that has gone by.

Out of the blue a man’s voice says. ‘Why don’t you just jump-----
Do yourself a favor and don’t waste weeks festering in lock down loneliness’.

Ralph is startled and gradually raises his head to peer out nervously between his fingers, firstly scanning the room. He sees’s no one; his front door is still closed. then again who would come in? ‘Over here’
Dumbfounded Ralph turns and looks at the TV screen where co-anchor Michael Gargiulo is smiling. And for a moment he expects him to just break into another news segment.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he eventually says.
‘Yes you Ralph Burnett, Don’t be a coward Ralphy; why hang around to die like Joe’
‘Just Leave me alone’ Ralph sighs and switches off the television. ‘I know you’re not real’

The following morning Ralph wakes up with a dry mouth and a splitting headache lying face down on his couch. Under his coffee table is the empty bottle of Wild Turkey and his overturned tumbler with a small brown stain around it on his carpet. As his eyes gradually focus little skits of yesterday’s memories explode in his brain like cherry bombs. He remembers finding poor Joe, and then there were the two episodes with the voice on the landing and the freaky thing with the news guy. Both of which he’s happy to blame on stress and alcohol but what he recalls most though was his meeting with Jenny. Rolling onto his back Ralph stares up at his ceiling where he sees a couple of whimsy cobwebs around his light fixture. As they quiver gently in the room’s atmosphere they remind him of how he enjoyed the way Jenny’s silk white camisole moved just like them against her legs while they talked. Maybe she’ll wear it again later following up on the rain check she promised. Ralph could only hope she would.

With that optimistic image planted behind his weary eyelids Ralph drifts off once more. Later when he wakes and checks his watch five hours has elapsed. Thankfully this time the headache is gone but his dry mouth is worse and it feels like he’s been eating sand. ‘’Hair of the dog’’ that’s what his daddy would have prescribed on occasion like now. While he’s heading over to his drinks cupboard (where he’s pretty sure there’s another bottle of W.T and most definitely a clean glass) he thinks briefly about catching up with the news. But after what happened the night before he’s not so certain it’s a good idea. Maybe too he should eat something he thinks before going another round with his liquor demons. However even the thought of cooking is making him feel nauseous. Settling for a toasted cherry pop tart which he barely touches Ralph opens his cabinet and finds what he’s looking for. Then after stopping to adjust the cowlick of couch hair on the back of his head he’s noticed in the cupboards glass doors, he goes out onto his veranda. Nervously peering over the wall, and is pleased when Jenny is there and is still wearing her camisole.
‘Hello again Ralph’ she says.
He is speechless when seeing her natural beauty once more, only managing an uneasy laugh.
‘You’re not at the hospital today?’ he asks.
‘I mostly work the night shift’
‘That would account for why we never really met or spoke much since you moved in. Like ships that pass in the night’
Jenny nods ‘I suppose, but here we are now…..talking’

Ralph settles into a chair beside his glass table and places his bottle of bourbon on it. The thought of drinking now temporally expunged from his mind. For the next two hours they chew the fat over each others chosen professions, touching on the nervy subject of why Ralph never married and to his delight his discovery Jenny is divorced. ‘I guess I compared all the women I ever met to my mother’ Ralph confesses as Jenny tells him its time for her to go.
‘Do I remind you of her?’ she asks.
‘Maybe a little some’ Ralph sighs
‘See you tomorrow then’
‘Yeah…. see you’ he says deciding to stay where he is for a while and reaches over for his bourbon.

‘You like her don’t you’
Ralph blinked as if someone had suddenly flicked cold water in his face. Sitting across from him was his mother as solid as any living person.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Because you need me son, now look around, tell me what you see.’
Keeping his head straight and only daring to move his eyes Ralph jerks them quickly about.
‘I see you but I know I shouldn’t’ he says. ‘I can see my table, my chair, my apartment, what else is there?’
‘Once more’ his mother says.
‘Yes look again’ another voice interrupts, and when Ralph turns quickly to see, his neighbor Joe is also sitting at the table. The bright afternoon has suddenly turned to night and he feels goose flesh rise on his arms. The once full bourbon bottle is lying empty on its side and the tumbler is in pieces at his feet.
‘What’s going on Mother?’ he says.
‘Look again Ralph’
Ralph gets up and goes into his living room which now resembles something close to a trash heap. Ten or twenty discarded half eaten microwave dinner cartons litter the floor beside his couch, empty beer cans by the dozen are strewn all across his carpet, and there are numerous drained bourbon bottles scattered in his kitchen. The room stinks of sweat and urine and on the wall his TV (which he was sure he’d switched off) is broadcasting a smiling Michael Gargiulo whose eyes seem to be following him.
‘Jenny isn’t right for you, you can’t have her’ he hears his Mother call after him.
‘Why do you always want to spoil things for me?’
‘Listen to her’ Joe says ‘Mothers always know best’
‘Why don’t you tell Joe what you did’ Gargiulo butts in still smiling from the screen ‘Tell him about that morning in the subway, isn’t what you did the reason we are all here’
Ralph starts to pound the sides of his head with his fists ‘leave me alone’.
‘Yes Ralph tell me, tell me, tell me…….’
Ralph shouts into the room ‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up…..none of you are really here and if I close my eyes you’ll be gone’
‘What did you do Ralph!......tell them, tell them and we’ll be gone’
‘I pushed you! I pushed you and you fell under the train!....there I said it! You where taking me away from Father and Frank. you told me you and him were getting a divorce, that’s why we had to leave. You spoiled everything, just like you’re trying to do now’. Ralph slumps down onto his couch and begins to sob into his hands.
‘No one seen me do it, they thought, the police, you just stumbled or maybe jumped. I tried to forget by placing those bad memories to the back of my mind but they’ve always haunted me’

After a few moments Gargiulo asks. ‘How long do you think you’ve been in lock down?
‘Three day’s’ Ralph answers meekly without looking up.
‘No Ralph, look around you for Christ sake, almost four weeks and Jenny has been dead for three of them’
‘Its not true’ he says
Ralph looks up after Gargiulo’s shocking last statement and cleans the snot from his nose on the cuff of his shirt. ‘That’s impossible I was just talking with her’
‘Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me’
Ralph darts from his chair and out into the hallway. Walking quickly to Jenny’s apartment he feels his heart pounding in his chest. ‘They’re lying, they’re all lying’ he whispers to himself before pounding on her door with his fist. ‘Jenny its Ralph are you all right? Answer me!’ his voice loud and echoing.

After opening his door and dressed only in shorts and a tee shirt standing half in half out of his apartment is Ralph's police officer friend. ‘Are you ok’ he asks. But he can see he looks agitated. ‘What’s going on buddy?’
‘Its Jenny she’s not answering, she could be sick, I mean….. Or maybe like Joe,……she might be…..’
The officer holds his two hands out in front and begins to move forward. He’s been in situations like this before with people who are in shock and sometimes things can get out of hand, which means usually someone gets hurt. ‘Hold on Ralph, calm down take a deep breath and think straight for a minute. Isn’t she on the graveyard shift? After all it’s close to midnight she could be at the hospital’
Its clear Ralph isn’t listening as he begins to bang on the door again.
‘Tell you what, let's give her a call’ the officer says and takes out his cell phone from his pocket.
Ralph is a little bit curious and a tad envious he has Jenny’s number but is prepared to let his feelings slide until he’s sure she’s ok. Besides they are neighbors after all and he was confident she would clear things once he got to talk with her. ‘She doesn’t seem to be picking up’ he says taking the phone away from his ear after a few rings. ‘Perhaps she’s busy dealing with this god damn virus, or she’s left in her pur….’
‘Cant you hear that?’ Ralph says cutting in and puts his ear to Jenny’s door. ‘Its ringing, her phone it’s ringing from inside’
‘She’s probably just left it behind Ralph. Why not wait and see in the morning’
‘But what if I’m right, what if she’s unconscious or something. I mean I was right about Joe wasn’t I’

There’s an anxious silence between the two men for what seems like ages to Ralph before his friend says, ‘Just so as you know, I aint happy about this Ralph’, then he puts his shoulder to the door crashing it open and almost falling into the dimly lit hall. The first thing he notices is the acrid smell as he composes himself. It’s a stench he’s all too familiar with, decomposition. Covering his mouth and nose with the bottom of his tee shirt he gingerly makes his way further into the apartment. Bloated blow flies buzz and fly around him as he passes by Jenny’s bedroom on his right. He looks in but it’s empty.
‘Don’t come in here’ he shouts back at Ralph. The smell is getting stronger as he moves into the living room. Apart from one table lamp and the light from the television the room is almost dark. Then as his eyes begin to grow accustomed to the low light he can just about make out a figure lying on the couch. Ahead of him the twin doors leading out to the balcony are wide open, white linen curtains are flapping wildly in the breeze and in the purple sky a full moon veins its arterial light into the apartment. ‘Is it Jenny?’ Ralph says as he comes up from behind.
‘Don’t look’ he tells Ralph, but he does himself at the woman’s emaciated body dressed in a white silk camisole which is peppered with black blood spots. Her skin is gray and loose on her bones and her eyes have sunk back into head leaving grotesque gaping black holes in her face which is frozen in a perpetual scream. He knows he can’t let Ralph see her, see Jenny like this. So he tries to push him back. ‘She’s dead Ralph, I’m sorry, has been for quite some time’ he tries to tell him, hold him back from the nightmarish image, but struggles with him. ‘Let me see!’ he screams. ‘Let me see for myself’’ he shouts as both of them wrestle out through the glass doors onto the veranda.

******

When Detective Toni Lorenzo arrives at Bleeker Street there is already a crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk. Most are dressed in their nighttime attire and some are holding their cell phones above their heads. ‘’God damn ghouls’ he says to himself knowing they are probably taking pictures or footage so they can post their monstrous images on line.
‘’What the hell has this world come to’’ he thinks pulling up beside a parked ambulance which is illuminating the building with its red and blue strobe lights. Getting out he walks to the crowd and pushes his way through. He finds two paramedics standing over a blood soaked twisted body laying face down on the sidewalk. One of them is a tall thin Hispanic guy who he knows as Jesus Mondez. Both men shake hands when they meet.
‘I’m really sorry man’ Jesus says.
‘What do you mean?’ Toni replies uncertain of what’s coming next.
Jesus runs his hand around his chin and blows out his cheeks, ‘Its Bill, Toni, it’s your partner’ he says so clearly it's like he’s just punched him in the stomach. ‘No, no way’ he says shaking his head and looking again at the body.
‘Bill wouldn’t do this, I know him’
Just as he is about to bend down to take a closer look a woman screams from the crowd. she is pointing up to the building. ‘There! Up there, a man’ someone shouts.
Standing on the ledge on the other side of Jenny’s apartment railings Ralph Burnett is looking down. His hands are trembling as he leans out into the vastness of space below him. The night air feels cold on his body. He’s pushed his friend to his death just like he did with his Mother.
‘Will it hurt?’ he whispers.
‘Jump’ the voice replies.


The End. 8,385 words May 14th-June 3rd 2020

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