The Residents of 5th Floor

“Juan Carlos is the new guy?” asked Guillermo, the service technician manager speaking on the phone with the lead security Bert. He was a clean-cut, middle-aged man who left a thick cologne fog wherever he walked.

      “Yeah, his resume impressed the owners,” said Bert.

      “We’ll see how he does.”

      “I’m confident about him.”

      “Nah! Resumes don’t mean shit out here.”

      After a few minutes, JC walked into the lunch room in the company’s navy blue uniform, polo shirt with the logo of the high-end apartment company name, and his dark black cargo pants. He was clean-shaven with his hair slicked back, and eager for the day.

      “Hablas ingles?”       

      “Yes, sir. I speak English. It’s nice to meet you. I’m JC.” He went in for a handshake.

      Guillermo didn’t even bother. He instead inspected him up and down, studying his uniform and his toolbox that looked like a suitcase.

      “Good, you have your tools. Room 503 needs you,” he said sternly.

      “Alright. Can I grab my coffee first?”

      “Ha. Yeah right. No. It’s urgent.”

      “I’ll be on my way then” said JC, keeping a cool disposition.

      JC headed on his way and waited in the elevator for the fifth floor when the lights began flickering on and off.

      The sounds of an eerie static voice started speaking.

      “Mister H-hwan...Kar...Loze... can you hear me now?”

      “Whoa!” JC noticed the speakers by the emergency handle. “I’ll be honest dude, you scared the shit out of me just now. I can hear you though. Who’s this?”

      “Haha! I’m really sorry. Just wanted to welcome you to the company.”

      “Thank you, man. What’s your name?”

      “Albert. Call me Bert though.”

      “Nice to meet you, Bert. You’re security?”

      “Yes. Hey, listen. I saw you meeting Guillermo for the first time on cameras.” He sighed. “That guy still has one of his tools lodged deeply where the sun don’t shine. Don’t even stress about him.”

      “Oh no, it’s fine man. I’ve dealt with guys like that all the time at my last job.”

      “Alright, well. Hey, I’ll properly introduce myself later today.”

      “Thanks for the call, Bert. See you around, my friend.”

      The metallic doors parted and JC headed over to the room. He found a note that read, “GO TO LAUNDRY ROOM” in a very scratchy barely legible handwriting.

      JC went to the closest one on the floor, just around the corner.

      He had noticed a trail of water from outside the room.

      Upon walking in, he locked eyes with a tall thin woman holding a basket of her dirty clothes. She had glared at him through her long black messy hair covering her face. JC stood staring up, unblinking as he analyzed her and struggled to get any words out.

      She whispered in a barely comprehensible accent. “It’s byroken.”

      JC turned to the washer machine she referred to, then back to the pale woman who had been gone. When JC turned back to the machine, she reappeared glaring and barely moving like a mannequin.

      “D-don’t you worry, Miss, I’ll fix it. You don’t even need to wait five minutes, the holes are just detached, he turned over to her hovering over him and took a quick glance at her long sharp black fingernails. JC could barely make out bits of her face with her hair covering most of it, but what he could see looked abnormal, almost like a rubber mask instead of skin. “I got this for you, Miss.”

      JC brought his tools out and diligently worked on the problem, trying to avoid turning his attention back to the tall pale woman whose arms were so elongated and hung so low that they were a mere few inches from dragging along the tiled floor. He applied a temporary fix to the problem, just a thick tape until he could order the parts. “All done,” he said, turning once again to the woman. “You should be able to wash your load now.” He took a big gulp and left his business card on the washer machine. “Please give me a call if you have any more problems. I’m JC, the new technician.”

      The woman grunted and continued loading the washer machine when JC left the room. He could finally breathe normally as he steadily paced down the hall. He had tried hard not to show it, but his heart was beating faster by the minute. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”

      It was only after that interaction that he began noticing the occupants on the floor were a little odd. He passed by a door with black slime on the doorknob. JC quickly wiped it with his small microfiber towel that he had slung across his shoulder.

      Then a series of small rapid footstep passing by distracted him. JC quickly turned to look, but they were gone. Whatever it was, he only glimpsed at the figure, but unless his mind was playing tricks on him, it looked like a small ragged porcelain doll running.

      He figured his mind was still recovering from the laundry room experience.

      JC walked back into the elevator and quickly pressed the security help button.

      “Security dispatch. Bert speaking. How may I help you?”

      “Yo, Bert. This is JC.” he said sounding shaken and waving up to the camera in the corner.

      “Hehe. Hey, man. You look a little pale, everything OK?”

      “I don’t know yet,” JC said, his voice seeming to have lost all his cool bravado.

      “You meet some residents on the Fifth floor, huh? Yeah, they have that effect.”

      “Bert. There’s been a lot of weird shit happening, man. Tell me I’m not crazy.”

      “I know, man. This place is unique.”

      “I knew this fucking job was too good to be true, man.”

      “Hey. Mister Juan Carlos.”

      “It’s JC.”

      “JC, this isn’t a regular position, if you’re not already aware. And it’s seldom one that’s open. You have gained access to a more exclusive world than the rest of these rich people living in the city already have. The hiring managers heard what you did in your last job. They liked you. You’re not easily skittish. You can take care of shit when it needs to be taken care of.”

      “Excuse me,” said a well dressed woman with thick sunglasses and platinum blonde hair patiently waiting to use the elevator.

      “Oh, sorry,” said JC. “Bert, I’m headed to your office now.”

      He headed down the corridors and the smell of the familiar cologne he recognized quickly stopped him. Out from the electrical room, Guillermo came out. He noticed JC and then smiled ungenuinely. “Everything OK? Ready to turn in your badge?”

      “Hell no,” JC said. “This is just light work. Where’s the security office?”

      “Ah, it’s down by the parking booth.” he sneered.

      “Thanks.”

      JC continued walking across, taking a shortcut through the apartment hallways.

      The lights flickered again as he walked.

      Something had been trailing behind him, but he couldn’t see them. JC turned behind him and saw puddles of dark black slime, they trailed far as to where the electrical room was.

      JC finally found the security office and stood by the door for a moment.

      As he reached for the doorknob, the door had already opened.

      “Mister Juan Carlos. in the flesh!” Bert said extending his arm out for a firm handshake.

      Bert was an older forty-something-year-old with long grayish blonde hair.

      “Bert. I think someone or something is following me.”

      “How do you figure?”

      “I heard a thump kinda like heavy footsteps. Then saw some shit on the ground like oil or something, I don’t know.”

      “Ah, that right there be good ole’ Kevin. Cranky fuck. Did you touch the gelatin shit he left behind?”

      “No.” JC inspected his hand and uniform. “I don’t... wait. I did.”

      Well, he’ll get over it soon. Just don’t let him catch you in a dark room."

      “What the fuck!?”

      “It’s okay man. Relax. If he does, just spray him with water.”

      “Spray him with water?”

      “Or spit. Spit works too. He doesn’t like the Ph level.”

      “OK. Bert. What the fuck is this? Prank on the new guy? I have so many questions, man.”

      “I know you do, JC. Have a seat.”

      JC and Bert sat on the leather computer chairs facing the multiple cameras that were set up outside the fifth floor doors and hallways.

      “You wanted your dream job, didn’t you? Do you know how privileged it is to live in this town without growing up with rich parents? And you only pay like 50% of the rent on these living quarters, that’s a hell of a good deal, isn’t it? You wanted to be next to all these celebrity houses, museums, music venues, and the all-famous high-end shopping district a few minutes away, right?”

      “Yes. This is everything I’ve ever wished for.”

      “You and me both. I grew up in the middle of bumfuck nowhere myself. Now I can afford to buy my kids a lot of the coolest shit I could ever dream of. Life is glorious. Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is, this is the price for it. But, if you’re willing to put up with it, it really ain’t so bad. We’re all in it together, including fucking meglomaniac Guillermo.”

      “OK, Bert. Just fucking show me, bro.”

      JC’s eyes were glued to the monitors as Bert flipped through footage of the residents of the fifth floor.

      Bert flipped through a door that had 666 written repeatedly in hundreds of small scratches. “Here’s a few,” said Bert. He continued. Another one had been of the invisible fellow, Kevin’s alleged room. It had been oozing and covered in black matter. “Sometimes it floods to the next room. His neighbors make a lot of fucking complaints." Another one had steps for someone so small to reach for the doorknob. There was one room with a slot for pets to enter. Bert showed JC images of two small animals crawling into it. An all-black forest cat with a fluffy coat and bright red eyes. Another animal walking beside it was a black ferret with white fur around its chin and the tips of his ears, he also had glowing red eyes, it walked with his back arched up rapidly inside through the pet slot.

      “This is a lot,” said JC.

       “That’s the Fletchers. They’re actually a sweet couple. They bring us Christmas cookies every December, but the nasty gingerbread kind. We toss that shit right away, but keep the beautiful tin-can they come in.”

      “Bert.”

      “Sorry.” Bert tapped the side of JC’s arm. “How do you feel about all this? Are you going to take the first detour to the nearest church and then never come back?”

      “Uh...”

      “I knpw this is wild shit here, but you can still leave whenever you want. You won’t be the first neither. Not like you’d say anything but, still, the PR team here is pretty solid if you did. Besides, nobody believes in fairytale shit like this. But, you’ll be safe JC. Trust me. You can still go, I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but I have a good feeling about you.

      “No, Bert." JC took a deep breath, turned to the monitors then back into Berts eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but I... think I’m going to see this through.”