DOOR-TO-DOOR
By Randy
Romero
It was a
balmy and breezy afternoon in mid-April when Andy Goodman landed on Mrs.
Landau’s front porch. Door-to-door salesmen are virtually obsolete. But that
didn’t stop Andy’s employers from trying every sales technique. They advertised
on TV and radio, placed ads in local papers, and they were one of the few companies
left that employed door-to-door salesmen.
They
used to call them drummers, an archaic term. Salesmen were sent from home to
home to drum up interest in whatever new product their company was pushing on
potential customers. Nowadays, they’re called consultants. Andy preferred the
term to salesman.
Andy was
in the neighborhood to push the company’s new wireless alarm system. He rang
the doorbell twice before Mrs. Landau answered. She invited him in without
hesitation. He barely had the opportunity to introduce himself. She led him to
the living room and invited him to take a seat.
“Want
some lemonade, dear? I also have iced tea.” She smiled; a sweet, innocuous
smile.
“Iced
tea sounds lovely, ma’am. Thank you.”
“I also
have some chocolate biscotti, if you’re interested.”
“Sounds
great,” Andy said with a forced smile. “I normally don’t eat chocolate. But I
can make an exception for some biscotti.”
“You don’t
eat chocolate? Who doesn’t eat chocolate?”
“No, I’m
vegan. I normally don’t eat anything with dairy, including chocolate.”
“Vegan?
So you don’t eat meat either?”
“Not in
years. But like I said, I’ll make the occasional exception when it comes to
chocolate.”
Mrs.
Landau excused herself from the living room and went to the kitchen. She
appeared old and frail, but she moved with quite the spring in her step.
Andy
took a gander around the living room. Plastic covered furniture. Old, frayed brown
carpets. An unsightly mustard yellow wallpaper that looked to be about fifty
years old.
Andy had
encountered her type before. Lonely old ladies who were desperate for company.
She’d probably talk his ear off for hours and he still wouldn’t make the sale.
But unfortunately this was part of the job.
She
returned with a pitcher of iced tea and biscotti on a silver tray and placed it
on the coffee table. She poured him a glass of iced tea and poured one for
herself but left it sitting at her side of the coffee table.
“So,
Mrs. Landau–”
“I guess
you can call me Ms. Landau now. My husband’s deceased.”
“I’m
terribly sorry for your loss,” Andy said, feigning sympathy. His tone was
somber, but it was all an act. He still had his eyes on the objective. If
listening to old stories or mourning over dead husbands and lost relatives
helped make the sale, so be it.
He
didn’t think of himself as a bad guy. He was just doing his job. He worked on commission.
No sale meant no paycheck.
“Don’t
be sorry. He was a brutish oaf. A heavy drinker. Rotten attitude. Truth be
told, I’m a little relieved he’s gone. I know how awful that sounds, but it’s
just how I feel.”
Andy
didn’t know how to react to that. He sipped his tea quietly, helped himself to
some biscotti. It tasted a little stale but he didn’t want to appear rude in front
of his host.
“I don’t
think we were properly introduced. My name is Andy Goodman. Thank you for
letting me into your home. Are you concerned at all about security?”
“I
suppose I should be at my age. This house could definitely be more secure. The
neighborhood has really gone downhill. I caught a man trying to break in
through my backdoor. Chased him off with a broom. Ha! You should’ve seen his
face!”
“Well, I
work for a large security company and we’re currently running a special
promotion. A free wireless home security system, with free installation. Of
course, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, the offer does come with a two year
monitoring agreement. But that’s two years of 24/7 protection. Motion sensors,
door and window contacts, smoke alarms. We even have cameras available. As long
as your system is armed, someone will be monitoring your home every minute of
the day for signals. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of
course. I’m old, but I’m not that out of touch.” She chuckled and Andy forced a
chuckle in return.
“If
you’re interested in cameras, we have an app that allows you to remotely view
the footage. That way you can keep an eye on your house even on the go.”
He
finished his tea. She offered him a refill but he declined. He was a little
nauseous and dizzy. The whole room started to spin. The mustard yellow
wallpaper seemed to be swaying.
He tried
to stand, but sunk right back down on the plastic coated couch, and his whole
world went black.
***
Andy woke
up on his back, condensation from a pipe dripping onto his face. The room was
dark. He retched at the thick, pungent, unidentified scent that permeated the
air.
He sat
up, his vision still blurry. Flies buzzed around his head and landed on his
face. He swatted them away and rubbed his eyes.
“What’s
your name?” A voice asked.
“Andy,”
he replied. “Where am I?”
“The
cellar.”
“Cellar?”
His eyes slowly adjusted and he gasped at the grisly skeletal remains.
“Mr.
Landau,” the voice said. “He’s been down here a long time. I used to know the
Landau’s. I grew up around here. They lived in this neighborhood forever and
everybody knew they had money. I was desperate, and in my moment of weakness, I
came back here to rob them. I’ve been here ever since. I’m pretty sure she
killed her husband first, let his body down here to rot. But she didn’t stop
there.”
"How long
have you been here?”
“A few
months. Apparently I picked the wrong house to break into.”
“Why are
you still here?”
“Nowhere
to go. No windows, and the door is metal. She locks it from the outside. She
must have about ten locks on that goddamn door. I’m pretty sure the cellar is
soundproof too. I screamed my lungs out the first day I was here. Nobody outside
seemed to hear.”
As his
eyes continued to adjust, Andy noticed the rotting corpses and collection of bones
that plagued the dusty cellar floor. He covered his mouth and nose with one
hand briefly, but there was no way to stifle the overpowering stench of decay.
The man
stepped out of the dark, bite marks all over his arms, small chunks of flesh absent.
The wounds were clearly infected from lack of medical treatment.
“Did
somebody do that to you?”
“I did
it to myself. You’d be surprised what a man will do when he’s hungry.”
“I’m a
vegan. I don’t even eat meat, so I doubt I’d be able to eat myself.”
“Well, I
guess I don’t have to worry about you eating me then,” the man quipped.
“You
never told me your name.”
“Trevor.
Not like it matters. We’re both good as dead. There’s no telling how many people
this old bag has killed or left down here to starve.”
As soon
as he said that, a horrible thought began to dawn on Andy. “How did you survive
for so long down here?”
“I did
what I had to do. Like I said, you’d be surprised what a man will do when he’s
hungry. I’m glad you’re here, Andy. I thought this was the week I’d surely starve
to death. Looks like I caught a break. Don’t worry, I’ll put you out of your
misery before I eat you.”
He
lunged towards Andy, licking his chaffed lips. Andy put his hands up to block
himself. Trevor’s overgrown nails scratched at Andy’s arms and tried to claw at
his face. Andy, who’d never even raised his fists in a real fight, felt a
sudden rage boil up inside of him. He tackled Trevor to the ground and bashed
his head repeatedly into the cellar floor. He didn’t stop until blood leaked
from his mouth and sprayed from his ears. He didn’t stop until he heard the
crunch of his skull.
“Impressive,”
Ms. Landau said from the top of the stairs. “Now let’s see how long it takes
for the vegan to eat raw meat. Let’s see how long it takes for your instincts
to survive to kick in.”
She
slammed the metal door and bolted it shut. A thick red pool had formed around
Trevor’s head as he stared lifelessly up at the ceiling. Andy was left alone in
the darkness, forced to make a terrifying, sickening choice. How long would he
actually starve before he did what was necessary to survive?
