Notes from the 3rd shift: screams

George Goner 

I hear screams. Strident, throat-tearing screams, echoing off the downtown buildings in an intensity of pain and loss. I hear them through the apartment complex safety glass windows and locked doors. In the quiet lobby, alone on third shift, I imagine what might cause a human being to make such sounds in the heart of the city. Someone gut-shot in an act of random violence, or cut down at the end of a long-held grudge? Someone who has just found his girlfriend or gay friend (the voice is male) lying on the cold sidewalk, bleeding out their lifeblood into the gutter...

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I contemplate suffering. A week ago I contemplated what a prayer to Satan might sound like from behind locked doors, and froze myself to near vegetable state with fright. But shortly after I blogged, Supervisor Ricci stopped by from the security office. The bubble of terror popped, leaving me securing a lobby in a home for the elderly in downtown Providence, instead of in the antechamber of hell. The overheard prayers of the old folks once again sounded Christian, even those of the old lady who lives in the apartment behind the door where the yarn doll hung.

I have an active imagination I've admitted, but the screams are real. It's a cold night, minus zero with the wind chill, and the screams go on. I picture sound and clouds of breath escape together  the open lips of a mouth stretched wide in agony. It won't stop. I'm hearing this. It's not in my head. I wish somebody would come out of their room and ask me what's that screaming so I can be sure.

Maybe I should call Supervisor Ricci at the office and get him to stop by. But on what excuse? Even if I throw the ring of building keys down the elevator shaft or the garbage chute, the correct call would be to maintenance. They might not show up for hours. I've seen Carlos and Bobby in action. Even when a water pipe burst they didn't get here until half the downstairs had flooded. How long would they take for dropped keys? They--
The screaming stopped. 

It cut off in mid-yell. Maybe the person got help. Maybe he died. I wonder. Maybe whatever made him scream like that in the first place turned back to finish the job... What could make a human being... I had a friend with stage 4 cancer, and even he did not scream so loud with pain. Someone dragged down to the pit? Something from the dark summoned to walk the streets by an incantation Supervisor Ricci interrupted. A servant of Abaddon, Lord of the Pit. I remember him from the Bible at Sunday School, more than I remember what cheek to turn and why we don't need to take an eye for an eye. I might have to call the office with no excuse at all. But I need this job. No matter what, when I get Supervisor Ricci on the phone, I can't start screaming.

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