The Man In The Green Trench Coat

 

   Kate Adams’ car spun onto 5th Avenue. 

   She peered out. The ocean lay just beyond the road, calm and deep. 

   The moving van was parked in front. She put the car in neutral and slipped out.   

   Home. She'd have to get used to applying that word here.

   Kate inhaled. 

   It smelled different here. California was flowery and fresh. It was a far cry from the dank smell in the Portland breeze. 

   The last box arrived in the short, carpeted hall half an hour later, and Kate thanked the movers. 

   Turning round, Kate saw the apartment which her grandparents had bought her for the first time.

   Well, she had seen it in photos, but it looked different in real life.

   The previous tenants had left their furniture behind - a fat, dark green and mustard sofa sat obnoxiously in the centre of the room, along with a hint of bitter cigarette smoke.

   In the corner was her open plan kitchen - a selling point on the website, but unwelcome in real life, with its off-pink, peeling plastic countertops and rusted cupboard handles.

   Underneath the boxes Kate was now unpacking was a withered, neutral carpet, which stretched out into every room, including the bathroom. 

   The TV was first to be set up; Kate switched it on to listen to as she worked.

    “ - increasing amount of murders is quite astonishing. What do you have to say about that?” It was a news report.

    “Yes, well yes you’re right, it seems this is the work of quite a savage serial killer, or it’s possible we’re looking at a group here. The murders seem sporadic and have no distinct connection. Our advice is to sit tight, make sure people are always aware of where you’re going, and try not to travel alone at night.”

    “Good advice as always. Back to you, Clive.”

    Kate glanced at the fridge, which had swung open on the journey up - empty. Better go get the groceries before she got too settled. 

    She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, which had also been left behind. She twisted a straight, ink section of hair around her finger and dropped at the side of her cheek. 

    She’d read in a magazine that putting hair at the side of your face made it look slimmer. Kate supposed it did. 

    Looking around the apartment, Kate considered whether the mess or groceries was the most important thing to tackle.

    On her phone, Kate quickly discovered a local delivery service for pizza and phoned for a Hawaiian one. Problem solved.

    The door went as Kate kicked a box into the square, warm blue space.

    Weird, wouldn’t they buzz up first? Kate thought, but went to answer nonetheless.

    A small, podgy woman was on her doorstep. Her face was flushed red and her hair was copper wire. She had a beefy hand outstretched.      

    Kate glanced at it. 

    She looked back up at the woman, wearing a frown.

    “Hello, are you our new tenant?” she asked Kate, a strong Tennessee accent.

    "Yeah," replied Kate, with an awkward smile. She glanced back down at the invite. "Is that for me?"

    The woman nodded. Her treble chin jiggled. "Oh, yes, if you want it. It's an invitation to the party at the Swinton Hotel, actually. I would go, but I'm not much use at these formal occasions. The organisers won't mind - it's just another opportunity to show off their wealth. They sent one to everyone in the neighbourhood, but you were probably too late arriving here to get one.”

    Kate pulled the ticket from the woman's grasp. "Well, thanks. But  I'm not that great at formal stuff either. Seriously. I have no formal stuff, period. Can't you give this to someone else?”

    By way of answer, the woman turned on her heel and wobbled off. Kate darted after her, stopping at the top of the stairs.

    "Uh, hello? I don't want to go to this party!" she called. 

  But the woman did not turn or answer. 

  Kate watched her hobble downstairs, and was tempted to run after her. She stood there for a moment, staring at the woman's retreating figure, then remembered the invite. 

  She glanced at it. All it said was the time to be there, and the address of the hotel. 

  She went back to her apartment, invite loose in her hand as she closed the door. 

  Then suddenly, she was annoyed. Annoyed with the fact she had just been lumped with this invite. 

  So she went into her bedroom and popped it out of the window. Her bin hadn’t been unpacked and there was some joy in throwing it out that way. 

  She did feel a little bad. But the woman had been ignorant enough to give her the ticket without any explanation, right? Why should Kate have kept the invite? It was no use to her now, wherever it was. 

   Then Kate weakened and scuttled outside to get it back. 

   The invite was tucked into a drawer beside her bed, and she went to sleep, but not before a spring uppercut into her ribs. 

   Over the next few days, gossip about the party was rife in the building. Kate knew this - more neighbours knocked at her door through the week, curious to see the new girl. 

   She never saw the fat little woman again. She'd asked around about her, and was told that she was a recluse - even the shopping she apparently did on-line. 

   The afternoon before the party Kate bought herself a fuchsia mini dress. . 

   The cab curved and bumped to a stop in front of the Hotel Swinton. Kate got out, gloved hand outstretched to the waiting attendant for him to take.

   The nerves started to set in - who was she going to talk to? Would she fit in? She guessed this was a good way of getting to know people, at least.

   She’d moved here from her grandparents house to start college at UCLA - she had enough inheritance money from her parents. Kate didn’t know anyone outside the building yet. 

   The place was impressive, she observed. Large and opulent, it easily housed what must have been over a hundred guests. 

   People were splattered all over, dresses flowing and shimmering, heads being thrown back in laughter.

   Okay, now what, she thought. 

   A stage was on her left, with what she thought were a pretentious sounding indie band playing, and people dancing at the front. Kate was stood on the dance floor, where there seemed to be a mix of young and old people standing around chatting, keeping to their groups, and more importantly away from the inebriated dancing. 

   On the right, tables with shoeless, drunken people collapsed into chairs, countless empty seats, and a few flushed but grinning teenagers.

   Had she really arrived that late? Kate found a glass of wine on a table full of them and took a large gulp. 

   Raucous laughter on the right. Kate glanced over, eyes slightly narrowed. 

   A table had just filled up with teenagers, having flung themselves into chairs after dancing. 

   They look pissed enough, she thought. 

   An hour later, Kate was sitting amongst them, chatting with a few. She knew a few of their names - Eric opposite her, Delia to her right, and James to her left. 

   The others had been too drunk to introduce themselves.

   She liked James. She also liked the way he looked. He had unnaturally red hair that hung over one of his copper eyes. Even the acne on his nose didn’t deter from his looks. 

  "More wine?" he asked, lifting the table‘s bottle. 

  "Yeah, sure," Kate replied. 

  The wine glugged, filling near to the brim. Eric shot him a conspiratorial look as Kate picked up the glass. 

  "Wait!" he cried.

  "What?" asked Kate, the glass hovering close to her mouth. 

   Eric grinned. "Down it! I dare you."

  "No! I hate doing that,” she protested.

  "Go on. I dared you. Just do it," Eric continued. 

   Other members of the group were turning round, staring at Kate. One thing Kate had discovered about Eric in the short time she had known him for was that he was a prime practical joker.

  "Go on! It's not going to kill you, you know..."

  "Alright, fine," groaned Kate, who threw glass up to her lips so forcefully that it was likely to spill. 

   But it didn't. 

   Instead, the liquid had solidified before it made contact with Kate's face. 

   She spluttered as blood began to flow from her nostrils, a mix of heat and ice on her nose.

  "Kate?" said James, as he and several other members of the party flocked to her. 

  "I'm fine!" she coughed, wiping away the blood in a daze. She looked at James, nose inflated and pink. "Where's the bathroom?" 

  "Down the hall. I'll take you,” he said, pulling her up by the elbow and wheeling her out of the room. 

  Others on the dance floor looked on at Kate as James brought her down a crimson-gold hall. They came to two doors, male and female. 

  "Keep your head tilted back,” said James, pushing her into the female bathroom. Kate fell into it in a daze, tripping over the threshold. 

   "I'll be next door!" he called. 

   Kate stumbled to the sink, not hearing him. Her nose was pulsing too hard. 

   She looked up. My make-up‘s ruined!  What had even happened? Was it the edge of the glass that had burst her nose? It had felt cool and glass-like. 

   As she pressed a finger to the tip of her nose, she felt a wet patch. She took off her gloves, grabbed some tissue and began mopping at the sticky burgundy.

   A wind sliced her bare collarbone. 

   Kate stopped, but shook all weird thoughts out of her mind as she turned to the likely source - the window.

   It was closed. 

   Suddenly, the wind took another swipe, making her tremble. Kate considered complaining about the air conditioning once she’d got out of here. 

   Kate screamed, scrambling away from the glass until her back hit hard against the cubicle.  The lights flickered angrily above her, bringing with it the buzzing of faulty wiring.  

 Then, stillness. Normality returned, just for a moment. 

 Kate raised a tentative hand into the air, trailing her fingertips through it. 

 There was a thickness in the air, but also a sharpness. It cut down her throat with every breath she took. 

  And now she knew why. 

  In the air, hardly detectable, she make out the feel of ice particles. She reeled her hand in, glancing at the tips. 

  Minute droplets of water sat there. She had been right. 

  “No way,” said a mysterious awed voice. 

  There was nowhere for Kate to hide, so her first reaction was to scream again. 

  “Who are you?” she demanded, staring into empty cubicles. “Is this a trick?”

  “You're not Kate Adams, are you?” said the male voice. 

  “How do you know my name?” she hissed, eyes pricking. “What do you want? Is this a trick?”

  “Who, me? I don't want anything really. Are you Kate Adams though? Seriously?”

  “Y-Yes,” she said, and instantly regretted it. 

  There was a pause.

  “Wow, uh, you’re looking pretty good!” 

  “Who are you? Is this some sort of trick? Eric, are you hiding in there?” She flew at a closed cubicle door, shoving it open with both hands. 

   Nothing. The rest of them were open. 

   Her eyes were wide as they scanned the room. She had a whisper of hope that there was a speaker somewhere. 

   “I'm not in there you know,” muttered the voice. “Oh I'm Varjak Swinton by the way. How are you this evening? Cool dress. Not so cool nose. Thought that might have hurt a bit. Sorry. I had to be sure it was you. But hey, my plan worked! They always do as well.”

   “This is a trick!” she said. “Whoever you are, just stop this!”

   “Kate?” queried a small voice behind her. 

   She turned round animalistically, eyes alight, then relief washed over her. 

   “Oh it's you,” she breathed, putting a hand to her chest. “Thank God.”

   James cocked an eyebrow. “Anything wrong? I thought I heard you screaming.”

   She gave a nervous laugh. 

   “Ha, no, I uh - ” She looked everywhere but James, looking for the excuse. “Er, look at my face! I was just having a freak out, I look like a zombie!”

   “Well, if you‘re sure…” he said, with a slight laugh. “Anyway, Eric‘s kick-started a game of shots if you’re interested. Just try and avoid breaking your nose this time.”

   “Oh. Funny.” She looked around the room again. The air was normal now - a gentle heat clattered out from the vent. “I’ll give it a shot then. Ha, shot.” Nervous giggles bubbled out of her mouth.

   “Funny,” James mocked. “Whenever you’re ready then.” He turned back out. 

   Kate made a hasty retreat from the bathroom. 

   Walking briskly beside James, she remembered something. 

   So the Varjak person was the one who froze her drink? How did he do that? And why were there ice particles in the room when he spoke to her? 

   She barely glanced back at the corridor, slipping into the throb of people on the dance floor and letting the incident slip from her mind. 

Reviews

[Caradoc]

She seems rather lucid for someone who is supposed to be drunk. The story is somewhat interesting, though for me it seems to lack a certain pull. So Kate shows up at this hotel and decides to hang out, meet people, and get drunk. Being less than impressed with the taste of, and effects of most alcohol myself, this doesn't have much appeal to me.

The lack of emotion in the lead character is kind of bugging me too. Sure there's a vague sense of that from her internal dialogue, but that seems to fade into the background, swallowed by the rest of the descriptive paragraphs. I think I suggested separating dialogue from description to you at one point in another work, or maybe I just seem to be suggesting it to a lot of writers lately. Either way that would be a good idea with Kate's thoughts, especially if you italicized them.

While I'm on the subject of the separation of speech and scene depiction, something about the way you go about that...irks me. Yes you have paragraphs that are entirely describing what something looks like, what Kate is thinking, or what someone is doing. Then you have a massive wall of dialogue, followed by a few short descriptive paragraphs, and then another wall of dialogue. I think, think, that your story would be better served if you added more detail to descriptive paragraphs, while shrinking the walls of dialogue by adding action throughout. I say this because in the format of online reading, normal paragraphing just doesn't look too good.

On to technical matters.

What is Kate wearing? You give no description of her appearance at this party, nor do we get much more than the color of Jame's hair and eye color. What do these people look like? You completely skip her meeting of James, Eric and Delia, so the reader neither sees how they react to each other nor what they look like. We know nothing about them since an hour is skipped over as well, save that James is eye candy for Kate and Eric is juvenile. Delia does nothing and the scene could go on without her even being mentioned, perhaps she is going to turn into one of "Chekhov's Gunmen"? I also got the impression that James is one of those guys who gets women drunk so he can get into their pants.

On a related side note, what kind of car does she drive?

I also find Varjak rather dull. From the dialogue it seems he froze the drink as a test to find out if she was Kate Adams, yet seems very surprised that she is who he was looking for. He gives off a strong creeper vibe with his bathroom spying and is very...uncommitted. First he follows her into the bathroom and is seemingly responsible for scaring her. Then he both asks her how she is, tells her she has a nice dress, and then vanishes without getting an answer.

Overall, I feel that this chapter lacks emotion and is too contrived. I don't feel a connection to any of the characters. I have an obscure picture of the setting and the characters. I don't even know why Kate is really there, other than her far too convenient curse induced compulsion to show up. The whole thing just lacks good flow, with events feeling to me as if they were placed there rather than developed naturally.

I apologize for this wholly negative review as I can normally find something to like in just about everything I read. This chapter though, compared to your other work, left me wanting. NIMBUS had flair, originality, chemistry between the leads, and was dynamic and alive.

This feels dead...

With you being so talented and skilled, I wonder if this is perhaps one of your earlier works? Your SPaG is practically spotless after rereading it though.

I won't hold it against you if decide to rip into one of my works with a scathing review sometime in the future. I've grown accustomed to that sort of retaliation, although you do strike me as being more mature than that.

Whatever the outcome, I will try to read through book as I am still intrigued by the basic concept and earlier chapters.

-Caradoc

[PrincessZeldaWannabe]

Again, wow!

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[tynamite]

This is so crazy and different that I just have to read the next chapter. Freezing a glass that Kate's meant to drink out of, for seemingly no reason. What's that about? This is a great chapter. I don't think Varjak is doing himself any favours.

[Shep]

I like the mystery about this, but was hard consentrate it all bunched up. Made it hard read..I will return when fix it so I can injoy it more. By the way I was right. The rollercoaster has now began to climb.

[FemmeSpookyCorpse]

I loved this chapter! It reeled me in with incidences of mystery, suspense, and great dialogue. Your character progression flows nicely, you introduce them in a timely manner, which adds rhythym to the story...wonderful work! You're a talented writer...keep up the great work!

-Brittany

[halflives]

I agree. CREEPER is the PERFECT word to describe him. Another incredible chapter, I'm very hooked. What's going on? Is it something supernatural?

[Calypso]

Great chapter

[w2de35657u687y4324rf]

Varjak is quite the creeper. The story is progressing and taking a supernatural element (which I like). The glass incident is quite strange, though. I understand the ice hurting, but I'm not to sure how it would hit her nose. The ice particles in the room was a great addition to the setting.