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Wakwak A Novel

Chapter 3

Young Blood

Steffan Rebane

Somewhere near Brown St., Brooklyn, New York, USA

Steffan Rebane wakes up late, late in the afternoon with a headache and his ears are ringing. 

A headache that would somehow be compared to that of a bad hangover, oblivious that he missed dinner, breakfast and lunch, but rather blaming it on the drinks that he thought he must have last night. 

He walks to the bathroom and looks into the mirror.

“My, oh my, Steffan, you are looking handsome today and narcissistic are you?” I look amazingly fresh, I don’t remember drinking last night, where was I? Better look for an aspirin… pain killers will do.

He finds some pain killers and swallows them hoping that it will kill the pain right away, he feels like he is choking.

“Oh shit, it’s stuck… water” come on water… 

As he opens the faucet in the bathroom sink nothing.

“Oh god, jeez really? No water…” the fridge…

He runs to his small fridge and finds water and grabs the bottle.

That was a close one. “Okay Steffan, don’t swallow medicine without water beside you next time.” I’ve never been good at taking medicine.

Amazingly or so he thinks his headache is almost gone, there is this tingling sensation in his head and a sense of awareness that he is connected to someone. 

Looking at his watch it says 4PM.

“I slept that long? I thought it was just a few hours. Time does fly.” I guess I better take a bath, I think all I need is a bath and I need to get out, I’m talking to myself again. 

But I guess I need to clean up the house a bit, hmmm…

Standing outside of his bedroom, he sees his apartment’s common living area clean, thinking that he must’ve messed up again and pissed his roommates, curses himself and goes back into his room and takes a bath.

All dressed up and ready to go out for another night life.

As he steps in front of the apartment building door, which is made of solid wood and glass on the upper half. He sees a tall old man with a light white jacket and white pants, sporting a white fedora hat. 

The old man walking briskly, he is clearly old, but does not seem to show it with his posture.

What caught his eye was the eyes.

He sees his eyes burning and glowing like charcoal embers. It is not one color but many hues, as in it is still burning. 

The whole eye sclera was one glowing charcoal ember.

The iris was like a flame, and the pupil was black, like no reflection of any light. If there was a black hole, this was it.

“Eerie…” he whispers. Just like the horror movies but this is an upgrade. He opens the door and comes out of the apartment building.

“Oh shit…” what the hell was that, those eyes, was that a demon, my god I am so dead. He stared at me.

Steffan hesitates to come out and waits for the old man  to look away; he walks opposite of the old man, away from him.

Steffan finds a food truck along the way but it is leaving forcing him to turn back.

Great just my luck, I hope I don’t run into that creepy old man. Now… where to eat; since I don’t like to cook and too hungry to cook, Nostrand.

As he is walking down towards the restaurant, a tingling sensation on his spine, it’s more like having goosebumps but not having it. A feeling of numbness.

There is a parking lot on the corner and ahead are shrubs that could conceal anyone from a distance. Something tells him someone is hiding, he did not expect anyone or suspects that anyone could be hiding.

“Lutz, my name is Lutz”

Steffan, surprised, his jaws dropped. He cannot say anything, out of words out of breath, he takes in a lot of air, gasping.

Terrified that he still sees the burning eyes. Why only him? He ponders to no answers. I am not on shrooms man.

“Look… I… I don’t want any trouble, I don’t want to hurt you old man.” 

Steffan steps back, as he tilts his head up looking up to the towering old man.

Lutz may look ancient, but his body is not like a day after fifty, he has a lot of juice left.

A sudden swishing sound and a thud. 

Steffan is pinned to the door behind him. It happened so swiftly, he did not even have time to think what just happened.

He looks down on the old man, then he notices Lutz’s hands around his neck.

“Please don’t hurt me” Steffan squirming like a child, and raising both hands in surrender.

“I’m not, and you obviously won’t get hurt, now why don’t you talk kid”

“Hey!”

Both turn their heads to see who it was.

Three guys, with long beards, the Jewish kind.

They made such noise that the Jews who occupied one of the buildings. Apparently one of the congregants saw what happened and called in reinforcements.

These guys may look Chasidic, and pious, and unmindful of the mundane. But not these guys, they will fight. Like the tough Jews of America during the days of Meyer Lansky.

“Would you mind?” The one in the middle, the shortest of them and fat, or rather wide bodied. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” barks Mr. Lutz.

“We’re preparing for the Havdalah and yeah this, this is also an obligation too, save someone even on Shabbat.”

Mr. Lutz drops Steffan. “We are just talking… my friend here startled me.” As he pats lightly – heavily on Steffan.

The leader looks at Steffan, “are you okay there?”

“Yeah, I’ll live.” Damn I didn’t feel any pain at all, must be the adrenalin.

“You leave him alone” the leader addresses Mr. Lutz.

“I see… tough Jews eh.” Mr. Lutz remembers the stories back in the 30’s of gangster Jews and feels a sense of admiration and respect for them. “Look if it is any consolation to you I apologize, and to prove that I won’t harm this kid, let me give you my name, I am Johnson Lutz and I’m 95 years old, wait 99 now.”

“Really. Are you sure you’re not Jewish? Maybe you’d like to join us for the prayers.”

“I’m not Jewish, and thank you by the way.”

The Jews left and went back inside their assembly house.

“Look kid, we can play this game for as long as you want…”

“Wait a minute Mr. Lutz, just hold on there…” Steffan breathing deeply.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have no idea, really?”

Mr. Lutz surprised as he looks down on Steffan who nods his head, “where have you been?” inquires Mr. Lutz.

“What?”

“Did you receive anything from someone that made no sense at all?”

“How… what do you mean?”

“When did you come back to the mainland?”

“Very recently like three days ago.”

“You don’t look like the military type to me… no offense though, pun intended” Mr. Lutz analyzes him, “were you on vacation or with the hippie corps… I mean the peace corps”

“Yeah.”

“Were you in the Philippines?”

“Yes.”

“Which part, Bohol, Leyte or Cebu?”

“How, how do you know?”

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