Chapter 4
Dominik returns home and immediately goes online to get tickets for tonight’s concert. Nothing else exists. He wouldn’t notice a Golem in his doorway, a giant Scorpion in the middle of the loft or a harem of naked women engaged in an orgy. He gets fixated on things and nothing breaks his concentration.
Door opens.
Door closes.
He sits on the floor right where he stands.
Takes out laptop and logs in.
Connect to internet… Too long!!!!!
Google Aragon.
Search Decapitated.
Ah…
Dominik sees that there are tickets left and proceeds to get the best seat he can. His credit card is saved in the online customer profile. Two clicks and he’s got ‘em. He feels good now, like a weight has been lifted off his body. It’s still early, only 1:20 pm, and he has all day to track people down. He begins to obsess over the book and looks at the table, it’s still there and intact. He gets up, walks over to the table, and puts his backpack and laptop down in front of him. While reaching into his backpack to get his note book he feels a sharp stabbing sensation on the back of his hand.
“Ow, fuck!” Dominik yells as he pulls his hand out. Inspecting his hand he notices a pair of needle marks on the back, right on a vein, blood running down his hand towards his fingers. He wipes it off then begins looking through his backpack. He pulls the zipper back all the way and once the pack is completely opened sees what looks like a spider web at the bottom. He removes items slowly one after another then suddenly a brown spider about the size of a quarter runs out. Dominik smashes it with the palm of his hand. “Son of a bitch. What are you?” He knows nothing about spiders but the bite is very painful. For the moment he thinks nothing of it but decides to keep the dead spider in a paper cup, just in case he decides to go to the doctor.
For the time being he forgets about it and starts looking up Hannagan and Armistead. His first attempt to locate Hannagan is easy. He Googles ‘James Hannagan Salem Gazette’ and the first hit is a Linkedin profile.
Linkedin Profile for James Hannagan
Journalist/Editor in Chief at Salem Gazette
To view full profile login or sign up…
He clicks on the link and finds that the profile is public. Dominik talks to himself as he searches. “Even better, now I can snoop around without opening an account.” He looks through the profile and discovers that Hannagan is a Harvard grad and originally from the area, a homeboy. “Cool, it’s great when you can move up in the world without moving.” It looks like his entire career has been at the Gazette, starting with a summer internship there in college. “Bookmark this and search Armistead.” The next search is a little harder. He Googles ‘Professor Armistead Harvard’ and nothing. This is strange since at the library a snippet of Hannagan’s article came up and that should have mentioned Armistead. Dominik tries Harvard’s faculty directory next. Search Armistead… Nothing pops up. Dominik assumes that Armistead was older back in 1987 and probably retired before the social media age. His profile was probably never created. He goes back to the same search he did at the library and the article snippet comes up. He clicks on it and registers for an account with the Salem Gazette. It takes a while, a few minutes, and Dominik is already annoyed but driven by purpose. Now the credit card… now the verification email… “Great! I’m in.” As soon as his account is activated he goes back to the article snippet, clicks on “read more”, signs in and…
This article has been removed from the Gazette electronic archives. We are sorry for the inconvenience. For more information please contact us by mail at…
“Argh, what the fuck. They not only removed it but they want a written request for it?” Dominik searches the sight for a minute and finds a phone number for the Gazette. He takes out his cell phone and dials it. After a couple rings a person answers.
“Good afternoon, Salem Gazette. This is Susan how may I direct your call?”
“Yes, hello. May I speak to Mr. Hannagan, the editor in chief?”
“I’m sorry but Mr. Hannagan doesn’t take unsolicited direct calls as he’s very busy. But I could route you to someone who can help if you let me know what you’re calling about.”
“Sure. Ah, I wanted to read an old article online but it’s been removed. I have a subscription but it doesn’t seem to let me access the article.”
“Well I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I can have you speak to someone in our online archives department, just a moment.”
“Thanks.”
Waiting…
Waiting…
Dominik whispers to himself, “At least there’s no elevator music.”
Waiting…
“Hello this is Steve.”
“Hi, Steve this is Dominik. I’m calling because I was trying to access an article online and it isn’t there. Susan forwarded the call to you for help.”
“Alright, sorry about that. What article are you looking for, do you have any information that could help locate it?”
“Yes, there is actually a snippet on your site but the link is broken I guess. It’s a 1987 article written by Mr. Hannagan about the Jimmy Sullivan case, the book store.”
Before Dominik can finish the line disconnects. “Fucker, did he just hang up on me?” Not sure what to do next Dominik calls again and gets Susan.
“Good afternoon, Salem Gazette. This is Susan how may I direct your call?”
“Steve, in the online archive department.”
“Sure, just a minute while I connect you.”
Waiting…
“Hello, Steve.”
“Yeah, hey this is Dominik. I think we got …”
Before he can finish the line disconnects. “I guess Steve doesn’t like his job. Must be the east coast attitude I keep hearing about.” Dominik is a little put out by that experience but figures he can get to Hannagan if he keeps trying. He looks at the Linkedin profile again and looks at his interests and work experience. It says under “Causes you care about:”, Journalism, Education Outreach, Abuse Victim Recovery, Cancer Research…
“Okay, Journalism and Education Outreach. I’m trying to get an education and I like writing stuff soooo…, how can I get him to talk to me?” Dominik searches the Harvard site again and finds a list of colloquia and lectures open to the public. Under the Journalism department site Hannagan is listed as a regular speaker.
“Alright so all I have to do is go to Boston to see one of his talks. I don’t want to go to Boston. I don’t like Boston, though I’ve never been. I wonder if Princeton is any good. People in New Jersey can’t be as bad as those dicks in Boston Mass.”
He searches a little more and, “Jackpot! An online course taught by Adjunct Lecturer J. R. Hannagan of the Salem Gazette. J. R. like Ewing from Dallas, Larry Hagman, I dream of Jeannie, Barbara Eden is so hot.” Dominik sometimes has a wild burst of not so free association like this, a sign of ADHD. “Who’d ‘ev thunk, Harvard following the Phoenix learning model. Love technology.”
Dominik feels a sense of accomplishment and decides to take a break. He goes to make espresso but notices that the wound on his hand is starting to itch and burn. He can’t help but scratch it a little. One scratch turns into an obsessive tendency to rub it against his jeans. “Wow that really burns.” He puts ice on it and goes to the bathroom to look for some ointment. He’s looking for anything, Calamine lotion, anything for insect bites, when he comes across the oxy for his knee. Suddenly he feels his knee ache. Interesting how he had no real recollection that his knee was injured until he saw the oxy. He doesn’t even question it, the fact that the oxy made his knee hurt rather than an aching knee making him look for the oxy. He starts rationalizing to himself. “If I went to the ER for this they’d give me a pain killer so I’m just doing what the doctor would tell me to do.” He grabs the oxy and goes back to the kitchen. There he makes his espresso and looks for food in the fridge. He just realized that it’s been more than a day, almost two, since he’s eaten. Dominik doesn’t eat or sleep on a regular schedule, he never has. There’s nothing edible in the fridge but then he finds a box of Gorilla Munch cereal on a high shelf. With his feast he goes back to the table and sits down. “Cereal, espresso and oxy, ah the breakfast of champions.”
First the espresso, then a hand full of cereal. Now for the main course, two oxy. He pops them in the back of his throat and swallows. They go down without a problem. It’s almost 5:00pm and Dominik starts to think about Decapitated. They’ll be an opening act at 7:00pm, it’s about a half hour to get there, give or take, and he wants to meet up with everyone a little early to hang out. So he takes a quick shower, gets dressed and heads out, calling his friends on the way.
“Hey, Sanjay. It’s Dominik. You guys heading over to the Aragon?”
“Yeah, but it’s a little early. We’ll probably get there a little after 6:00. What are you gonna’ do until then?”
“Don’t know. Maybe get some food. I haven’t decided.”
“Cool, we’ll meet you there. I’ll call.”
Dominik hangs up and catches the bus. It’s about the end of a typical Yuppie day, when all the suits rush home to eat dinner, watch TV and think about tomorrow. Dominik puts on his head phones and listens to Death Metal as the bus moves along. The oxy has kicked in but he can still fell the hand burn like hell and there’s a small rash forming around the bite. He gets to the neighborhood near the Aragon, and looks around. He’s not in the mood to deal with yuppies and hipsters. After some searching he finds a dive and goes in, walks up to the bar and removes his headphones. The sounds of death metal can be heard from several feet away.
Dominik talks to the bartender. “Can I get a Guinness? And do you have food?”
The bartender tosses a handwritten one sheet menu down the bar then pours a Guinness from the tap. The bar is not a popular hangout, mostly working class folks and a few old guys who look like they’ve been coming there since the 70s.
“Here you go, Guinness. You want anything?”
“Yeah a basket of fries. Thanks.”
Dominik puts his earbuds back in, leans on the bar, and starts sucking down the Guinness. He likes Guinness and espresso and if he could, he’d live off them. After a while his fries arrive and Dominik removes the buds.
“Thanks. Hey can I get another?” Holding up his empty pint glass.
“Yep.” The bartender pours another while Dominik taps his hands on the bar to the rhythm of music coming from his buds. The bartender approaches Dominik with the Guinness and an annoyed look on his face.
Dominik senses this and stops tapping, “Sorry. Thanks for the Guinness. I’m just waiting to go to the Aragon and few.”
“Don’t thank me. It ain’t free.” The bartender says as he sets the pint down.
Dominik smiles and nods. “Right. I know.” He puts the buds back in and eats his fries at record pace, sucking back Guinness in large gulps. He checks his phone to see if Sanjay called, nothing. Then he removes the buds again and calls to the bartender.
“Hey, I gotta’ go, what do I owe you?”
“Two Guinness and fries, twelve bucks.”
“Awesome. Great fries man. What’s in the fryer?” Dominik gets his wallet out and gives the bartender fifteen. “No change.”
“Thanks. And you don’t wanna know.”
Dominik leaves and heads on down to the Aragon. He can see a line starting to form outside. It’s about time to let people in so he gets in line and waits for a while. It’s noticeably warmer today compared to yesterday night, clear too with no sign of freezing rain. It’s actually warmer than this morning which Dominik finds strange. Just yesterday he was thinking of getting a winter coat and now he feels overdressed. After a few minutes his friends recognize him.
“Hey! Dom! Over here.”
“Sanjay!” They are a little ways back in line so Dom decides to leave his place and join them.
“Hey you got a ticket?”
“Yeah no problem. Like you said, probably not sold out.”
“We probably won’t be in the same place but we can meet up between sets and after, go hang out. Hey, uh, do you have any oxy.”
“Nope. I said I wouldn’t do that man.”
“Fine. I can get something.”
Dominik starts shivering a little.
“You cold? It’s crazy hot out for October.”
“No. I don’t know, I had a few beers just now and I’m a little buzzed.”
“Cool. Where at?”
“Down the street there’s a little hole in the wall. Guinness and fries. Great fries man. Only twelve bucks. That would be like twenty and some trendy place.”
The line starts to move and people in the crowd start going wild as they move faster and faster towards the door. Dominik takes out his phone and pulls his ticket up from his email. He goes up next right after Sanjay and gets his phone scanned. “Technology. Gotta’ love it.” And he’s in.
“You know Sanjay, I miss paper tickets. I like the stubs, you know. My dad used to show me all these ticket stubs from when he used to go see Rush, U2, you know.”
“Who listens to that crap?” Sanjay and Dominik laugh.
The room is packed and charged with energy. Dominik finds his seat and as it turns out Sanjay and the rest of his friends are not too far away. They can see each other through the crowd. The excitement grows in Dominik and he doesn’t think of his hand. The lights go out and the crowd roars. A man walks up to the mic and begins to speak.
“Hey Chicago!!!!!” Everyone cheers. “Are you ready for fucking awesome death metal all the way from Poland!!!!!?” The crowd roars so loud the walls shake. “We have, for you tonight one the great death metal bands, but you know that, you bought the tickets. Decapitated!!!!!!” Again roaring like you’ve never heard. “But first welcome our neighbors from Baltimore Maryland, Ladies and Gentlemen! DYING FETUS!!!!!”
The lights blast on and the stage screams with music as the band starts to play Dominik’s favorite song, Second Skin. Dominik stands quietly in the crown smiling, he doesn’t express emotion like most people. When he’s happy he stands still and just smiles. While everyone else bounces around like they’re on fire Dominik is like a statue. This is a special treat, the opening band was not advertised and Dying Fetus is one of Dominik’s favorite bands. The blast of lights dim slowly and once again it’s midnight inside.
The music goes on, everyone’s adrenaline is pumping. The band is on their third song when Dominik is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. His body wretches. He doubles over in pain and starts to think “what could this be?” Not oxy, he’s never had a reaction. Oxy and Guinness? No. His left brain is running wild trying to think of scenarios that could have caused this. He feels people bumping into him, into his head, and this makes him more disoriented and nauseous. “Food poisoning, the fries?” Just as he thinks this he is thrown back by the crowd and vomits profusely everywhere. He’s already half unconscious when a large, bald, tattooed man turns to face him and punches him straight in the face. “You fucking shit head! You puked on me!” Dominik falls backwards.
“Sorry.” Dominik whispers to himself in his mind. He drifts in and out of consciousness. He feels feet trampling his body. He sees Sanjay over him, trying to get his attention. After being out for a while he wakes to see paramedics working over him, he feels the bumps in the road as the ambulance drives. Then, he’s in the ER. He sees someone over him trying to talk to him but he can’t answer. Slowly, he starts to regain the ability to talk, to move. He hears a question, “What have you taken? Any drugs?”
“Two oxy for my knee, two beers later.”
“That wouldn’t do it. Do you know if he had anything else?” The doctor asks someone. Dominik turns and sees Sanjay and Tom standing by the bed.
“No, nothing I swear.”
Dominik hits the doctor with his hand, lifts his hand to expose the rash and says “Spider. Brown. Quarter.” Then passes out.