Free The Canal by Daniel Morris Page A

was
something...something above him. On the ceiling, a stain, spreading
like a jellyfish, a billowing skirt with stingers and poison. There
it was on the walls. And on the carpet, a trail of it leading to
the back door.
    Oh thank God. Now he remembered. Thank God,
it was only blood.
    Zzzzzerttt...
    Now he remembered. Wanting to rest. Taking a
nap to let the dizziness pass. But it had been morning then and it
was morning now, the day still early, still ungrown. Was today,
tomorrow? Had he lost an entire day?
    His strength, it was still...erstwhile. It
waved to him from the back seat of a cross-country bus, shrinking
in the distance. And what remained, what remained was barely
anything at all. Even his sweat had a finality to it -- a tar,
yellow and tacky, almost an amber. Some deep substance. His soul,
maybe? Finally escaping in physical form? Could the soul be a
juice? Or a dew, even? He hoped so. And Paul didn't mind it getting
wiped on the couch. He figured he'd be better without it, he'd be
lighter, able to make more moves.
    Zzzzerttt... And that sound. Now it made
sense. It was the doorbell.
    The doorbell. The doorbell urged him onto his
feet. He may have felt broken, wasted, but Paul could still think.
He could still plot. And New Paul sensed an opportunity worth
getting up for, worth hurting for. Something that couldn't be
missed.
    Zzzer-- Paul opened the door just wide enough
to let his head creep out. He blinked. A caller.
    "Morning, sir." A man on Paul's doorstep. He
was holding something for Paul to examine. Perhaps this was
important, although Paul needed time to be sure. Wait, don't put it
away, not yet... Stop. What did he say? The man was tall. He was as
big as, as...could feed a family. Yes, an opportunity indeed.
    "I'm with the police."
    Now that, that did it. That brought the old
Paul around. Here he comes -- couldn't pass this up, could he. The
p-p-police, whined Old Paul. Did you hear?
    "The neighborhood..." said the policeman.
"Last night. Can I ask your name? Yesterday... Anything of note?"
Anything strange. Strangers. Catch your eye. The canal. Suspicion.
Noises. Voices. Missing persons. Everything okay? What was he
saying?
    The police, hissed Old.
    Shut up, thought New Paul. I'm trying to
listen! And he was, but the policeman's words were escaping in a
thousand different directions, losing themselves down the corridors
of Paul's ears. And if Paul did manage to grab hold of one, a
victorious verb or noun, well by that time the man was already
moving on, onto new questions and new confusions.
    Time of day. Yesterday. Whereabouts. Been
upriver? Do you like the water? Name please. My name is New Paul.
You haven't heard? Murdered. Seen it on the TV? Scared by anything
at night? Loners. Motors. Where were you? Anyone else home? Just
you? Just us. Name, please.
    "My name is New Paul."
    "Paul, huh?" The policeman leaned back on his
heels. "I have an uncle named Paul." He clicked his pen and tucked
it in his pocket, then folded his notebook shut.
    Paul had to say something, he had to save
this opportunity -- there was dinner to consider.
    "Arrryewwuhhhlownn..." The words came out all
stuck together, a verbal smear. Are you alone. New Paul scolded
himself -- he couldn't even speak properly. Now his body chooses to
quit? Not all those years ago when he'd actually wanted it, but
now, just when he needs to keep going, to keep feeding.
    "I think I missed that."
    Paul tried to repeat it, but the breath
wasn't coming, the lips weren't moving...he couldn't, he just
couldn't manage it. Even if he could say the words, he couldn't do
what would need to come after. Not now, not in this state -- he was
just a husk, every heartbeat ending in a cliffhanger. He couldn't
accomplish the job. Not like he'd done with the last gentlemen who
came to his door.
    The police, wailed Old. You're in
trouble...
    The man handed him something. Paper. Stiff
and small. Then, "Think of anything, you can call me." He looked at
Paul, a long time