The House With No Clocks

Leo brushed the snot from the brim of his lip.  He had just gotten up from his nap in the park, where he dreamed that he was living in a dark, lonely house with mismatched furniture.  It was Christmas time in his dream, and underneath an artificial tree caked with fake snow was his gift, a set of luggage.  Something in the street woke him up before he could touch his gift.  He believed the dream meant that he was going somewhere, that his life would change.  He always believed that.

The grimy, grizzled street denizen who not long ago was fit, handsome and financially getting by had only had another mile or so of walking to go before he would reach the soup kitchen on Washington Street, but he wasn’t sure he could make it this time.  The unfiltered sun compounded his misery, making a spring day feel like the dead of summer.  His neck felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.  The sack of everything he had left was heavy on his shoulder.

Many people have told Leo Franklin that the best way to get through this low point in his life was through prayer, but Leo never prayed much, and when he did it was always out of a dutiful “when-in-Rome” respect.  Leo believed in God, but he also believed in Gambling and that old, misinterpreted axiom, “Money isn’t everything.”  Every dollar he had earned and saved in his thirty-seven years was now circulating in Vegas, Laughlin and a couple of Indian reservations.  He never conquered his compulsion.  Leo lived too much in fear of missing “the big one” to realize that money is everything, and now he was almost nothing. 

He was only able to make it as far as a bus stop on 7th Avenue when he cried out in pain.  His legs were cramping up from lack of hydration.  He sat on the shaded bench and gave his calf muscles a massage which did little good.  He couldn’t walk, but he had to; he would miss a meal otherwise.  For now he would have to rest and order his empty stomach not to think about dinner for awhile.  Besides, he wanted to dream again. 

A bright red pickup truck pulled out of traffic into the bus lane where Leo was sitting.  The driver, a thin, college-aged man with spiky, red hair almost as bright as the truck, quickly got out and opened up a cooler secured to the truck bed by bungee cord, reached in and pulled out a bottle of water from the melting collection of ice.  “Here you go, man,” he said, offering the bottle to Leo.

Leo felt a twinge of pain as he twisted the bottle cap in his calloused fingers.  He drank vigorously, without stopping to enjoy the refreshment.  He was too tired, too famished, and too desperate to enjoy it, or to say thanks.

“You want another one?” asked the red-haired man when he was finished.  He looked like a leprechaun that ditched his regular wardrobe for a dress shirt and tie.  His nose was turned upward and his pupils were the color of Heineken bottles. 

“Yeah, sure,” Leo mumbled, and the odd-looking man reached back into the cooler for another bottle.

“You looked like you were having a hard time out here.  Do you need a ride?”

Leo finally acknowledged the kind stranger.  “Can you get me to Blessed Heart?”

“Sure!  No problem at all!  C’mon, I’ll help you!”

He handed Leo the second bottle, draped his arm over his shoulders and limped him to the passenger side of the truck, which was still running in the bus lane.  Leo pulled himself in and basked in the cool, pine-smelling air.  With his clothes speckled with various unknown stains and smelling like a wet piece of steel, he almost felt apologetic for sitting in the immaculate cabin.  It had been a while since he saw the inside of a vehicle as clean as this.

The red-haired man settled behind the wheel and started out into traffic.  “My name’s Elric.  What’s yours?”

“I’m Leo.  Thanks for the water.”  He closed his eyes.

“Don’t mention it.  I help folks like you every day.  How long you been down on your luck?”

Leo had to think about that one.  When was the last time he saw his wife and kids?  When did the tow trucks and the moving vans come to his house?  When did the urge to play blackjack become more important than eating?  “About a year-and-a-half, I think,” he answered.

Elric shook his head.  “What a shame.  It happens so fast, doesn’t it?  Everything’s running like clockwork, you’re living the American Dream, and then poof!  All gone.  What was it?  Drugs…drinking?”

“Nah, nothing like that.  I just lost some money, that’s all.”

“Oh, a gambler, then.”

Leo turned to stare at the neatly-dressed man at the wheel.  He wasn’t big enough to be a bookie’s goon, and too young to work for the I.R.S.  “Who wants to know?” he asked.

“I’m just making conversation!”  There was a cunning innocence in Elric’s grin.  “Nothing to be ashamed of, really.  You’re just a guy who takes high risks in search of a high reward.  Those are the most successful people in life.  You’ll find your breaks, no doubt you will!”

Leo noticed they had driven well beyond his intended destination and were headed to the freeway.  “Hey, I think you missed…”

“Don’t worry about that.  I have a homeless shelter of my own.”

“Mister, I really have to eat right now!”

“You’ll get plenty to eat, I promise.”

An odd feeling crept over Leo, one that cast a shadow over his trust of the man driving the truck.  “Look, you can drop me off here…”

“Nonsense!  My shelter has so much more to offer than that lousy place.  Let me ask you something.  If I were to give you one hundred dollars, how would you spend it?”

He said nothing, contemplating that last statement with disbelief.  A stranger in a sparkling new truck was about to give him money without being begged, and not just a quarter or a worn-out dollar bill, but a hundred bucks?  It didn’t seem possible.

“Think about it,” said Elric.  “One hundred dollars.  That’s probably more money than you’ve had in a while, isn’t it?”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

Elric laughed with a kind of boisterousness that felt almost staged.  “I assure you, I am not ‘shitting’ you, Leo.  Here’s the deal.  I’m going to give you a hundred dollars to take a look at my place.  No catch, no fine print…just walk through the front door and the money’s all yours.  Does that sound good to you?”

It did sound good to Leo.  He had only utilized a couple of homeless shelters and was offered nothing more than food, used clothes, job placement counseling and prayer.  Here was something he could really use!  His mind raced.  If he cleaned himself up enough to be let into Fort McDowell, all he needed was a few minutes at the blackjack tables and he’d be on his feet again.  No, even better than that…what about a hundred Powerball tickets? 

Still, Leo was a smart man.  “What’s inside this place you got?”

Elric took a breath in search of the right word.  “Fulfillment.  A chance to live out your heart’s desire, for a nominal price.”

Leo wasn’t sure what that meant, and didn’t really care.  Maybe he’d do the scratchers instead of the Powerball tickets; they pay out more.  “Well,” he pondered, “for a hundred bucks, it sounds pretty easy.”

Elric glanced at him with an affable, worldly-wise smile.  “Easy, indeed!  I’d say it’s the easiest decision you’ll ever make!”

They drove for another twenty minutes then exited onto a lonely, uneven street surrounded by farmland and small horse ranches, arriving a couple of miles later to a circular, solitary, single-level grey structure (it could have been black if not for years of weathering).  The enormous wooden building was surrounded by a barren yard for twenty yards around it, as if the grass knew where not to grow.  It had no mailbox, no numbers for an address…from all appearances, the oversized, windowless hut was unadorned by anything except a dozen or so crows serving as living gargoyles on the roof.

Leo’s eyes widened as they approached.  To him, it resembled one of those haunted houses he used to read about in comic books as a kid.  At first the deal seemed pretty reasonable: walk through the front door, get a hundred bucks.  Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I know,” said Elric as the truck pulled to a stop in the driveway.  “It looks a little run down, doesn’t it?  Well, I can assure you, there’s no reason to feel intimidated.  Once you’re inside, you won’t even remember the outside.”  He reached a hand into the pocket of his neatly-pressed pants.  “And I gave you my word I would make it worth your while didn’t I?”

He pulled out a sizeable wad of bills from which he took a fresh C-note from the top.  Smiling, he handed it to Leo, who accepted it with trembling hands amid thoughts of making a run for it.  He turned the money over in his hands and held it up to the light to check the watermark.  It was real.  He changed his mind about running, mainly because he was miles from town anyway, but also because if he did, the funny-looking guy would probably want his money back.  He’d had enough of creditors, legitimate and questionable, chasing him around for money.  Besides, what could possibly be in that house that was so dangerous?

“The front door is right there,” said Elric.  “You go on ahead.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Leo stuffed the money in his pocket.  “Okay.  Thanks.”

“No, thank you!” Elric replied with a warm, mischievous smile.

Leo got out and walked up to the door of the old, weather-beaten place.  One of the crows turned to look at him and cawed.  It’s alright, he thought, it’s just a house.

He was close enough to hear the sounds from inside, and he stopped.  His jaw went slack and his heart briefly forgot to beat.  The noises, familiar noises, put him in a state of disbelief.  He turned to look for the red-haired man, but he was gone.  The hairs on his arm bristled as he stood at the door listening…

…listening to the faint electronic tones that beckoned him, the unmistakable harmonies of slot machines…

It couldn’t be possible.  He twisted the egg-shaped doorknob and walked inside.

Standing in the room, he felt the sounds surrounding him, filling him with lust and adrenaline.  The swirling, four-chord symphonies brought him back to that place in his mind when it wasn’t so bad, when it was only the grocery money, before his life was ruined.  His eyes glazed over in amazement.  He started to chuckle.  The door behind him closed by itself, locked, then disappeared, but Leo was too enraptured to notice.

The casino was beautiful and noisy, stacked with row after row of slot machines of every denomination and brand.  It was bustling, but not crowded.  There were plenty of empty seats for whatever action he desired, and the persistent clanking of coins in metal trays meant that the machines were paying out with regularity.

Leo kept waiting for the security guards to come and hustle him out of the place, but none would come.  He noticed some of the clientele were dressed similarly to him, or worse in some cases.  He felt like he belonged. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the precious 100-dollar bill.  It was time to get lucky.

Strolling with childlike excitement with his head on a swivel, he went in search of the cheapest blackjack tables in the house, and had difficulty finding them.  He felt a strong urge to take a piss, but saw no signs directing him to a men’s room.  He turned and looked behind him.  The smile drained from his face as his excitement twisted into confusion.

The room looked as though it had expanded by about five hundred square feet.  There were more machines and more patrons in the sudden space.  He couldn’t have been walking that long.

He dragged the knuckles of his thumbs across his eyelids and blamed the heat.  Regaining his mental balance, he continued wandering looking for a waitress or some kind of attendant.

A sad-looking elderly woman was tapping the buttons on a Deuces Wild video poker machine, staring into the monitor as though it were a dead relative in a casket.  “Excuse me,” Leo said to her, “do you know where the restrooms are?”

The woman never looked up from her game.  “I don’t know,” she replied, unbothered but spiritless. 

Leo was growing frustrated and was unmoved by the old woman’s demeanor.  “Jesus,” he muttered, “you’d think they could at least…”

Before he could finish, the sad woman hit a royal flush of diamonds.  The machine roared its congratulations with a loud school-bell alarm.  The number on the credit meter swelled to incredible proportions.  “Wow!  Nice shot!” Leo shouted, laying his hand on her shoulder.  “Congratulations, lady!  How much is that worth?”

The lines on the woman’s face seemed to grow deeper, and her left eye blinked out a single, lonely tear.  She seemed exhausted.  Leo was gripped by confusion again.

She looked back at him with eyes so red they looked diseased.  “I have to keep playing,” she sobbed.  “None of this is worth anything.  I have to keep playing.”

Leo shuddered and backed away from the woman, who patiently waited for the alarm to stop so she could continue.  Leo looked around again.  The room was now even larger, feeling like an electric forest.  The walls were gone.

Leo ran, dizzy and helpless through the endless rows of slots.  The blackjack tables, wherever they were, would have to wait.  For now, his only desire was to find a way out.  He pleaded for help from the weary gamblers around him, who either ignored him or looked back at him with an all-consuming sorrow.  Some of them didn’t move at all.  Leo didn’t want to think that they might be dead, or that any of this was real, or that he was trapped.

He stopped somewhere in the midst of this infinite landscape to gather his breath and his thoughts.  The beeps, dings and dongs that sounded so pleasant before were now the discordant soundtrack of his living nightmare.  He put his hands to his ears to shut it all out.  He felt a hand on his shoulder that startled him to turn around.

“Leo!”

It was Elric, smiling broadly and dressed in a black suit.  “So glad I caught up with you.  I hope you can forgive me for being such an ungracious host!”  The spiky, red hair didn’t look like hair anymore; it more resembled steel barbs covered in blood.  “Have any luck so far?”

Leo stared at him in horror.  “Where am I?”

Elric reacted with his strange laughter again.  “You know, I get asked that a lot, and I always give the same answer.  Where you are is exactly where you belong.”

“I want to get out of here.  Where’s the door?”

“Sorry,” he replied, shaking his head in mock regret. 

Leo reached in his pocket and pulled out the hundred-dollar bill.  “Look, I’ll give you your money back, just let me out of here!  Please!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!  That’s yours!  It’s always been yours.  Besides, it’ll come back to me eventually.”  He laughed again.

Leo stared out into the vastness.  It was far larger than the place he thought he was walking into.  It looked like a mirror reflecting a mirror—it had no end.  Dread consumed and digested him.

Elric pointed to an unoccupied Red, White & Blue machine.  “Go ahead, have a seat.  It’s much more fun if you participate.”

Leo was now starting to understand that the precious commodity he called “choice” was left outside with the sunlight.  He sat at the machine and loaded the bill into the feeder.

The credits on the meter counted upward…a hundred, four hundred, two thousand…greater than the denomination.  Leo became more numb the higher the number rose.  At 2500, he didn’t feel like urinating anymore.  5000, no longer hungry.  6000, every little ache and pain went away.  7000, no more will to live.  When it finally stopped at 8742, his soul was drained.

He turned his sad, reddened eyes to Elrich, but he was already walking away.

He pushed the “Max Credits” button, and the wheels spun.  Red 7, White 7, Blue 7.  He hit the jackpot on his first spin.

But it didn’t matter.  He had to keep playing.

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