The Third Entry

By J. Jupes and Coates Walker

Book Two of J. Jupes' speculative horror series, The Civil Service Trilogy, follows Nelson, a veteran Operator with the Department of Housing, as he attempts to understand the nature of his job as well as the predicament in which the last structure has placed him. The entities within, this time, have created something unfamiliar and immensely disturbing.

With cover design and Illustrations by Coates Walker, the premier collagist of conspiracy in our age.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hekate Publishing
• Release date: Sep 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781912017928

Book preview

SIX

THE THIRD ENTRY

By J. Jupes

Cover Image by Coates Walker

All Images by Coates Walker, used with artist’s permission

Copyright © 2019 Anthony Knott

All Rights Reserved

Orphan Paper First Edition, 2019

ISBN for EBook: 978-1-912017-92-8

Orphan Paper

An Imprint of Hekate Publishing

Hekate Publishing USA

73 John Drive

Upstairs

Farmingville, NY 11738

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www.hekatepublishing.com

Parts of this publication MAY be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise if you simply let the publisher know.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, or business institutions is purely coincidental.

ONE

Emily appeared to him as a round door knob, made of brass, not unattractive, but with slight tarnish. The marring puzzled Nelson. That, and the fact her face was longer than it should have been, eyelids unfurling downward like two Venetian blinds. Impressions were Nelson’s bread and butter. He had come to trust his. Emily asked another question.

How do the houses look the same? They look sad, sad and quiet, Nelson said. All the gutters have fallen. The pigeon shit caking the exteriors is thick, like old paint. It peels like old paint. Most people don’t know pigeon shit peels.

Emily shifted her bottom across the wooden chair then asked two more questions in a row.

No, it peels. Why would I make that up? And yes, I suppose I do repeat things. That’s how I talk.

Emily’s persistence was familiar to Nelson. He held up one of his hands.

Could you allow me time to answer your questions. You ask them too fast, like a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts.

She said something.

I don’t know. That made sense to me, how a squirrel might sound . . .

Nelson pointed to one of his cheeks.

. . . with nuts.

He felt comfortable enough with Emily and wondered if that had been purposeful, Administration sending an oddly shaped woman to ask him questions without a notebook or a pen to record the answers. She perched on one of the high wooden stools beside the kitchen counter and fidgeted, continuing to move her bottom around the seat every few minutes, crossing and recrossing her legs. Emily wore a skirt and kept pulling it down over her knees. Her legs were long, her ankles thick, details Nelson wouldn’t normally give much attention.

Perhaps it’s not my place to say, Emily, but I would practice slowing down your metabolism. All of us do it. Takes time to learn but in the long run, very beneficial.

Nelson wasn’t sure why he was giving the woman advice.

Your persistence is reassuring though, I will say that.

She stared. He added,

You’re behaving like all Administrative personnel behave. Not exactly the same but close.

Emily remained still as if expecting him to say something else. He did.

Over the years I wondered if my supervisors were all taking the piss and that my exit interviews were bogus. Do you know if that’s true? Are all exit interviews bogus?

Emily didn’t speak.

Of course you can’t say but how unnerving would that be, right? If what an Operator states in their report doesn’t matter, after all the shit we go through?

Emily remained still.

Nelson pointed at her.

That’s half a joke.

She recrossed her legs, tugged the skirt down over her topmost knee but not covering it completely. Nelson wondered if that had been deliberate, her allowing a portion of the knee to show. Emily wore a white slip underneath the skirt and Nelson wondered about that too; then wondered if he thought too much about what was deliberate or not. As well as formulating impressions, wondering had not been an insignificant part of his job as a Housing operator.

I didn’t think you’d answer that one. We work for the same company, don’t we?

The woman remained silent. Nelson pointed at her.

Joke. That was a full joke.

Emily’s mouth moved to one side then returned to center. He went on.

What I was going to say, the buildings all have the same property-condemned notices stapled to their back doors. All these signs are torn and streaked with black mold, the same black mold you see all over the city. And whoever put the notices up used too many staples, whenever that was, twenty years ago, or so. They might have been told to do it that way.

She asked a question.

No. I don’t know why they would have been told to use too many staples.

She asked another question.

I assume Housing put up the notices. Whoever did used thirty staples when five would have done. My point is, every Operator uses the back door as an entry point so every Operator passes these signs. The black mold makes distinct patterns.

She shifted again but did not uncross her legs. An inch of skirt fell to one side. Emily asked Nelson what he meant by that.

Each property’s condemned notice differs from the previous or from the