2. Marmalade does not always work. So forget it.

I heard you like facts. Heard that someone thinks me a fraud. Well, here’s the proof. The picture. See that? That’s a real photo. Those who read my first story, you know what it is. I also tell you, that my home, and marketplace, the City. All true. Real places. You can visit them if you ever come over. And this writer L. E Gray she’s been to those places. She’s seen things. Seen Lily. 

Now you tell me, you want my advice or not? Because what I’m going to tell you next…you won’t believe it, anyway.

“Marmalade does not work! I repeat, marmalade does not work!” That was the sentence I kept repeating as I was driving to Badger Lane 14. This was the day when I met Hazell. Without me knowing anything about Hazell. I had just been nearly burned alive in the elevator. You heard me right. In the elevator. You interested? Let’s start from the beginning.

Things had calmed down in 2 weeks after my first encounter with Lily and the Imps. That’s what they are called. Imps. Little bastard devils with slimy green skin and knobby joints. We weren’t friends yet then with Lily, even though she had decided otherwise and Badger Lane 14 would later go under the bigger renovation and the old granny up floor would talk to the house management government and I would become their go-to janitor, and Lily would always be there for me. But that’s a couple of months away from what happened now.

The day was one of those super hot summer days that you get before it turns out to be actually a cold summer and I had a bad morning with bad coffee, bad leg and bad car trouble. And then I got the call from Maude, just when I was elbows deep in my truck engine and it almost added to be a bad cellphone day before I managed to push the speaker button with my greasy fingers.

“Yea?” I grunted, probably sounding like Bogie because Maude drawled.

“Whose the girl?” And in my ears, she sounded just like that Bogies girl from To Have and Have Not movie. Me and Maude, we like old movies, old series. It’s our thing, it was our thing back in the day when we were a thing. And just as you know, we are not a thing anymore.

“Ginger has hiccups” I answer. She knows I call my truck after Ginger Rogers. Sometimes. Not all the time.

“Well, I am not going to sugar-coat you then. That nice old lady from Badger Lane 14 called again,” she says all in business-like.

“I wouldn’t call her nice,” I say grumpily. While Charlie had gotten milk and cookie treatment, I had gotten cold shoulder.

Maude’s laughter burst through the line “She will grow to like you.”

No, she really did not need to grow or root on anything in me, but I did not say it out loud. Instead, I asked, “What else?” Maude would not call just for a small matter like that and I would deal with the old granny in time.

“I have a job for you on a Lemmings Slope 2.”

“Can’t they name anything proper anymore” I rumble to the phone as I squeeze my big hand between Ginger’s plugs.

This time Maude does Scarlet O’Hara “Now don’t you get old on me” which actually gets a laugh from me. She continues, “It’s a new building and there is some kind of localised heating problem.”

“Can’t they ask Charlie” I don’t much like new buildings. It’s a new tech and new does not mix with the old aka me. 

“Already called him. He told me to get you and don’t worry, you are not alone, there's someone waiting for you in the scene”

I would have let out a sigh, but I am a big boy and can handle hard jobs, so I say. 

“On my way,” sounding just like Captain Kirk, except Kirk could handle anything. He has a freaking spaceship.

That gets a cheerful burst of laughter and muffled “Good luck” from the other end just a second before she ends the call and before I have time to ask where I need it.

So there was someone to meet me, like Maude had said. A maintenance guy. No, a boy. I mean, this kid barely was 18. I kid you not. With crisp white overalls, he stood with a tablet in his hands, waiting. The logo on his chest says; what must go up, must come down. Not a sense of humour I like as I realise what he must be maintaining. Elevators. This explains Maude’s laughter and good luck.

So on top of having a bad morning, bad coffee, bad leg, bad car trouble, it was just going to be a bad day in all.

I parked my coughing truck and opened the door, stepped outside and reached into the passenger side to take my tools. I let the folded wide leather belt hang on my hand when I banged my trusty steed’s door closed. And no there was no peep or flashing sounds. When it is shut, it is shut.

“Hi, I am Scott” The boy offers his hand very manly-like and then adds. “Wow, you must be one of those guys”, when my still somewhat greasy hand squeezes his and I tell my name. The contrast between us was plain. Meet the past, this is the future.

“What guys?”

“Old school,” he says and points toward my dad’s heavy tools. 

“Oh, yes” I let out an embarrassed laugh. “That’s me. What’s the problem?” 

We walk into the building while the boy tapped something on the tablet and then showed it to me. Mostly what I could see, it’s full of red bars.

I scratched my chin. “Red is bad?"

“Very bad” Scott sounded awed and poked the screen. “See, all is controlled and monitored. These new models send us info and we know what to do. Except now,” He adds and looks at me.

“So, what you want me to do, then?” I ask. Kick it? Bang on its side? Because that is what we old-school ones mostly do. But I did not say that. I have my bad humour and not everyone can understand that.

The boy stares at me. “Uhm… maybe take a ride with it. See if something perks up?” It came out more like a question and I really don’t like it. 

Now, you know I do not take elevator rides. Maude knows. Charlie knows. Half of the world knows, except this boy. Not in a million years when the world freezes over I would take an elevator ride. And the last one did not actually go well. I had not yet decided if it had happened at all, anyway. So, hoping to wiggle myself out of this, I say “I’m not sure it would be the best thing. Why won’t you go?”

“I did… and all was great.” Scott looks baffled. 

“What do you mean, great? No red things on the tablet? Maybe it’s just the..." I whirl my finger on top of the tablet screen. An…error?”

“You mean a glitch?”

“Yeah, that thing. Why not just go with that?”

This time, the boy actually fidgeted. “If I do and then something happens, I get the blame.”

Ooh.. Yes, I know that I am not stupid. Just why it needs to be me? My mind goes while the boy continues.

“Don’t worry, I have headgear. We will be talking all the way. I will monitor the numbers and it will be perfectly safe”

I see so many holes in the boy’s logic as he pushes my hand a small walkie-talkie-looking thing with an ear plug that alarmingly resembles just what they used in Jurassic Park when they went to turn the power on.

“Can’t we just use our phones?” I ask because I don’t want to jinx things with things that look like things that people wore when they got eaten by things. Even if it is in the movies.

Boy shakes his head. “These new buildings can interfere with the phone signals. It’s the windows.”

Okay, my brain just screamed RED ALERT so loud and I am not even wearing red, but sure feels like it.

I put my headgear on and do the test with “one, two, three” - talk with Scott when the elevator door opens and the warm air pushes out. I step in. It is quite nice if you like metal boxes. Now, here is the thing. You can’t suffocate in these, but this one has a nice window added to its back wall. Through it I see a nice glass tile vanishing and climbing up on a chute's outside wall, probably going all the way up on the side of a building and maybe hoping to make the elevator feel airy and bright. It does nothing for me, I like more the old ones with mesh doors. If I had to choose.

The one thing I learned later is that not all elevators are “awake”. Like my building, which was built in 1901 and its elevator was added 1990s, its elevator is a “sleep” and sleep means safe. But this is me still doubting Lily and the Imps. 

The door closes behind me with a hiss. Air changes immediately to stale hotness and Dr. McCoy drawls in my mind something about atoms being scrambled. 

“Let’s take one floor at a time,” Scott’s voice says in my ear.

“Okay” comes out of my mouth when I push the toggle, even though I really badly want to say “Roger” like they do in those action movies. If this would have been Charlie on the other end, I definitely would have. 

The elevator button feels burning under my calloused finger. Not a good thing and that makes secondary alarm bells ring once again in my mind, but the cart dutifully jerks up and starts its climb. Which is wayyy too slow for my liking. They design them like this, you know, modern elevators. Quiet means slow and believe me, sometimes it’s a snail’s pace. This though, may be a speedy snail.

“How's it looking?” I ask Scott, “Any red bars?” The first sweat bead rides down from my forehead and my mind starts its reasoning monologue “Think it this way, this is a BIG elevator. You can easily lie down on it. Nothing like that Badger Lanes small…”

Scott’s voice cuts thru “All green for now,” A slight pause and then “But this what happened when I took a ride too.”

I hear his last words echoing from the staircase as the elevator stops on the second floor and the door hisses open. Much-needed cooler air pushes in.

I fight the urge to leap out, but just in case, like you do when you know things are going to get rough, I fasten my dad’s tools to my hips. “I guess we go all the way up then,” I mutter, but for Scott, I say briefly, “Going for 3rd floor” and push the button. 

This time I got my confidence back a bit as nothing happened and the ride was smooth. And if you think about it; It is quite nice to have a big scenic window on an elevator and a glass-tiled wall behind it showing twisted greens and golds as the sun shines through it. Also, between floors three to five, nothing happens. Scott reassures me that his bars are showing green. The air in the elevator has turned to be cosy-warmness and I am starting to believe what he told me, that nothing happened to him before.

At this point, there are no floors left to go up, but Lemmings Slope 2 is true to its name and it’s built on a downward slope, so it has logically floor zero. Now I know, some of you “Spock” people bristled and ready to argue. Can 0 be a floor number or not? But back in the day, people were smarter. They just named it “downs stairs” or “basement” if it truly did go to the basement.

Now, I have a bit of time on me on the 5th floor when Scott suddenly asks me to wait as he needs to step outside to get the Wi-Fi connection back between his tablet and the elevator.

I take this as a break and step out of the elevator. I feel how the shirt is sticking on me from the back. Relief of being on solid ground is taking all my attention, so when the shadow passes behind me, I almost let out a girly shriek. The perfectly executed tour en l’air like they do in ballet, gets me around just in time to see the elevator door closing soundlessly. The nice sunlight that I had started to appreciate vanishes. I mean, after last time, I have been looking at shadows a bit differently.

“Scotty you there?!!!” I say to the walkie-talkie just to get my thoughts back on reality. This must be how Kirk felt on those away teams when he got left behind.

 “Sorry...” I hear boy’s voice crackling through our connection. I am glad that he did not notice my slip to call him Scotty.“Wi-Fi seems to cut off when I come back inside. I am going to stay outside so I can still monitor the readings.” He continues. 

He sounds confident, but that does not reassure me. He does not know what I know.

I take a deep breath and turn to the elevator door and say, “Okay, let’s do this” and push the button. “Risk is our business, right?”

“What… say?” Comes a crackling question through the earplug and I realise I must have said that out loud while my hand has squeezed around the walkie-talkie, incidentally pushing the button.

“I am going in now,” I say, keeping my voice level. There’s no answer but the howling feedback. 

The elevator cart feels hotter than earlier and I get a small red burning mark on my thumb from the zero floor button. The cart starts its descent while I rub my thumb. It is too late to get out now. Once again I change my opinion about nice windows in elevators. The sun is really shining brightly now. Whoever designed this elevator must have been mad. On the other hand, the window is my only connection to the outside, so I keep staring at it. That is when I notice it. Just there in the upper corner of the window, where a light dust that covers the glass. Something has disturbed it. I step closer to inspect the pattern. Four long vertical finger marks from the human hand. I can even see the joints. Must be kids doing and I raise my hand to compare it. My fingers brush the glass but leave no mark. Then I realised what should have been obvious from the start. There are freaking finger marks on the dusty window outside of the cart!

I drew my hand back. This is not kids doing. My heart bounds to my ribs from the realisation. There is a perfectly logical explanation to this… there is a…

“Scott, have you recently lost any co-workers?” I mutter as my brain connects this to every horror movie they have seen. The only what this needs now is a river of blood running down the walls. Except nothing like that does not happen. What does happen is that the cart makes a whining sound and stops with a soft bump. From my experience, this is not a good sign for me. 

“Scott? This thing just stopped. I am…“ I hesitate and turn my back to the window to see what floor I am on. “On 3rd and..” I stop there. There’s no way of knowing if the cart has stopped between floors or not. So I repeat “Scott? This bloody thing stopped somewhere on the 3rd floor and it’s starting to get hot!” 

The eerie silence follows. No click, no feedback loop, no crackling noise and no Scott. This can’t be happening, so I ditch the walkie-talkie and search for the emergency button. This time my finger gets blisters as I follow instructions and count 10 seconds to get contact for emergency service. Who the hell invented the 10-second rule!? 

Despite the heat, my skin rises goose bumps. That is not good. I jab the button several times in panic, but the microphone keeps stubbornly silent. 

What now? Think..think..think.

In the movies, there’s always a ceiling hatch. I could bust myself out up to the roof with Bruce Willis style. I have no idea does real elevators have a ceiling hatch, but I look up. There is no hatch. Damn… damn... damn.

That leaves either a door or a window. I am still between “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe” - when I hear a faint tapping sound. I have been eyeing the metal door more hopefully, so whatever is making the noise comes from behind me. AND NOTHING CAN COME FROM THE WINDOW!! But the warm breeze of air hits my back, making my shirt flutter which kind of feels good, but the tingling in my neck tells the other story; I am not alone anymore.

I don’t do swallow hard move, but I do turn around slowly. I don’t know what to expect, but nothing has bitten me yet. I took that as a good sign. I just need to stay calm. 

“Wholy motherfuckingshit!” I mutter when I stop my turn. I need to stare a bit upward because this thing is HUGE even though I am not a small man. What I can see is not much. And whatever it is, seems to have managed to come inside just halfway. A lower half of the jaw or a snout of some kind, is on my eye level. Dancing golden fires are sizzling around its body, making me think of flowing fur. 

The burning hot breeze, which seems to be this thing’s breath, caresses the top of my head and I hear a faint snort, like a dog who sniffes you up but like Jurassic Park style. I really hope this thing does not have a flu.

The neck that is long moves, and lowers its head to my level. Burning red and white eyes stare sizes me up and down. I feel that this might be the moment when the bite is coming, so I fumble my hammer. It worked for the Imps and what do I have to lose? I lift it between me and the firely beast like every movie character has struck a cross toward Dracula. There is a moment of wonder and curiosity, and we both look at the hammer. I am starting to feel an awkward blush rising amongst the sweat, but I don’t let go of the hammer. Instead, I dig into my pocket. My fingers meet what I am searching for.

“Nice doggy…” I say for some reason and lift a pouch of red marmalades between us.

“I have..here yummy marmalades. Nice doggy.” I repeat, hopefully in a calm voice. I left away “hellfire” and “demon” words that comes to my mind. I mean, these day’s words can hurt, and I don’t want this creature to bite my ass just because I said something wrong. Besides, dogs are cute. Puppies at least. Right!?

For a while, nothing happens. In that second, though, I am sure I saw a spark of interest, but it vanished quickly. Then it opens its mouth, and I shut my eyes. My mind cooks up my eulogy like a last static burst of my bad humour; “This is the last moments of Jackson Cole, an old-school janitor who really..really had a bad day today, who…”

The furnace that comes finally deafens my inner voice. The air around me burns so hot that even with closed eyes I see only white. All I can hope is that this will be over quickly and I am not going to be those burning corpses that still try to walk around. 

The Force of the burning air pushes me backwards. I do a quick windmill with my arms and bang toward the metal door. My left shoulder blade takes the first hit and then, like a rag doll, I slide down and land hard on my right hip. 

At that minute, when the movement stops, you don’t think about dying or being alive or a soon-to-be-coming death. All that you want to do is groan. And I did groan and bit more.

“And I liked you too!” I blurt out with conviction as I push myself upright. I mean, I do have some right to be complaining, as I am clearly still alive.

My head feels a bit heavy, and my vision seems to swim. I am now sitting fully on my butt, legs stretched out forward. My back is hurting, my skin is itching like after a bad sunburn. Then something tucks my leg and makes my body sway and then the fiery beast is gone. Just like that.

The temperature around me drops like it’s a sudden ice age. It gives a much-needed slap in the face, and my head sobers quickly. Apparently, shock can wait because the elevator jumps to its original task. I gather myself up, just to notice that I am missing my right shoe!? For once, my mind just stays quiet as I stare at my brown sock in awe. And that’s how Scott found me when the doors opened.

I do what must look cool bend down, but is just slow because of my aching body and pick up my hammer. I don’t have any idea where the marmalade is, and I’m not going to search for it.

I can see the questions coming. Scott even raises his hand a bit, forefinger up like in front of the teacher.

“Not now, Scott,” I say with a heavy sigh and step past him. I bet Kirk has said that in a couple of episodes or two. My mind just draws blank for explanations. But I do turn after a step. A man gotta have his dignity and finish the job. “Better close that thing for the time being. I call a couple of my friends to come and take a look at it”. 

Scott nods and does a swallow-hard move. I leave it to that. I can’t do any bigger lie than that and it would not be fair to Scott. 

The shock hits in the car and my brain jumps in to balance my shaky hands that turn Ginger back to the street, nearly missing the bus that honks angrily after me.

“Marmalade does not work” is the first thing my mind cooks up. I say it out loud while changing the gear. Ginger rumbles agreeing. After a couple of repeats, I get more spunk to it. I hit the gas and that’s how I ended up at Badger Lane 14.  

“Marmalade does not work! I repeat, marmalade does not work!” I am barely out of the car as I dash inside the building. Old stony house greets me in cool sturdiness. I can hear its occupants move and live behind the doors. A baby’s cry, someone on the phone, a piano. I take a deep breath while taking the stairs on the first floor. I have no idea what I should do next. The elevator’s mesh door sits in front of me, and I can see the dark chute. The cart is somewhere on the upper floor. I take a look into the darkness. Nothing moves there, but I clearly remember the bony hands with claws. 

Get hold of yourself. I shake myself and push the elevator’s calling button. I may have driven here without thinking, but I am here for a reason. I need to talk to someone and that someone is the little girl in the elevator. I mean, who else am I going to talk about this?! If this is real, I mean. I take a moment to doubt my sanity, but I am still missing the shoe. It has to be proof enough.

With a reassuring clonk on every floor, the old elevator makes its descent. The cart is dark, but like last time, the lights flicker on when I open the doors. The space is as small as I remember. The dark spot on the left wall is there. At least that is real. I squeeze myself to the right and reach to push the button for the 4th floor. 

The crisp burning stench fills the small place and sticks around like the stubborn Old Spice that my uncle used to wear. 

I don’t know what to do next. Luckily, I don’t need to. Lily steps from the wall like last time. A ghostly pale, wearing her dress and flower top shoes. Before I get out the word, she makes a giddy jump and squeaks out,

“Oh, you met Hazell!” She smiles brightly and looks excited.

“That thing has a NAME?” I ask, and the last word comes out an octave higher. “It took my shoe!” I point my toes to prove my point. I have forgotten all about marmalade.

Lily leans downwards to look at my brown sock, then she looks up at my face. 

“You are missing your eyebrows too, you know?” Lily giggles “She really must like you.”

“What do you mean SHE likes me? What is that thing and..” The cart shudders as I make sudden moves. I froze in place, but Lily clearly reads my mind. She huffs and waves her hand.

“Don’t worry, they won’t come. They can smell her in you,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Whatta the hell am I? Some toy to that..that..t..” I stammer heatedly. Even her notion about Imps should have calmed me down.

“Hazell” Lily helps matter-of-factly, correcting me patiently, and even does Dr. McCoy’s rocking heels-to-toes move while gazing up at me. “You could say she’s a dragon. Kind of, not exactly, more like a demon, but not likely. I always have wanted to meet her. They are very rare.”

“I have been drooled upon by a fiery demon dragon and I don't feel anything special about that” I blurt out, pushing my jaw forward stubbornly. She does not take this seriously enough. Which she should and not sound like I have patted the dog she wants.

“Hazell likes engine oil, grease. It’s like cat mint to her kind.” She points my hands “And warm places ease her achy bones, she is very old”

I am tempted to ask how old but I need to come up with some kind of solution for Scott.

“So what I am supposed to do about it? She can’t stay there”

“You could always try bribing her.” 

I can’t believe I am doing this. No correction, what else I am supposed to do? An ancient fire demon dragon has taken likes on me because I smelled like a catnip toy, so now I am taking treats for her to get my shoe back.

Oh and by the way, it turned out that Hazell does like marmalades, after all. But only just for the yellow ones. That’s why you always should carry with you different colours. Apparently, my offer of marmalades had played a role in not getting singed to a crisp. The shoe had just been something to get me to come back. I later find out that Hazell has very quirky humour. But here I am, with a bag of yellow marmalades sitting next to me on a car seat. 

I take a deep breath and head for inside. Here goes for nothing. As I am not interested in trying my luck again, I have decided to use Scott’s walkie-talkies for this. I just hope this does not mean I end up losing my soul or something. 

I put my gifts in the elevator. Sprinkle a bit of engine oil around it like a wizard calming demons that I know nothing about and lay the walkie-talkie on the corner. I take a quick admiring look at my handiwork and do sound testing. All seems to be as it should be. Fingers crossed that this will work, I push the 5th-floor button and step hastily out before the doors close automatically. There is a satisfying hiss and my plan is on its way up. 

I count to ten and start talking. Some minutes later, the elevator comes down by itself. In it is my shoe. 

I had struck the deal with Hazell that has held till this day. 

So that’s it. That is how I met Hazell, who by the way gets from now on every month yellow marmalades. And maybe I have arranged that Lemmings Slopes elevator gets greased up more often than usual. What makes Hazell happy, makes Scott happy and it's one less elevator for me.