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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/02321 on 2024-09-19 16:21:31+00:00.
Getting the new job was quick. I hadn’t fully recovered from what happened to Victor when an email arrived. I expected something horrifying or dark. Instead, I was asked to clean up a hoarder's house after they passed away. The pay was more than I made in three months. But since the attack in the morgue, I learned a few things.
The place Victor was recovering in cost a lot of money. The company I would be working for covered some of the costs. The rest would be on him or his family. From what I could tell, he didn’t have any family left. I asked what would happen to him if no one paid. It was implied he would work off his debt once he was able. That meant working for The Corporation that fought against supernatural threats. They had failed to pick up on the infected body that ruined his life. I doubted he would last long in that type of job. And would they really let him work when he was ready, or would they force him?
I didn’t put it past Lupa to have set all this up. I could refuse this new job, but I would never be able to live with myself afterward.
I accepted the offer and the following day someone arrived to get me to the location of the cleanup. In such a short amount of time, I’ve learned that supernatural things were real. I’ve seen a rabbit man, an infected zombie, and my boss gets turned into something no longer human. When I was told that the Corporation I now worked for could magically make one door lead to another, I accepted it. I permitted them to use my front door. I opened it to find myself crawling out of a car instead of stepping out of my home. It was a jarring experience, to say the least.
A man waited for me outside the house I was called in to clean. He had some gear, but it didn’t appear he would be staying. His skin was dark and a set of yellow eyes behind huge glasses gave away the fact that he wasn’t fully human. Even though it was unseasonably warm out, he dressed in layers of baggy clothing. His black curly hair was tied into a messy bun. Honestly, he was cute in a nerdy sort of way.
“I’m Samus. I’m here to give you some information about this job. It's simple but it will be time-consuming.” He explained in a soft voice.
He showed me what looked like a hazmat suit. The white full-body suit had a plastic face cover with a respirator. This house must be awful if I needed a get-up like this. He then directed my attention to a large metal storage shipping container that had been converted into a dumpster sitting in the backyard.
“We have the suit for you to wear so you don’t bring home any bugs or breath in the rot of the house. There is no time limit on this job. All the cleaning supplies have been provided. You’ll be able to call us if you require more. The neatest thing about this job is the dumpster. Here, let me show you how it works.”
Samus handed me a bag of trash that had been sitting by the back door. He wanted me to toss it into the large bin, but also for me to watch what happened after I did so. The issue is I was too short. He paused to think for a moment. Then a grand idea occurred to him. With some awkwardness, I got on his shoulders to see into the dumpster as I dropped the bag. The trash bag sank into the metal bottom as if it were water. That was weird. Really weird. After I got down, he explained what I had just seen.
“Any nonliving thing that is thrown inside is transported to a sorting facility. If we can recycle it, we’ll do so. Anything beyond salvage is burned. The Corporation recently designed a furnace that produces magic. It helps create a source of energy to power weapons instead of draining creatures. Oh, and if there is anything you would like to keep, you’re free too. Just place it inside the clear bags, send it through the dumpster and we’ll clean it for you.” Samus said sounding excited over the special dumpster.
“What if I toss a mouse or something like that by mistake? I assume anything alive wouldn’t get sent through, but would they just get trapped inside and starve to death?” I asked.
To answer my question, Samus went over and undid a latch that opened the heavy metal door of the dumpster to clearly shoe off the inside.
“If you toss in anything alive larger than a bug, you can just let them out this way.” He suggested.
“Why did I sit on your shoulders,” I remarked in a deadpan voice.
Samus froze, realizing his mistake. He brushed it off like a champ to help me put on the suit. This was an odd job for a supernatural company to ask me to do. Did the house owner die in a monster attack, or was there another reason? I asked Samus, and he nodded with his arms crossed.
“There is one clean room on the top floor. It’s locked so don’t try going inside. It looks like the son of the woman who lived here attempted some sort of ritual. We’re unsure if it worked or what he was even trying to do. The son is missing but his mother appears to die of natural causes. Her body was mummified by the time anyone found her. We removed the body, so don’t worry about that. If you find anything you may fear to be supernatural, stop what you’re doing. Leave the house and call for backup.”
Well, none of that was comforting. I waited until Samus finished speaking before I put the hood of the suit on and got the respirator working. I dreaded walking inside the house, but my face didn’t show it. Samus checked the time to see if he had been there for too long.
“It’s nice having someone to help clean up scenes like this. Our workers keep getting eaten. But I think you’ll do fine, so good luck!”
My stomach turned at his words. He did a cheery wave and I returned it. After he left I really, really didn’t want to go inside. But this was my job now. I better get it over with.
I grabbed a box of garbage bags and then went inside through the backdoor. The door was blocked with so much trash I barely had enough room to squeeze inside. Thank God for the respirator and my lack of a time limit on this job. I knew this would take me forever to finish. There was a small back hallway that led into the house. Piles of moldy boxes lined each wall. Shoes and empty grocery bags were stacked on the very top of the boxes. Some piles reached the ceiling. I first cleared up the stacks blocking the door. After I could open it all the way, I started taking down boxes. Most were full of old newspapers, expired food, and rags. It was easier to carry the boxes to the dumpster two at a time and toss them inside than dumping everything into bags.
I didn’t keep track of time. I was sweating in my suit but didn’t dare take it off. All sorts of bugs came out of hiding as I moved trash around. I almost felt bad for them for taking away their home. Since I wasn’t sorting through the trash, the process was faster than I expected. I had cleared out the small hallway. Stained floors that hadn’t seen the light of day in years looked almost out of place in the rest of the house. I decided not to scrub them clean until I cleared out the rest of the house. I would just be tracking my dirty boots through the hallway to get to the dumpster. No point in breaking out the cleaning supplies just yet.
I moved into the kitchen to see years of neglected plants, take-out containers, and more boxes. The stove had been caked in so much grime it would be better to toss the entire thing. I hated to see what the inside of the fridge looked like. I couldn’t believe a person lived here at some point. Aside from some packed down footpaths in the dirt, there had been no signs of human life within the trash.
I took countless trips to the dumpster. It felt somewhat satisfying tossing the boxes and bags over the top. At least all this waste would be put to some kind of use. It looked like the sun was going to set soon. I wanted a break but decided to wait until I couldn’t see what I was doing then pack it in for the night. I just needed to call someone to get me back home. It didn’t appear I made a lot of progress despite how many trips I made from the house.
Near the end of the day, I paused to stretch out my sore back. I found my mind wandering. How could someone live like this? Surely, they somewhat noticed how bad things were getting around them. Wasn't the owner getting sick from all the mold and insects taking over the house? I knew hoarders had a problem that made it impossible for them to throw away anything. I stared at the pile of disgusting pots and pans long forgotten on the stove trying to think of a reason why someone may think of keeping them. Maybe they thought if they just cleaned the pots, they were still good. And things just got out of hand. Just cleaning one thing meant cleaning the sinks, the floors, and everything else.
A set of stained pots meant something to this person. They were just trash now that the owner was gone. Didn’t that apply to most things? People cared about things others might not. A song holds meaning when it may not be anything special to a different person. The only difference between myself and the women who owned this house was that I kept my clutter in my heart.
The sun had gone down since I stopped to think. The house still had power. But the lights were so grimy it wasn’t worth trying to work in the dark. I was about to pack up and leave when I heard something from inside the house. A bump just be...
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