CHAPTER TWO (16) Mitzi's dream continued...

Mitzi was expecting a cobweb-ridden, dilapidated, dark room that was stale and acrid. He was expecting a wonderful man sitting in the midst of it all, disgusted by the filth he had to live in, victimized by a company he had given the last decade of his life to. He expected an ominous Katz to come up to him and take him by the hand and somehow force all of his prowess and erudite experience through his pores into Mitzi. He expected to be saved as the quilted man had, for the quilted man had somehow found light in such a world of darkness. This was the defining moment of his journey to the heart of District 11, where all of his expectations were met by a man who would even exceed them…

But it wasn’t like that at all. The quilted man pried the door open to reveal a somewhat organized room. It exuded no smells, was not unkempt, and it did not seem to have a cobweb anywhere in sight. At the right corner of the studio room, there, shielded by soiled blankets lay the body of the infamous Katz. His bony feet hung at least two feet past the end of the mattress, which seemed to be infested with flees. They were uncovered, showing a diaphanous and sinewy skin, much like a newborn’s. The man must have been at least seven-feet-tall, which is why his feet protruded from the sheets and the mattress. His head was faced toward the wall; Katz was either dead, near dead, or sleeping. From what Mitzi had gathered, remembering the words of his commander (“the aim was to get Katz in one piece – and if in one piece, perhaps even alive”), Katz was not in the best condition. Adding that to the quilted man’s experience with Katz, thing were not looking well.

Mitzi’s aim, then, was to gather the giant man up and whisk him away on the battered Mark III.

“Doctor,” he said to the pilgrim, “shall we begin?”

The pilgrim had already rehearsed in those few moments of witnessing the dire Katz, his last rights. But to make sure, he told Mitzi, “You should first relinquish the covers from his face. They may be smothering him.”

Mitzi cautiously walked towards the lump in the sheets. He detected movement, but the lights were so dim that his eyes played tricks on him. He protruded his hand over the body, then hesitated. What if he is dead? Would the wretched bugs have already gotten to him? What was he thinking – bugs didn’t exist in such a dark place. Fuck it…

He pulled back the sheets to reveal a sleeping Katz, serenely sleeping. It was clear that he was emaciated and probably anemic, hence the sinewy, pasty skin. He was stark naked, and on his whole body was only fuzzy hair, nothing like the hair of a man past puberty. He was pre-pubescent, he was juvenile, he reminded Mitzi of an overgrown toddler.