We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.
I chuckled, almost in disbelief after I answered the phone. Almost all the calls I received on a daily basis were spam, sent straight to voicemail, but this time I was bored. I had nothing to do that afternoon, and fucking with a spam caller felt like a fun challenge. The message felt outdated, too long to still be used. There was no way people were still falling for it. Still, I felt compelled to respond.
“Ah yes, my warranty! I’ve been trying to get a hold of someone to talk about it,” I said, intrigued to hear the robot’s canned response.
“Do we have your consent to transfer you to a representative?” The voice responded.
“Yes.” After my response, I felt a tinge of fear, vaguely remembering a news article in which it was warned against giving them a recording of you saying ‘yes.’ I decided I was worrying about nothing, so I tried to focus on the muffled hold music. After a few vacant moments, I heard a click, and a pleasant woman’s voice.
“Hello sir, thank you for your response. May I ask about your car’s make and model?”
“Of course, I have a 1987 Honda Accord.” I tried to stifle my laughter. It was just old enough to be absurd, but still a possibility, had the car hibernated in a garage for twenty years. I heard the distant sound of keyboard keys clicking, and she spoke again.
“Thank you. And may I also ask for your name?”
I paused, contemplating my answer. “Stanley Lewis,” I replied, falling back on the pseudonym I created in my youth to avoid using my real name. Another pause as she input the information.
“How long have you had your car, sir?”
“Thirteen years to the day.” I cringed after that line, but this interaction had no consequences either way.
“I see. Well, the warranty applies to the car for 20 years after purchase, but as you are not the original buyer, the warranty extended after you changed the registration.”
“That’s wonderful news,” I said. “What does that mean for me?”
I was excited to hear her answer. “If you have accrued a certain amount of miles on your vehicle, you may be eligible for some repairs. Some owners with cars similar to yours have reported failing parts at a certain mileage.”
“Interesting,” I replied. “How would I apply for these repairs?”
“If you give me your address, I can have an information packet and application delivered to your house in less than a week.”
If the introduction to the call hadn’t indicated to me that the call was spam, asking for my address would’ve started the alarm bells. I wandered over to my fridge and picked up a pamphlet. “Sure thing. 1956 North Ridge Avenue.” I tossed the Chipotle coupons back on my table, going back to the living room.
“Great. Thank you for your participation, Mr. Lewis. Have a blessed day.”
“Have one yourself.” I took my photo away from my year, and smiled to myself for another second before finding another way to entertain myself.
The next morning I awoke, achy and discombobulated. It felt as though I had ended the previous night with a vigorous workout as opposed to the wine and Netflix I had treated myself to. I stretched, making my way towards the bathroom for a sauna-like shower.
After preparing for my day, I shuffled out to my car, tossing my backpack in the passenger’s seat next to me. As I was backing out of my driveway, I caught a glimpse of an unusual car. I turned my head and shoulders in a complete 180, swiveling in disbelief. Driving quickly past was an old Honda, and although I didn’t get a clear view, the trunk looked like it had a word beginning with ‘a.’ It had to be an absurd coincidence, and I couldn’t be sure that it was specifically a 1987 model. I’m no Honda connoisseur.
I drove to work, glancing around for the car, but it seemed to have disappeared after my neighborhood. Over my lunch break, I called my girlfriend, casually bringing up the strange occurrence while we talked about our days. I could almost feel her roll her eyes over the phone. We chatted idly about our days, and she went back to work.
On my drive home, the old car didn’t cross my mind once. I pulled into my driveway, texted my girlfriend, and headed inside. After shedding my work clothes, I began cooking dinner, preparing spaghetti for her arrival. After about thirty minutes, I began glancing at my phone. It usually only takes her about twenty to come over. After another worrying fifteen, I got a text.
I was in an accident. Im ok
My stomach dropped.
Where r u?
I stared at my screen, anxiously awaiting her response. When the three dots popped up, I realized I had been holding my breath.
Corner of maple and mulberry
cops here
Once again, my keys were in my hand, and I hurriedly put on a jacket, rushing out of my door. My hands were shaking as I sped towards the avenue. When I arrived, there was a small ambulance and a police car, circled around only my girlfriend’s car. It looked like she had been rear ended, only minorly, but she herself looked understandably shaken up.
I walked towards her, hurrying out of my car. She sighed heavily as I gave her a hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said, looking down at her face.
“Me too, and it shouldn’t be too expensive, but insurance is gonna be a bitch. It was a hit and run.”
It was my turn to sigh. “Did you see the car at all?”
Amanda shook her head. “Not really. It looked kinda old and it was a gross gray color.”
A police officer strolled over. He had a notepad in his hand, and looked mildly bored, like a car accident wasn’t exciting enough for him. It might not have been.
“I’m sorry ma’am. Do you remember the license plate? Any features of the driver or the car?”
Again, she shook her head. “Only what I told you, I barely noticed he was driving away until he was halfway gone. I was still in shock about the crash.”
He nodded, and scribbled something down. “Very well. We’ll keep in touch, but I honestly wouldn’t have high hopes. No traffic cams and barely any identifiers. Maybe the age of the car, but we’ll see. I’ll take you to the tow guy.”
She nodded this time, following behind. She looked at me. “Can’t I drive it home?”
The cop shrugged. “Maybe - his call, not mine.”
At first, the drive home was quiet. I held her hand and maintained the speed limit, trying to provide the least stressful drive possible. It looked like something was bothering her, but she didn’t say anything.
After a while, it came out. “You know the car that hit me?”
“Uh huh. What about it?”
“Well… it was old, wasn’t it?” She was looking over at me, concerned.
I swallowed, trying not to think about the possibility. “Yeah, it was from the eighties.”
“Did you give them a color?”
After thinking about it, I replied, “no color. Just make and model.”
“Hm.” She turned, looking out the window. I knew what she was thinking, and the possibility scared me. At the same time, how unlikely was it? I happened to see the car I described passing by my house. It happened to rear end my girlfriend. Was I in a scrapped draft of Goosebumps, haunted by a shitty 35 year old car?
After almost three weeks, I started to forget about the car. No incident occurred, the police didn’t find who hit Amanda’s car, but her insurance paid out the damages. Life moved on, and I felt less jittery. Of course, something had no change. I couldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security forever.
One day, I tossed my mail on the kitchen table, adding it to the pile that I let accumulate every week. After sorting through all of the junk and promotions, a small red envelope caught my eye, and when I pulled it out, I felt a cold stab of fear run through me.
CAR WARRANTY NULL AND VOID
Stanley Lewis
1461 Chestnut Pl, Lakewood MO 63342
They knew my address. I don’t know how, but they knew where I lived. I began to panic, trying desperately to remember my phone call. I gave them a fake address across town. How the fuck did they know my address?
They still used my fake name. If they knew my house, how did they not know my real name? A moniker I used to sign up for websites as a child, pretending to be 13. That’s all that was protecting me from the stalkers I apparently led to myself.
I contemplated telling the police. What would I say, that I saw a car once and a letter vaguely related came to my address? I put my head in my hands. As if by fate, I got a call from Amanda.
“Good morning! Do you still want to come to the lake with me today?”
A fun lake day was the last thing on my mind. “Mands, I love you, but something weird is happening.”
“Oh?” She sounded concerned, she could tell something was off.
“The stupid car people know where I live. Something is fucked up with this whole situation.”
“Woah - hang on, how do they know where you live?”
“They sent me a fucking flyer saying the warranty is null. What does that even mean?”
She was quiet for a few seconds, I could almost hear her thinking. “I don’t even know what to do, babe. This is really weird.”
“I know. I don’t either,” I said.
“Hmm, maybe just come to the lake anyway? I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone at home.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s smart. I’ll be there in thirty.”
When I exited my house, I audibly cursed.
“Goddamn it!”
Lo and behold, there was a gray, 1987 Honda Accord being towed away. Right in front of my house.
“Oh Nick, was that your car?” I looked over to see my neighbor, Mrs. Jensen, watching from her yard.
“No.” I said it a little harshly, I could see a bit of shock in her face. “Sorry, I mean - no, I don’t know whose car that is. Did you see the driver?”
“Mm, no, he’s in the tow truck now. I just heard the loud bang and I got dressed before I came out here.” She looked concerned too; everyone knew something was off.
I paused, considering if I really wanted to say the next words to come out of my mouth. “I think he’s been following me.”
Her eyes widened, lowering her coffee cup. “Have you told the police? That’s serious, Nick!”
“No, I - I know, I just wasn’t sure until today.”
She shook her head. “No no, Nicky, we don’t want you in trouble. This neighborhood’s too special for something to happen.”
I sighed once again. “I’m getting out of town, safe and away. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Stay safe.”
I felt like a wet blanket the whole lake trip. Everyone else was in the water, grilling in the backyard, playing games in the sand, but I hid in one of the guest rooms. Amanda would’ve stayed with me, but I forced her to interact with her nieces and nephews so she could somewhat enjoy her vacation. I didn’t know what to do. I would sound insane if I told anyone other than my girlfriend and neighbor, and even then I wasn’t sure I didn’t. Most of my afternoon was spent researching forms of stalking victims, and what happened to spam callers. Nothing on the latter end came up, until I was four pages deep in Google, on an obscure corner of a website that hadn’t been updated since the early 2010s.
March 17, 2018
Anonymous: they followed me.
Jellena69: what do u mean?
Anonymous: they came to my house. I answered their call, and the followed me, and they made me miserable until I moved
My stomach sank again. Moved?
Jellena69: did u tell them where u lived?
Anonymous: no. they figured it out
Jellena69: ur car?
Anonymous: no.
Jellena69: that’s fucked up dude
I shut my laptop. In the dark room, I flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, reeling from what I had just read. Surely, surely it wouldn’t get that bad. It was more than a coincidence, I knew that - but to uproot my entire life for a prank call? Was I in purgatory for tweens?
Amanda came back up before dinner. “You should at least try to eat.”
I flipped over, and sat up. I knew that wasn’t my fight to lose. During dinner, I forced smiles and chatted when prompted. Amanda was once again concerned, but relieved that I came down at all. When dessert was over, I watched one episode of Jeopardy! with the family and retreated to my cave.
Amanda told me to lie on the bed, face down.
I raised my eyebrows. “What are you going to do to me?”
She rolled her eyes, but wasn’t truly annoyed. “I’m going to help you relax a little. Distract you, maybe.”
I complied, and she started massaging my back. It was more pleasant than I anticipated, and I found the tension leaving me as she worked. After a while, she volunteered to put on a show. She grabbed my laptop, and after she put in my password, I heard a gasp.
I propped myself on my elbows, looking backwards. “What is it, babe?” All of a sudden, I remembered the message board I had found. “Oh - I don’t think it’s gonna get that bad.”
“It got that bad for this guy! What if that happens to you? What if it’s worse?” Amanda was trying to be quiet for the sake of her family, but her voice had genuine distress.
“I know, I know, but we’ll figure something out!”
She put her face in her hands, pushing her hair out of her face. “Oh god.”
Back home, I tried the stupidest thing yet. My brother was driving down to stay with me for a couple nights; I told him about my problem and he was equally worried. I had hours to kill, though, and I didn’t want to be the one killed. I didn’t even know if it was that serious, but I didn’t want to take that risk. Still, I didn’t know what to expect. I found the call in my call logs, dated May 9th. I tapped it, and listened to the dial tone. Right before it hit the answering machine, a woman’s voice answered. She sounded different, though - rougher, not like the woman who I spoke to originally.
“Hello?”
“Hi, are you uh, are you with the car warranty guys?”
“Is this a fucking joke? I swear to god -”
“No! No, it’s not a joke. I got a call asking about my car’s warranty and I think I messed up, I don’t want it anymore.”
“Well, you have the wrong goddamn number, don’t call me back.”
The line went dead. I sat in shock for a moment. Of course they wouldn’t use a traceable phone number. Maybe the gruff woman was a rouse, but no, despite the situation, that was truly far-fetched. She was genuinely pissed.
I leaned back into my chair, contemplating what was next. My brother arrived when he promised, and naturally, nothing happened when he was there either. No incident, he housesat, put up a ring camera, and helped me regroup.
Three nights later, I had the worst encounter yet. After a long day of work, I sat alone on my bed. Amanda had been checking in, but she was on a work trip, and my brother had driven to his home. I heard a noise outside, and glanced curiously over. I peered through my blinds, and almost screamed. The car was parked under a street light across from my house. This was brazen. Clear view, lighting, everything - but the windows were tinted too much to see the driver. Even the car accident, taunting me through the mail - that I could almost handle. But here, alone, in my house, I had no way of protecting myself. No dog with biting teeth, no gun, barely a set of kitchen knives. “Shit,” I whispered.
My resolve was strengthening. I dialed 911, slipping away from the window.
“Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?”
“Hi, there’s a man who’s following me. He is outside my house.”
“Okay sir, may I have your address? Have you reported this man before?”
“No prior reports, no, and uh yeah, I live on 1461 Chestnut Place.” Right as I finished, I heard a loud bang on my door. I sucked in my breath. My doors were locked, but it was a small consolation. “I think he’s at my door.”
“Sending officers now. Would you like to stay on the line, sir?”
“Yes please.”
We talked, with the operator calmly asking me questions to ground me. “Five minutes, sir.”
Another loud bang hit my front door, and I jumped. I was barricading my bedroom door, with plans to lock myself in the master bathroom once it was secure. “Shit!”
“The officers are approaching, sir, stay calm.”
A softer, but still assertive knock hit my door after a few moments. “Police.”
I cautiously looked through the peephole, seeing two uniformed officers on my doorstep. Opening the door, they looked inside, past me.
“Hello, sir, we got a report of a suspicious figure outside of your house.”
“Yes, officers, he was outside just now. He drives a 1987 Honda Accord and I don’t know what he wants with me, but he’s been following me.”
An officer raised an eyebrow. “That car matches the description of a car that broke down - “
“And was involved in a hit and run fifteen minutes away,” I interjected.
“How did you know about that, sir?”
“He hit my girlfriend’s car.”
The two men looked at each other.
“So he’s pursuing you and your girlfriend.”
“Sort of - mostly me, but I don’t know if she’s safe, either.”
One of them nodded, and guided me out.
“Please come with us sir, I don’t think it’s safe for you to spend the night.”
“Why?”
“There’s no one here.”