Staring at the red words in the corner of the mirror, I felt anger flaring in my chest. She’d murdered Taylor, and more than that, she was proud of it. Fucking joking about it. Boasting like she was some superhuman serial killer from a movie, always one step ahead, making it into a “game” because she’s so good at terrorizing and killing innocent people.
Well fuck her.
Unsure of which way to head first, I went back into the bedroom to quickly look for a phone, a computer, anything that I could use to immediately figure out where exactly I was and send myself the information. All my questions of how any of this was possible or why it was now happening to me could wait. For now I needed to make sure that when I swapped back, I was armed with the information I needed to find this woman and stop her once and for all.
There were no phones or other devices in the bedroom or the bathroom so far as I could tell, though I did find a wall safe in the back of the closet that could have contained any number of things behind its locked door. Feeling the pressure to get out of the house and find a way to get the information I needed quick, I headed back out to the hall and then down the stairs to the front door. Turning the deadbolt, I pulled on the door and
Nothing happened.
I pulled again and a third time after checking to make sure the locks were truly unlocked, but it didn’t matter. The door never budged an inch, or even rattled like it was stuck or straining against some bolt yet to be undone. Cursing, I turned to go find another door when I saw a small black rectangle sitting on a table next to the door. It looked like a digital recorder, though half its body was obscured by a small orange sticky note with two words written on it in flowing script.
Play me
Reaching out to grab the recorder, the strangeness of everything struck me again as I watched a woman’s slender hand pick it up instead of my own. Forcing myself to focus, I took off the note and found the play button on the side. A woman’s voice began speaking to me immediately.
“Hello, Alvin.” The sound of soft laughter and then: “I know it may be a surprise that I already know your name. Truth be told, I know a good deal about you. Once I decided what needed to happen with Taylor, I started looking for anything else that needed dealing with. Unfortunately, I’m fairly certain that includes you.”
Oh God.
”If you’re listening to this, then it means that we have swapped properly and you have been down to the front foyer and tried to get out. Looking about for a pry tool or another avenue of escape, you saw the recorder sitting there and decided to play it. And here we are.”
”Or there you are, I suppose. Because I’m over in your life, right now. Finding out all I can about you. Who you love, what you fear, who you really are. Things you can’t find out from the internet or rifling through Taylor’s phone. To say nothing about all the keys I can find to unlock every single thing that you’ve tried to hide or protect.”
”That’s fine, you may think. Turnabout is fair play, after all. If I’m going to snoop on you, you’ll snoop on me back. Maybe find me and confront me, which would be super cute. Or try to convince someone that a strange, hot woman in another country you’ve never met is a body-hopping serial killer. That should go over well. Still…I understand why you feel like you need to try, so when we’re done talking, just…check stuff out or whatever you feel like you need to do.”
”Just…here’s the thing. You may…or may not…depending on how bright you are…have figured out that this is not my first rodeo. That is to say, Taylor was not my first swap meet. And time and experience has taught me a few things. One is how to live in the moment. And living in someone else’s moments…well, it’s a pretty big rush. To say nothing about someone like your friend Taylor, who actually did a decent job of playing with me.”
”But another thing I’ve learned is how to mitigate risk. If you were starting from square one like Taylor, I’d probably let you roam around the world for a bit. See how good you were at trying to beat me. But you aren’t starting at square one, are you? I could tell from Taylor’s phone that he had an extended conversation with you a few days ago, and since it was after we started swapping, I figured I knew what you were talking about. When I saw he uploaded my little video to a cloud drive and that the drive had been accessed by someone else…well, what do you want to bet I find a copy of that video on your computer when I look?”
”No, you have too much of a headstart to let you run free. Which is why, in circumstances like this, I’ve made other arrangements.”
”The door you tried to open is made of tempered steel. So are the other two that lead out of my house. As are the bars inside and outside of each window. The windows themselves are made of polycarbonate glass and all the windows and doors are secured with magnetic locks. As you may have guessed by now, the deadbolts are just for everyday use, not for when I have a special guest.”
”There are no tool or implements inside this house that can be used to effectively pry, break, or otherwise destroy your way to freedom. The inner window bars are even too narrowly spaced to allow passage of a closed fist or foot, and you’d lack the clearance to ball up your fist or generate any real motion if you did manage to squeeze something through there. So unless you’re a kung fu master or something…yeah, you’re not breaking anything. You’re not a kung fu master, are you? Because that would be so badass!”
”If you are, in fact, a black belt or something, you will find that breaking that really hard to break glass will…well, I’ll let you see if you ever managed it, but I don’t think I’m that lucky. So…what else? Oh yeah, phone and internet.”
”No land lines. No devices that aren’t in a safe that you aren’t getting through without a cutting torch, which I did not leave you, bitch that I am. Internet is killed while the magnetic locks are engaged, and the control for the locks is in the same safe that you can’t get into.”
”So the short version is, relax. You aren’t going anywhere, and you aren’t finding anything out about me. Just have a good time. Enjoy the house. I have churros in the freezer and a pretty decent selection of DVDs. Remember. What’s mine is yours.”
”And what’s yours is mine.”
She was right. I spent the next three hours searching the house, trying every avenue of escape I could think of, but nothing worked. I was so exhausted that I wound up watching an old comedy while morosely eating a churro. When the swap happened, I kept chewing for a moment as I looked around, bewildered. It was then that I realized I actually was still chewing something, its bitter, earthy taste sliding down my throat as I looked down at what she’d been eating.
It was a dead pigeon. The crazy bitch had been making me eat a fucking pigeon.
I was already on my knees in some abandoned parking lot, but the broken asphalt biting into my legs and the sound of distant traffic in my ears was all far in the background as I leaned forward and vomited hard enough to bring tears to my eyes and pain to my back and stomach. After a few more gasping retches, I managed to get to my feet and stumble away. It took a bit for me to get my bearings, but I was about forty minutes from my apartment. Still crying a little, I started the long walk back home.
I didn’t sleep for the next three days.
I knew from Taylor and my own swap back that sleep wasn’t a requirement, but I also knew that it first happened to him and to me when we were asleep, so maybe it made it more likely to happen. That thought only made me more paranoid, as I was already suspecting that the woman either controlled when it happened or at least could tell it was coming.
Part of it was her already having her house locked down and ready when I swapped with her. But it was also the video Taylor had given me. She’s sat there staring for hours, true, but was that because she couldn’t control or predict exactly when it would happen, or just her being the creepy nutjob that she was? I couldn’t say for sure, but I remembered her fucking smirk into the camera. She’d known it was about to happen then, and she was looking forward to Taylor hanging himself when he came back.
The more I thought about it, the more my anger and fear grew. I wanted to stop her, to get even with her, but I was also terrified. She could clearly get to me, but could I find a way to get to her?
I was sitting alone in a coffee shop, alternating between wracking my brain for an answer and trying to just sit and relax for a few minutes. I’d started going to public places and hanging out a lot ever since that first swap. I told myself it was strategic. If we swapped again, she’d have to waste time figuring out where she was and how to get back to wherever she wanted to go. It wasn’t much, but it might slow her down on whatever her newest torture might be.
But even I knew that sounded lame. And the truth was, I just wanted to be around people all the time now. As though if I kept to the company of others, even strangers sitting in the same crowded coffee shop, I’d somehow be safe and hidden from the nightmare that was hunting me.
That’s when I felt a delicate hand on my shoulder and heard the familiar rasp of a feminine voice I’d only heard once but recognized immediately.
“This place sure is crowded, Alvin.”
Breath caught in my throat, I looked around to see the woman standing there smiling down at me and gesturing to the booth where I was sitting.
“But that’s okay. You’ve always got room for me in there, don’t you?”