I was starting to think I was a follower.
Though, I still took the gun with me in my back pocket.
I walked down to a corner store, where he picked me up in a small blue Elantra that looked like it had some age to it.
As he drove, I told him again that I was unsure if I could trust this, and so he would reassure me that this was safe, that I did not have to join the community or anything like it, but merely be acquainted with them to understand their goals - and potentially get some bucks for it as well. Some money that I really knew I needed. Desperation was chewing at me. He said that he no longer lived under there - that he was able to afford a cheap apartment on the edge of town, get himself a job, etc.
Interesting how a guy from Glenview going to art school fell that hard.
We had arrived a little past 6. We got out of the car in a nearby parking lot, then walked down to approach an overpass. It was strangely silent in a colossally eerie way. This environment felt strange for someone like me. I was a square peg, if you will. There were multiple tarps tied together and strung out from one end of the overpass to the other, and a group of people huddled up by a small bonfire, perhaps around seven or eight.
He assured me not to worry, but I couldn’t help it. This was exactly the kind of situation my parents would warn me about in my youth - don’t get involved with these kinds of people, these are bad people, stay away from these people, and such things. And here I was.
Lance introduced me to them, one woman smiled and nodded at me, another young man smirked at me, but most remained silent and indifferent.
He asked them, “Where’s Corey?”
Someone said, “Back there,” and pointed to the tall tarp border.
Lance urged me onwards and opened a flap of the tarp for me to walk through. I did so hesitantly and expectantly (of nothing in particular), and found myself in a darker space with a tarp hanging overhead, and the entirety of the area lit up by some LED lanterns spaced out across the ground. It was a room, essentially.
Sitting in a rocking chair to the left was a man who I learned was Corey when Lance addressed him. Lance introduced me to him.
Corey then said, “I think I already know who you are. I’ve seen you around.” Where?
He asks of the office that burned down - did I work there, and I answered that I did. My suspicions dug further, and felt justified from what I had asked myself before. But I did not let them out.
He expressed his sorrow and pity, that of which I externally accepted. He told me that he had something that would explain the entirety of the situation - and took us to this old, rickety dresser near one end of the room, close to a clump of thin, tightly spaced beds and sleeping bags on the ground. He opened a drawer and dug for some extremely uncomfortable seconds before producing a square book, which he handed to me. It was large, in a plastic sleeve, and with nothing on the front cover, just cardboard.
How I wanted to run out of here and never return right about then. I had no idea what I was even getting myself into, let alone what I was already in.
I looked back at him, and saw an expectant gaze. He told me to read it, I could sit in his chair if I liked. He then subtly but firmly grabbed Lance’s arm and they walked out of the room through the same entrance we came in from. This was my only chance at an explanation.
The chair smelled like fish as I sat. I opened the book and saw no words. There were only pictures. They were simply just assorted images of nature. I saw mainly trees and birds of beauty, and not much was to suggest a sinister undertone other than the lack of human presence. I didn’t understand what this could have explained.
The last image differed greatly, and certainly meant more than any other. It was a picture of a clown wearing black, white and red makeup, sitting cross legged on a bench with a background that was surrounded by trees, and an opening in them that had me see something that partially confirmed what I had believed.
It was my office building. The picture had been deliberately framed so that in that exact gap in the foliage, you could see the entry, and even a bit of the donut shop beside it.
I shut the book and then flipped it over. The book’s back cover was black, with a simple image of a $100 bill on it. Franklin’s stare made me uneasy to a further extent.
I heard a scuffle outside and a loud clatter of steel. I quickly retrieved my cell phone and instantly called 911. I quickly had to explain my rough location and told them to hurry, then hung up. That would have likely alarmed them enough, and would give me enough time to get out of there, since I could not have explained this entire thing very briefly.
To my right, I saw as the man introduced to me as Corey walked into the room. He would ask me what I thought about the book.
I could only be blunt.
“Who the fuck are you?”
He tried to calm me down, shushing, yet I got up and tensed myself. I repeated my question.
He stopped pacing towards me and things became deathly silent apart from the few cars overhead and beside us. Those outside were not making any sound from what I could hear. And then.. he just started crying. He looked at the ground and wept like a child. I now did not know what to make of this sudden emotional outburst of his.
As he cried, he reached into his back pocket (and I slowly reached for mine), and produced a large leather wallet (my reach was abandoned). He then hurriedly pulled out numerous $100 bills and tried to hand them to me. I estimated the wad as a few thousand.
“This’ll cover you. We’re so sorry. Don’t be alert.”
You motherfucker.
I pulled out my Wesson and pointed it directly at him. He recoiled himself in fear, yet the safety remained on and I had no actual willingness to shoot. Within, the brevity of this situation was caving my mind in. He then dropped the money on the ground and ran out in a frantic hurry.
I gazed down at it with reluctance. It wasn’t long before my qualms gave in, I quickly and regrettably scooped up the money, then scurried to find an exit on the other side of the tarp. I ran for some time alongside the highway, cramping and continuing. Finally, I only looked back when the tarps were far away from me.
They were already ablaze.
The police would later ask me for my story, to which I gave them the details, and the only names I could give them were Lance’s, and Corey’s (alleged) first name.
They never got back to me.
I tried calling Lance a few days later, and instead was met with a message that the number was no longer in service.
I am recounting this story a long while after this has happened. This was years ago, I no longer live in the Chicago area. The city was dragging me down, and I had to escape from it at some point, further desiring to after these strange events. Some of it still remains a mystery to me. I have spent hours on end thinking about it.
Now a man’s what I may have been fearing, but I question the authenticity of my fear in a combative nature with everything else. Who’s to say mankind isn’t really the scary part? Either way, my guard has matured.
But a man can still be fucking scary.
This story might have some form of “ending”, I suppose. As in, it could be considered an “ending” for now. But I would like to provide one last personal anecdote that may suggest otherwise.
Late at night in my new abode, I retire for a good night’s sleep, that of which I have only been achieving with the help of deep breaths, benzodiazepines and a good cry every now and then. I still wake up very occasionally, and one night in particular I remember distinctly. It occurred only last week, and sort of inspired me to share this story with all of you.
I woke up sleeping on my side, from some strange fever dream I had. My eyes met the window, where outside I could see a silhouette. My mind came to and slowly recognized it. The shadow was wearing some kind of hat, looking like a pork pie, and I could not make out any other features.
I had some concern for a moment. Then, still remaining in my exact position, maintained a harsh glare at it, like I was interrogating it. It didn’t move.
I smiled and went back to sleep.