I didn’t hear it, but I knew what had happened as soon as my car’s power steering turned sluggish. The serpentine belt had finally snapped. I knew it needed to be replaced, but I pushed it off until my next paycheck. I just didn’t have the extra cash to do it. If I had known it would strand me in the middle of nowhere, I would’ve asked someone to spot me the money. With great difficulty and a string of curse words, I pulled the car to the side of the road and rolled to a stop.
“Well, this sucks,” I mumbled, shutting off my engine.
My car had died in a stretch of dense woods just outside the city. It was the last vestige of mother nature in the surrounding area. These woods were preserved by some forward-thinking city councilman decades ago who suggested that might be a good idea to not cut down every single tree within city limits. The dude was proven right, and the woods became a hiker’s dream, but, at the moment, I was less than thrilled with being here. It would take at least an hour for any wrecker to come save me. Maybe more.
I cursed again and shook my head. At the speed I was driving, I was a mere ten minutes from passing through the woods and five more from pulling into my driveway. Now, I was here for the foreseeable future. Worse, my phone signal was spotty, and I left my book at home. I would be alone with my thoughts until the tow truck arrived. A scary thought, indeed.
I tried calling my insurance, but my phone had trouble finding a network. I tried three times. One dropped the call immediately, one got to the menu before dropping, and one just rang and rang before disconnecting. I was gonna need to walk around until I found a signal, or else I’d be stuck out here forever. Traffic was slow at this time of night, and I imagined that the few cars that would pass by wouldn’t be too keen to stop to help.
After all, hundreds of horror stories start out that way.
I looked up to the sky and uttered a prayer to whoever was up there listening. “Send me some help, huh? Maybe a lost tow truck driver?”
About thirty feet behind me, red and blue lights started glowing. I looked up in my rearview and sighed. Yes, a cop could help, but they were last on my list of people I wanted to see. I’d rather see Bigfoot promising to throw me to safety than the boys in blue.
To say that I have a “strained” relationship with the police would be polite and way short of how I truly feel. It started when, at seven, I saw the cops illegally detain, search, and beat my dad during a routine traffic stop. Even with his wife and kids in the car, the cops accused him of having warrants (he didn’t) and of having concealed drugs in the car (again, he didn’t). They took him out, illegally searched him before claiming he was resisting, and threw him to the ground. He broke his arm in the encounter and was charged with resisting arrest and obstruction – both charges were later dropped. He had arm pain for the rest of his life, though.
According to the report, the reason for the initial stop was the unforgivable sin of failing to signal. His arm never worked right after that and was painful for the rest of his life.
There’s no feeling more helpless than watching uniformed men exact violence on a person you love, and you know there is nothing you can do to stop it. To watch a man you look up to, your own Superman, be made low by petty men hardens you. When you start with that as a foundational memory of the police, it’s not hard to see why I don’t back the blue.
I must’ve been inside my own head because I didn’t notice the figure walking up to the car until they were just behind my bumper. I rolled down my window and waited for them to ask for my license and registration. I tried not to look but kept peaking up in the rearview. After about a minute of waiting for the cop to come to my car, I started getting worried something nefarious was afoot. Why wasn’t this guy coming to my window?
“You lost?” a flat, monotone voice called out. It was the cop.
“No,” I said, trying to turn in my seat but not look like I was reaching for something. “Having car trouble.”
“Car trouble,” the cop repeated.
“Yep. I think it’s the serpentine belt,” not sure why I needed to add that extra information.
Suddenly, a bright beam shone through my back window and into the car. It scanned back and forth briefly before the cop asked, “Are you alone currently?”
That was an unsettling question. “I’m waiting on someone to come help. Should be here any minute now.”
“Need some help?”
“Not unless you have a spare serpentine belt and some tools.”
“I do not,” he said flatly before adding, “Are you currently alone?”
I swallowed. “No, you’re here too.”
He didn’t seem to appreciate my little joke. He reached for his sidearm and said, “Stay inside your car. Do not move.”
“I don’t have any weapons, man. That’s not necessary,” I pleaded.
“I am approaching your vehicle. Do not move,” the cop said, taking a few cautious steps toward me.
I froze but kept an eye on the rearview mirror. I wasn’t sure what this guy would do, but I feared it wouldn’t be amazing for me. I kept my hands on the wheel and prayed he didn’t pull out his gun. He got within two feet of my car and stopped. He kept his hand hovering near his gun.
“Why are you out here so late?”
“I was at work and lost track of time.”
“Do you live near these woods?”
That was an odd question, but I let it slide. “No,” I said, “I live in the suburbs up the road.”
“Suburbs,” he said as if it was the first time his mouth had tried uttering the phrase.
“Yep, suburbs,” I said as politely as I could muster.
“Are you alone currently?”
I was confused. He had to be able to see into my car. He had to see just one dude in here. Unless he thought I was hiding someone in my glove box, why did he keep asking me that? “Yes. For now.”
His radio squawked at his shoulder. He jerked like the noise spooked him. When he jumped, I gripped the steering wheel hard. I assumed he would do something violent and braced for the blow. It didn’t come, though. Instead, the cop plucked the radio off his shoulder and held it up to his face, confused.
“Units, be advised about a potential small aircraft crash in the woods near mile marker fifty-six along Lincoln highway. An investigative team is en route to confirm and establish a perimeter. Any nearby teams come back.”
I was on Lincoln Highway and hadn’t seen or heard any crash. When I pulled over, I had passed a marker for mile fifty-eight. There is no way a plane crashed, and I missed it. Did something else happen? I had just finished watching Chernobyl the other week, and the thought of a plane crash being cover for a more serious event seemed very plausible. Especially since I knew we were near some chemical factories. For a fleeting second, the thought of being strangled to death by toxic chemicals overtook my fear of being strangled by an overly aggressive cop.
“Should you guys go check that out?” I asked. “It’s not too far back.”
“There was no plane crash,” the cop said.
“Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“No crash,” he repeated.
“Okay…but,” I said, unable to help myself, “shouldn’t you, like, tell them that? So they don’t send a team out there for nothing?”
The cop stood up and stared out into the woods. Something had caught his attention. I turned towards the woods, hoping to get a glimpse, but I saw nothing. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it into the densely packed trees. He slowly scanned it from right to left as if he was looking for something.
“Did you hear something out there or…” I trailed off.
“Are you alone currently?” the cop asked again.
“Yes,” I said, my attention drifting to those dark woods. “Is there something out there?”
“Yes,” the cop said in his cold, flat way.
I swallowed hard. “What is it? A deer?” I asked, trying to remain hopeful.
The cop didn’t respond. He flashed his light five times in quick succession and then twice in slow bursts. It looked like a message in Morse code or something, but since I wasn’t a sailor or born at the turn of the last century, I had no idea. He did it once more before shutting the flashlight off for good.
I turned my attention away from the now-dark woods and back to the motionless cop. “What was that?” I asked.
“A signal to my partner,” the cop said.
“What partner?”
There was a tapping on my passenger glass. I snapped around and saw another cop standing next to my car. I hadn’t seen nor heard him approach. He never leaned down, so I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he seemed to move and behave like his partner. Also, like his partner, he kept his hand near his weapon.
“Please do not reach for anything,” the partner said in a similarly monotone voice. It almost sounded identical to the first cop.
Visions of my dad’s beating came to me at that moment. It might have been irrational to some people, but once you’ve been touched by state violence, it sticks with you. You can’t turn it off because it makes you uncomfortable. Regardless of the result, you’re forced to sit in it until the moment passes.
“I’m not reaching for anything. I’ve barely moved this entire stop,” I said, feeling my anger rising.
“Be mindful of your tone,” the first cop said.
I let out a laugh because this whole goddamn encounter was a joke. I knew a laugh, even a nervous one, was a trigger for some police, but I couldn’t help it. Sometimes the absurdity of life is too much. These two were plenty absurd. Everything about them felt off. It was like they were NPCs in the worst video game ever made. Citizen Harasser: Tin Badge Edition.
“Are you alone currently?” the cop asked again.
“Why do you keep asking me that, man? You can see I’m alone,” I snapped.
“I can see,” the cop said.
He leaned down to peer into my car, finally giving me a look at him. He was pale white with a moon-shaped face. He had deep black eyes that looked through you. I didn’t see any facial hair, but that wasn’t too surprising as even his eyes brows were hardly visible. What hair that was there was a faint wispy brown. The brows looked pasted onto his face and seemed artificial. They were as expressionless as his eyes.
I felt a cold chill run down my spine when he peered into my car. He was off-putting, sure, but something else about the encounter felt wrong. Yes, he was looking into my car and fishing for a reason to pull me out, but I was used to that behavior. It was his demeanor that was throwing me off. It was like he was going through the motions with this stop because he had other, bigger things he wanted to get to.
“Is this the one?” the partner asked from outside the passenger window.
“Could be,” the cop responded.
“The one? The one for what?” I asked.
“Are there others nearby?”
“I don’t detect any,” the cop said, looking in my backseat.
“Can I get your names and badge numbers?” I asked.
“It is on my body,” the cop said.
I looked at his nameplate, and it read “Andrews.” His partner, who was doing his best to hide his identification, finally made a mistake, and I caught his name. It was “Jones.” I made a mental note to keep their names. I tried to read their badge numbers, but with them moving and being in the dark, it was nearly impossible.
“Man, what do you guys want from me? My car broke down, and I’m waiting for a tow truck. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Be mindful of your tone,” Jones said again.
“Look, to be real with you, I’m scared, okay? This whole goddamn encounter is freaking me out. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it ain’t me, okay? I just got off of work. I can prove I was at work. You need me to call my boss?”
“Your boss is of little concern to us,” Andrews said, turning his gaze back to my face.
“I need you to call a supervisor,” I said, my heart jackhammering. “I’m scared you guys are gonna do something.” I saw my phone chilling in the cup holder and thought to reach for it and start recording. Before I could twitch the muscles in my hand, the partner and the cop placed their hands on their weapons.
“Do not move,” Jones said.
“I need a supervisor,” I said again. I stuffed down the fear in my voice, but it still spilled out the sides.
“I need you to exit the vehicle,” Andrews said. “Do it slowly.”
“I don’t want to leave until a supervisor is here.”
“More officers are here,” Andrews said, motioning back toward the blue and red lights.
I glanced in my rearview and saw three silhouettes appear. They were slowly moving towards my car, all of them with their hands on their weapons. I knew enough history to know five armed men, a dark night, and zero witnesses was a recipe for a dead motorist.
“Look, man, do you want my license and registration? My insurance? I can hand them to you. There’s no need to do anything crazy. I’m just a working man heading home. That’s all.”
Suddenly, the sound of a siren broke the tension of the moment. I glanced away from the cop and out of my car’s windshield and spotted spinning red and blue lights approaching us. Great, I thought. I didn’t think more patrol cars would be the solution to my growing problem.
The cop, his partner, and the approaching three other officers also seemed taken by surprise. It was like they didn’t know or want anyone else coming this way. But I knew there had to be a second and possibly third car already, as there were five cops surrounding me.
“This was not supposed to happen,” Andrews said to his partner.
“Maybe they are driving to another call,” Jones said as robotic as ever.
“Maybe it’s your supervisor,” I said, hoping and praying I’d see a white shirt popping out of the driver’s door.
The radio at the cop’s shoulder squawked again. “Car 12 en route to crash sight. We see some lights up the road. Will engage. Stand by.”
Andrews had said there hadn’t been a crash but never radioed that information in. That struck me as odd. I started wondering if these guys were actually cops at all. I mean, I hadn’t seen their car, and while they had the attitude of most cops, they didn’t act like police. Their demeanor and vibes were off.
In this Gatling gun burst of thoughts, I realized what bothered me about how they talked – they never used conjunctions. It was always “they are” and never “they’re.” It made their speaking stilted and, to be honest, haunting. Everybody I know shortens language in day-to-day use. Why were these two not doing that? Not even when they spoke to each other. It was all very formal, like they were spies who hadn’t mastered the lingua franca of the country they were in.
Before I realized it, car 12 was fast approaching. The cops dealing with me looked around as if they were checking to see if anyone else was coming. The three cops that had magically appeared shrank back into the darkness.
The cruiser came to a stop across from my car. A quick glance showed no white shirt superior. It was two other beat cops. They looked at me and then at Andrews. The driver of car 12 whistled, and the Andrews turned to them.
“Hey pal, you know anything about a crash?”
“There was no crash, officer,” Andrews said.
“Officer? No need to be so formal. I’m Jenkins. This is Marrow. Dispatch got calls about a crash,” Jenkins said.
“We have canvassed the area and not seen anything. We do not believe there is any need for further police presence.”
“Oh, okay. You call it in?” Jenkins asked.
“We have not at this moment.”
“I got ya,” he said, grabbing his radio. “Car 12 to dispatch, cancel any emergency vehicles to the crash scene. There ain’t nothing out here.”
The dispatcher responded with an affirmative and called to cancel any other units. Jenkins nodded and flashed a smile. Andrews nodded and said, “Thank you for your help.”
Jenkins pointed at me, “Who’s this guy?”
“We are conducting an investigation,” Andrews said.
“I didn’t do anything,” I yelled, hoping to get help. Instead, the occupants of car 12 laughed.
“They all say that, huh? You guys need help or what?”
“We have this under control, officer,” Andrews said. Jenkins gave him a look and then mumbled something to his partner. I could see Marrow laughing.
“Alright, boys,” Jenkins said, “happy hunting.”
Jenkins nodded and lifted his foot off the brake. They started rolling and then suddenly stopped. Jenkins and Marrow spoke to each other before whistling to get Andrew’s attention again. Andrews slowly turned back to his compatriots in car 12.
“Can I assist you, officers?”
“Mind if we have a chat with this guy? Partner tells me he looks like a guy took a swing at a buddy of his last week. Knocked his friend’s tooth out.”
“I think we have this under control,” Andrews said.
“We will handle any investigation,” Jones added.
“I know, but this is a professional courtesy thing, ya know?” Jenkins said with a wink.
“I know,” Andrews said.
“Great,” Jenkins said, putting the vehicle in park and turning on the spinning blue and reds to warn any potential passersby to stay clear.
Andrews flashed his light quickly three times and then slowly three times. I watched as Jones backed away from my car and back into the dark, dense woods. That didn’t sit right with me. Why would a cop move away from a scene unless he knew something terrible was about to happen? Plausible deniability and all that.
Jenkins and Marrow came walking over to the car. Andrews moved towards the back of my car and out of earshot as they did. I glanced in my rearview and watched Andrews turn his back to the officers from car 12. He repeated the same flashlight message to the three cops standing back by his car. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my face.
“You look nervous,” Jenkins said, walking to my window. “Why’s that?”
“Because my car broke down, and now I got seven cops surrounding me,” I said.
“Seven? There’s only four of us.”
“There are three other cops back there. They were going to approach before you two rolled up.”
“Why were they approaching your car? Were you acting aggressive?”
“Fuck no, man. My car broke down, and these guys rolled up on me before I could call a wrecker. I didn’t see no cop car anywhere, no lights, nothing. It was like they were waiting for me,” I said.
“Why would they be waiting for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was sweating more now, my body displaying the nerves my face was trying to conceal.
“You look scared,” Marrow said.
“I am scared,” I said, trying not to yell.
“Calm down, bro, okay,” Marrow said, unclipping his holster.
“You ever go to Cut Rate Liquors on Maple? Were you there last Thursday?” Jenkins asked, following his partner’s lead and unclipping his holster’s button.
“What? No. I don’t drink,” I said.
“You take a swing at a cop?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I said, instantly regretting my choice of words.
“Calm down, sir,” Marrow said, wrapping his hand on the butt of his gun.
“Why are you in such a panic, huh?” Jenkins asked.
I shook my head and swallowed hard. I glanced back in the rearview at Andrews, who was staring out into the woods. I bit my lip and then said in a hushed whisper, “I don’t think those guys are cops.”
Jenkins and Marrow started laughing. I shook my head out of anger and frustration and wanted to scream but managed to keep the yelling in my own mind. “I’m serious.”
“I thought you said you don’t drink,” Marrow joked.
“I don’t, and I’m being serious about those guys. Don’t you think they’re acting weird? Too formal? Their language? Their movements? What department do they even work for? Why didn’t they radio back that there wasn’t any crash out here? Where are their cars?”
“You can’t see the blue and red lights behind you?” Jenkins asked.
“I see lights, but I don’t see a car, do you?”
“It’s dark, genius,” Marrow added.
“You’d still be able to see an outline. There’s nothing back there. I’m telling you, something is off about them.”
“You think they’re ghosts?” Jenkins said before turning to Andrews, “Yo, Andrews, you a ghoul or something?”
Andrews didn’t react. It was like he hadn’t heard Jenkins, which was impossible because Jenkins yelled, and Andrews was a scant five feet from him. Jenkins shot a look to Marrow, who shrugged.
“See what I’m talking about? That’s not normal.”
“You don’t drink, but you smoke weed though, right?” Jenkins said.
“I smell the scent of marijuana coming out of this vehicle,” Marrow said.
“Come on, man. Listen to me. Something is off about them,” I pleaded.
“Gonna need you to exit the car, sir,” Marrow said, taking his gun out of his holster, “slowly.”
“I’ll get out if you promise that you’ll keep me away from them,” I said. “I don’t trust them.”
“Sounds like you don’t trust the police in general,” Jenkins said.
“I don’t,” I said, carefully undoing my seat belt, “but I trust those guys less, and I’m out of options.”
Jenkins grabbed his gun and held it on me as I unlocked my door and pushed it open. At the sound of my door opening, Andrews turned around and said, “Do not remove him from the vehicle. He is our responsibility.”
“We’re gonna run him, and then we’ll give him back to you, okay?” Jenkins said.
“He looks a little like the guy that swung on the cop, but we want to check to be sure,” Marrow added.
I exited the car, and Jenkins closed the door with his knees. With his gun still out, he ordered me to turn around, lean against the car, and put my hands behind my back. I did and felt the cold metal of the handcuffs slam against my wrist. Jenkins kept them tight.
“I am asking you one last time to unhand this person,” Andrews said.
“Excuse me?” Jenkins said.
“Leave this person to us,” Andrews repeated.
“You a Lieutenant? If not, let us do our job. We’ll give him back, promise,” Marrow said.
“Again, leave this man here with us.” Andrews had now squared up to them. His body language, always rigid, seemed doubly so. It made him appear larger than he was before. More physically intimidating. It was hard to make out as the only light on his face was the blue and reds from car 12, but his face looked different. Changed in a subtle way I couldn’t put my finger on but unsettled me nonetheless.
“Hey man, what’s your deal?” Jenkins said, hauling me off the car and pushing me towards his cruiser. “Where you guys from, anyway? Which department?”
That’s when all of the power in our vehicles shut off. We were standing in the middle of a now pitch-black night. I had enough time to ask, “What was going on?” but not enough time to hear an answer. Seconds later, a shock wave blew over the street, sending everyone to the ground.
I landed so hard on my ass I thought I broke my tailbone. Regardless of how bad it hurt or how restricting the handcuffs were, I knew I needed to get away from all these guys. One group was a threat, and the other could be. I inched myself across the pavement and towards the side of the road.
I heard painful moaning from Jenkins and Marrow. They must’ve hit the ground harder than I had. At least they had the benefit of using their hands to cushion the blow. I was worried I’d have permanent damage.
“What the fuck was that?” Jenkins asked.
“It was like a bomb went off,” Marrow said. “You hurt?”
“I landed hard on my elbow. You?”
“I think I….”
I never found out what happened to Marrow. Before he could finish that thought, several blue and red lights flipped on down the road. All the other cars and electronic systems were as dead as dead can be, but somehow, those vehicles were fine.
I knew this meant we wouldn’t be.
The lights started moving, not towards or away from us but up into the air. The outline of the craft came into view for a fleeting seconds before a blinding white spotlight illuminated Jenkins. He raised his hand to block out the light, but it was in vain.
That’s when we heard the skittering on the road.
I ducked behind the cruiser but kept an eye on Jenkins. As he was temporarily blinded by the light, I watched as what looked like a seven-foot-tall millipede reared up in front of him. I’m unsure if Jenkins ever saw the creature, but I know he felt its needle-like pinchers as they jabbed into his temples.
There was more skittering as another monster-pede crossed towards where Marrow had landed. Marrow screamed, but it was quickly muffled as the creature wrapped around his body and sunk his pinchers into Marrow’s brain. This attack was a mere three feet from where I was, and I heard a sickening slurping noise. I could feel my dinner taking the expressway from my stomach to my mouth, but I threw up a few traffic cones and prevented a crash. I didn’t need the sound of me vomiting being the reason I died. How embarrassing would that be?
I knew I’d be the next snack if I stuck around. Despite my throbbing tailbone, the will to live motivated me to get moving. I knew there were at least three more of these aliens; if they were hungry too, they’d track me down. I had to go. I had to try to run away. I might get caught, but I was going to make death chase me.
I glanced back to see where these creatures were and were stunned by what I saw in the blinding spotlight. Both millipedes stood tall and became as rigid as a corpse. Starting from their last pair of feet attached to the ground, a blue cocoon began wrapping around their frozen bodies. In seconds, there were two pods in front of me.
Seconds later, they started to crack near where the millipede’s heads had been. When the cocoon around their head finally split open, I saw the faces of Jenkins and Marrow emerge. The bugs were gone and had copied the cops from car 12.
As the two Xerox cops ate the way out of their protective cocoon, I stood and leaned against the cruiser to get my balance. I tried to stay quiet and out of eyesight, but I was rushing because I didn’t want to be the next meal. I was worried without the use of my arms, I might hurt myself even worse if I fell, but it was better than the current option.
I stayed low and ran for the woods. If I got through this alive, I’d come back for my car another day. Right now, I was worried about living another day. I sprinted through the trees and hoped no one had seen me. As I hit the treeline, I heard some squealing and roaring. I didn’t glance back.
As I ran, I quickly glanced up and said a silent prayer to that long-ago city counselor who decided to keep these woods intact. He had saved my life. While I was looking up, I ran headfirst into a pine and fell to the ground. I saw a flash of stars and felt blood trickling down my face. I knew I had just broken my nose.
While lying on the ground, I saw the blue and red lights of the craft hovering over the woods. The ship was on the move. I feared they’d find me, but they didn’t stick around. In a flash, the ship zipped out of sight. In the blink of an eye, it was just another twinkle in the night sky.
The quiet of the night was shattered when the siren of car 12 started up. I kicked over to the tree I had slammed into and pushed my back into it. I glared out from where I was and saw the car’s lights as it drove away. The Xerox cops were now returning to the station for God knows what.
It dawned on me then that there were probably more of these things out there. Every weirdo you see at the store or the bus stop might be more than you think. It might be one of them. I didn’t need another reason to avoid the police, but I was given one.
I stayed in the woods for a few hours before returning to my dead car. There was nothing else there. After several attempts, I got my phone out of my pocket with my handcuffed hands. I successfully nose-dialed a friend and, by the grace of God, got a call to connect. I called a close friend, who came out and listened to my insane story. He probably thought I was nuts, but he helped me get out of those handcuffs and didn’t judge. He waited for a tow truck with me, and we watched the sunrise.
I haven’t told anyone besides my buddy, and I only told him because I needed to explain why my face was busted up and I was in handcuffs but not in jail. At that point, I was in for a penny. He’s stayed mum, but I worry he thinks I’m cracking up. I’m hoping someone else out there has seen something like this, if for no other reason than to convince myself that I’m not crazy.
Because I’m not crazy…right?