There are others out there. They walk, talk, and smell like us, but they aren’t really us. I’m not so sure I’m myself. Are you sure that you’re you?
I was heading southbound on M-37 after I got off a late shift at the bar. A downpour had just started a few moments ago. I knew a cold front was supposed to be moving in so I braced myself. My frigid hands shook vigorously as the downpour raged on. My hand reached to crank up the heat, and I flicked the windshield wipers into action while I was at it. Then something caught my attention, I saw a figure dragging its feet along the side of the road. It was a white male, with dirty blonde hair, and broad shoulders. He was wearing a wife beater, with some visible stains on it, and also a pair of ripped dark blue jeans. What’s more, he was soaking wet, and I mean right down to his socks. His whole get-up had a ruffled look about it.. My headlights shone brightly, so the details were hard to miss, even from a distance.
He held a thumb out towards me.
I placed my foot on the brakes ever so gently. The car decelerated just enough for me to get a better look at his face. Nobody sane would be walking out in this weather, especially not down the highway in the middle of nowhere and at this hour of the night. My gut told me that something was wrong, and I wanted to trust it.
As I drove up to him, I could see a look of despair in his sunken eyes, like those of a pup that had long since been abandoned. A part of me wanted to hit the brakes and find out what was wrong. But just as my car began to decelerate, I noticed a thick red residue at the bottom of his shirt. I wasn’t sure if it was blood or not, and quite frankly I didn’t want to stick around to find out. My survival instincts kicked in. I floored the pedal, and I zoomed off within seconds.
As I raced away, I looked through my rear-view mirror and watched his figure fade into the darkness. It was one of the creepiest experiences I’ve ever had. Sure, it was possible it was ketchup and the guy was just down on his luck. But someone else could take that risk and find out instead, right? At least that’s what I told myself to try and alleviate the guilt that burrowed its way into my chest.
I tried to turn the radio on to get my mind off the strangeness of it all but I was met with static. Once again, I sensed movement from outside the car. The beam of my headlights ricocheted off two small orbs in the darkness.
A man was walking down the road, wearing the same getup as the last. It wasn’t just that though. His hair was the same color, the same length, and they looked around the same age too. I had almost slowed my car to a halt at this point, my eyes bore into the man as he walked closer to me. I got a good look at his face, trying my best to take in every detail I could. The texture of his skin wasn’t right. It resembled wet clay more than it did skin. The orbs he had for eyes reflected no light in them, it was like looking into a cloudy night sky with no stars, and no moon. They were empty. The facial proportions looked as if they had hastily been forced together to make something to resemble a human, although they had failed miserably. I felt like I was losing my mind, whatever was outside my car could in no way be an actual person.
My hand slid along the side of my car door, I fumbled at it and ended up hitting the lock a few times. The thing was standing right outside my passenger side door now. I felt an uneasiness rise in my stomach and gripped the wheel firmly, my body tensed up when he reached for the handle. I floored the pedal and sped away, this time with much more urgency, I wanted to get away from that thing as soon as I could.
As soon as I had gotten to a safe distance, I frantically reached for my cell phone and dialed 911.
“Nine One One, what is your emergency?” A masculine but somewhat soothing voice briskly responded over the phone.
“I would like to report a…” At that point, it occurred to me that I wasn’t really certain why I was calling. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time.
“…umm, I would like to report two very strange individuals who were walking down highway M-37. They were sketchy and one looked very creepy. But the crazy thing was that both of them looked almost identical. Except that the second man looked weird.” I babbled, without a clear idea of how best to explain myself.
I couldn’t help but wonder how stupid I must have sounded to the police officer. My story sounded dumber and dumber by the minute. The words were great in my head- but out loud, not so much. After I was done explaining, there was a momentary silence. I could feel the officer trying to wrap his head around the story I had just told.
“Okay, sir…Did these strange individuals pose any threat to you? Were they armed?” The police officer asked. My mind flashed back to the first man, and the helpless look in his eyes.
“Umm, I wouldn’t really say threat…Okay, one of them had blood on his shirt. But then again, it may have just been a ketchup stain.” Just as the last bit slipped out of my mouth, I immediately regretted it. If I sounded dumb before, he probably would have thought I was a complete moron at that point.
“Okay sir, let me get this straight. You’re saying that you left two individuals, of whom one was possibly injured, out there in the storm?” the officer inquired. His tone was a bit intense, but he was still trying his best to sound professional. I wanted to tell him about how creepy the second guy looked, especially with his otherworldly eyes, but somehow, I felt that would only make matters worse.
“Well, yeah, no…Not exactly. Something just didn’t seem right about-” abruptly, I was cut off by another question, but this time, it sounded more like an interrogation.
“Right, right, you’ve mentioned that already. And what did you say your name was, sir?”
My throat ran a little dry as I detected the tone of the question. I couldn’t help but notice the change in pitch of the man’s voice, as he added the ‘sir’ at the end. Almost as though it was a forced courtesy. I cleared my throat and responded.
“Um, my name’s Oliver O’Bryant, sir.” I could hear some chatter in the background over the phone. It was obvious that we were no longer alone on the call.
“Alright Mr. O’Bryant, so let’s recap your, umm, complaint…” he paused and sighed audibly into the phone before he continued. “You’re calling the Traverse City Police Department to let us know that you saw two, poor, soaked, and possibly injured men walking through a thunderstorm, and you refused to give them a lift? Is that your complaint? Was their walking that offensive to you, sir?”
The sudden accusations caught me off guard and made my face flush with embarrassment. I went mute. I held the phone away from my ear, wondering if I should have even bothered calling. I brought the receiver back to my lips and stammered out an answer.
“W-Well hitchhiking is illegal on major highways in Michigan, sir.”
There was a long pause on the receiving end before the officer let out another barely audible sigh once again as he said. “Well, that is technically true. Don’t worry mister umm…O’Bryant, we’ll send a unit to go check it out. You have a safe ride home now.” The officer concluded with a tone so patronizing it made my stomach turn.
Before I could even respond, my phone was letting out that monotonous buzz that we all know too well. I tossed my smartphone onto the passenger seat, tightened my grip on the steering, and finished my ride home.
I got home, drove the car into the garage, and pulled the key out of the ignition. I tried to yank the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. Was it broken?
I tried again, but I still got the same response. I was getting antsy and slightly frustrated, but after a few tries, it dawned on me. I let out a dry chuckle. “Fucking nerves,” I muttered beneath my breath. I had forgotten that the lock on the door was still pinned down. It was just excess nerves at work, but it was nothing some good old-fashioned sleep couldn’t fix.
I made my way into the house and double-checked the locks on the doors. I was still a bit startled by all that had happened. But honestly, who wouldn’t be?
As I made my way into my soft cushioned bed, it welcomed me into its warm embrace. I was just happy to forget the events that had unfolded that day, and finally, put them behind me. “Tomorrow will be a better day,” I whispered to myself, as I gave into the sweet allure of lady sleep. My eyes snapped shut.
Quite contrary to my wishful muttering, “tomorrow” did not turn out to be a better day, not by a long shot. I was awoken the next morning by a heavy pounding sound coming from my front door. It sounded like someone or something was trying to break the door down. It couldn’t possibly have been a robbery, the sun was already out and I lived in a small town where everyone knew each other.
I leaped out of the bed and raced towards the window. It was in a prime position for surveillance, I could see the entire front lawn from there. I gently drew the blinders open and peeped through. Two Ford Crown Victoria’s were sitting outside my house.
“What is going on? What the hell are the cops doing here?…” I muttered to myself. Then I grabbed a robe from the bed and ran downstairs. I took a quick glance at my phone as I descended. It was just past 7 am. Just as my feet leaped off the last staircase, the heavy pound came again, the doors hinges threatened to snap off at any moment from the incessant assault. I was so frightened that my heart almost leaped out of my mouth.
I opened the door without hesitation, then I was greeted by the ferocious glare of four men in blue. There was a bit of an awkward silence, as my eyes scanned their faces. They darted from one to the next. An attempt to read some sort of emotion, desperately trying to prepare myself for what was to come. The officer closest to the door still had his hands suspended in midair, and clenched into a fist. He was probably the one that had been trying to break my door down. I knew I’d done nothing wrong, but that didn’t quite stop my chest from racing.
“Hello, officers” I swallowed back a lump forming in my throat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Are you Oliver O’Bryant?” The officer behind the first asked.
“Yeah, that’s me! Is something wrong?”
“My name is Sergeant Genrich. These are inspectors Smith, Jones, and O’Riley…” The Officers gave a slight nod, as he called out their names. I recognized that smooth yet condescending voice in an instant. There was no doubt about it, Sergeant Genrich was the officer I spoke with last night. With that realization came an increased sense of uneasiness in my gut. Genrich was a balding and rotund man. He was probably the most senior of the four. Smith and Jones were standing behind, covering the perimeter. Both men looked a bit young, like they were fresh off the academy. O’Riley, on the other hand, was the one trying to break the door down. He had this weird bushy mustache on his face, it almost looked like a dead squirrel. He looked stern and sinewy, like the kind of guy who liked to kick puppies for fun. My eyes drifted back to Sergeant Genrich.
“…You called the Traverse City Police Department last night about a hitchhiker you saw on the side of the road, is that correct? A man in a wife beater, dark blue jeans, dirty blonde hair?
My lips formed into a smile, as a wave of relief washed over me. “That’s right! Did you guys catch him?”
Inspector Smith threw his face away in a hurry, while inspector Jones’ face transitioned to a grimace. He looked at the ground and tried to hide it, but it was pretty hard to miss. There was an awkward pause. My bright smile quickly receded.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, cluelessly.
“Mr. O’Bryant, may we come in for a few minutes?” Sergeant Genrich said. It was more of a statement than a question as three of the men practically forced their way inside, and one stood at the door. I backed up and offered them a seat at my dinner table. There weren’t enough chairs for all of them, but Jones and Smith seemed preoccupied with roaming the confines of my kitchen. Looking for God knows what? My concern started to rise and so did my temper.
“Please can someone just tell me what’s going on? Did you catch those guys or not?” While I was speaking, my eyes kept drifting over to the men who were suspiciously snooping around my house. It felt like they were looking for something, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell what it was.
“We’ll get to your answer soon, don’t you worry. I just want to get the timeline straight so that we are all on the same page,” Sergeant Genrich replied. “After you got off the phone with the police department, what did you do?”
“Timeline? What do you mean, timeline??” I wrung my hands together and held them over my mouth. I felt the eyes of all three officers in the room staring holes into me, as I asked the next question. “Did something happen?”. Realizing he wasn’t going to get a peep out of me without giving any further details, Sergeant Genrich finally opened up to me. For his sake or my own, I wasn’t sure.
“Mister O’Bryant, the man you described last night was found deceased on the side of the road early this morning.” Sergeant Genrich pulled out a parcel of photos and placed them on the table. The photos showed the lifeless face of the man I had seen the night before. My mind instantly flashed back to that same dejected look he had in his eyes as I drove past. A cold chill raced up my spine.
“…You were the last person to have any contact with him.” Inspector O’Riley chimed in. He stared me squarely in the eyes as if he was intentionally trying to get a rise out of me. And, it was working.
I sat up straight and pressed my back into my chair. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but with each breath I took, it felt like my world was closing in on me. Inspector O’Riley planted his hand on the table and then leaned in toward me. His head was so close that his mustache almost brushed up against my face. My nostrils were stung by the strong musky stench of his cologne, a smell so off putting it felt like I was catching a whiff of deer piss.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about his unfortunate demise, would you?” O’Riley said. The accusatory tone in his voice was unmissable. He was already staring at me like I was guilty, and somehow I was starting to believe it too. My heart was racing and my hands, which I had inconspicuously tucked under the table, were shaking. I felt like I was being passive-aggressively badgered into an untrue confession.
Suddenly, I felt a firm, warm hand on my already quaking shoulders. I looked up sharply. It was Sergeant Genrich’s, and he was already standing behind me. “When did he …?” I wondered in my head.
He stooped down, and whispered into my ears, “Relax son, we just want to know what you did after you got off the phone with us last night, it’s very important that we leave no stones unturned. It’s just part of the job, you understand, right?”
His voice was so calm and soothing, almost like he was trying to convince me that he was on my side. Now that I think about it, they were probably using the old good cop-bad cop routine on me, and it was working. I already felt like I was guilty and like I was trying to cut a deal, even though I had done nothing wrong.
“No, I mean yes, I understand. I just drove straight home and jumped right into bed; I didn’t do anything else!” I assertively yelled, but beyond my frantic shouting, an even louder noise echoed outside. First the quiet tick of a car engine and then the sound of rubber on asphalt as a vehicle slid into my driveway. The noise was then followed by a door slamming shut. By this time, all three of the officers in the room were looking out my front window, myself included. In came a man in casual business attire, and the anger could be heard in his voice as he got to my front porch.
“Move! Out of my way! I need to speak to my client!”
The strange dapperly dressed man made his way right into my kitchen just as the officers had, although his arrival wasn’t an unwelcome one. The officer seated across from me who had been the one questioning me turned to the man and asked
“Your client? Are you saying that you are Mr. O’Bryant’s attorney?”
“That’s right, I’m his lawyer. We had a meeting arranged for this morning at 7 a.m., although as you can see, I’m late.” The mysterious lawyer oozed confidence. His jet-black hair was so slickly coiled back that it looked impossible to replicate.
I’m glad the officer was turned away from me because I had the same look on my face right now as all the others did. I had never seen this man in my life, but I was relieved that someone here was on my side at least. His timing was perfect, it felt like I was a black rabbit amid a hungry pack of wolves and they were sprucing me up for supper.
“Alright then counselor, may I ask what your name is?” Genrich quizzed, arms akimbo. His stare was so steely, it could riddle a man with bullets. The other officers also joined in on leering at the lawyer. None of that seemed to phase him though, not in the slightest bit.
“Anton Flitwick is my name, litigation is my game!” The fiery attorney retorted. “Here’s my card officer, please don’t lose it!” He forwarded his business card to Sergeant Genrich so vivaciously that it felt like he was doing a card trick.
“Well, Mr. Flitwick, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Sergeant Genrich, and these ar-”
“I don’t care who you are! All I care about is seeing the warrant!” There was a pause as the man stared down Sergeant Genrich, his hands motioning towards him. “You do have a warrant, right? To be here?” with each word my new lawyer spoke, more emphasis was added than the last.
“There’s no need for a warrant, we’re just here to clear the air before anything drastic happens.”
“Oh, right, four of you came here just to ‘clear the air’”. I bet Oliver didn’t even invite you inside, did he? Did you Oliver? Did you let these men in your house?”
I was too enthralled in the scene unfolding before my eyes to register there was a question directed at me. The second question arose and I snapped back to reality. The man had made his way to the table and a hand gestured to me.
“Well? Did you invite these four kind officers into your house?”
“N-No… I didn’t. They invited themselves in, I didn’t even get time to react.” I said with a stutter. Having been so panicked just moments ago, I couldn’t have imagined I’d be giving this answer. Even now, my adrenaline-filled body couldn’t stop shaking. But Flitwick’s mysterious appearance has given me a new leash of hope. I clenched my hands into fists and pressed them down into the table, a meager attempt to halt the quivering my body was still experiencing.
“Now, wait a damn minu-” Inspector O’Riley tried to interject but was swiftly shut down by my voluble, fire-spitting attorney.
“And there you have it! You came in here, without a warrant, and you’re intimidating the poor kid! He can’t stop shaking; he’s scared out of his boots! All of you, out!”
Sergeant Genrich stood up, and he motioned to the other officers who brushed past the lawyer and made their way out the front door. Genrich stopped and looked back towards us. The anger in his glare was apparent on his face.
“Fine then, I guess we’ll be doing this the hard way. This could have been real easy if you had just talked to us. I’ll be back with your warrant, don’t you worry.”
Genrich said this directly at me, although his scowling face was quickly hidden from view by my lawyer’s broad back.
“ Well, La-di-da! Thanks for that crude bit of threat, I’ll be sure to let the judge know all about it, if and when this matter gets to court. Until then, Sergeant Genrich, I’d appreciate it if you would kindly leave my client’s premises now, thank you”
The wood floor creaked and groaned as the four men left my house. I stood to thank the mysterious man that I had all too suddenly accepted to represent me, but by the time I’d gotten to my feet, he was across my house locking my front door, he even deadbolted it, and then he came marching back towards me briskly. I tried to reach out, to ask what he was doing, but he was already at my backdoor, performing the same procedure on it also.
“The back door doesn’t lock, the wood’s too worn down on the doorframe…Also, what are you doing?”
“I don’t want anything walking in on our conversation!”
“Anything? Not anyone?” I asked him, looking about as petrified as a deer in headlights.
Flitwick, on the other hand, was so busy barricading my house, he didn’t stop to answer.
“Also, I want to say I appreciate the help, honestly, I do; but who the fuck are you? I never hired a lawyer, and how did you know those guys didn’t have a warrant?” I spoke up.
At that point, he left fiddling with the backdoor, and turned to face me, he held his hands up in front of him defensively, although I think the gesture was just one to make me feel like I had more control.
“I know this all seems very strange, but I’m not a lawyer, Oliver” As he said this, he made his way to my dining table and found himself a seat which he dropped down into, unceremoniously. A hand raised to his tie, loosening it to a point where it just draped around his neck now. “But worry not my association and I will make sure that no legal trouble comes to you, under any circumstances. You’re our prime witness in this case. By the way, have you got anything to drink around here? I’ve been on the road since last night. I’ve had no time to stop after we picked up on your call. Had to get here as fast as I could.”
“Drink? Associates? Legal trouble?! That’s it, you’ve got to the count of five to explain to me what the fuck is going on, or else I’m calling the cops?!” I spoke up, having had all I could take of the drama that was unfolding. Though, a part of me couldn’t help wondering where this confidence was hiding when those dirty cops were busy making me feel like a piece of shit.
“Hey, cool your jets, hot shot! In case you forgot, I just saved your ass back there. Those pigs were planning to make you their bitch. They would have taken turns fucking you sideways if it wasn’t for me! And that’s not even the worst of it. So for crying out loud, give me a fucking drink!” Flitwick exploded, I was stunned by his sudden frankness but there was no denying he was right. If he didn’t show up when he did, I would have been halfway to the precinct by now. After a momentary pause, I finally replied.
“Okay, a drink, then we talk?”
“Yes, a drink, then we can talk, Oliver.”
Still standing, I turned to my fridge and grabbed a couple of bottled water. One of them slipped out of my hands and rolled across the floor toward the man, who, I’m now guessing is actually not named Flitwick.
He leaned over in his seat to pick it up and he let out a chuckle.
“Still nervous, huh? I don’t blame ya. You should calm down though, we are safe here” He twisted the cap off the bottle, and downed the whole drink before he spoke again. “My associates, the people I work for, have an interest in investigating strange and bizarre happenings. Now I’m not talking about werewolves, vampires, or some Twilight shit. I mean verifiable events happening right under our noses that the government deems too outlandish to look into.” He then paused for a moment to whip out a notepad.
“We monitor thousands of phone calls an hour across the nation, and yours last night was flagged for investigation. Now I’m not here to question you about the homicide, that’s the law enforcements matter to worry about, and frankly, I don’t care about the dead. Instead, I’m here to inquire about the second man that you saw last night.”
The man pulled out and clicked a pen that he tapped on the table as he looked up at me. I took a seat and replied to his question.
“Alright, what about him?”
“Well, Oliver, you stated that there was ‘something’ weird about this second individual you encountered. What do you think was so strange about him?”
My mind went to the call I had with the police last night, and how they had mocked me. At the same time, images of what I had seen outside my car flickered before my eyes, I shuddered at the thought of the thing, and I looked up at the man, who I’m now guessing is some kind of detective, and spoke up, “I don’t think that you’ll believe me even if I tell you.” The man tried his best to muffle a chuckle
“Oliver, you would not believe the crazy shit I hear daily while doing this job, and I’m talking about the kind of mindfuckery that would make Stephen King cringe and void his bowels. So, by all means, lay it on me! After all, I might be the best option you have right now…Also, I was a private detective before I got to working for my associates, so trust me, your secrets are safe with me.”
A sigh escaped my lips as I took a sip of my own water and relayed the events of last night to the detective, leaving out no part in my story. “It was… uncanny how alike the second man was to the first, he was wearing the exact same clothes, and even his hair was the same. They were so identical, I thought I was losing my mind” The detective across from me had been writing in his notepad the entire time, it was as if his pen danced across the page. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have believed he was writing word for word what I had said.
“But hang on here, Oliver, you said that it was raining last night, and it was dark out, how can you be so sure that you saw what you saw? Is it possible the two just appeared similar?”
“No, no!” I shouted at the man. He was the first person willing to listen, and just as I had feared, he thought I was crazy. “ I know what I saw! Listen, when I was little, the only thing my parents ever got me were those “Spot the difference” books, you know the type, you just spot the differences in two photos that are nearly identical.” I gestured over to a bookshelf in my living room that was filled to the brim with every iteration of ‘Spot the Difference’ that had been released. “I got bored of the books though, so… I spot the differences in people. I know it sounds silly, but it’s one of my hobbies, people watching that is. That thing from last night, something was wrong, I don’t think that it was human. I-” The detective peered into my eyes for a few seconds and his pupils widened as though he just had an epiphany.
“That’s enough Oliver, you’ve told me enough.” He interrupted me, still scribbling into his notepad as he tore a page out and handed it to me. “I think that I understand the situation well enough, I’ll get it taken care of, don’t you worry. If you remember anything else of note, then go ahead and give me a call and I’ll listen to what you have to say. Try not to tell anyone else about what you saw though.”
“That’s it?! You’re just gonna go like that? What about the homicide? The police, they think that I killed a man! And you definitely didn’t make me look innocent while you were kicking them out of the house!”
“Like I said, my associates will make sure that no litigation will be brought against you, you’ll be just fine. There are bigger problems at hand here.” As he said that, he stood from his seat and gave me a firm pat on the shoulder before making his way to the door. “Everything will be alright, don’t you worry Oliver.” I tried to ask him what he meant by that, but he was already gone, and I had more questions than I had answers to now.
I was left in my house, alone. I watched from the window as he drove off, I hadn’t even learned his name, and I didn’t know if I could fully trust him yet. I spent the rest of my day inside trying to keep my mind preoccupied. I went to bed early that night. The past 24 hours had been more excitement than I’d had in years, I just wanted this day to be over. “I’ll get it taken care of, don’t worry.” was the last thing I whispered to myself before I managed to drift off to sleep.
My eyes shot open as a pounding could be heard coming from downstairs, and not soon thereafter my doorbell started ringing, over and over. I rolled over, grabbing hold of my phone as it flickered to life, it showed 2:14 A.M.
“Who the fuck could that be?” I whispered.
I got out of bed and made my way downstairs. As soon as I reached the door, the knocking came to a halt, and so did I. Slowly, so slowly I turned the cover on the peephole up and brought my eye to peer through it, and what came into view was the figure of a man in business casual attire.
“My lawyer! No, my detective? Flitwick or whatever his name was. Could it really be him?” I muttered under my breath. My confusion knew no bounds. He looked like the exact person I spoke with earlier that day, however, his clothes looked as if they’d been put through a paper shredder, and then dragged through the mud.
“Oliver! I know you’re in there! Let me in, I ain’t got no place else to go!” He pleaded, his hands waved in front of him, and he kept turning, looking behind him. He was obviously nervous.
“Flitwick?! The fuck is going on?! You said that you were gonna go deal with whatever’s been happening. Why are you here? It’s the middle of the night!”
“Oliver I ain’t got the time to explain, let me the fuck in, now!” It sounded just like him, and those were his clothes… I wanted to believe it was him. I really did. What’s something that only he would know?
“Can you at least tell me the name of the police officer we talked to earlier?” I wanted this to be him. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I asked the question.
“Are you fucking testing me or some shit? Whatever! That asshole’s name is Genrich, now let me in already.”
I felt my nerves calm down immediately, an imposter wouldn’t know that, right?
“Alright, step back, I’m opening the door,” I yelled to him.
I unlocked the door and opened it for him. I immediately wished I hadn’t though. Whereas he was in the right attire, and his voice matched up to what I knew, he even knew things only the real detective would know. The desperation and the nervousness in his voice were so human, of course, I wanted more than anything to believe him. His face was far from human though, screw being a self-proclaimed ‘Spot the difference’ master, this one was different. Anyone could tell that this wasn’t the face wasn’t right. His entire head seemed to be made out of roots, with dirt clamped in between the crevices. His muddled face sagged over his head like his skin was made of polyester. The only thing about him that slightly resembled a human were two, round spherical orbs for eyes that were bloodshot.
“Jesus Christ!!” I squealed when I finally got a good glimpse of him.
His body pushed into my door, but the door chain thankfully held it shut. A hand forced its way past the threshold of the door, and inside. Something was writhing underneath the polyester like skin. It was as if Oogie Boogie himself was on the other side of the door now. I threw myself at the door, it smashed the arm again and again until finally it receded and it clicked shut and I turned the lock once more. My door quivered violently as whatever that thing was, clawed at it. I could hear snarling sounds coming from behind the door like I was just a few feet away from a wild animal.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” I yelled desperately with my back to the closed door. Suddenly, the door stopped quaking, and the noise subsided.
I wanted to collapse and just be happy it was over, but in my peripheral vision, I saw the creature bolt past my window. It had knowledge it shouldn’t have. It had Flitwick’s memories from earlier today.
It knew the backdoor didn’t lock.
My fear was overtaken by a drive to live, and I forced myself up the stairs, skipping several as I made my way to my room. I locked the door behind me and grabbed my phone from my bed stand as I hastily dialed in the number that the man had given me, and I brought it to my ear. It hadn’t rung more than twice before I heard an all-familiar voice.
“Jeez, Oliver, Do you know what fucking time it is?” I didn’t know what to say, but the first thing that came to mind was. How did he know it was me? Did he already have my number saved?
“Am I speaking to Flitwick, the real Flitwick??”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course, it’s the rea-” He had sounded as if he had a chuckle in his voice when he had asked me that, but he had stopped himself and changed the direction of his dialogue now. “Are you still at your house?”
“Yeah I’m still here, but… you’re here too, or something that looks like you. I don’t know what to do, I think it knows how to- ‘’ This time I was the one to be interrupted. A deafening roar echoed from downstairs, like the shriek of a wounded bobcat. The bloodcurdling growl was then followed by footsteps making their way up the staircase with as much energy as I had just come up with. My entire door frame shook a moment later. Once, and then twice. I dropped my phone, pushing my bed against my door to barricade myself in the room. In between the bombardments of flesh bearing into my door. Audio sputtered from my phone still, but I couldn’t make it out anymore over the sound of my blood pounding in my head. Maybe that was just the pounding on the door before me though.
I threw myself against my bed, pushing it against the door. My hand scrounged through the covers of my bed, taking hold of my phone as I hastily brought it to my ear. “Don’t let it touch you!” was what he had been screaming over the receiver the entire time, like a broken record.
“No shit, Columbo! What the hell happens if it touches me?” I shouted back, my hand shook, and I could barely keep a hold of the phone in my hands.
“What we’re dealing with here is a pack of mimics, if you come into contact with one it’ll begin to take on your appearance but it can’t finish the transformation until it fully replaces what it’s trying to copy! They’ll stop at nothing to kill the original.” I tried my best to soak up the information like a sponge. I’d find it hard to believe if I hadn’t seen what I had seen at my front door.
“But the mimic looks just like you, did you get touched by it?”
“No, I… I’m not sure why that is, but you need to keep away from it until I get there, can you do that?” I would have replied but just then an incessant, bloodied fist had forced its way through my doorway. It was followed by another hand that slipped through the entrance, prying away at the door. The door quickly splintered under its strength. There was now enough room for its head to fit in the hole it had created. I got a better look at it now, the shape of its face, rudimentary shapes, blocky, as though it was molded together with wet clay. The texture wasn’t much different from the wood of the door it was scraping against.
I could see its eyes. it scoured over the room lazily before it focused on me. The creature’s eyes were the most human-like part about it, they oozed hatred over my body, and bore holes into my soul. Just then a horrible snapping noise could be heard. It was like the sound of a large branch snapping off of a tree in the midst of a storm. The creature’s eyes widened, but a fracture where it’s mouth should have been forced itself open to reveal a wide maw. I thought it intended to bite me, and I backed away from the door.
From the recesses of the mimics’ insides, a deafening pitch sounded. My world shook before me, my entire body was assaulted by pressure, it felt like my eyes would pop from my skull at any moment. By the time it ended, I had emptied the contents of my stomach on the ground, and I was only holding myself up by pressing my forearms into the ground. Something wet was rolling down the side of my face, I raised a hand to my ear, and looked at it to see my hand was coated in a shimmering shade of red. My head was pounding, and all that could be heard was my own blood pulsing through my body.
I felt weak, but I had to run, I couldn’t let it touch me. I forced myself to my feet, my body was unwilling but I stumbled to the window anyways, the glass had been shattered, and I pushed my palms into the frame, vaulting over the side of it. I tried to hang on to the ledge, but as I turned around, the mimic was rushing toward me. I let go, and lept from a story, falling right on my back. The impact winded me, and I gasped for air. I couldn’t stop there though. Once again I forced myself to my feet but I stumbled and fell. I crawled towards my front yard, and then a pair of high beams painted me in their white light as I closed my eyes. In my now near-silent world, several gunshots broke that silence, my hands feebly clamped over my ears, and each shot rang in my head, as I tried not to empty my already empty stomach. The sound of the gunshots flooded the streets and even riled up the dogs in the neighborhood till they were barking furiously.
When I opened my eyes again, the detective was standing over me, and he leaned over, something heavy found itself resting in my hand. I tried to cock my head upwards to see, but I couldn’t. My hand gripped what seemed to be a handle, I turned the object in my hand and I figured out it was the gun that he had used to dispose of the beast.
Next, he squatted over me and pulled a card out from within his inner coat pocket, and he wiggled it in front of my face. All I could make out was a bold, capitalized acronym “ECA”, this was followed by a phone number in the middle of the card. He snuck the card into my pocket, and that’s when blue and red lights began to shine in the distance, and the private detective took off towards his car, leaving me there. I drifted in and out of sleep after that, and don’t remember anything.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed. The news was broken to me that I had suffered from severe hearing loss and a grade 2 concussion. The police came and tried to question me, but thankfully due to my injuries they didn’t stay long. I wouldn’t be of much help anyways unless they were shouting loud enough to cause a scene, I couldn’t hear them.
A few days later I was discharged and sent back into the real world with a hefty bill to my name. Upon arriving home, I made a rather difficult phone call to the ECA. Given that I couldn’t hear, I wasn’t sure how fruitful the conversation would be, but just calling was enough. I made that phone call a year ago. After extensive, and thorough background checks, I had a new job.
The hiring process was actually expedited because I had a certain “Brendon Emertson” that vouched for me, apparently, that was the private detective’s real name. I see him from time to time at work, and I still call him my lawyer sometimes just to tease him. My new employers paid to have me relocated to be closer to work, they covered all of my medical expenses from my time in the hospital, and they even paid to have me get a cochlear implant surgery done.
My new position is something like that of a dispatcher, the ECA, or Emergency Cryptids Agency is the first line of defense for identifying, and neutralizing any potential cryptids that appear in the North American region. We check flagged calls, social media posts, and any strange happenings that draw our system’s attention. I decide who does and what doesn’t make the cut, and then send a field agent out to look into it further.