Hey, can you come in to cover Andrea’s shift tonight?
The worst night of my life began with a text from my boss. I rolled over around noon and saw it. Time stamp said 10:10 a.m. I groaned.
It wasn’t surprising to me that Andrea hadn’t made it in. Wasn’t going to make it in, rather. Saturday morning shifts had the most callouts- and no call no shows- because Friday night was so much fun.
I was going to say no, but then I remembered that rent was almost due- so I dragged myself out of bed and popped a couple of Advil. Those and a bottle of Gatorade would do me. I could bounce back from most anything at that age.
At least it was a closing shift. That meant a minimum of human interaction. I’d come in pretty much just to lock the doors and then spend a few hours doing inventory, sorting new donations, counting the till and tidying up.
Honestly it wouldn’t have been such a lousy job if it weren’t for the pay and the side of town. Sketchy wasn’t the word. The block the thrift store sat on was pretty nice but if you walked even one more block you’d start seeing pawn shops and porn stores. The block after that was all abandoned buildings and boarded up windows.
We were allowed to park our cars in the loading bay after hours, so I pulled right in and hopped out. My manager was waiting for me with the keys. She passed them over with a long suffering sigh and a barely audible, ‘thanks’ before heading out to the parking lot. I pulled the gate shut behind her and locked it.
I know I locked it. I know I did. It fought me. I scraped a knuckle on the gate trying to get it to latch. Front door was locked too. And the back door. That was the first order of business for a night shift. Doing the rounds, making sure everything was locked up. That was the first thing I did every time. There was no way I missed any of those doors. I can still remember the jingle of the bell when I checked the front.
I don’t know how Andrea got in. She must have been there before I left, I guess. I was counting the till when I saw her out of the corner of my eye.
Actually, what I saw was the flickering. I looked up and THEN I saw her. And one of the donated t.v.s playing some old rerun of a barely-color show. Something with a canned laugh track.
She was sitting on the couch next to it. Some old floral monstrosity that had been with the store as long as I’d been alive. Her hands were in her lap, her head turned toward the t.v., but her eyes were on me. Straining so hard to look at me that it looked painful and her pupils were doing that weird jittering thing.
My instinct was to say something clever. ‘You didn’t have to try this hard to get me alone’ or something like that- but the truth was that I was unsettled. My mouth was suddenly dry. I just stood there looking at her for what felt entirely too long when something long, thin, and black draped itself around her shoulders.
A sleeve. Two sleeves, actually. A white one within the black one. They’d come from her other side- the side I couldn’t see- and flopped comfortably behind her neck like an arm.
Or a snake.
I watched the end of the sleeve flap rhythmically. It made a sound- pat pat pat- and then slid up from just above her chest to her cheek, wrapping around her jaw and pulling her head away from me.
It was like a nightmare. One of those where you want to run but your legs are frozen. I should have screamed or run or thrown something- but I didn’t. I stood there and I watched that empty sleeve pry her jaw open and slide into her mouth.
Up to the elbow. Past that. To the shoulder. Deeper. It looked like- it looked like she was getting thinner every second. Like her skeleton was being siphoned out of her. She was losing definition as I watched. Collapsing in on herself. Folding.
Something in me snapped when I saw her head drop loosely onto her shoulder. I broke out of my stupor and ran. Toward her. To save her, I think. I honestly can’t remember anymore. It’s all fragments and impressions after that.
The impact of my feet on the tile. The flickering of the t.v. The laughter of the show. The way the clothing racks seemed to blur ahead of me as I ran. I turned between isles to get closer and jolted to a halt. Something was wrapped around my wrist. And my ankle. And my leg.
I looked down- actually, it was more to the side- and it was a blouse. A long sleeved floral blouse. A granny blouse, I thought. Just around my leg and ankle. A sunny frock had me by the wrist. I bit my tongue in panic- trying to get away, but they were too strong. So much stronger than me. They dragged me into the clothing rack. Into it. Through it. Into the next. Clothes were all around me. The granny blouse was wrapped around my legs, the frock around my arms and shoulders- a tie-dye hoodie sleeve was pressed against my mouth.
They gathered against me. Huddled. After a second I realized they weren’t fighting me any more. Now that I was in there they were just… holding me.
I could feel something out there. Evil. Malevolent. I felt like I was being hunted and then I realized I could hear footsteps. Someone was walking out there. Hard soled shoes- tapping around the isle I’d just been in. The racks rustled all around me. The clothes ahead of and beside me were shivering.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. The blouses clutched me tight, hugging me as the tapping came up and down our isle.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then it stopped. Right outside of where I was hiding.
I thought my heart was going to stop- and then a shirt tore off the rack somewhere ahead of me. I listened to the sound of ripping fabric in horror. The shredding- the tearing and popping of stitches giving up and buttons flying. It was animalistic. All I could picture was a pack of hyenas descending on some poor wildebeest.
It felt like it went on and on and on. I cracked my eyes at one point and watched a scrap of cotton flutter to the ground beside my feet. I choked on a whimper. The blouse hugged me tighter.
Finally, at last, the footsteps walked away.
The blouses didn’t let me go. One of them wrapped around my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed back, heartbeat in my throat, waiting. A rack slammed out of place a few isles down. I heard it hit the wall and the hangers go flying. I flinched but held back a scream.
And then there was silence. Terrible, terrible silence. After all the noise and chaos I didn’t trust it. I stayed put until I heard the t.v. click back on. I hadn’t realized it was off until that moment. Still, I stayed. I stayed until my back cramped and my legs felt wooden. I stayed until the air felt stale and hot and then a/c kicked back on- signaling the beginning of the opening shift.
I stayed until I heard the gate squeal open and heard my manager’s voice. Until the lights came on and the shirts went limp around me.
Then I crawled out of my hiding spot.
My manager was horrified when she saw me. I could only stand there and stare. The store was trashed. It looked like a tornado had gone through it.
I looked at her and burst into tears.
I don’t know what the official story is. I know the cops were called. I gave them my statement at the hospital- my manager insisted I get checked out before I went home. Maybe I’d know more if I’d ever gone back to work, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I didn’t want to see, think, or even hear about that place ever again. I only had one more thing to do with it.
I sent my sister to buy those blouses and that hoodie. I didn’t tell her why. It was too personal. Too horrible. I just asked her to get them for me and when she brought them home I hung them in my closet.
Having them there brings me some measure of comfort.
I asked her to look for the suit too. I meant to burn it in a field or something- but she said she couldn’t find a suit. She asked my old manager and she said that she didn’t remember having seen a suit-
Ever.