It started with something odd happening on my phone.
I was a bit of a YouTube junkie, ever since I’d quit being the other kind of junkie. Sleep comes a lot harder when there isn’t a fifth of 80 proof circulating through your body. I would stare at the ceiling, awake till 2 or 3 on the good nights, 5 or 6 on the bad. And you can’t live like that, at least, not if you wanna stay sober. So YouTube it was. Nowadays, I’m back to the other stuff. I think you’ll understand why when you get to the end.
When I was 7 months sober, browsing YouTube one night, I noticed a weird flash at the top of my phone screen. It looked like a Snapchat typing notification, but it was gone in an instant. By the time my eyes traveled to the edge of the screen, it was long gone. I thought it was odd and promptly forgot about it. But it happened again, and again, at least a few times a night, for almost a week. And I, being a bit of a tech nerd, couldn’t stand to let my phone hold a mystery. So on the seventh night, I watched, and I waited. I waited a long time. I’m a patient man, and I stared intently at the edge of my phone screen for an hour, then two, before I gave up. And the moment I did, the flash was there. Frustrated, I decided to turn on my screen recorder and just leave it on for the rest of the night. It was a little after 11:00, and I settled into bed for my nightly marathon. But, about 20 minutes into the recording, the flash occurred again. I had it.
I quickly paused the video I was watching and opened the recording I’d made in edit mode. I scrubbed, frame by frame, to the flash. A small part of me thought that nothing would be there, that I was imagining things. A smaller part of me thought this was a supernatural occurrence and that it couldn’t show up on video. But there it was. Not a Snapchat notification, but an SMS. I’ll spare you the suspense:
It’s Jen. If you can read this, please help me Sam. It won’t let me talk to you but I need help ASAP, I…
Whatever was in the rest of the message, it wouldn’t fit in the preview box. A chill ran down my spine as I contemplated the words. Whoever it was, they knew my name. And my phone number. And they claimed to be my ex girlfriend. Atop the message body was the sender’s number, which I will not reveal for reasons that should be obvious. Just know that it was not Jen’s number. We hadn’t spoken in a week or so, but we were still pretty close and we spoke often enough that she would’ve mentioned a new phone number. Truthfully, I think she was hanging onto hope that we’d get back together. Maybe she was texting from some other phone? My heart quickened. What if she was trapped somewhere and didn’t have access to her own phone? Why wouldn’t she call me? What did she mean by it?
I made up my mind. I rummaged through my nightstand for a pen and a napkin and wrote the number down. Then I opened my dial pad and started punching in the digits. I paused before sending the call. If she was texting me, maybe I shouldn’t call. Maybe calling would put her in danger.
I switched to my messaging app and typed the number out again. Strange, I thought, that the message she sent wasn’t there. I thumbed out a message, then erased it, rewrote it, thought this is fucking stupid, and rewrote it one more time. I sent it.
Jen, uh, what’s wrong? What do you need? There’s some glitch with your messages, can you call me?
Fucking idiot, I had typed out “uh” as though this was some casual conversation. Too late to fix. I suddenly realized I ought to have my screen recorder on. I got it started just in time before I saw the flash at the top of the screen. It was gone again instantly, as always. Back to the video edit screen, I only had to advance a handful of frames before I saw it.
Don’t call. Can’t speak. I explained in my last message, didn’t you read it? I really need you to g…
Fuck. She didn’t know I could only read the preview. 80 characters, plus spaces. I didn’t remember where I’d learned that the preview was exactly that length, but I was glad I had.
I can only see the preview of your messages, my phone won’t let me open them. It’s only the first 80 characters, plus spaces. I don’t know what to do.
Screen recorder on. Wait. Flash. End screen recording. Editing app. Scrub.
Go 2 ur dor. Look out. U will c a car. Go 2 it. Now. Man there. Speak but NO EYE CONTACT. Will explain.
Back to messaging, I typed out a tentative message and turned on my screen recorder before I pressed send.
I’m fucking spooked Jen. What’s going on??
As I got to the end of this message, my phone vibrated and this time, the notification didn’t vanish into the ether. Snapchat: Jen(ex) is typing. Then another buzz. New Snap from Jen(ex). With trembling fingers, I opened the message.
Do NOT go to your door. No matter what you read, see or hear, stay inside. In fact, stay away from the fucking windows. That is NOT me.
I blinked, swallowed, and began typing without pausing to think about what I wanted to say.
Wtf Jen. Are you fucking with me? This is immature. Is this because of Sadie? We broke up months ago, I can’t just mourn the loss of our love forever.
Not fucking with you. Idk who tf Sadie is. Why are you recording this? Stop reading its messages. It’s going to lure you in and then you’ll be fucked. Seriously, stay inside.
I’m a little ashamed to admit, there was no Sadie. I had invented her just then, on the spot, to try to get her to drop the ruse and give up on the prank. The fact that she didn’t bite meant she was serious. And I was seriously scared. And that was before I heard a car pulling up outside my house. I stood up to race to the window as Jen replied on Snapchat and SMS at the same time. I looked down.
Stay. Inside. Please. I’m doing this for your own good.
Hold on.
Don’t go read that thing’s message.
I quickly followed the procedure to read that thing’s message. I was becoming rather deft at the process, though I didn’t have the capacity to really notice that at the time.
Tht not me. I m me. Need hlp. U have birthmark, left thigh. U like feet. Imposter won’t kno. Go plz.
Even in my state of fear, I let out an involuntary laugh. Jen was the only person who knew about that birthmark outside of my family. I don’t know what she meant about feet, honest, but I was convinced this was her. Which meant… I needed to go outside to this car. I was sure she wouldn’t want to hurt me. And if this was a prank, fuck it, I was falling for it. I moved to the window and saw an ancient Toyota Avalon on the street in front of my house. For reasons I don’t quite understand, I was expecting something more menacing, like the sort of black SUV a shady organization would have in the movies. Instead it looked just like the car my grandparents had in 1996, complete with that awful shade of gold that cars came in back then.
I slipped on my shoes and cautiously approached my door. I jumped a foot when my phone started ringing. “Hot Girlfriend (Answer)” was calling me. I really should’ve gotten around to changing that by then.
“Hey. What the fuck is going on?”
“Listen babe. Sorry, Sam, not babe. You know what I mean. You have to trust me. I need you to stay inside.”
“I can’t trust you. How do I know you’re Jen?”
“Can’t you tell from my voice? We dated for 3 years, you know what I fucking sound like!”
I have to admit, it did sound like Jen. I hesitated and she spoke again.
“You have a birthmark on your left thigh! It looks like Minnesota. Well, you think it does, it doesn’t but you think it does. And one night we were really drunk and you asked to… do stuff to my feet. I didn’t let you and you apologized in the morning and swore up and down you aren’t actually into that.”
My jaw dropped. This was Jen. But maybe the other Jen would’ve gone into this much detail if it weren’t for the arbitrary character limit. I was so conflicted.
“Jen, okay, it sounds like you, but the other one told me the same thing.”
“It knows about the birthmark!? Fuck. It’s getting stronger. You. Need. To. Stay. In. Side. It won’t be there for long and everything will go back to normal. You can go back to fucking that Sadie bitch. She sounds fucking ugly anyway.”
Now that really sounded like Jen. I made up my mind. Besides, it made more sense that she would be contacting me from her actual phone instead of weird ghost texts. “Okay. I believe you,” I gave a nod she could not see. “But what’s going on?”
“This is going to sound crazy.”
“Shoot.”
“The… thing driving that car is a sort of body snatcher. There’s… I think there’s lots of them. They have me. The other Jen is trying to take over my life. I don’t know why. You have to stay inside so they can’t get you too. They try to take people in pairs of their closest friends, so no one can tell they’ve been replaced. I guess so that they can vouch for each other if anyone thinks they seem off. They’re… weirdly friendly, they explained everything to me when they got me. That’s actually how they got me, they lured me to the car being really nice and seeming safe. I think they only take people who go to them willingly. But they’ll let me go if they can’t get you too.”
This sounded like the plot of a shitty creepypasta. My mind was reeling, so I latched onto the most normal section of her explanation.
“They think we’re each other’s closest friends?”
“Aren’t we Sam?” She sounded embarrassed. It was adorable, in spite of the surreal nature of our conversation. “I… I still love you. I want to try again. I don’t want to let anyone else in, not the way I let you in. And, it’s selfish, but I don’t want you to let anyone else in that way either. Sadie be damned.”
My heart leapt. Did I want to get back together with Jen? I knew that I was caught up in the moment, my fear biasing my thoughts. I had just casually accepted the existence of body snatchers, my mind was in no place to make rational judgements. But the truth was, I did want to. And I knew I did because I’d never stopped wanting to, I’d just been too stubborn to admit it to her.
“Jen… I want that too. I wanted it right away. I love you too.”
Jen blessed me with a slight giggle. When she spoke again, it sounded like she had tears in her eyes. “Poor Sadie never stood a chance.”
“I’ve got a confession to make. I made her up because I thought you were fucking with me and I wanted to snap you out of it. There is no Sadie.”
“I know, Jen thought you absolutely would’ve told your sister, and she would’ve told her.”
My heart dropped.
“What did you say…?”
“It’s midnight, so you can go outside now if you want the full story. It’ll be your last chance to see her. Run along.”
She hung up. As my phone fell to the carpet, I sprinted out the door and saw the Avalon begin to roll away. When the driver saw me, he stopped and rolled down his window. I remembered at the last second to avoid his eyes.
“What the fuck is going on!? Where’s Jen!?”
But then I saw her. In the backseat, with a phone in her lap and her head in her hands. She was crying like I’d never seen her cry. She must’ve heard me, and when she looked up, her eyes were red and I could see that she had duct tape over her mouth. After a moment she returned her head to her hands and resumed her crying.
“Jen is right here. Pity you didn’t come out a minute or two earlier. We would have surrendered her immediately. But the time is up and we must be on our way.” The man’s voice was cold and nasally, like a cartoon sidekick. But there was no humour to be found here.
“Who the fuck are you!? What’s going on?” My voice broke into a guttural sob as the question spilled from my lips.
“Who we are isn’t all that important, as you will likely never encounter us again. It is very rare for two separate subjects to choose the same testee. For reasons you don’t want to know, we have a need for a steady supply of your kind, human. It is not personal, just the circle of life, if you will. However, we do our best to harvest as non-invasively as possible. We value the well-being of lower life forms, such as yourself, and so we have a system in place.
“The subject will name an individual, the human they trust most, and a test will be put into place. The test itself varies, always tailored to the specifics of the subject and the testee, but the aim is always the same. In your case, for instance, the test was designed to make you solve a minor technical hurdle, one of your strengths, and then prove that the two of you were as close as she thought. In the end, the subject must be claimed by the testee they chose by midnight one week after the commencement of the test. If they are claimed, they are free to go, deemed necessary for the thriving of other members of your species. If they are not… they come with us.
“Alas, as you didn’t come to claim her, she has been deemed unnecessary. Fear not, our replacement shall suffice for any needs you may have. She will operate within parameters pertaining to the memories of your Jen. Your Jen will not be harmed, merely… assimilated. I advise you not to inform anyone of what has transpired. There are… many of our people out there. And we can’t allow loose ends. We have our rules, yes. But we also have our limits.”
“No! Please! You tricked me! I would’ve claimed her! Your replacement tricked me!”
The man responded with something like a laugh. It chilled me to the bone and my crying began in earnest.
“Of course she tricked you, that was the test. If you had questioned her further, you would’ve found out in time. Our memory copying process is imperfect and the replacement would have slipped up. But all the information you got was that both Jens knew about your birthmark and… the other thing. You chose the one on the phone. That is the one you get. And we really must be off.”
“No… please. Let her come back. I’ll do anything. Take me instead.”
“I’m so very sorry Sam. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” And with that, the Avalon rolled away. I chased after it to the end of the street but it turned a corner and was gone.
Dazed, I stumbled back into my home and slumped onto the floor. My phone rang. I knew who it was.
“Hello?” I mumbled. The voice on the other end was the voice of the woman I loved.
“So, do you still want to get back together? I’ve heard a lot about human boys. I’ll let you do the feet thing.”