“Hello? Hello? Please, I need help.”
Jerry grasped his stomach, his face contorted in a grimace of pain.
“I, my stomach… I think I have a tummy ache!”
I unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. Then we were rolling around the basement, hooting and hollering. A couple hours into our smoke session, we couldn’t help but try a few harmless prank calls.
We exhausted our options of the local restaurants, and calling Jerry’s cousin with my phone, before we got the brilliant idea to try 911. I was against it. Jerry’s argument was we lived in a small town and the operators wouldn’t mind a break from the boredom.
He won.
“AGGH, MY TUMMY!” Jerry wailed. He threw his arms above his head, pretending to gasp for air.
I cackled, slapping my knee. It really wasn’t that funny but we were zonked out of our minds.
Jerry had flung his phone across the room during his exaggerated performance. I stumbled toward it, short bursts of laughter firing from my chest.
The call was still connected. No problem, I went to hang up.
A woman’s voice droned through the speaker.
“We are sending someone your way.”
“No wait-,” I brought the phone to my ear. The line disconnected.
“Damn it. Jerry.”
He was still writhing on the ground.
“Jerry, I think they’re actually coming.”
He stopped and craned his neck until he was looking at me upside down.
“For real?”
“Yes, dude, they said someone’s coming.”
Jerry paused. A confused look passed over his face.
“But. How? We didn’t even give them an address.”
“I think they can track that shit now.”
“Cap,” he shook his head. “No way. That’s gotta be illegal. Tracking your location?”
He looked at me, grasping for validation.
“It’s the police, not some hacker in a StarBucks.”
Jerry moved quickly towards the T.V. and plopped himself down on the couch.
“Whatever, they pull up we say wrong house.”
He brought up Netflix. The marijuana in my system soon scrubbed the worry from my thoughts. We sat and enjoyed the show until a dull knock from upstairs interrupted.
Jerry jumped from the couch and looked at me wide-eyed.
“Shit.”
We were at Jerry’s house and both in high school. His parents were out of town for the weekend but if they heard about this, he could forget about summer break.
“I didn’t think they’d actually come. SHIT. Hide the weed.”
“Shut up, relax. They’ll go away after a while,” I said. He was starting to really freak.
There weren’t any windows; his basement was completely underground.
Another knock floated down the stairs.
Unable to bring his attention back to the T.V. he jumped in the air again.
“Lights! I left the lights on upstairs.”
“You are an idiot.”
Jerry’s eyes were hot red. In contrast, the situation was sobering me up.
I scratched my head roughly. “Alright, I think I can talk to them. Stay down here.”
He thanked me profusely and gave me water to chug for my breath. At the top of the steps I looked back. Jerry gave a thumbs up and waved me on from the bottom.
Like he said, the living room lights were on and through the opaque glass of the front door, two silhouettes.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and walked nervously toward the front.
That moment with the knob in my hand, I could’ve made a decision that saved me from the paranoia I’ve suffered since.
Instead, I let them in.
The porch lights were off. The glow from the living room birthed uncanny shadows through the screen door onto the faces of the two outside.
I waited for them to speak. Soundless and motionless, seemingly refusing to breathe. From each of their shadow-masked faces I could only make out a wide smile with teeth dimly illuminated behind the screen.
That silence was far too uncomfortable.
I started, “He-“
“Apologies for disturbing you,” one interrupted. He sounded young. It caught me off guard. Maybe it was the dark, but their smiles never moved as they talked.
“There has been an emergency. We are looking for Jerry.”
Alarm bells started ringing.
“You might have the wrong house. Sorry, sirs.”
I moved to close the door. We had never mentioned our real names on the call.
“Jeremy!”
That voice sounded familiar. It was enough for me to jump away from the door as if electrocuted. One of the silhouettes outside pressed its face into the screen.
“Jeremy, come here right now!”
“Mom?” Jeremy’s voice called limply from the basement.
Air evacuated from my lungs. The screen door was opening. With no thoughts in my head beside to flee; to put as much distance between me and the thing coming in, I scrambled up the stairs to the second floor. It was closer than the basement and I locked myself in a bathroom.
I started to type out a text to warn Jerry. There were muffled voices from the living room.
“You must be Jerry.”
Too late.
“Uhm, yes. Where’s my mom?”
“She stepped outside. What seems to be the problem Jerry?”
“Oh, that. That was an accident. We butt dialed you I think.”
“Hm, yes. Your friend. Do you know where he is?”
I sent a burst of texts to Jerry.
DONT TRUST THEM.
YOUR MOMS NOT HERE.
GET OUT.
“Yea, I’m not sure, he was supposed to answer the door. Uhm… uh…”
He must have read the messages.
“Is everything alright, Jerry?”
There was a pause.
Then Jerry spoke, unsure and slow.
“Yes. Is it okay if I step out to talk to my mom? She must be really worried.”
“Why, yes.”
I heard footsteps start before the sounds of a scuffle.
“he-, HEY! WHAT THE HELL!”
There was banging and the the sounds of glass shattering.
“Quiet him. Good.”
A frantic grunting followed.
The initial fear was beginning to dissolve. The urge to save my friend powered my legs. I crept down the stairs painfully, one step at a time, listening to the voices - the silhouettes from the dark - speak over Jerry’s feeble cries.
“I have a rookie here with me today, so please be patient.”
Halfway down the stairs, the wall ended. The slowest I’ve ever moved was right then, creeping my head around the edge until half of one eye was clear.
They were facing away from me, two men in paramedic uniforms standing over Jerry. He was on the ground bound by straps with gauze shoved into his mouth.
One of the paramedics with long hair knelt. He ran a hand over Jerry’s face who shook him off and yelped.
“Give him some monoxide.”
The long haired paramedic reached into his bag and began attaching tubes to a gas cannister with the big red letters CO scrawled across it. Jerry’s eyes widened and he began thrashing even harder.
He attached the other end to a mask and turned a valve on the cannister. A hissing sound filled the room and the gas mask was forced over Jerry’s mouth and nose.
“Hold him.”
After 30 seconds Jerry’s attempts to free himself noticeably weakened. Within a minute he was unconscious.
During all of this I tried to think of someone who could help us. I didn’t want to call anyone, afraid they’d hear me from where I was. My parents were asleep. Even if someone was awake they’d probably call 911. That’s what brought them here.
“Go ahead. Do the assessment.”
The paramedic directing the long haired one was short and stocky. He turned the valve and the hissing quieted. He pointed at Jerry signaling Long Hair to continue.
Once again, he ran his hands over Jerry’s face, then through his hair reaching behind his ears down to his neck. Long Hair went over Jerry’s entire body, prodding, pushing, and groping every inch of him. When he reached his toes he turned towards his partner flashing a grin.
“Nothing wrong with him.”
“That’s terrible news. What was the chief complaint?”
“Abdominal pain.”
He shook his head.
“We missed our offering tonight. Young, healthy. This one will make up for it. Bag and tag. You’ll learn a lot from him.”
Long Hair nodded and exited the house. The stocky one rummaged through another bag and pulled out a sharpie. He lifted Jerry’s shirt and began drawing a dotted line below the navel.
“I can’t see you.”
I flinched. Somehow, I knew he was talking to me.
“But I know you’re there. I want you to know this isn’t any fault of yours. Or his. This, us. You can call it coincidence. Or fate. Whichever you believe. But, believe in it.”
He capped the sharpie. The dotted line had become a dotted oval, stretching across Jerry’s abdomen and encircling his belly button.
“We’re here to help.”
Long Hair walked back in with a stretcher. They quickly loaded Jerry up. He was still unconscious with the mask on him. Long Hair wheeled him out the door and the other called after him.
“That’s where you’re going to cut. Get the tools ready.”
Then he looked into my eye. He smiled. When he spoke he used Jerry’s voice.
“Does your tummy hurt too?”
I could barely move, but shook my head.
“Goodbye.”
When the house was empty, I cried so hard I passed out. In the morning when I woke, I searched the entire house for Jerry - for proof that it was all a nightmare. There was no evidence; of Jerry or the paramedics.
Haven’t seen them since.
I called the police, the real ones. The story that stuck was I woke up, and he was gone. I got a ticket for the weed. That’s really it. There was nothing to prove my involvement. Nothing that could prove anything really.
Didn’t just lose Jerry that day. No one talks to me. Can’t even ask for homework answers anymore. All the adults try to hide their conversations about me. Not that I care much.
To be honest, I’m still looking for my bestfriend.
A week ago it was late driving home from work. An ambulance pulled up beside me at a stop. It’s lights weren’t on but I kept my foot on the brake when the traffic light turned green.
I tried to get a look inside from the back window but it was too dark to see.
Just make sure, that it’s really an emergency when you dial that number. And if you do, make sure that it’s really them.