Mike and I met about four years ago through a mutual friend. I was so exhausted with the apps by that point, so I jumped at the chance to get to know an attractive and smart guy in person. He and I hit it off and have been together ever since.
Last month we decided to move in together. The timing felt right for both of us and so, the rental search begin. Now, the city we live in is pretty big and unfortunately, market rates are outrageous. He and I have run into issues finding something in our ideal budget. Neither of us can justify the going rate for most 1- to 2-bedroom places. Most of our friends live near the city, and our goal was to do the same, but we were flexible and could compromise for the right property. When Mike found a three story townhouse under market value and within reasonable proximity to our social stratosphere, we both of course thought it was too good to be true.
“This has to be a scam. No way this is a legitimate rental.” Mike mused while scratching his forehead. He and I were curled up in my bed, snacks everywhere, combing through any promising listing online.
I leaned over and commented with the same level of skepticism. “Yeah, $1300 for an entire house? What does it say, 2 bedrooms? 1 bathroom?”
“3 bedrooms. 2 bathrooms.” Mike said.
“Ha, yeah right.” I responded.
Now, after combing through so many rental listings you start to develop an eye for the bullshit. Any listing with erratic grammar and punctuation is a no, any listing that requires proof of ID be texted to the owner before you can even see the place is a no, and any post with neon text and phone numbers plastered across the pictures is a no. Basically….anything on Craigslist. But we were on Rentler, and so far the post seemed legit. Pictures were nice and clear. Summary had proper sentence structure and a valid email and contact number for Crystal, the realtor/owner.
“Where is it?” I asked.
Mike zoomed out on the listing map. “Oh, looks maybe 15 minutes away from Steve and Mackenzie.” (our friends)
After laughing about it for a minute and moving on in our search, we eventually circled back. I mean, it couldn’t hurt just to get more information, right? So, Mike texted Crystal to set up an appointment. Crystal responded within 20 minutes and gave us a couple times/days that would work for her. I asked Mike to confirm the price in the listing and ask about other utilities, deposit, etc to make sure we truly understood the cost in case Crystal accidentally posted the wrong amount, but no, what was in the ad was correct.
……..
The day of the viewing came. Mike offered to drive, and so, on a Wednesday afternoon we piled into his Honda Civic and set off for the property. He and I lived on the west side of town about ten minutes from each other. This property was on the east side, so it took about 30-40 minutes to arrive. When we were almost there, I took note of the neighborhood. I hadn’t been here before, but it seemed like a regular suburban neighborhood. Lots of houses.
“Oh, this road here—McClellan Drive. Turn left.” I pointed at the street while glancing down at my phone’s navigation.
We pulled onto an empty residential street. The road continued for a short distance before coming to a dead end. On the right side was a row of five houses with stubby white picket fences. Some driveways looked occupied, but no one was outside. On the left was a tall, white fence that ran all the way down to the end. It looked like a gated community with one entrance at the very end of the street. The fence was solid, so I could not see into the community from the street. Google Maps encouraged us forward. We turned into the open entrance and Mike parked a short distance past the gate onto another empty road.
The gated community only consisted of about six townhouses in a row facing us. We turned into basically a development lot. Of the six townhouses, only two looked occupied. The house at the opposite end had one vehicle parked in their driveway, and one house in the middle of the cluster had a giant flag repping Edmonton Oilers (no, we do not live in Edmonton). Our destination was for the end unit closest to us. Strange, no vehicle was parked out front, but the garage was closed. Maybe Crystal parked inside.
“Seems oddly empty, no?” I asked Mike. We arrived precisely at 2:00 PM.
“Yeah, eerily empty. Didn’t realize this was for a new development. Still, that price is unbeatable, huh? Let me check in with Crystal and see if she is here.” Mike pulled out his phone from his pocket and noticed two missing texts from about 15 minutes earlier.
Crystal: “I am on site.” 1:37 PM
Crystal: “Feel free to walk in when you get here and holler, I am just putting cookies in the oven!” 1:45 PM
“Guess we can just walk in?” Mike looked over at me and could tell I was thinking.
While he was checking his phone I continued to survey the scene. We were parked directly facing the rental unit. We had a clear view of the the entire line of townhouses and their windows. Each unit had a basement, main level, and upper level, and each level had 1-2 front facing windows. Strange, the unit we were supposed to tour had curtains or blinds covering every window. I hesitated with my hand on the passenger door.
“Why would Crystal have all the windows closed on a sunny day when she has potential renters coming by?” I squinted at the basement window. Did its curtains just move?
Mike agreed. “Yeah, that is weird.” His phone lit up again and he looked down to read the new text.
Crystal: “Hey I see you two just got here, hope you like chocolate chip cookies!”
“Okay, little creepy. Did you see her head poke out?” He looked at me inquisitively, but my eyes were still fixed on the basement window. I broke my gaze off the house to check my side mirror. From my side, I had a perfect view of the gate behind us. Black bars, tall. I couldn’t see a keypad on the exterior, so I wondered if there was a remote control. Crystal must have it open during tours. My eyes went back to the house.
“Oh, there-again. Did you see it?” I nodded towards the house, my eyes on the basement window. Someone had parted the curtain just for a moment. Someone was watching us. Why were they in the basement? Mike looked directionless at the property, uncertain about what I was referring to.
My stomach was starting to twist. I didn’t like this. “Mike,” I said quietly and calmly, “I think we should go.” Fortunately, he didn’t need much convincing. He nodded. Before he could shift into reverse, his phone lit up once more. New text from Crystal.
Crystal: “Quit being a tease.”
Crystal: “Come in.”
Mike let out a short gasp, threw his phone into the cup holder and muttered, “what the fuck-.” I felt like I was going to throw up. I heard a low mechanical whirr somewhere outside and looked back at my side mirror. My eyes grew. All I could muster was a quiet, urgent plea, “The g-gate-it’s closing-MOVE.”
Mike sprung into action. He shifted into reverse and backed the fuck out of there in just enough time to clear whatever hell awaited us inside that house.
As we sped away from the gated community and down McClellan Drive, I felt bile rising in my throat. The neighbors had come out. Each house, each white picket fence now had an occupant standing behind it. Some men, some women, all staring menacingly at us. They just stood there. I noticed their heads turning towards us in the rearview mirror as we flew by, stares fixed on us. Mike’s mutters turned into shouts, “What the FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK.”
We were doing at least 20 over for god knows how long. I could hear his phone vibrating over and over in the cup holder. Mike drove and drove for what felt like eternity. Our only direction was Away. Far, Far Away. Eventually, after managing to not vomit all over my lap, I urged him to pull into the nearest grocery store.
We sat in the lot of a Target for who knows how long. When I broke out of my trance, I realized his phone had stopped vibrating. We looked at each other, then down at his phone. Mike picked it up and found not one, not two, but seven missed texts from Crystal.
Crystal: “Quit being a tease. Come in.”
Crystal: “I said Come In. We’re waiting for you.”
Crystal: “We’re all here to say hi. We can’t wait to meet you.”
Crystal: “We can’t WAIT to meat you come in come in.”
Crystal: “Runners make the skin crawl runners make the skin sweat.”
Crystal: “Runners make the skin sweet.”
But the last text made us both sick to our stomach. It was a GPS pin of our current location, the Target parking lot, sent seemingly before we even arrived. This location was not planned. It was by chance we ended up here. We had to keep moving. Before we had the chance to shift into drive, my phone chimed.
Mike and I froze. I shakily pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked down at the screen. The bile was rising again up my throat.
Unknown: “No where to go but Here.”
Included was a picture taken from the exterior of the rental property. The camera pointed at the basement window and the curtains were now parted. Someone was there. Someone with greasy hair and pale skin, with the widest inhuman grin I’ve ever seen. They were pressed up against the glass as if they were anxiously awaiting something. Someone. Us.
Unknown: “Runners make the tastiest treats.”