Shapeless

by Glenn Bullion

  He called up an image from a horror movie he saw not long ago. A demon-like figure chased a group of partying college kids through the woods. It was terrible. Bad acting and dialog, but the make-up was spot on. Brady's face changed to reflect the picture in his head. Sharp, pointed teeth. White skin, with eyes that were completely dark. His nose stretched somewhat, becoming more pointed. His smile was hideous, and he let out his red, barbed tongue. He even changed his voice, sounding like ten people talking at once.

  "You don't want to see me again, right?"

  Frank said nothing, but he didn't have to. His mouth hung open as he gasped. He backed up against the wall, unable to take his eyes off the horrific face.

  Brady lashed out with his tongue, barely missing Frank's nose. He smiled again as he focused on the handcuffs. They shifted into his essence and moved up Frank's back. He cringed and spun wildly, as if he were being attacked. Brady's remaining mass jumped from Frank's shoulder, just as he leapt into the air and shifted, his body becoming whole again. He left his human form behind and turned into a hawk, his gaze focused on the night beyond.

  He didn't go home right away. He often flew through town to unwind, relax his nerves, after a tough day. Usually stress came from work, not being assaulted on the street. But the incident was behind him now, and he had to move forward.

  The breeze felt good against his feathers. He held his wings outright, gliding along the wind, before picking up speed. The moon was beautiful against the gray clouds, and he enjoyed the view. The night would calm him, and in the morning, he'd be good as new, no aches or pains. First, a quick snack, then some well-deserved sleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  Brady couldn't sleep.

  It was nearly one in the morning as he paced in the living room. Clip after clip streamed on TV, of various UFOs flying past the International Space Station. Some of the footage Brady hadn't seen before. But even that wasn't enough to draw his attention. The TV was on strictly for background noise, a distraction, and it was failing.

  He teetered back and forth between anxious and calm, desperate and unmoved. For the first time in his life, he'd demonstrated his abilities for someone to see. Despite the darkness, they saw every shape he took on, how his body molded and changed. One of them even held up a phone to record him.

  But he destroyed the phones, and put some fear in them. They would leave him alone.

  What if they didn't? What if, like last time, they followed him, stalked him? They knew where he worked. What if they told others?

  That didn't matter. No one would believe them. The world was full of insane stories and fake video. He himself gorged on UFO and alien clips on the Internet. Most people out there didn't believe a single second of any of them. They watched video of the mysterious and unknown, thought of them as curious, interesting, at most. But only the extreme oddballs went looking for Bigfoot.

  Still, some did, and they hunted with a vengeance. What if those six morons came knocking at his door, armed with shotguns?

  He shook his head, irritated at his own rambling thoughts.

  "Don't be ridiculous," he muttered.

  He was angry at himself, for the simple fact that he lost control. All he had to do was take the beating. He'd taken them before. With his abilities, bruises and cuts weren't a concern. Changing shape meant he could heal small wounds, even mend broken bones. It only cost him some energy, not something an extra hour of sleep or a second cheeseburger wouldn't cure. He could have let those men get the violence out of their system, willed the wounds to resume their normal shape, and maybe even have enough time to buy his movie.

  But no, he lost his cool, and became a street vigilante.

  Taking a deep breath, he stopped pacing and headed for the kitchen. He tried to go easy on himself. Maybe Frank and his buddies wouldn't have stopped. Maybe they would have killed him. Defending himself, slipping them a few punches, that suddenly didn't seem so bad. Perhaps he even spared a future someone from their wrath. They'd be a little more cautious in choosing their targets.

  His hand was around a cold can of soda when there was a knock at the door.

  Brady froze. His imagination raced, despite his attempt to reel it in.

  Was it Frank, back for revenge? It could be a trap. He'd answer the door only to be tazed, or worse, shot.

  It could be the police. Whether he was in the right or not, the police didn't take kindly to someone beating up six men behind a strip mall.

  Laughing at himself, he put the soda away and crossed the apartment. It wasn't Frank and his friends. It wasn't the police. Brady tore viciously into one of Frank's friend's shoulders. They were most likely in a hospital emergency room. He also couldn't see the police taking their story seriously, even if it was as simple as a man dragged us into the dark and kicked the shit out of us.

  It was most likely Sharon from downstairs. His temper flared at the thought of John hurting Chad and his mother again. He wanted to think he'd scared John straight, but as he learned from his own experience, violent fathers and husbands didn't tend to change. Even when a monster told them to.

  Pressing his eye to the peephole, he saw a woman with her back to the door. He didn't see Chad, and it took a moment to realize it wasn't Sharon. She put a hand on her hip and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her jeans were tight, with a few rips scattered about. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders, and Brad finally saw long streaks of light green mingling with brown hair.

  Lily.

  He unlocked the door, trying to hide the curious frown. The conspiracy-loving part of him wondered if she was working with Frank and his buddies. An elaborate trap, soften his stance using the beautiful woman, then jump from the shadows for another round. He couldn't think of any other explanation for the adult store employee to be outside his door at such a late hour. She turned to face him, letting out an awkward smile. A black plastic bag hung at her side. A pink purse, which didn't match her Goth-like features in the least, was slung over her shoulder. Half of her tattoo was covered by short sleeves.

  "Hi," she said.

  Brady nodded in return. "Lily."

  Her cheeks turned pink at the sound of her name. Brady's eyes went wide at the thought of another reason Lily was standing at his doorstep.

  "Those little shits, those bastards," he said. "Did they go to your store again?"

  "Huh? Who?" she said, matching his frown. "Oh! Those dickheads from last week? I haven't seen them since you scared them."

  Brady lowered his eyes. "Must be nice," he muttered.

  "What?"

  "Nothing, nothing."

  An awkward moment of silence passed.

  "Well, uh," Lily tried to say. "You didn't come to the store tonight."

  His confusion only grew.

  "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

  "Actually, no it doesn't. Ever since I've worked there, every Friday, you come to the store. You buy a movie, then you leave. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

  Brady was touched. He couldn't remember the last time anyone showed concern for him, except maybe Paula at work. Still, there were some questions.

  "Wait. How did you know which apartment was mine?"

  She smiled and gestured inside. "You're the only one with the lights on. I'd figured you'd be awake."

  "Oh. Well…thank you. I, uh, had some things going on, and I had to skip the store."

  "I saw you crossing the street."

  "Yeah. It was very sudden."

  Lily's pink cheeks turned a full shade of red.

  "And…" she said, her eyes darting about. She seemed to shrink somewhat. "I just realized how much I look like a full-blown psycho, knocking on your door this late. So," she held out the bag. "For you."

  He accepted it and peered inside. A single, brand new pornographic movie sat at the bottom. A naked woman in a classroom, pressed against a chalkboard, stared back at him.

  Brady laughed and shook his head. "Porn delivery. That's a first. Ah…" He ran
a hand over his back pocket. His fourteen dollars and fifty—five cents still sat on the ground behind Lily's work. "I have a twenty inside. Do you have change?"

  She waved away his concern.

  "Don't worry about it. I owe you a free one, remember?" Her confidence returned as she took a step back, ready to leave. "So, anyway, we're even now. At least until next time I need a hero."

  He smiled. "Yeah. You can always pay me in movies."

  "You got it. I have to run. So, I'll see you next Friday. No skipping this time."

  She had a foot on the stairs when he called out.

  "Wait."

  Lily turned and gave him her attention. Brady couldn't believe he was going to ask the same question two weeks in a row.

  "You want to come in? Get something to eat, maybe watch a…." He drifted off as he glanced at the gift in his hand, and the memory of last Friday rushed back. "Not this kind of movie," he said. "Just a regular movie. Not a poles-in-holes movie."

  She lifted her head back and laughed.

  "And I didn't mean that last week, either," he said. "I just meant—"

  "I know," she said, still smiling. "I figured it out."

  "So, we're good?"

  "Yeah, we're good," she said, before frowning. "I can't come in, though. I'm supposed to meet up with my friends."

  The answer didn't surprise him. He didn't really know Lily, but she didn't seem the type to stay in on the couch. She probably slept during the day and owned the night.

  "Cool," he said, waving the gift at her. "Thanks so much."

  "No problem." Lily flashed a devilish grin. "Give me a review after you've checked it out."

  Brady laughed. "You got it."

  He turned back to head inside. The door was a quarter shut when he noticed Lily wasn't moving. She made no effort to walk down the stairs. Her expression was conflicted, like she was wrestling with something.

  "Lily?" he said. "You alright?"

  "Food, you say?"

  He nodded. "There's a Chinese place down the block that's still open. My friend at work, he got the shit kicked out of him by two mothers. So, I had to skip dinner."

  "My friends were supposed to bring me food. They…forgot."

  He noticed the slight sadness in her tone. Stepping aside, he held the door open completely.

  "Come on in. You like Chinese?"

  Again, she hesitated.

  "Listen, you're not like one of those weirdo fucks out there, right? You're not going to stick me in your refrigerator?"

  "I can't. It's full."

  She didn't laugh at his joke. He rolled his eyes playfully.

  "Look, I only buy a porno movie once a week. What's so weird about that?"

  Finally, a laugh. Lily took a cautious step forward. Brady smiled, but wasn't sure if he should have felt insulted or not. Was he that creepy? Another slow step. It was as if he were trying to lure a stray cat with a bowl of milk.

  "Sorry," Lily said, crossing the threshold. "It's just that I meet a lot of twisted people at my job. Men and women. Not all of them, but some are fucked up, for sure."

  "Yeah, I can bet."

  "I caught a guy one time trying on women's lingerie in the dressing room."

  Brady looked at her with curiosity as he shut the door behind him. That didn't seem too far out there in the times they lived in.

  "That doesn't sound so—"

  "He was wrapping them around his head."

  "Ah, okay. Yeah, that's weird."

  He watched her taking in his apartment, and he realized it had been some time since a woman, or anyone for that matter, had been inside. He didn't entertain guests. None of his relationships had progressed to the spend-the-night stage. When things did get hot and heavy, the night typically ended at his girlfriend's place, not his own.

  Maybe he should have felt self-conscious, even embarrassed at the barren feel of his apartment. But he simply didn't care. Impressing people was something he didn't give much thought to.

  "Did you just move in?"

  He let out a half-smile as he passed by and gave her a glance. She was amused as she studied the place. He studied it with her, as if seeing it for the first time. Nothing too extravagant. A TV, couch, computer in the corner. The patio door gave a nice view of the apartment parking lot. The walls were bare. No art or pictures of any kind. The small dining table had nothing on it, not a centerpiece or single place-mat.

  "No. I've been here a few years."

  "Wow. Well, uh, you definitely keep the place tidy."

  "You mean it doesn't reflect my overwhelming, outgoing personality?"

  Lily laughed again. He enjoyed her laugh. She finally seemed to relax somewhat. The tension faded from her shoulders. There might have been the possibility that she really did fear being shoved in a refrigerator, at least when she first walked in.

  "It needs some help, I'm sure," he said.

  "Yeah. That's the word for it."

  They laughed together, and Brady felt his midsection rumble. If he waited much longer to eat his stomach would form its own mouth to shout at him.

  "Food," he said, and gestured to the bedroom, picturing his phone on the nightstand. "Need a menu?"

  She shook her head. "Nope. Sweet and sour chicken and an egg-roll."

  Brady sat on the edge of the bed. He also didn't need to reach for a menu, or even a phone number. Pulling the number from memory, he waited patiently for someone to answer.

  It was always amusing, and a little sad, that his favorite Chinese place knew him by name.

  "Brady?" The accent was thick and heavy. He recognized Lee, the owner.

  "Yeah. You're not closing up, are you?"

  "No. We wait for you to call."

  He wasn't sure if Lee was joking or serious. After reciting the order the phone went strangely quiet.

  "Lee? You there?"

  "You get two things."

  "Uh, yeah. Is that a problem?"

  "You have company? It's about time."

  "Fuck you," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

  Lee laughed in return and spoke to his wife in their native tongue. Brady didn't know what they were saying, but he had a good guess it was a joke at his expense.

  "You pick up?"

  He hesitated, not thinking that far ahead. Normally he flew to pick up his late dinner, then spent ten minutes walking back. He wasn't sure if Lily was up for that. If they went out she would have to drive.

  "Hold on one sec."

  He put the phone down to join Lily in the living room, and was surprised to see her standing in the doorway to the bedroom. She'd taken it upon herself to enjoy a tour of his place. Brady wasn't sure if he was irritated as her gaze traveled along his most private room.

  "I don't have a car," he said. "You want them to deliver?"

  She shook her head. "We can run out. It's okay."

  He grabbed the phone again. "Be there in ten minutes."

  After hanging up, he gave Lily a smile as he approached her, trying to silently herd her back to the living room. She seemed to have a bit of a nosy side. She stood five feet from his dresser, which didn't contain clothes, like normal people. It was filled with towels and washrags, and was part of a conversation he didn't want to have.

  "You have a real phone," she said, pointing. "Hooked to the wall and everything. That's so cute."

  Lily was joking. He liked her sense of humor. It was strange that he felt comfortable around her. Maybe seeing her every week, even if they didn't talk, gave him a sense that he somewhat knew her.

  "Yeah," he said. "Women just melt over the phone."

  "Do you have a cell phone?"

  He smiled, almost proud of the fact. "Nope."

  They walked down the hall toward the living room.

  "Let's see. You're addicted to porn. You have no car, and no cell phone. Is there any other weird shit about you?"

  "I'm not addicted to porn," he said. "And I'm not weird."

  A voice boomed from the TV, making them
both jump.

  "They're coming!" A video of several UFOs flying through the clouds played in the living room, as a nearly hysterical young man narrated. "Some of us think they might already be here! But the truth, either way, is that you must prepare! The Grays, they're only the beginning, and they're not the only ones. The Reptilians have already slithered their way into several layers of government. Before it's too late, we have to—"

  Brady dove for the remote control and pressed the home button as fast as he could. The familiar Roku home screen pushed aside the ranting conspiracy theorist streaming on YouTube. For the first time, he was embarrassed about himself, his hobbies. Keeping people from his secret wasn't the only reason he was solitary.

  Lily stood behind him, his back to her, and he could imagine her moving across the apartment, toward the door. Escaping, as fast as she could. He wouldn't blame her. He had no romantic interest in Lily, didn't want to seduce or lead her to his bed. All he wanted was a friend.

  But weird didn't begin to describe him.

  To his surprise, he didn't hear the front door open. Instead, Lily laughed. A loud, long, tear-inducing laugh. He turned to see her leaning against the wall, her hands on her knees. When she looked up her cheeks were flush as she struggled to contain herself. She crossed her arms, a mock expression of concern on her face.

  "So," she said, unable to hide her smile. "You want to explain that?"

  "Uh," Brady said, trying to find the words. "I'm a little weird."

  "You don't say?"

  "I'm into all that conspiracy stuff," he said. "It just fascinates me." He pointed at the TV. "But sometimes you get nut-balls like that."

  "Hey, weird is good." She held out her arms, posing. "Look at me. Do I look normal to you? I fry in the sun and sell porn."

  He laughed. "To freaks like me."

  "Well, you're one of the good freaks," she said, then slapped her hands together. "So, you ready to go? I'm starving."

  Brady breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Lily didn't push any further. She didn't ask about aliens or UFOs, either because she was too hungry or simply didn't care. Either way was fine by him.