Oh fuck....
On the third window I saw movement. It gave a view above the main entrance outside and it looked like a person had just opened the door. I confirmed this on the next window which showed the sales floor. Rows and rows of copy machines created a winding maze, and sure enough, a shadowy figure lurked across the floor, bobbing and weaving from one machine to the next. I couldn't make out any features on him. It looked like a him at least. He kept his face hidden as if he knew where the cameras were. I couldn't even get a better view of him from the other cameras. As he floated from one machine to the next—steadily shifting to the back of the store towards my office—the machines fired up with a whir. The clamoring, clanking discord swelled as more and more machines came to life.
He moved slowly and deliberately, taking his time, probably not expecting there to be an on-call night-shift security guard. Most likely assuming any surveillance would be from unmonitored closed-circuit cameras, which wouldn't be reviewed until after whatever crime he was about to commit was long done and over with, and he was far away. If the owner of the store had any common sense, that would have been the case but no, I was the lucky one to be on shift while a robbery was taking place inside a copy machine store.
Was he armed? I couldn't tell. He could be stashing a handgun in his pocket, a switchblade maybe?
Adrenaline pumped through my body. I had no idea what to do. Should I wait until he's done and call the police? Go and tell him to get the hell out? I had no weapons except a night stick and pepper spray. With trembling hands, I checked to make sure both were in their respective holsters on my belt. They were.
The roar of the machines was unbearable, even from inside my office, but he kept moseying about, casually flicking on more machines, and it looked like he was actually reading the descriptions on them.
More confused now than anything, I kept watching him, wanting something to plug my ears. He just ambled about taking his time, calm and composed, not in the slightest rush, but always keeping his face turned away from the cameras. How did he know where they were?
I wouldn't call myself a brave person but I didn't consider myself a coward. But in this case I figured the best course of action was to sit and wait. I checked windows 1 and 2 again to look for a car—surely he must have drove something if he’s going to steal a copy machine—that I could describe to the police but I saw none.
And how the hell did he even get in? I would've heard glass breaking and the doors were locked. If he could pick a lock then why would he be trying to break into a copy machine store, apparently not even to steal money, but instead going for a copy machine? It made no sense.
That goddamn racket… It was too much, and yet he was oblivious to it, exploring all corners of the sales floor, until he finally stopped.
He stood in the middle of an aisle towards the front corner of the store opposite of my office, only this time he wasn't looking at a machine. He stood there motionless for quite some time before he started shifting around, nervousness maybe? Realizing he might be being watched? I could only see the back of his head so I couldn’t tell. Very deliberately, he turned around, staring directly into the camera on window 5 and my heart stopped.
He flashed a smile and nodded his head, daring whoever was watching to come out and face him. Only I was looking at my own face on window 5. An empty stare and sinister smile straight into the camera. I slapped my face to make sure I wasn't seeing things. It stung and he was still there and hadn't moved at all. Just staring and smiling.
Stunned, I watched myself, my doppelgänger, turn to look again at another copy machine. I didn't know what model it was, but it was bigger than most of the other ones in the store. He turned it on, a new instrument in the infernal orchestra, screaming in fury over the pulsing beat of the other machines, and lifted the lid laying his lower right arm on the glass. Letting the lid rest on top, he pushed the “Copy” button.
The page printed and he set it on top of the machine next to him on his right. He then laid the upper section of his arm on the glass and pressed the “Copy” button, once again taking the page and laying it on top of the other page when it had finished. He repeated this with his left arm, his head and face, even lying on top of the machine to copy his chest, waist, upper and lower legs and finally his feet, setting each new page on top of the last.
Transfixed by this bizarre behavior, I couldn't help but stare. I hadn't the slightest clue as to what the hell was going on. The blare of the mechanical concerto combined with the flashing lights of the copiers made it impossible to concentrate.
After he finished copying his feet, he picked up his stack of papers and straightened them neatly. He picked up the pages with his freshly made copies of each foot, blew on them and shook them out, almost like someone would shake clothes after taking them out of the dryer. He glanced back at the camera a final time, as if to make sure I was still watching, and then turned his back to me, blocking my view of… Whatever he was doing.
Thoroughly confused now, but no longer afraid, I rose from my little office chair and composed myself. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. There was clearly someone in the store but it wasn't possible to be watching myself do it.
Not. Possible.
I started towards the door to get into the store room but stopped. He was staring into the camera again. No smile this time though. Malevolent, cold eyes replaced the once hollow stare and toothy smile. Fresh apprehension grew from the pit of my stomach, radiating through the rest of my body, as I put my hand on the door knob and slowly twisted. I glanced one last time at my monitor; he hadn't moved. That stoic, cold stare burned through the screen, chilling me to my core. He was daring me to come out.
Chapter 4
The store room was dimly lit by only one flickering light on the ceiling and the toxic green glow of buttons on the machines. Twisted, dancing shadows cavorted around the room, off-beat with the rhythmic din of copiers. The never-ending movement and strobing light manifested dread and anxiety in the pit of my stomach.
I crept through the maze of copy machines, trying to keep my eyes focused on my doppelgänger through the flickering light and army of shadows. My eyes needed to readjust each time the bulb flashed on. I tried to work my way as carefully as possible through the aisles, unsuccessfully attempting to avoid knocking into anything in the unsteady light, lest I make a sound and give away my position. Realizing the tactic wasn't working so well, I popped the clasp on my holster and gripped my nightstick.
He kept his back to me, his figure swelling and shrinking with every pulse of light. His shadow doubled and multiplied, casting his figure all throughout the room, copulating with the other jagged shadows that encircled me.
I was close, in the same aisle as him, maybe twenty-five feet away. I unholstered my nightstick, drawing closer… Closer. His arms were a blur, frantically trying to complete whatever hellish task he was attempting, shaking papers out, bending down like he was stacking something.
As I closed in, fifteen feet away at most, he abruptly stopped. I was sure he could hear my heart frantically trying to escape from my ribcage. With his back still facing me, he held out the last copy he made. His unforgivingly cold grimace, made all the more grotesque by the rough uneven photocopy, stained the page.
The lights flicked off again, my stomach dropped and I instinctively raised my nightstick, expecting him to rush at me in the dark. The lights flicked back on and I was met again with his frigid stare. My own face looking back at me, and without breaking eye contact, he blew a breath onto the page and shook it out. He then raised his right arm and plunged his hand into the paper.
His arm slid into the sheet, changing into the same black and white gradient as the copy itself as he reached in. He grasped the top of his copied head by the hair. Grasped it, like the image inside was a solid object, and pulled ever so gently.
The now blank piece of paper fluttered to the ground as he held his own duplicated head, now in color, in his hand. Dark me
dium-length brown hair, strong jaw line, long thin nose. An exact duplicate, eyes rolled back in their sockets, mouth agape.
I now realized what he had been doing the whole time.
My nightstick dropped from my hand and my legs locked in place. With a smirk, he stepped to the side, revealing a headless body exactly the same size and stature as my own. He gently rested the head on the neck of the body, my body, and adjusted it as one would a crooked picture frame.
Satisfied it was in place, he clapped his hands once and the duplicate snapped to life. It rolled its neck and I could hear the bones cracking. It stretched out, fresh joints popping and aligning themselves into place. The eyes opened and looked around, finally coming to rest on me. The duplicate looked exactly like my imposter and I except for one thing: the eyes were brown. The duplicate looked at me for a moment before mechanically turning away towards another copy machine, and began to repeat the same process as the first imposter had. The imposter watched for a moment and looked back at me with satisfaction in his eyes, the symphony swelling as a new machine joined the orchestra.
The pages stacked up as the duplicate copied each part of its body at a dizzying pace. When it was finished it organized the papers neatly and took the page with its foot copied on it, blew on it, shook it out and reached into the page to pull the foot out and sat it on the floor. It continued with this ritual until a new duplicate was made, exactly the same as its predecessor, only about a foot shorter.
Clap!
It too jolted to life, looked about and moved onto another copy machine, its predecessor already starting on a new duplicate.
All I could do was watch, petrified, as more and more of me emerged from the papers, each one slightly different from the last. Before long there were dozens, each moving onto a new copy machine and multiplying by the minute. My doppelgänger simply observed the process, surveying the duplicate’s work like a manager while the hectic sonata of scurrying footsteps multiplied, a scattered fusion-jazz tempo of clunking and stomping.
The lights flickered off once more, the room illuminated by only the cancerous-green glow of buttons. The hurried footsteps had stopped, melding into a synchronized march as the duplicates lined up around me.
The lights flashed back on I was greeted with the sight of hordes of duplicates, each more twisted and distorted than the last, frozen in place with all eyes fixed on me. Some had blonde hair, some black and one even had red hair. Some were taller, others shorter. Some with rounder noses some with hooked bird-beak noses. It seemed that as the copies progressed, a copy of a copy of a copy, that they became more and more warped. Some were even missing eyes, ears and mouths. The heads became oddly shaped, elongated or squashed, but regardless of how each one appeared, they were all looking towards me.
The true doppelgänger emerged from the ranks and stood front and center, just feet away. I could have reached out to touch him if I hadn't been paralyzed.
He took one step towards me and my legs buckled from under me while my vision faded slowly to black. Crumpled on the floor, in my last moments of consciousness, I could make out the original imposter crouching over my body, staring soullessly into my eyes.
Chapter 5
“Sir? Hello? Sir?”
I snapped awake as something nudged me on the shoulder. I was propped against the wall in an awkward position and had an awful kink in my neck. I opened my eyes, my fuzzy vision slowly coming back into focus.
“Sir?”
I looked towards the voice. My imposter stood staring at me, black holes where the eyes used to be. He lent towards me and smiled.
I jumped backwards, knocking my head on the wall. Wincing, I opened my eyes again and saw the baker from the doughnut shop, gawking at me with his arms raised up in defense, startled by my jolting away from him. My imposter was nowhere in sight.
“Sir, are you alright? You've been out for awhile.”
Shit! How long had I been out? Was I late?
“What time is it?” I asked of him.
“About 3:30,” he responded, looking down at his watch, still clearly bewildered.
I jumped from my seat and rushed out of the doughnut shop and got into my car. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and started the engine with my other hand. I had five missed calls and one voice mail from her. I squealed through the parking lot and onto the street, trying to entering in my voice mail password and nearly getting hit by an oncoming suburban merging into my left lane.
“One unheard message. To listen to your messages, please press one...”
I really would like to see the person who does the voice for those recordings, just to see if she looks as annoying as she sounds.
“Hey, you haven't answered the last five times I've called you. Is everything OK? Call me back when you get this. I won't be able to see you today since it’s so late but maybe we can reschedule? Just call me when you get this,” she paused a moment before continuing, “I'm starting to worry about you.”
“End of message. To save it to the archives...”
She was worried about me? Why? Why would she even bother caring? We hadn't seen in each other in months and barely spoke anymore. How would she even know there was anything to worry about? I continued down Memorial Drive in the opposite direction to get back home. There wasn't much else I could do today, it’s not like I had any other plans and I didn't have anything to do at home.
I had been fumbling to get my phone back into my pocket for some time now and was finally getting frustrated with it. I glanced down and found that my shirt had gotten stuck in my pocket when I was trying to put the phone in. No wonder the damn thing wouldn’t go in. I fixed my shirt and got the phone in, right as I was rocketed forward in my seat. The seat belt lock caught and jerked me backwards. I heard my collar bone snap. My forearm bone jutted out from the back of my elbow. The jagged bone pierced my side and blood leaked from both wounds. I had drifted into the wrong side of traffic and a vehicle, that I couldn't make out, had slammed into me head on.
The back of my car rocked upwards with the force and my head smashed into the steering wheel with a crunch. Apparently the airbags had failed. My neck snapped outwards and my head ricocheted from the wheel.
Chapter 6
I stood almost naked in my hallway just outside my room. It was freezing, little goose bumps formed on my bare legs and arms. The only thing I had on were a pair of boxers. I shivered and could see my breath when I exhaled.
Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!
It was much closer this time. The noise came from my bedroom, the door wide open with the moon shining brightly through the open curtains. I never left my curtains open. The bedroom door slammed shut by some unseen force and I turned, bolting down the hallway. It seemed to stretch on forever, although it was only a matter of ten feet or so to the living room.
I was almost there, but the living room stretched further away, sucked into a black abyss. I ran harder, hoping I could make it before the room was completely engulfed when I passed by the open doorway to my bedroom, the door slammed shut as I sprinted past it. I stopped in my tracks and turned a one-eighty, eyeing my bedroom door. I walked backwards down the hall, facing the doorway as I stepped carefully back towards where the living room should have been. As I stepped, the bedroom door slowly opened more and more with every step I took. The door opened completely and in shock, I watched myself step out of the doorway. As I moved backwards, he moved forwards running in a freeze frame, stop motion sort of way. I stopped and walked forwards again and my “other me” began moving backwards, back into the room and the door shut behind him right as I reached the doorway.
There was no end to this hallway, it stretched on for miles in both directions. There was a faint glow, a cold glow, from a light source I couldn’t see. Still shivering, I started making my way down the opposite direction. I checked behind me to look at my doorway once more and it remained shut. In all the confusion, I must not have noticed that the walls were made entirely of mi
rrors. An infinite number of reflections shot out from both sides of me. Multitudes of reflections within a reflection within a reflection kept pace with me as I trekked on down the halls.
My breath caught in my throat as something pierced the flesh of my foot. I stopped, balancing myself on the mirrored wall, and held my foot with my other hand. Shards of glass jutted out from my bloody feet. I looked at the floor for the first time since coming this new direction and saw it was made entirely from glass. Cracks had formed behind me where I had just passed, rippling out from where I stood, growing spiderwebs that I could hear as they spread. I yanked the glass from my foot and dropped it to the floor.
The chunk of glass hit the floor with a tink, shooting off more webs, rapidly radiating from the point of impact. I took off running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I didn't know what was below the glass floor but I didn't think I’d like it. I looked to my right at my reflection in the pale light. I looked afraid, truly afraid. I ran faster and faster, my lungs burned, my muscles were wearing out and fast, and suddenly, I wasn't running alongside of my reflection anymore. It stood frozen in the mirror behind me, watching me as I ran, with a heavy tone of sadness washed over its face.
Glass shattered in the distance, the sound echoed, roaring down the hall as the floor collapsed. I felt lightheaded from running but I forced myself along even faster, desperately trying to stay ahead of the cracking glass. Bloody footprints trailed behind me and despite the fire coursing through my body, my feet were numb with cold. I couldn’t even feel the glass that was surely tearing up my feet. I looked to my left and saw my reflection running with me—at least a little reassuring—but I still kept my eye on it, making sure it wouldn’t abandon me again.
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