by Mac Flynn
The clinic closed at the usual five o'clock, and by that time the sun was low in the eastern sky. Other then some of the residential staff who rotated out of their shifts at odd hours, the office staff was always the last to leave. I shut down my computer and pulled on my coat. The unsettling feeling I'd had all day was still in the back of my mind as I grabbed my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder.
Vera flipped off the lights and cast the room in dark shadows. Only a few emergency lights and a single bulb over the doors prevented us from stumbling into the furniture and over the rugs. Vera and I met at the doors and, as usual, she appointed herself the last to leave and shut the doors behind us. She locked the door and it rattled when she tested it.
"Nice and firm," she approved. She pocketed her key and turned to me. "I hope you enjoy your weekend, Miss Runa."
"I'm sure I will," I replied.
We went our separate ways, Vera to her car and me to the nearest bus stop. My feet clacked against the sidewalk as I walked the half block to the bus sign. A small glass shelter with a few metal benches stood on the sidewalk in front of the bus stop. It was dinner time on a Saturday night so the area was empty. I sat down on a bench and looked up in time to see the street lights flicker on. A cool breeze blew some leaves past the open front of the shelter.
I shuddered and gripped the collar of my coat tighter around my throat. "Nothing scary about this place, Enid. You've sat here a hundred times without anything going wrong. . ." I murmured to myself.
Those hundred times weren't the day after a hair-raising close encounter of the paranormal kind. A noise behind me made me swivel around. There was an alley behind and to the right of the shelter. A can rolled out of its dark depths and onto the sidewalk. It came to a stop when it clinked lightly against the side of the shelter. I stared between the can and the darkness, and it stared back.
The darkness, that is, not the can.
I jumped to my feet and stepped back towards the road. The darkness really did stare back. A familiar pair of red eyes peered from the black depths of the alley. A figure floated from the side street and the closest street light illuminated its shadowy cloak. The phantom from last night. Osman hadn't destroyed it.
My heart picked up the tempo to a roaring flamenco as I stumbled away from the tall, cloaked figure. Its eyes narrowed, and as it floated towards me it stretched out one of its pale hands. I retreated a few more steps and one of my heels slipped over the edge of the sidewalk.
A horn blared, and the phantom and I whipped our heads down the road. The bus barreled towards me and the driver honked their horn. I stepped out of the way and narrowly avoided becoming an integral part of the grill. The bus screeched to a stop and the door opened. The lady bus driver glared down at me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped.
I looked towards the alley. The phantom was gone, but I still felt the chill down my spine. I jumped onto the nearly-empty bus and took a seat in the back. My window faced the sidewalk, and I peered into the side street. I swear a pair of red eyes glared back at me, but the bus pulled out before I could, or wanted to, confirm it.
I slid down in my seat and sighed. I was safe, at least for now, but I wanted my underwear back from Osman. His destruction of that phantom had lasted less time than a politician's promise. I pulled my purse onto my lap and opened it too look for his card, but the bus gave a sudden jerk as the driver made a quick brake.
"What the hell?" she growled. She swung open the door and scowled at someone at the bottom of the steps. My heart quickened as I wondered if that person wore a cloak. "What the hell do you want?" she snapped at the invisible person.
A tall, familiar figure appeared over the front seats and stepped into the walkway between the seats. It was the pale, unsmiling man from earlier that morning. He didn't reply to the bus driver's angry question, but placed a few coins in the box beside her and took a seat in the middle of the bus.
I sank down in my seat and peeked around the side of the one in front of me. The man stared straight ahead, but at my peeking he turned his head just a smidge in my direction. It was enough for one of his bright blue eyes to stare at me. The color drained from my face and I pulled back out of sight.
I bit my lower lip and tried to think of a plan. Calling the police wouldn't have worked. I didn't have any concrete evidence against my pale stalker. Getting off at a different stop was a no-go because he'd follow me, and if he caught me I'd be farther from my home.
That left only one, regrettable, choice. I rummaged through my purse and found Osman's number. I dialed the digits and pressed the receiver against my ear. The line on the other end rang.
"Come on. Answer it," I hissed after the second ring.
After the fifth ring Osman's voice came over the speaker.
"Good day, you've reached my phone. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you'd leave your name and number after the beep then I'll try to get back to you. Maybe."
Beep.
"Osman?" I hissed. "This is Enid Runa. I met the phantom again, and now this pale guy's been following me all day and he's on the bus. If you could get your butt to the Bellamy Grocery store two blocks from my house I'd really appreciate it."
I hung up and peeked around the seat in front of me. The man stared straight ahead, but I couldn't ditch the feeling that he was staring at me. It felt kind of like the third eye on a mom. I pulled back and glanced out the window. I had a long thirty minutes left before my stop, and I hoped Osman was waiting for me there.
My heart beat a loud, quick tune the entire time, but somehow I got to my stop without having a heart attack. The bus slowed down and I jumped to my feet. The pale man was already on his feet and halfway down the aisle. He stepped off the bus, and for a second I pondered staying on the bus until the next stop.
"You getting off or what?" the bus driver growled.
'Or what' was an option, but the bright lights of Bellamy's Grocery signaled to me a safe-haven, and definitely some help. I hurried down the aisle and onto the dark sidewalk. The pale man was nowhere in sight. The bus pulled away, leaving me with little choice but to hurry to the sliding door of the grocery store.
I grasped my purse and rushed down the sidewalk. The area was completely deserted, and several of the street lights flickered overhead. Others were completely dead, and the long shadows of night leaned out from around the corners of the block and behind every garbage can and stack of broken crates. My eyes flitted to and fro in search of danger, but the pale man had completely vanished. I hoped I'd find Osman out front, but he was also a no-show. Still, my heart beat a little slower when I stepped into the warm glow of the store.
Mr. Bellamy stood at his cash register and smiled at me. "I told you not to eat all those eggs," he scolded me.
I hurried up to him and glanced over my shoulder. "I think I might have a bigger problem than a stomach ache," I told him.
He frowned. "Why? What's wrong?" He looked past me at the door. "Is someone following you?" he guessed.
"I don't know, but-" I froze when the pale man strode through the door. He looked around and his gaze fell on me. My eyes widened when he turned and walked towards us. I slipped behind Bellamy and peeked around him. "That guy's following me," I whispered to him.
Bellamy frowned. "Why?"
I shook my head. "I don't know."
The man reached us and looked at me with his cold eyes. "Come with me," he commanded me.
Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you need to leave, sir," he ordered the newcomer.
"Please don't interfere. I don't want to hurt you," the stranger warned him.
"I think that's enough. You get out-" Bellamy drew out his bat and took a step towards the stranger.
The stranger ducked and sprang forward. He grabbed onto Bellamy's arm in two places and tossed the grocery store owner over his shoulder. Bellamy flew a few yards and sk
idded that many until he crashed into a display of oranges near the door. My old friend groaned, but didn't get up. The man turned to me and reached out for me.
"Come with me now or-" 'Or' came sooner than he expected as I noticed a black shadow fly through the crack in the closed sliding door.
The shadow turned to the stranger and me, and its thin body bloated until it resumed its wide cloaked form. The phantom. Its burning red eyes glared at me. It flew over Bellamy and reached out with both its clawed, pale hands.
The stranger spun around and pushed me behind him. He pulled two familiar scraps of paper from his jeans pocket and clasped them between his fingers. The man threw one at the creature and it sliced through the air like a dagger. The phantom dodged the dagger-like paper and crashed into the stranger. The stranger pushed me aside and they tumbled past me, a mess of dark blue and midnight black. The stranger ended up on the bottom with the phantom's cold claws wrapped around his neck.
I didn't know the guy but I knew the phantom, and I knew I definitely didn't like him. I looked around for something to use against the dark creature, and my eyes spotted the other scrap of paper with the writing. I snatched the paper from the floor and raced over to the pair. The phantom's cloaked back was turned towards me, but it paused in its murder attempt and glanced over its shoulder at me.
"Get off him," I growled as I slammed the paper into his forehead.
The paper seared a nice hole between his eyes and smoke rose from beneath the paper. My eyes widened and I stumbled back as the creature screamed in agony and clawed at the paper. Bits of the ink rubbed off on its fingers, and more smoke appeared from that contact.
The phantom stood and swayed back and forth as its body was consumed by the paper. This wasn't the clean disappearing act of yesterday. This time the phantom melted out of existence. Its body oozed to the floor and it let out a last, long wail before its head dropped onto the puddle that was all that remained of its body.
The man sat up and rubbed his neck. There were nice bruises on his skin. He studied the pile of ooze, and then his cold eyes turned to me. They narrowed and he set his lips in a firm line.
"You must come with me," he hoarsely ordered me.
"Heck no," was my response.
I turned and got the hell out of there.
CHAPTER 7