He could feel it.
Eyes, watching him, waiting for just the right moment.
To strike, to kill maybe.
Rendiansyah Nugroho
Julian didn’t question his instincts.
Andys was his dive, his home away from home.
Everywhere he looked there was a friendly face, a sloppy hug, a cry of Hey Jules!
from across the smoky murk.
It was a good night.
At any rate, Tonys departure over an hour ago was a mission of the utmost importance.
The fact of his continued truant status could only mean glad tidings.
If he couldnt bum a ride from one of the other patrons he could always walk.
It wouldnt be the first time, just the first time in a couple of months.
The first time since an unfortunate incident had occurred.
OrTerminator 2: Judgment Day, for that matter.
A glance around revealed dire news.
The few remaining patrons appeared drunker than he was, and all of them strangers.
Not one solid candidate for a ride and that meant he was walking.
Not a big deal, he told himself again.
It wasnt far, a mile and a half, two miles tops.
And it was a nice night, early summer and not too hot.
He lit another Turkish Gold and looked out upon the square.
Just as well Tony never showed up, Julian decided.
So tonight that bad decision was taken out of consideration, and it was probably for the best.
The first leg of his journey, heading south down Locust Street, proved uneventful.
Few cars of any sort passed him, and foot traffic was nearly non-existent.
Also, it had recently occurred to him that he was ravenously hungry.
When it happened it was just like flipping a switch in his brain.
His mouth went dry and his heart started racing.
The moon was full (or close to it at least), and the street lamps were lit.
If there was an immediate threat or danger nearby, it was well hidden.
Eyes, watching him, waiting for just the right moment.
To strike, to kill maybe.
Julian didnt question his instincts.
No one was chasing him.
He had heard nothing at all, not even so much as a twig snapping.
Apart from the sound of his own heavy breathing the city was silent as the grave.
Still, this feeling of panic, of mortal terror.
Before long the fluorescent glow of the convenience store appeared in the near distance.
Another over-the-shoulder glance revealed nothing apart from the unshakable sense that the danger was merely hidden.
Ducked behind a tree, perhaps, and just at the right moment.
A glance back to the parking lot showed nothing untoward, hatchet-wielding maniac or otherwise.
It was the aforementioned unfortunate event that crossed his mind at the bar.
A sort of trap set by his subconscious, perhaps.
It was, of course, a night not at all unlike this one.
The same old story of a hundred other nights.
This one, however, went drastically south.
It said, Hey man, got a cig?
That was when the first blow landed, somewhere between his left eye and the bridge of his nose.
Someone else cried, cackling.
Julian never saw who they were, thanks to the tears welling up in his already swollen eye.
For the most part, however, his attackers were winning handily.
Get his wallet, the head bastard commanded, and Julian almost chuckled.
He didnt even have a drivers license.
A rough hand fished the wallet from his pocket along with his phone with its cracked screen.
He tried to find the strength to resist, but came up short.
Perhaps they found wealthier victims down the lane, perhaps not.
Julian didnt know and he did not much care.
Actually, he did care.
After a while, he picked his sorry self up and trudged home.
Sad and afraid, but not angry.
Sometime later his bruises faded and the swelling subsided and that was that.
It was the only thing that made sense.
Julian pretended to consider a bag of pretzels as he reflected on this idea.
It was elegant in its simplicity, there was a psychological cause and effect relationship that anyone could understand.
Or is it because youre not feeling paranoid at all.
Someone really is watching you.
Theyre watching you right now, you just cant see them.
No one is going to get me while Im standing in the middle of the chip aisle.
Do you really think youre safe just because youre in a public place?
But you cant stay here forever.
To save face, he bought it along with a bottle of soda selected at random.
out of a robotic sort of habit.
It spoke up again in the borderland between the sanctuary of the gas station and the dim world beyond.
Youre being followed,it whispered.
Im not,Julian insisted, trying his best not to look back over his shoulder.
He was nearing the intersection of Eagle Drive and Carroll Boulevard.
The townhouse style apartment he shared with his brother was still several blocks away.
With a glance to his left and right, he crossed.
There is no one watching.
No one is around.
The city is quiet.
This part of Eagle Drive was mostly commercial.
Auto part stores, beer barns, check cashing places, that sort of thing.
Not so this time, not a single other pedestrian.
He could not recall having ever felt so alone.
Now his skin was crawling all over.
He was abruptly aware he could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing in the pervading silence.
This was good, wasnt it?
Thats a dangerous assumption.
Shut up, dammit!
This damned voice was getting hard to ignore.
It was the lack of distraction, thats all.
He just had a little fright with no reason behind it.
Happens to everyone, especially intoxicated people who recently had the shit kicked out of them.
Just a little fright and he let himself get pulled into a feedback loop.
There was nothing but the empty streets to look at, and nothing but paranoid thoughts to think.
Tomorrow he would look back on this and wonder what he possibly could have been afraid of.
Maybe he would even laugh about it.
If there is a tomorrow.
Julian did not dignify this with a response.
Julian started humming a song.
One of his own, actually.
It was one he had written years before and still performed at open mic nights from time to time.
For about a block it seemed to do the trick.
Perhaps long enough to get home.
It made no sense and he knew it, but knowing that changed nothing.
He thought of more complex compositions.
He pushed away sinister thoughts.
He concentrated on putting one foot in front of another.
He resisted the urge to walk faster.
Walking faster would turn into running.
Instinctively he knew it would give away to terrified flight.
Every step brought him closer to home, and once home he would be safe.
He was sure of it.
To this thought, the rogue voices response was a derisive laughter that spoke volumes.
He ignored this too, and all of its implications.
Another block down and he was in the part of Eagle that mostly consisted of other apartment complexes.
He was at the home stretch and that made him feel marginally better.
But look at all those dark alcoves, all those entryways.
So many places for him to ambush you.
Look at this spot up ahead, that entryway.
If someone was waiting there you would never see them in time.
His Jaw began to hurt and he realized he had been clamping his teeth together.
His hands ached and he realized he had curled both of them into tight, painful fists.
The muscles and the veins in his arms stood out under his skin like tectonic plates.
Julian forced himself to take a slow, deep breath and relax.
He opened his eyes.
Im fine, He said aloud.
He could sense the hand, clawed and scabrous, reaching out to the back of his neck.
He could feel the hot breath, wet and reeking, wash over him.
He didnt look back.
To look back was madness.
Still, he couldnt stop.
Panic held the reins and wielded a terrible whip.
Finally, he crossed the last street and found himself on the grounds of his own apartment complex.
He fumbled his keys and they landed among the less ambitious coins at his feet.
No threats, no gremlins or goblins slinking in the darkness.
Panic had faded away very nearly enough for him to start feeling stupid about the whole thing.
Inside, with the door locked and dead bolted, Julian felt immediately less positive.
His empty apartment seemed to be a landscape of shadows, darkened rooms, and blind corners.
The staircase was a particular source of anxiety for him.
It was a perfect ambush spot.
The darkness above him seemed nearly tangible, a black mass of nameless menace crouched and ready to strike.
Did he hear a sound?
The stairs were creaky, but he didnt think it was a creak.
Maybe it was a thud or a knock.
Nothing pounced at him, not yet at least.
Not yet.The apartment is empty!
Nothing is going to get you, fuckhead!He told himself.
Again he felt the frustration of reason setting in and yet making no discernible difference in his feelings.
Something was wrong, he was in danger.
Something beyond the five senses screamed this message to him.
Julian realized he was frozen on the landing, giving into the fear.
He grimaced and forced himself to take a step forward, and then another.
Before long he had reached the switch for the hallway light, and no longer needed his flashlight.
He tapped away the light and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.
I dont need to bring up the door again.
Besides, Juan would be pissed off if I turned his light on, hed think I was snooping.
Okay, I just hope youre really, really confident there is nothing hiding in Juans room.
Confident enough to stake your life on it.
All you have to do is turn the light on and get a good look, then youll know.
But if youre confident…
Conflicted, Julian leaned against the wall and tugged at his hair.
How long was he going to be spooked like this?
Nothing happened, nothing is going to happen.
So why couldnt he just stop, why couldnt he relax?
Finally, with a frustrated growl, he swung the door open and flipped on the light.
Julian gasped and fell back against the hallway wall.
Crouching on Juans bed, waiting to pounce, was… was…
A pile of blankets.
Julian sighed and sunk down to the carpet, rubbing his forehead.
This is ridiculous, He said aloud, breaking the silence.
His voice sounded strange in the empty apartment, strained.
The sound of his own voice made him feel slightly better, less alone.
He flipped on the light and no laundry or anything more menacing jumped out to assail him.
Nothing in his bedroom seemed awry, it was much as he left it.
Bed with blanket rumpled at the foot, laundry piled in a corner, just as he liked it.
Television on the dresser against the wall opposite the bed, pile of DVDs beside it.
The closet was closed, and that he felt confident to leave unchecked.
It was so full of junk that no room remained for boogeymen to lurk.
On his cluttered desk was a conspicuous book, clearly fake and reeking of old resin.
This was, of course, his stash box.
Julian grabbed his box, considered, and grabbed his guitar as well.
If there was nothing to watch on TV, at least he could play some music.
His fingers brushed the strings, producing a familiar and comforting sound.
Julian allowed himself a smile.
This would be just the thing, have a quick smoke and play something, probably Blink 182.
Juggling the stash box and guitar and working toward a free hand, Julian turned back to the door.
The smile died on his face.
He heard it this time, he definitely heard it.
Footsteps, moving furtively down the hall.
Bare feet on soft carpet.
An invader, a skulker, a lurker.
Something and it was out there, he heard it.
He thought he heard it.
He might have heard something.Dammit,He thought to himself.
He stood perfectly still, holding his breath and listening with all his might.
Moments passed, and he heard nothing more.
Nothing sinister, at least.
He could hear the soft roar of passing vehicles and the hum of electricity in the walls.
He didnt hear any footsteps, furtive or otherwise.
In a few more moments he was back in the living room, and he slumped into the couch.
Almost immediately a warm, calm feeling washed over him, and his head buzzed pleasantly.
Soon his fear was forgotten or at least pushed deep into a corner.
Carousel turned into Dammit, which then transitioned to a loose medley of beloved riffs and melodies.
Before long, his eyes were growing heavy and his strumming slowed, slowed, stopped.
Just a brief nap and he would put all those things away and crawl into bed.
Forget about all the strangeness of the night, the terror of solitude, and all that.
His heart was thudding violently in his chest, a bird trying to escape its cage.
Oh Jesus, Jesus, Julian cried, raking his fingers through his hair.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep he could feel them on either side of his head.
It was so real, so… And that sound?
Like a scream, like something screaming his name right into his face, only?
Only he didnt hear it out loud.
He heard it in his head.
There was no real sound, was there?
It was only some sort of dream thing, wasnt it?
But why were his ears ringing?
Why could he still feel that phantom touch?Oh Jesus, what the hell is happening to me?
They were damned fast, whatever they were.
Sometimes he could even feel their hot breath, almost hear it.
Every moment he spent focusing on his phone he could feel them gathering ever closer, just behind him.
He could sense them, somehow.
He threw his phone aside in disgust and flinched at the sound of it striking the coffee table.
It was unbearable, this doom hanging over his head, all around him but just out of sight.
Constant footsteps: down the hall, in the kitchen, coming up and down the stairs.
If he strained he could hear them.
Here that line was erased, maybe for good.
Real or imaginary, theyre both just abstract concepts anyways.
It was as though time had stopped.
It was happening, finally, and the happening was heralded by a stillness.
The next thing Julian became aware of was the feeling of a charge in the air, like static.
The way it must feel right before youre struck by lightning.
The hairs on his arms stood on end.
The charge washed over him in waves.
Next came a vibration, pulsing and alive.
His clothes were vibrating!
The temperature dropped, noticeably.
Twenty degrees, maybe more.
Julian could feel his lungs burning and realized he had been holding his breath.
He let it out in a wheeze and drew air back in through a throat constricted to pinhole size.
His teeth chattered and the temperature dropped a few more degrees.
Julians attention was drawn to the corner of the room opposite him.
There was nothing there, but still, there his eyes were drawn.
Somehow they were gathering.
It appeared intangible but undeniably three-dimensional.
The lump grew larger and sprouted pseudopodia.
It was a man-shaped hole in reality.
The Man-Shape reached out to Julian, radiating not malice, but rather a feeling of sorrow and regret.
The thing mourned at Julian, there was no other way to describe it.
It stood this way for a few seconds, made a sound like a sigh, and disappeared.
The effect of its departure was felt immediately by Julian: It was relief.
He could breathe again.
His heart rate slowed again to something close to resting.
The fear was gone, the feeling of a presence was gone.
The next thing Julian realized was that he had dozed off.
Julian gathered up his stash box and stumbled up the stairs.
It could only have been Juan, who forgot his house key every once in a while.
Julian sighed and stumbled his way back down the stairs and to the door.
It wasnt Juan at all, knocking at the door.
It was the police.
Two of them, a man and a woman.
Julians heart sank to somewhere around his ankles.
Are you Julian Reyes?
The Lady cop asked.
The name on her badge read Ferguson.
He replied, feeling a different sort of doom building.
Your brother is Juan Gustavo Reyes?
The man cop asked.
He was a Johnson.
Thats right, Julian asked, Whats this about?
Johnson looked to Ferguson and nodded slightly.
He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
Julian cried, incredulous.
Hot tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away.
Died in the ambulance?
Can we come in?
Ferguson asked, and he nodded, leading them to the couch.
We believe it was an attempted mugging, Johnson told him.
His lips were pressed to a thin line.
There was a struggle, and your brother was stabbed twice in the stomach and once in the neck.
Im sorry, Julian.
He succumbed to his wounds before he could be stabilized.
There was nothing they could do.
