13 Night Terrors

by D A Roach et al.

  Nothing had escalated further than that yet. That didn’t stop me from constantly looking over my shoulder, looking for someone who wasn't there. But here he was, alive, on camera, and now I’d have the proof I needed to take to the police.

  No ID

  I reached down, barely touching her face. I desperately wanted to let her know I was here, but now wasn’t the right time. There was still more to do before she could know. Though she had her inklings about me. I wasn’t surprised. I watched her day in and day out, looking through the house to see what she had forgotten to lock, when I had done it for her. No matter what she did, she couldn't get away. I made sure of that, and thanks to that phone she picked up, I was never far from her.

  She picked up the phone, trying to return it to the woman on the metro who had just gotten up, but it wasn’t hers. I thought she’d return it before I had the chance to follow her, and then I’d have to restart the hunt, but she put it in her bag and forgot about it until she got home. From there, she was trapped.

  I’d spend my days watching her, following her, and keeping her safe by scaring off everyone who approached her. I'd come to her apartment when she was gone, live in her home, be with her cat, and smell her clothes to feel close to her. I made sure to leave everything as it was when I came, but sometimes she would show up unexpectedly. More than once she had almost walked in on me. That would have ended poorly.

  I’d have to remind myself that now wasn’t the right time and hide before she saw me. She spent some time looking for me but never found me. I would hide deep in her closets just out of sight, under her bed behind her moving boxes, and at times behind her shower curtain if she surprised me. She’d search and search, but she would never know I was there. Then I’d wait for her to fall asleep. She had a habit of falling asleep around eight in front of the television after her dinner.

  Sometimes I’d steal a glance at her, maybe even a quick touch, and leave the moment I found the willpower to leave her. She wasn’t ready to know I was around yet. She’d start getting the messages in the morning. Then I had more to do before I forced her to accept her fate.

  I lived behind the scenes, lurking in the shadows and waiting for just the right moment for her. Every night, I came to visit and told her how beautiful she was. Tonight, over texts, she’d seen the pictures I took of her. Her beauty in photos was nothing compared to in person. The photos of her did no justice. She had a natural beauty that wasn't captured correctly on film. No, in person was so much better.

  I doubted that she’d enjoy the photos I took of her, but I’d keep them and save them for when I needed them. Soon I'd need her. I won't be able to hold out much longer.

  I leaned down to kiss her cheek but thought better of it at the last moment. Her sweet floral smell filled my nose and had me begging for more. I smiled down on her and wondered what she would do when she finally saw who was sending her these messages. I picked up toys for her cat, brought her gifts, and soon the text messages would seal the deal. Sure, she’d try to block my number, they all did, but eventually I'd get a new number and start all over again.

  She didn’t get away in time. All she had to do was leave the phone, and now she never would. I dug through my pocket and pulled out my phone to send one last text message for the night, leaving them to greet her first thing in the morning. This one was accompanied by a picture: her curled up under the covers completely unaware I was with her.

  No ID: You look beautiful when you sleep.

  I sent the message and waited for the phone to vibrate on her dresser. She shivered but didn’t wake up. Thankfully.

  I’ll be back soon.

  Soon, it would be time.

  Chapter One

  Lindsey

  A Few Months Later

  Clouds blocked the sun from shining into the windows of the metro, and it looked as though it could rain at any moment, but it never did. Made for a dreary day at work, though. The metro was packed with people, all focused on what they would do when they got home and absorbed into their phones. I could remember a time growing up when everyone on the metro would be busy reading, whether it be the newspaper or a paperback book. Now everyone was staring into their smartphones. How did we get so attached to technology?

  I used a BlackBerry I had gotten when I started working as a secretary for a law firm in Washington, D.C. Before that, I used a sliding phone throughout college, but I needed to be able to get emails and didn’t want the dependency so many had with their iPhones. I had other things to pay for, like a car payment and rent, which I needed more than a new smartphone. I had learned early on that, for some reason, this job never let me go home. I would be called and emailed in the wee hours of the morning, and without one, it was getting hard to keep up with them all.

  Maybe I'd get one, but as I glanced around at everyone absorbed into their phones instead of in a book, I decided against it. My BlackBerry was all I needed. My emails could wait until the thirty-minute train ride was over, and then I could sit back and relax while looking them over with a glass of wine. I could wait, unlike so many of the people around me.

  As the train pulled into the last stop, I got up, hoisting my bag over my shoulder. Shoving my book into its own pocket, I noticed a sleek pink and black smartphone on the floor, slightly hidden by the seats. I glanced around the train to see that most of the people had gotten off already, but someone had left their phone behind. I grabbed the smooth, hard-covered case and raced off the train, glancing around for someone who could have lost their phone, but no one was looking around frantically or digging through their bag. Judging from the color, I assumed it was a girl’s phone. I could be wrong, but something told me the men in business suits who had been sitting in meetings all day wouldn't carry a pink phone around with them.

  “Excuse me,” I said, stopping every woman I could before making it to the escalator toward the exit. “Is this your phone?” Each would say no and move on.

  The platform quickly became a ghost town. There were a few stray people standing around, but I had already asked them. I knew that if I didn't find the person who lost it now, I would never find them. Would they even try to find it after they got home? I’m sure they’d panic and search for it, but would they come back to the metro? I wanted to make sure they got it back since smartphones cost a lot of money, but what was I supposed to do? No one here claimed it. With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly followed everyone else up the escalator and made my way toward the exit.

  It was a slow ride up to the top. I was too exhausted to make the trek up the easily fourteen-foot staircase, so I accepted taking the automatic ride up. I knew there was a lost and found storage at the entrance with police officers in the booth in case anyone needed help. I could leave it there and hope that the person who lost it came back tomorrow and looked for it. Though I'm not sure they would. What if they got off at a different stop? They would never come to this one to look for their phone. Maybe I should have left it on the train, but what if whoever cleaned the trains just tossed it out?

  When I reached the small booth that the officer sat in, I tapped on the glass, getting his attention and waking him up from his nap. Startled, he sat up and glanced around nervously as if his boss had caught him. When he saw it wasn’t his boss, he relaxed and gave me a friendly smile.

  “How can I help you, ma'am?” he asked with a thick southern drawl. It always interested me the different people who congregated around D.C. I always met new people from very different backgrounds. Maybe one day I’d find someone with one like mine. A military brat who finally decided to settle down in a place for more than a few years. Moving was exhausting.

  “I found someone's phone on the train, but I couldn't find them. Can I leave it here for the lost and found?”

  He leaned forward, looking a little uncomfortable as he thought over the best response. I was sure they had a lost and found system since this couldn't be the first item ever lost on the metro.

  “To be honest, you can leave it wi
th me, but we are only allowed to hold the item for four days before we have to ship it somewhere else. It's not enough time for someone to go through the system and file a report. I normally advise people to return it in a day or two. Give the person time to file a claim, and then we can have more time to get it to them.”

  “Does that have better success?” I asked curiously, unwilling to take someone else's device home with me.

  What if they called or used some finder app? Wouldn’t I be accused of stealing?

  “I've seen better results, but if you want to leave it here, that's fine too. I’ll put it into the system now, and hopefully someone can get it in time.”

  I turned over the phone in my hands. It was surprisingly good condition for being found on a metro where anyone could have stepped on it and crushed the screen. The phone had survived a fall from some girl’s purse or work bag. There were no hairline cracks but a few dents and scratches on the case. Whoever owned this phone would come looking for it in no time, but would four days be enough time?

  While I didn't enjoy the thought of having strangers calling me to look for this phone, it seemed like the better option to make sure it was returned to the owner. Clearly, they took the metro, so I could return it without much hassle if it came to meeting them.

  “Yeah, I'll take it and return it tomorrow. Can I just return it to you?”

  “I won't be here, but someone else should be,” he said politely, flashing his perfectly white teeth. “Just pass it along to the next guy you see here.”

  “What if no one reports it missing?”

  “Something like that,” he gestured to the phone, “they are going to want back. Just give them a day and I'll put it into the system so when you turn it in tomorrow the owner can come by and get it from here.”

  I nodded and walked off, making sure to hold the phone tight in my grip so I didn't lose it. I didn't want to be responsible for losing someone else’s phone. Not that anyone would know, but it was the moral of it all.

  I snaked my way out of the metro, passed the construction on the main entrance, and went through the parking garage, and made my way home. The quickest path to my apartment was through a recently constructed dirt path, normally utilized as a running path in the morning and late afternoon, which ran through backyards and thick foliage. Frankly, it looked like something out of a horror movie, but a walk at five-thirty never raised a problem for me in the year I had lived here. Most people were very kind; only the occasional yappy dog with a Napoleon complex caused an issue.

  As I marched toward my apartment, I continued inspecting the phone in the growing darkness. I pressed the home button, and the screen lit up. It had a typical stock photo for the lock screen, which piqued my curiosity. Whoever lost it must surely be missing it, but it wasn’t personalized in the least except for the case. Even my BlackBerry had a photo of my family on it. This phone had nothing.

  A swipe right and I discovered that the phone was not locked. Thank goodness, I thought as I searched the contacts, found one labeled “Mom,” and pressed the contact information.

  Nothing.

  I flipped back to the contact list to see a few names, but each one I clicked on had no contact information in them. It was completely blank.

  What the hell?

  I clicked the home button again, revealing the apps, and took a closer look at them. All that remained were a calculator, photos, camera, messages, and the internet. I clicked on photos, but there was nothing in the folder. I went to the internet, and there were no tabs open or even a history. It was like this phone was brand new.

  “Hello, Lindsey.” I looked up to see my neighbor John. I waved but didn’t reply. John loved to talk, and after work, all I wanted to do was eat and go to bed. He didn’t say any more as I made it to my door and eventually inside.

  I tossed my bag on the floor and shed my coat and shoes. In the hustle of trying to get dinner out of the crockpot, shower, and finally be able to relax, I forgot about the phone. It wasn’t until I was heading up to my room for the night I remembered it, because I heard it ringing. At first I thought it was my BlackBerry, but I didn’t recognize the ring tone.

  I ran downstairs and picked up the phone without even looking at the caller ID. There were no contacts in the phone, so why bother? I had hoped it would be the phone’s owner, but I was sadly mistaken.

  “Hey, is this your phone?” I said as soon as I answered. “I found it on the metro. Is there a way we can meet up and I can return it to you?”

  The only reply I received was heavy breathing into the receiver. I waited for them to say something, anything, but nothing.

  “Who is this?”

  There was no reply, only the same silence. I heard about this. People getting calls every night where the phone would ring until they woke up and they’d sit in the dark, listening. I expected heavy breathing, the kind from horror movies, but only silence met my ears now. I don’t know which is worse.

  “If you don't answer me, I'm calling the police.”

  A deep, sudden laugh came through the phone, and a chill raced down my spine. The silence had been better. The dark, villainous chuckle echoed in my ears, even as he began to speak. His voice would become one I would never forget.

  “That is where you are wrong.”

  I could hear the grin in his words. He sounded pleased now that he had my undivided attention, or maybe he knew how scared I was. “I was looking for Melody, but she seems to have given you over to me in her escape. Soon you'll figure out why she was so desperate to get rid of the phone she once wanted so badly. I'll see you soon, Lindsey. I’ll see you very soon. Sweet dreams.”

  The call cut off, leaving me staring at the screen for a moment before I looked out the window. At first, I was looking at my reflection in the window pane until I saw a shadow move across the street. I focused on the figure, unable to think of a reason why someone would be alone outside at this time of night. An icy chill wrapped around my body, freezing me to the bone, when I caught the glint from what I could only imagine was glasses. Was this person looking into my house? My feet padded lightly on the hardwood floor, inching closer to get a better look, but every time there was a heavy step, I paused. Could that be him? I shook my head.

  It’s someone playing a joke. That’s how this always goes.

  I had almost convinced myself of that by the time I managed to make it to the door for a better vantage point. I peeked between the curtains, my gaze landing on the person just out of the streetlight’s cascade. For a moment, I thought I had let my imagination run wild, then the dark figure turned, once again staring at me. My breath caught in my throat, choking me, as he waved at me and then turned and walked away.

  He had been here. He knew where I lived, and it was all thanks to this stupid phone.

  Chapter Two

  The next day, I took the earliest train I could and turned in the phone to the lost and found. I had woken up to countless phone calls from someone with no caller ID and even more text messages. I didn't even bother to read them after I glanced over the first few, all of which were something like I'll see you again soon and I'll be watching. I didn't care if it was some sick joke or why it was being done to me. I just wanted the phone gone at this point. The whole way there, I was begging God to make sure the worker from yesterday wasn’t there. I didn’t want to explain why I was returning it earlier than I said, nor did I want him to see the fear in my expression. I hadn’t been able to sleep at all last night. I couldn’t stop thinking of the figure outside my window. I couldn’t stop hearing his breathing and his promise, “I’ll see you very soon.”

  He kept repeating it. I couldn't get it out of my head. Even after I turned in the phone and the officer asked me if I was okay, I didn't feel the relief of the phone being out of my hands. I felt claustrophobic, like whoever this was would now lock onto me because I had gotten rid of it. During the metro ride to work and back home at the end of the day, I kept looking over my shoulder. Shadows seem
ed to be following me everywhere, and I couldn't help but wonder, Is it him?

  I shuddered at the thought as I unlocked my front door after a very long day. The firm had run me ragged today with last-minute things, and the phone calls never stopped. I had to get in and do more work because they refused to wait until tomorrow. On the bright side, at work I didn't think about the person who had stood outside my window last night or the phone call. Being busy with work also meant I didn’t have time to talk with my neighbors, but we gave each other a curt wave when I passed by. I wanted to ask if any of them had seen someone outside last night. It wasn't likely they did, but I'd rather ask to be safe. Even if it meant I ruined what little relationship I had with them. We didn’t have the best relationship, but we tried. While we were friendly when we saw each other, we didn’t have barbecues in the summer or dinners together. I sighed as I opened the front door, once again greeted by an empty house.

  “It’s so lonely…I should get a cat,” I mused, closing the door and locking it behind me. With a cat, I’d have something to be around to greet me when I get home. This was just depressing. However, I was pleased to not see anything from the mystery man who had been hanging out around my house last night. I hated that he knew where I live. What's going to happen now that I didn't have the phone? Would he come back again?

  I couldn't fight off the thoughts that he'd show up again. He kept saying I'd see him again, but if I didn't have the phone, could he still contact me? No, there was no way he could. He didn't have my actual number, and if he showed up again, I could call the police. Besides, he seemed more interested in the phone from what he had said.

  “I was looking for Melody, but she seems to have given you over to me in her escape. Soon you'll figure out why she was so desperate to get rid of the phone she once wanted so badly.”