Dead Man Walking

by Quinn Buckland

  I sigh and shake my head; I can’t leave Dorothy like that. I need to hear her voice one final time. I find a payphone and plug in my tin; I don’t require the aid of an operator.

  The horn hardly gets a ring out when it gets answered.

  “Thomas?” I hear Dorothy’s terrified voice ask.

  “Yeah, doll,” I say. “It’s me.”

  “Thomas, please come home,” she says. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t want our child to not have a father.”

  “I know you don’t. I never believed you would.”

  I hear something in the background. It sounds like a voice. “Please come home,” she says again. “I won’t stop you from going wherever it is you need to go. Just please come home first.”

  “Is there someone there with you?”

  I almost don’t hear the moan of affirmation she gives. Someone is there, and she’s terrified.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask.

  “No, not at all,” she says nonchalantly.

  My eyes narrow, and my breathing goes shallow. “Put him on the telephone,” I say. “I want to talk to the son of a bitch keeping you hostage.”

  “Thomas, please.”

  “Do as I say,” I shout, my voice desperate and scared.

  “All right.”

  I hear her voice shift from the blower to the distance. I don’t hear what the other person is saying, but I can tell it's a woman as it comes closer to the telephone.

  “It’s been a long time Thomas,” Helen O’Reilly’s voice says.

  “What are you doing, Helen?”

  “Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh. “I’m not going to hurt your woman, at least not if you do as I say.”

  I grit my teeth and speak slowly. “I’m listening.”

  “You’re going to go to the warehouse, and you’re going to have a little chat with Howard. Once we’re sure you’re not going to be a problem, you’ll be allowed to go, and we won’t bother you again.”

  “What makes you think I’ll just let you get away with this?”

  I can hear the grin on her breath. “Because you’re powerless in this situation, Thomas. Your safety and Dorothy’s survival hinges on us and what we deem acceptable.”

  I devise a plan in my head, and I frown, keeping any positivity from my voice. “All right, I’ll be there.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  “I’ll be on time,” I reply, gritting my teeth. “I hope Howard shows up too.”

  “He’ll be there.”

  Before I can say another word, the line goes dead. I sigh deeply and check my heater. It’s still there and still full of bullets. I run out to the road and flag a taxi down. The man behind the wheel is younger than I’d have expected, but I don’t think about it any further. I give him my home address, and we peel out toward danger.

  ***

  I tell the cabby to wait for me; I won’t be long. With the rendezvous time approaching, I can’t chance not being able to get another taxi.

  The door to my apartment is nothing special, a thin wood that’s made to be easily kicked through in case of a fire. I can’t speak for how common a practice that is, but I’m thankful my building makes it mandatory.

  I pull out my heater, pull back the hammer and lay boots to the door. It flies open with an ungodly crash, and I point my gun at the being in front of me. My eyes grow wide when I see Genevieve. “Thomas, what are you doing?”

  My eyes pass by the wall clock and I make a mental note of the time. “The better question is, what are you doing here?”

  Genevieve frowns and places her hands on her hips. “You know damn well why I’m here.” Her face softens a little. “Thomas, you’re scaring me. Please, put down the gun.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Where’s Dorothy?”

  “She’s safe, holed up in her room.”

  “And Helen?”

  “Took off as soon as I got here. She ran down the fire escape and down the alley.”

  I lower my piece but keep it ready to fire. It’s a likely story, almost good enough to be true. She acts like Genevieve, and I’d be amazed if she had actually followed my wishes and waited to open my note until the time I’d specified. But it’s also not outside the realm of possibility that she would obey my wishes.

  “Where’s Jenny?”

  “Back at the office,” Genevieve says.

  “So why did you open the letter early?” I ask. “You weren’t supposed to know anything until ten-thirty, when it’d be too late to go looking for me.”

  Her eyes widen, and the ruse is up. She has no idea about the letter I left. The reaction is slight and subtle, only lasting a moment. I’d thought I’d trip her up with saying the wrong time, but that works all the better.

  “You can’t just leave a note like that and not expect me to go looking for you.”

  “Cut the act,” I say, raising the heater. “I know you’re not Genevieve. Who are you?”

  Before my eyes, the woman’s face shifts and Genevieve’s features become Helen O’Reilly’s. My gut turns and I drop my heater; it goes off as it hits the floor, sending splinters of wood from our cupboards around the floor. From across the apartment, I hear Dorothy scream. She’s all right; at least that much is true.

  “What are you?” I ask.

  “All that will be explained later when you’re at the rendezvous point,” Helen says.

  “How long have you been playing me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long have you been trying to lure me into whatever is going on here? Was it when Howard died? Before then? Was that man outside your house really your brother?”

  Helen lowers her head and sighs. “It’s not what you think,” she says. “I’m not the woman who asked you to search for her boyfriend. I just look like her.”

  “A spitting image,” I reply.

  “Yes, but I’m not her. That woman died four years ago.”

  “How did she die?”

  Helen shakes her head. “That’s a question for the rendezvous.”

  “Do you really think Howard is going to tell me everything?”

  Helen nods. “That’s the whole point of this. We need to make sure you’re not a threat to us or that you’re going to stop us.”

  “I’m not the only detective in the city, Helen. Or whatever your real name is.” My eyes flick to my heater and I get my muscles ready to dive and grab it. “Someone is bound to figure you out sooner or later. I’ve already got the Red City Police Department on it.”

  “Yes,” Helen says. “You finding our warehouse was a bit of a setback; more so that you got the cops in on it. That does make things difficult.”

  “Tough.”

  “But none of that matters. You’re the only one that matters right now.”

  “Why?”

  “All in due time. You better go. Otherwise you’re going to be late, and you won’t get any answers at all.”

  I grit my teeth; it’s now or never. In a single fluid motion, I dive for my gun. The look in Helen’s eyes goes from calm to terrified in less than a second. She shouts something I don’t hear, and I grab my gun. Going with the momentum, I roll toward Helen, and once I’m in the right position, I fire off a round, catching her in the head.

  Blood and brain and bone spatter behind her in a mess we’ll never be able to wash out. I stand and walk toward her corpse. I frown at the open-eyed woman and shake my head. I don’t know who she is, but it’s a travesty for her to wear Helen’s face as she died. Helen was a good woman and didn’t deserve to die. I won’t be shedding any tears for whatever took her place.

  I turn and run to my room. I open the door, and in the corner of the room, Dorothy sits shaking and crying.

  “Dorothy,” I say, rushing toward her. “It’s all right. She’s dead.” Dorothy looks up at me and nods; I can see understanding in her wet eyes. “I need you to do something,” I say. “It’s vital you do everything I tell you, right down to the letter. Do you understand?”r />
  Dorothy nods. “Yes, I understand.”

  “I need you to call the police. They’re going to want to investigate what happened. When they ask what happened, I want you to tell the truth.”

  “Even when she changed her face?”

  “No, leave that out. The coppers are simple; they won’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it had I not seen it myself.” I wrap my arms around her. “I want you to tell them she took you hostage and I saved you. That should keep them happy until I’m able to go in for questioning. Everything will be all right, but you need to tell them what happened. I’ll be back in just a little while.”

  I pull myself away, and Dorothy nods. She pauses a moment and brings her head forward, planting a kiss on my lips. I kiss her back, taking in the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin and the feel of her hair. It might be my last time kissing her and I’m going to make sure it’s memorable.

  Once I pull away, I head to the front door. I stop to look back at the corpse and then at Dorothy. I open the door and turn around.

  “I love you,” I say before closing the door behind me.

  I don’t hear her say it, but I know she says it back to me.

  Chapter 22

  The Gathering

  I stand outside the building, my heart heavy and my head swimming with unsavoury thoughts. I harden my resolve and open the door. The hallway is dark enough I can’t see the other end. The first door I see has a brass ‘1’ screwed into the wood. I exhale and take a step forward.

  The hall is longer than I expect, wrapping itself around the building and soon coming to a set of stairs. I climb, and when I get to the top of the flight, the second door presents itself. I walk the hall again and climb more stairs to the third floor.

  The door to the third room is different from the others. Instead of cheap wood, this door is made of steel. I inspect the frame and see the reinforcements keeping the door upright. I suspect the steel wraps around the whole room, but I can’t be sure of that.

  I grip the handle, expecting the door to be locked. It’s unlikely they’ll want me just walking in on them. But to my surprise, the door is indeed unlocked. I open the door, taking care to be as silent as possible and step into the darkness. In the distance, I hear voices coming from a separate room.

  “Where is she? She’s late,” Moses’s voice says.

  “I don’t know,” Howard’s voice replies. “But she’s holding us up.”

  “Be easy,” a voice I don’t know says. “She’ll be here. Besides, it’s almost time for Detective Baxter to arrive.”

  There’s a small pause, and Howard says, “Actually, Baxter is late too.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Moses asks. “This should have been easy to figure out. How is it that both Helen and Baxter are late?”

  I take this moment to step out of the shadows and into their room. “Probably because your woman stopped by my apartment and took my wife hostage.”

  The three spin and the look of panic on Moses’s face nearly makes me bust a gut. Howard is surprised but the only indication is his eyes widening. The third man, though; his demeanour interests me. He’s not surprised; he’s amused.

  “Mister Baxter,” he says. “Good of you to join us.”

  I grunt in response.

  “What do you mean she took your wife hostage?” Howard asks.

  “I figured that spoke for itself,” I say. “She came to my house, took Dorothy hostage and waited for me to call my house. I’m not even sure how she knew I’d call.”

  “What did you do?” the third man asks.

  I chuckle. “It doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is why you asked me to come here. Helen said there’ll be answers, though I don’t suppose you’ll answer them for free.”

  “On the contrary, Mister Baxter,” the third man says. “We’ll answer any question you have; all we ask is a simple favour.”

  “And what can I give that nobody else can?”

  The third man grins as he grabs a glass of liquor from a table I hadn’t noticed. “You’ll leave us alone,” he says. “You won’t question us after this meeting. You won’t hunt us, and you won’t do a damn thing to stop us.”

  “What makes you think I’ll take that deal?”

  The third man walks to a chair and takes a seat. “Simply put? Because you won’t have a choice.” He takes a drink and motions to the table. I see a decanter with a variety of liquors of all sorts of colours. I shake my head; I need a clear head for this.

  “First of all,” Howard says. “I believe introductions are in order.”

  “Just you,” I say, pointing at the third man. “You’re Howard Sutton, and you’re Moses Renault. At least you’re what’s replaced them. Howard Sutton is dead. I know that for a fact, and I’m pretty sure the real Moses Renault is too.”

  “Yes, they are,” the third man says, his face starting to shift. I watch in horror as his face turns into my friend’s. “And you can call me Liddell. You did outside our warehouse last night.”

  My eyes narrow. “You have no right to wear that face. Barney Liddell was a good man, and you parading around as him is a travesty of his life and his memory.”

  Liddell chuckles. “I actually have his memories. Some of them are quite nice, but most are very sad. Would you like to hear about them?”

  “If Liddell wanted me to know, I would already know.”

  Liddell nods. “Indeed, you would.”

  I frown and take a step back. “Who are you? Or better yet, what are you?”

  “We’re doppelgangers,” Howard says.

  “You’re what?”

  Moses rolls his eyes. “We’re beings from a separate pocket reality that come to your realm now and again when we’re needed. Typically, we replace people who suffer from attacks of the supernatural variety. We carry out their lives and give them natural deaths a little while later.”

  “But with the creatures of the night being reigned in, we find we don’t have a purpose anymore,” Howard says, continuing Moses’s explanation. “Our entire existence hinges on being able to take over someone’s life and give them the death they deserve.”

  “What do you mean by giving them a death they deserve?” I ask. I want to ask what they mean by supernatural creatures, but I want to keep the conversation moving in one direction.

  “When a supernatural creature comes for a human, a vampire or a werewolf, we take that human’s place so they don’t attract attention,” Liddell says. “You see, the people who are changed still have lives, and if they disappear suddenly people will notice. But we don’t survive long in this realm, ten years at most before the body starts to disintegrate. It’s a slow process and it’s excruciating, so we find ways to die before our time is up.”

  “So why are you here?”

  Liddell gives Howard and Moses a confused glance. “You’re not questioning us being doppelgangers? Or the existence of vampires?”

  I shrug. “I watched Helen, and you change your faces in front of me. Being shapeshifting creatures not from my reality is as good an explanation as any. At this point, I’m willing to accept anything exists.”

  “It’s just odd,” Howard says. “Most people go through a whole existential crisis upon learning of our existence. They start to question what’s real and whether there’s a higher power.”

  I frown again and take a step forward; I put my hands in my pockets. I want the creatures to get a sense of security as if I’m not armed to the teeth and have every intention of killing all three of them.

  “I’ve been questioning my reality for the past four years. You just gave me an answer; that’s all it is.”

  Howard shrugs. “All right, what else do you want to know?”

  “You didn’t answer me on why you’re here.”

  Liddell chuckles. “No, I suppose we didn’t.”

  Moses lets out a long and loud sigh through his nose. “We needed a new purpose in life. We can’t die until we take over a form, but t
o just kill someone and take their life is a travesty, one we can’t stomach.”

  “So why did you kill them?”

  “Reproduction,” Liddell says.

  My head cocks back, and my jaw loosens. “What?”

  “It’s a bit of a story,” Liddell says. “But between no longer having a purpose and watching our species die out, we got an idea in our collective mind. We wanted to reproduce. But there’s a problem with that; doppelgangers have no genitals in our natural form. So, we chose to take the forms of a few humans. We would then spend the next ten years reproducing.”

  “So you want to make children of your species?”

  “Yes and no,” Howard says. “The ones that have been born so far have some shifting abilities, but they are minimal and seem to only happen once. For all intents and purposes, they’re a whole different species, a perfect blending of human and doppelganger.”

  I think about what they’re saying and I wonder if I can stand in their way. People have died, but I’m not entirely sure if I can disparage their decision to create a different species.

  “How many have there been?”

  “Born? Or impregnated?”

  “Both.”

  “A couple thousand born, though only half have survived so far. I believe there are another four or five thousand impregnated worldwide.”

  I hang my head as I try to decide what I want to do with the creatures. I’m still not all right with wearing the faces of others, but I also don’t like the thought of an entire species going extinct.

  “How many of you stayed behind, in your natural reality?” The words feel like gravel on my tongue. Under any other circumstance, they would have sounded like nonsense.

  Liddell shakes his head. “None. We all came to your reality and this is where we’ll stay. In just five more years, our species will be completely extinct.” He stops and smirks. “That’s a thought: death to the doppelgangers, the beings who kept history in one piece as humans stumbled through their lives. It’s time though. They’ll be fine, or they won’t. Not much we can do now.”