“Oh?” He leaned forward, a small surge of hope moving through him. “What?”
“Nikki and I are going to go see a movie this weekend!”
“Oh.” He gave Nick a smile, though it was a little forced. We’ve got some sort of … creature … living under our stove, and he’s excited about a date. Luckily, Nick didn’t seem to have noticed any lack of sincerity. He had thrown his head back with a smug smile, already talking about the movie that he was planning on seeing with the girl he’d been trying to talk to for so long.
I guess he’s happy, Jose thought as he kept smiling. Still, he found his mind tugging itself towards the kitchen. Me though … I want to know what that thing is.
* * *
“Never?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “You’re certain?”
“Sorry, hon,” the woman on the other end of the line said. “I’ve been dealing with Unusuals for forty years, and I’ve never even heard of something like that.”
“But … then what are we supposed to do?” he asked, clenching and unclenching his free hand in frustration. His eyes drifted towards the stove once more, and he jerked them away as he realized where he was looking. “I mean, my roommate has started feeding it!”
“Well, I don’t know,” the woman said, her voice calm. “I mean, from what you’ve told me it doesn’t sound like it’s dangerous. And you’ve never seen it leave the underside of the stove?”
“No,” he said, dropping his forehead into his palm with a faint slap. Two days of hunting down more and more knowledgeable individuals in his free time, and for what? To be told that whatever it was beneath their stove, it was truly unique? “I even set up a camera and recorded it all night. It doesn’t leave.”
“And you can’t find anything when you check under the stove?” she asked.
“No,” he said, slightly annoyed that she was repeating his own story back to him. “Look, I swear we’re not kidding here, look at the pictures I sent you—”
“I did,” the NSAU agent replied. “And I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to get a good estimate at what we might be dealing with.”
A spark of hope stirred inside his chest. “Really?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter. “Do you have an idea what it might be?”
“What, that?” the agent said, her tone almost implying a shake of her head. “Are you kidding? Closest I can think of for your situation is what I’d call a Class One pest classification, and that’s a stretch unless I was to come by and see this thing for myself.”
“Class One?”
“We tend to classify things of this nature from Class One to Class Eleven,” the agent said. “Class Eleven is one of those things where the agency drops everything and runs, flies, walks, whatever it takes to get there.”
“Oh.” He looked back down at the small, clear spot on the kitchen linoleum. “And a Class One?”
“Well …” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Let me put it this way,” she said. “A Class Two is something like ‘my neighbor is a werewolf, and occasionally eats my garbage.’ A three or a four might be an Unusual animal attack.”
His heart sank. “So … not very important then.”
“’fraid so, hon,” she said. “I mean, if it’s still there in a few weeks … or maybe a month or two, provided nothing else shows up on my plate I could maybe come out and take a look at it.”
“But that’s not very likely,” he said, shoulders sinking.
“No. Sorry, hon. I mean, I can pass the word along the chain that you’ve got this thing and you don’t know what it is; put the word out. Somebody else around here might get curious and want to take a look at it, but right now, if it was going to get in the way of what I did, at this moment it’d need to at least beat a Class Five.”
“What’s a Class Five?”
“Unusual robbery,” she said, her voice sounding almost completely rote. “Anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you any further than that, but tell you what. Keep my number, and if something happens that’s out of the ordinary—”
“Like it turning on us?” he asked.
There was a muted pause followed by a curt laugh. “Look, Jose—that was your name, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Look, if this thing hasn’t bothered either you or your roommate yet, odds are it probably won’t. Obviously that’s no guarantee, so keep an eye on it, but from what you’ve told me it’s been living under your stove for a while. If it was going to do something other than eat food that fell on the floor, don’t you think you’d have noticed? I mean, if there was a mouse problem or something like that up until recently, and then that was suddenly gone—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. The clock caught his eye, and he paused. Crap, I need to wrap this up. I’ve got class in twenty minutes. “No mouse problem.”
“Well, then the best you can do is keep an eye on it and update us if anything goes wrong. If it does something unexpected, especially dangerous, call some local cops or something.”
“Um …”
“Hey, here’s an idea,” she said, either impervious to his hesitation or used to dealing with it in the course of her job. “Have you tried contacting any local Unusuals?”
“Uh … no?” Do we even have Unusuals living near here? There have to be some, right?
“Well, for future reference, you should have tried them first.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sounds of a muffled voice speaking. “Excellent, thanks. I’ll be on it as soon as I’m done with this call.”
“Anyway,” the NSAU agent said as her voice came back in full force. “I’ve got to get back to work. But give that a shot.”
“Would you be able to recommend anyone?” he asked.
“In that area? Sorry, no,” she said. “Just do a search, maybe check for some local members of The Pack. You’re a student, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then try your college,” she suggested. “They might have someone who works with, studies, or is otherwise interested in Unusual stuff. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll put your name in the system, but …”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Not a big priority.”
“Hey, we’ve only got so many hours in a day,” the agent said. “Good luck, hon.” There was a silence, and then his phone let out a soft beep as the call disconnected.
“Thanks,” he said to empty air as he dropped his phone to his side. “Several months at the earliest.”
Then again, he’d never even thought to check with local Unusual groups, not that the revelation surprised him. He wasn’t an Unusual, and the stuff didn’t interest him, so why know any of them?
If there are any to know, he thought as he dropped into one of the chairs next to the table. I guess I could look. Maybe I could hire them to get rid of Trill— He caught himself. Of whatever this thing is.
Trill. Nick was determined to keep his name for it. Jose had even caught him feeding the thing that morning, brushing bits of pop tart over the edge of the table and grinning as the strange little tendril had sucked them under the stove.
Then again, maybe they’re both right, he thought, thinking of both his roommate and the NSAU agent he’d just spoken with. That thing hasn’t done anything but eat our table scraps, and to be fair, it runs away or hides or whatever it does anytime we get close. Nick can’t even get it to eat out of his hand. Or off of his shoe for that matter, whether his foot is in it or not. Whatever sensory perception the creature had, it just seemed to be able to tell if there was something nearby that was big and alive.
Still … after all that time spent getting in touch with the NSAU and working up to a field agent or whatever they called them—Spook? Or is that different?—it would at least make sense to follow the advice he’d been given.
Unusuals, he thought as he opened up his phone’s browser. Let’s see what we can find locally.
* * *
“So,” Nick said. “Any luck today?”
“Sorry?” Jose looked up from his computer. “Luck?”
“With figuring out what Trill is,” Nick said without looking up from his textbook. He was lounging on the couch, classwork spread in front of him and one leg over the armrest as he worked.
“No,” Jose said, shaking his head as he turned back to his chemistry assignment. “Nothing. A whole week of checking, and nothing to show for it. Everyone online thinks we’re frauds, the NSAU thinks we’re not high priority enough to check out, and everyone local … ugh.” He shook his head.
“Not interested?” Nick asked without looking up.
“No,” he said. That’s putting it simply, he thought. “Long story short, they either want to talk to our landlord so they can come look at it, or think it isn’t worth their time.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” He looked back down at his chemistry assignment and sighed. “I mean, I even considered asking Ms. Jinan about it.”
That got Nick to look up, his eyes wide. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” he said with a nod. “I really thought about it.”
“You know she bills both of us if you do that, right?”
He nodded. “Yep. Fifty bucks a call. That was the only reason I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Nick said, looking back down at his assignments. “I need that money for this Thursday, and I don’t get paid until Friday.”
“What’s going on this Thursday?” Jose asked.
“I’ve got a date with Nikki,” Nick said. He didn’t look up, but Jose could see the pleased look on his face all the same.
“Didn’t you have a date last week?” he asked.
Nick shook his head. “No, we just spent some time together with a bunch of her friends. This is an actual date, though.”
“Nice,” he said, looking back down at his chemistry work. “What are you doing?”
“Dinner and a movie.”
“Sounds pretty ordinary.”
“Well, yeah, it is,” Nick said. “We’re just testing the waters, you know?”
“Looking for sharks?” Jose asked.
Nick grimaced. “Already found one,” he said. “She’s got a teacup poodle that she absolutely adores.”
“That counts as a shark?” Jose asked, frowning. “A poodle?”
“Teacup poodle. She loves the little thing, I think,” Nick said. “I got that from the time we hung out together.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So?”
“Ever date someone with a beloved pet?” Nick asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Well, I have,” Nick said. “If the pet doesn’t like you, things get iffy quick.”
“So carry some dog treats or something,” Jose said, looking back down at his assignment. “Or go out, like you’re doing this week.”
“Dog treats aren’t a guarantee,” Nick said. “But yeah, maybe. I don’t like dogs much though.”
“Wait, what?” he asked, pausing. He looked up in surprise. “You don’t like dogs?”
“Nope,” Nick said. “I’ve always been more of a cat person myself.”
“Huh.” Jose turned his head downward once more. Draw the outcome of … “But that thing in the kitchen doesn’t bother you?”
“What, Trill? No.”
“Huh.” Draw the outcome … “I guess you learn something new every day.”
“What about you?” Nick asked.
He paused for a moment, his pencil making a rapid tapping against his textbook. Does that thing bother me?
“I guess not?” he said after a moment. “I mean, obviously I’m still calling it ‘that thing’ instead of naming it like you are, and I spent a week trying to figure out what it is. I really don’t like not knowing what it is.”
“Really?”
“It lives in our house,” he said, shaking his head. “Who’s to say it won’t wrap a tendril around my throat when I’m asleep?”
“Sounds to me like you’ve seen too many Alien movies,” Nick said.
“Well, maybe.” It did seem a bit irrational, especially with the way they still hadn’t been able to get it to eat anything bigger than a small slice of bread that it had wrapped its tendril around before sucking it back under the stove. If whatever it was ever left the underside of the stove, what were the odds that it’d be able to severely harm either of them even if it wanted to? As it was, the thing had refused to have anything to do with either of them, retreating the moment they’d gotten within a few feet of it.
“I don’t know,” he said, looking back up. “Doesn’t it bother you? I mean, we don’t know what it is, we don’t know what it wants—”
“Sure we do,” Nick interrupted. “It wants chocolate chips.”
“Alright, fine,” he said, waving a hand. “But what else?”
“What else is there?”
He shrugged. “That NSAU agent I talked to asked me if we’d had a mice problem when we moved in.”
“Did we?” Nick’s forehead wrinkled into half-dozen creases.
“Beats me,” Jose admitted, offering him another shrug. “If we did, Ms. Jinan didn’t tell us and I sure didn’t notice.”
“Probably not, then,” Nick said. “Then again, if there were mice, she probably would have let us move in and then charged us for the removal. Besides, we don’t even have a bug problem. Mice would be a major step up.”
“Fair point.”
“So,” Nick asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Me?” He gave his roommate a glare. “What happened to ‘we?’”
Nick shrugged as he turned his attention back down to his classwork. “I actually don’t mind the little guy. Sure, it’s weird, but at this point whatever, man. It almost sounds like you’re spending all your free time trying to figure out what Trill is.”
“So?”
“Well, all he’s doing is sitting there waiting for someone to throw him some pop tarts,” Nick said. “Right now if there’s a showdown between you two, maybe Trill is winning.”
“I …” His voice trailed off before he could make any sound argument. “But doesn’t it bother you?”
“Not knowing? No,” Nick said. “Like I said, I think the little guy is alright.”
“Well, maybe you’ve got a point,” Jose said after a moment of silence.
“But?” Nick prompted.
“But I think I’ll still try one other idea that NSAU agent had.”
“What’s that?”
“The Pack,” he said. “I’m going to see what a werewolf makes of it.”
* * *
“This is it?” the man asked, looking down at the small tendril. “That’s all?”
“Yeah,” Jose said, shrugging. “Why? What’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” the man—Jose couldn’t remember the name he’d given him at the moment—asked. “I don’t know what that is. You’re paying me twenty bucks to look at a … At a … At whatever that thing is?”
“So you don’t know what it is?” Jose asked as the tendril slid back beneath the stove clutching its prize. “Can’t you smell it or something?” The man gave him a flat look.
“In here?” he asked, his expression incredulous. “Are you joking? I can smell a lot of weird things here, but you want me to identify which one whatever lives under your stove is contributing?”
“Aren’t you a werewolf, though?”
“So?” The man threw his arms up. “That’s like asking me to taste several dozen flavors of ice cream at the same time and then pick out one that only you want. How am I supposed to know?”
“Well …” Jose paused, scratching the back of his head. “Could you give it a closer sniff?”
If anything, the man’s face went flatter. “You know I work as an accountant, right? I spend my full moons relaxing on a doggie bed next to the bed I share with my wife, or playing with my kids.”
“Oh.”
/> “Sorry,” the man said, though he had the decency to look it. “I’m a city-pup. The most I can tell you is that if it’s related to that chocolate smell I’m catching that it has down there …”
That was something. He could feel his expression brightening. “Oh?”
“Then it isn’t like anything I’ve encountered before,” the man said. “Sorry.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” the man said with a shrug. “Still twenty bucks is twenty bucks.” He held out his hand. “And I did do what you asked.”
“Yeah, fine.” He reached for his wallet.
That’s it, he thought as the man walked out. Maybe this has gone on long enough.
* * *
“So you’re calling it?” Nick asked him as he tossed another chocolate chip down onto the floor.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m calling it. Whatever this thing … Trill … whatever … Whatever it is, I can’t get a handle on it without some kind of expert. Besides, you’re right. It’s not like it’s doing anything.” He watched as the same tendril snaked out from underneath the stove, wrapped itself around the chocolate chip, and then darted back, prize in tow.
“Well, except making that noise,” Nick said as the now-familiar, faint purr echoed through the kitchen. “And keep the floor in front of the stove clean.”
“Yeah,” Jose said, nodding as he looked at the grey tile. It was pretty free of grime. “Still, I wish I could have figured out what it was.”
“Did the NSUA or whatever ever get back to you?” Nick asked.
“NSAU,” he said, tossing another chocolate chip. “And no, they didn’t. They’ve got more important stuff to deal with unless this little guy decides to eat somebody.”
“Charming, that,” Nick said, putting on a faux British accent. “So as long as one of us dies, the situation is serious.”
“Yep.” He tossed another chocolate chip, watching as the tendril was forced to choose between the newcomer and the chip already on the floor. “And seeing as this thing’s been there for almost two weeks now and both of us are still alive, we might not have to worry about that.”
“What about Ms. Jinan?”
“Now that we can worry about,” he said, closing the bag with a crinkle of cellophane. “Anyway,” he said, shifting topics. “You hinted you had something planned for tomorrow night?”
Unusual Events: A Short Story Collection Page 14
