All Together in a Room
Chris gripped his glass very harshly. His laughter and joyous demeanor changed after what he saw. He tried anything and everything to stay composed, not to show he was afraid. Not afraid of what lurked in the darkness, but of them. He didn’t know if they were just as evil as the darkness.
Max seemed okay to Chris; his nervousness was a dead giveaway that he was just as clueless. Sarah seemed too out of it to be in league with that thing; she was spacing out a ton. Jimmy, on the other hand, Chris couldn’t figure him out.
He was spacing out just like Sarah, but for a purpose. Staring at the door, waiting for something, not knowing what that something was, made Chris feel very uneasy. He kept his attention on Jimmy, waiting for the moment Chris could be sure. Sure of what? Chris thought. There was a deep pit in his stomach that he didn’t like. It was the same pit he’d get whenever he would start an investigation into a homicide.
Questions left unanswered, it was the worst feeling for Chris. He hadn’t felt it this bad in a while. Not since the heart carver murders. Those murders haunted Chris for the better part of five years and counting. The more bodies that piled up, the more questions that came with them. Chris’s boss put the pressure on, but with no answers, Chris never got anywhere; then one day, it all stopped. The trail went dead, and with no leads, Chris was assigned to something else.
When he got that note on his desk in his office, he was hoping it was a connection, something to give him answers for a dead case. So far, no luck. However, Chris was a stubborn type of man; he wouldn’t give up that easily with so much on the line for him.
Chris could remember those first few bodies that were found in grand detail, like his mind took a picture that would last forever. Before that first body, Chris was as confident as any detective who’d solve fourteen homicides (three in under a week) over his eight years as a detective.
However, when he walked to the first crime scene of the carver, everything changed. It was on Horce Street near the old arcade that shut down in ‘04. Police lights illuminated the brick buildings of old warehouses, police tape lined the area, and of course, reporters too. The body was leaning against the wall, the head tilted down, and a large hole in the middle of the chest cavity was propped open, the heart missing.
Chris had never seen anything so violent; usually, it was stab wounds or bullet holes, but this was beyond what Chris had ever seen. His lunch from earlier (a burger from a local fast food joint) didn’t stay in his stomach for long. Chris felt the vomit in his throat, ran to the edge of the crime scene, and his lunch was on the pavement. A fellow officer put his hand on Chris’s back; more lunch came out.
“You alright?” Chris nodded as the officer reached into his pocket and pulled a pack of mints out. “Here”, he said, opening the container and picking one mint out, “It’ll at least get the taste out.” Chris took the mint and popped it in his mouth. The coolness of it felt refreshing and the taste of bile was gone.
Chris breathed through his mouth, even though it wasn’t the smell that did the damage to his stomach, he didn’t want to take a chance. Chris gathered himself before turning back around to the body. He had to–no needed to, in his mind, suffer the visual to solve this crime. He looked over the body, giving it a once-over. He walked up to it, bringing a tissue out from his pocket to hold the smell from his nose.
He backed away from the body and walked to the then Police Lieutenant, Charles Sumbro, and gave the debrief.
“Well”, said Lieutenant Sumbro, “Nothing more for us to do, let forensics do their magic and let’s get out of here.” Chris nodded and they walked out of the crime scene, ducking underneath the police yellow tape.
What Chris saw that day, he couldn't remember exactly what it was, but it made him leave the scene without saying goodbye. When the Lieutenant asked him the next day, stopping him in front of Chris’ office, why he had hastily left, all Chris could do was shrug.
“I don’t remember much”, he said to Lieutenant Sumbro, “I remember puking on the pavement, checking the body, but after we crossed the police tape…nothing.” Lieutenant Sumbro cocked his head slightly sideways.
“Really?” Chris nodded, he paused for a moment and tried to remember (the awkward silence between the two permeated the air) before giving up and shaking his head.
“I really don’t.” Lieutenant Sumbro sighed and walked away. Chris shrugged and walked into his office. He hadn’t thought about it for years, not until now in the restaurant, surrounded by three strangers. Then something unexpected happened. The door creaked open. Before Chris could process anything, another stranger walked in. However, it wasn’t just another stranger but another piece to a puzzle that his mind couldn’t seem to unravel.
“Is this room seven?” The newcomer asked. It was a man. He was tall and lanky, wearing a suit. He must have caught their curious eyes with his outfit because he looked down at it and chuckled a bit. “I, um, thought it was a party.” He walked over to the table and introduced himself. “I’m Aaron. I work at the theatre on Jetson Street.”
The room was silent for a moment before Jimmy spoke up. “I’m Jimmy, construction.” Aaron bowed his head slightly, putting his hands on his stomach.
“Nice to meet you.” Aaron’s eyes shifted to Sarah, who giggled slightly in embarrassment.
“Sarah, I work for the news station. Not an anchor, I just work behind the scenes.”
“Max, I work for an insurance company.” Aaron now moved his gaze to Chris. Chris hesitated, he didn’t want to say anything, but something deep in his mind, like a pit, reached out and grabbed his lips, moving them without his permission.
“Chris, I work as a detective.” Chris regained control over his mouth. He never felt that before. What got Chris the most about it was that it felt familiar, like a ghost from the past reaching into the present. Chris felt his face, it started to go numb all of a sudden, and he didn’t know why.
Aaron took his seat. Chris stared at the added equation to the math problem. Aaron didn’t look at Chris. He was mesmerized by the beautiful woman sitting next to him. Her black dress reaching barely to her knees made a red patch flush onto Aaron’s cheeks. They were so red it was like he rubbed his face in a poison ivy bush.
Chris kept his stare going when Aaron spoke up. “So, who are you people?” The question, the question Chris wanted to ask, but couldn’t find the right words. Sarah was the first to answer. Her lips pursed before they opened as if they were trying to lock themselves down before she could speak, but failed to do so.
“I’m Sarah, I work for a magazine company selling perfume.”
“That’s it!” Jimmy yelled out of the blue. “How didn’t I see it before?”
“See what?” Sarah asked him. A confused look encompassed her whole face, and a nervous smile crept out.
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere, but I couldn’t figure it out.” Jimmy looked over at Chris. “I thought I’d seen you before, too.” Jimmy begins to stand. “But something doesn’t make sense.”
Chris broke his stare and looked up at Jimmy. “What are you talking about?” Jimmy returned the stare.
“I’d seen you two before, but not the other two, but I still feel this sense of deja vu. Like I’ve known you all my whole life.”
“I feel the same. I’ve never seen any of you before, but I also feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” Sarah said. Her voice was getting impatient and worried.
“What the hell is going on?” Aaron asked. They all looked at each other. Then, outside the room near the door, a voice called out.
“I know what’s going on.” Everyone turned their gaze to the door. A man wearing a tuxedo was standing at the door. He held a one-strap bag over his shoulder that looked filled to the brim. He walked inside the room with everyone holding confused looks.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jimmy spoke with hostility. The man didn’t seem to notice the inquiry and kept walking towards the table until he reached the head of it. He set his bag down on the table, making a loud thud noise.
“I have all the answers you need.” He unzipped the bag and tilted it downwards. Books fell out of it. Chris stared at one in particular.
“Wait, why does that one have my name on it?”
“That one has mine,” Sarah said.
“Mine too,” Jimmy said, interjecting. He stood up from his chair. “Now what the hell is going on? Who the fuck are you?” The man looked at Jimmy with sorrowful, recognizing eyes.
“You really don’t remember?” The man said. His eyes started to fill with determination and hatred, but not for them. “It makes sense. Your memories are being stolen.”
“Stolen?” Chris asked. His voice became angry. “What the hell?”
“Yeah. Have any feeling of forgetting something?” He was looking at Chris, but the question was for everyone. Everyone looked at him with confirmation. “I thought so. To start, I’m the one who wrote the notes to you all.” Jimmy, still standing, started to walk to him. Aaron stood up as well. He stood between the two, stopping Jimmy from reaching the man.
“Move.” Aaron didn’t. He stood there like a concrete wall.
“Let’s hear him out,” Aaron said. Jimmy looked at Aaron then back at the man, before scoffing and heading back to his seat. The man grabbed one of the books. He held it up in the air.
“These books are yours. Journals. Dated back to June 1984. I’ve kept them for decades, reading them every day to not forget what happened to us. Some things are still foggy in my head, but the main thing, the thing that gave me the reason to bring you all together again, is still clear in my mind.”
“This is insane,” Jimmy interjected.
“Maybe so”, the man responded, “But have you seen anything odd lately?” The man looked around the room. He looked at Chris first, “A wolf?” He looked at Sarah, “A woman with a crooked smile and broken back?” He turned to Jimmy, “A showman?” He turned to Max, “A corpse chasing you?” He looked at Aaron, “A villain from your favorite comic coming to life?” The man looked down at the table, “Or even a vampire.”
The room became silent, everyone stared at each other. Jimmy angrily placed his palms on the table, shaking the empty glasses. “Who are you?” Jimmy asked. The man looked at him with a blank stare.
“That…isn’t important.” He takes a notebook off the table. He shows the cover to the group. The name on the book was crudely written: Jimmy. Jimmy looked at the book with a confused stare. He doesn’t remember even writing a journal.
“This thing”, the man spoke up, breaking Jimmy’s thoughts, “it takes memories like a thief takes valuables. But these books”, he picks up another one, “They’re like keys to a lock.” The man looked down at Jimmy’s notebook. With one somber look at Jimmy, he begins to read. “June 5th, 1984. It’s a hot day.” As the man continued to read on, Jimmy started to get dizzy. His head pounded, his heart raced, and his vision began to blur. His knees became weak and he fell into his chair. His vision went dark as he passed out.
He woke up lying on the ground. His eyes swirled in their sockets, looking at where he was. He sat up. A dense fog was all he saw. He stood up and walked around. “Hello!” He yelled. No one answered. His mind raced like a car on the Daytona. He walked for what seemed like hours, shouting for help. Jimmy noticed the fog was dense, dense enough that he couldn't see more than five feet ahead.
“Jimmyyyy.” The voice forcibly pressed the brakes on Jimmy’s speeding mind. Jimmy spun in all directions for where the voice was coming from, but all there seemed to be was fog. “Jimmyyyy, I’m over hereeee.” The voice was everywhere. “Can’t find me? How sorrowful.” A hand pressed on Jimmy’s shoulder. He slowly turned towards the hand. “Then I’ll find you!”
Jimmy sprang back and fell. He looked up at the figure, it was him. A man dressed in a carnival outfit, tophat on his head, a cane in his right hand, and shining purple eyes. Jimmy shrieked in fear and the figure laughed as he disappeared into the fog. Jimmy pressed his knees against his stomach and rocked back and forth. He stopped when he noticed something. A light beamed ahead.
Jimmy unhinged himself from his position and stood. He started towards the light. As he got closer, he had to hold up his hand to block the bright light hitting his eyes. The light got bigger and brighter. Jimmy stopped where he was as the light engulfed him.
“Get up!” Jimmy heard. He opened his eyes and saw he was on a bed that looked familiar. Not only that, but the whole room seemed familiar. Then it hit Jimmy, this was his room from his childhood. The posters gave away exactly when. June, 1984.
