"Call the police, man. I don't like this shit."
"Gotchu, Tams. Calling it in," Desean's voice replied through the radio, calm but slightly muffled by static.
Tammy shivered as another groan echoed down the hallway, the sound seeming to bounce off the peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster. The temperature had dropped noticeably since she'd entered the building. It felt way too cold for an early summer day, like stepping into a meat locker. Her breath was starting to mist slightly in the stale air. Her flashlight flickered in her grip, the beam wavering as her hands trembled.
The building around her creaked and settled, every small sound amplified in the oppressive silence. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, a steady, maddening rhythm that seemed to count down to something terrible. The smell hit her then: mold, decay, and something else she couldn't identify. Something organic and wrong, something she never smelled during her security walks throughout the building.
"H-Hello?" The word barely left her lips, cracking on the way out. Whatever confidence she had earlier was fading fast, melting away like ice in the summer heat outside. "Oh, hell no. What am I even doing?" she muttered, half to herself, her voice echoing in the narrow corridor. "Desean's the one with the gun. Why I gotta be the one up in here with just a damn flashlight... Lord."
Her whisper was half a curse, half a prayer, the kind of desperate plea her grandmother used to make when the storms got bad and grand daddy wasn't home.
She was silence, as a hand appeared at the end of the corridor, pale fingers calmly curling around the corner like something from a nightmare.
Pale as bleached bone, stiff and unfamiliar in all the worst ways. The fingers were too long, the knuckles too pronounced, moving with an unnatural jerkiness that made her skin crawl.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was sure it would give her away. This reminded her of a nightmare she once had as a child, a sudden feeling of déjà vu.
"Oh, hell no. Not again," she whispered, stepping forward despite every instinct screaming at her to run.
I'm a black woman, we don't walk to danger, that's always the mistake in movies, Tam thought to herself.
Her legs trembled with each step, each one harder than the last, as if she were walking through quicksand.
The hand was followed by an arm, pale and mottled, then a shoulder hunched at an odd angle. The figure crept around the corner, jerking as if pulled by invisible strings, its movements unnatural and erratic. It reminded her of a marionette operated by a drunk puppeteer, all wrong angles and stuttering motions. The face completely bare, as if wearing a white covering.
Desean's voice buzzed through the walkie, urgent and tinny, but Tammy didn't register a single word as she focused on what she was seeing. Her world had narrowed to the beam of her flashlight and the thing shambling toward her.
Her eyes stayed locked on the figure, unable to look away even as terror clawed at her chest. The flashlight beam trembled in her hand, casting dancing shadows that made everything worse. Then, something changed. With each blink, the scene in front of her shifted and warped, and her fear cracked as recognition slowly set in.
The jerky, unnatural movements smoothed out. The pale, wrong flesh took on a more human hue. The twisted limbs straightened. The figure transformed before her eyes from something out of a horror movie into a tanned, bearded, disheveled, and definitely human man lying crumpled on the floor.
"Desean, get your ass up here. I think I found the white boy," she said into the radio, her voice picking up speed as relief flooded through her.
"White boy?" Desean chuckled, static crackling through his amusement.
"He don't look Asian. Now get up here. He needs help," she snapped, her fear converting instantly into irritation at his casual tone.
"I'm talkin' to his friends, they just showed up. Something about traffic and a lack of service. Tony called the cops for us, too, they're just pulling up," he answered, a little too casual for her liking given what she'd just experienced.
Tammy approached cautiously, her flashlight now steady as she crouched down beside the struggling man. Up close, she could see he was young, maybe mid or late twenties, with dark brown almost black hair that needed a cut and a beard that suggested he'd been having a rough week. His clothes were rumpled but clean, and there was no sign of injury that she could see, even though he looked like he had the worlds worst tumble.
"What the hell you doin' here on the floor?" she asked, a little bit ruder than she anticipated.
Cassian groaned, a sound that made Tammy jump slightly. His voice was dry and groggy when he spoke, like someone surfacing from a deep sleep. "I don't know... Feels like I got hit by a truck. If I wasn't so sure, I'd think I got isekai'd."
Tammy gave him a look, eyebrows raised, but didn't hide her concern. The relief of finding a living, breathing person instead of whatever her mind had conjured was still washing over her. "Boy. Hees-said-ka what?... Come on, let's get you up. Cops are here, they'll help you."
She grabbed his arm and tried to lift, but grunted under the effort. For someone who looked relatively slight, he was surprisingly solid. "Damn, your little ass is heavy. Never mind. You can stay here, I'll keep you company." She helped Cassian sit up instead, bracing him against the wall.
"What happened anyway?"
Cassian blinked slowly, struggling to focus. His eyes were bloodshot and confused, darting around the hallway as if trying to piece together where he was.
"Right... There was a scream."
He paused, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge a stubborn memory.
"Well, not exactly a scream. It sounded more like... like it was getting sucked into something."
Tammy leaned forward, drawn in despite herself.
"Like a scream getting vacuumed out of the air." Cassian said slowly, one word at a time.
His breathing was uneven, shallow. Tammy's chest got heavy in anticipation, the atmosphere in the hallway seeming to thicken around them.
"I was upset because my coworkers weren't here. I called my boss to get an idea of what I should do when I heard it."
"Heard what? The disappearing scream?"
"Well yes, but also no? We heard the scream, and then it was a groan? Like a groaning woman."
"A woman groaning?"
"And it was coming from every direction."
The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.
"What else?"
"Uhm... Nothing. I woke up here."
Cassian looked off, eyes unfocused as if staring through the wall into something only he could see. I do remember dreaming though... He thought to himself, then slowly reached up and touched his neck, wincing slightly.
Tammy leaned in, studying his face. The fear she'd felt earlier was replaced by genuine concern for this confused young man. "You good, hon?"
She rested a hand on his shoulder, steady and firm. Her tough demeanor softened just a bit as her maternal instincts kicked in, the same way they did when her nephew scraped his knee or had a nightmare.
"Yeah, I'm good, I'm getting back to my senses. I'm just trying to remember," Cassian took Tammy's hand as he stood up, using her for support. His legs were unsteady. "But I feel like things are disappearing quicker than I can remember".
"Sometimes that's a blessin'," Tammy said gently, helping him steady himself.
"Let's get you out of here, boo." Tammy led Cassian out of the old apartment complex, her arm around his waist to keep him upright. The building seemed eager to release them, the oppressive atmosphere lifting with each step they took toward the exit.
As they walked out into the afternoon sunlight, Tammy blinked at the sudden brightness. The warmth hit them like a wall, such a stark contrast to the bone-deep cold of the building's interior. Two police officers were taking a statement from Desean, their notebooks out and pens moving.
Matt, one of Cassian's coworkers, jogged over as soon as he spotted them. His face was flushed with worry and guilt. "Tom called us a few times, but the service was dead on the turnpike and an 18-wheeler crashed into a little coupe. Traffic was backed up for miles. Sorry for being late, man," he said apologetically, then his expression shifted to concern mixed with nervous humor. "What happened though? Got mugged by a homeless person?" he joked, but his eyes were serious.
"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe." Cassian said quietly, his voice still rough around the edges. He was thinking about the morning's fright, trying to piece together fragments that didn't want to fit together. Everything felt too coincidental, and there were no answers that made sense.
The sun beat down on them, but Cassian couldn't shake the feeling that something had followed them out of that building. Something that clung to the edges of his vision and the corners of his mind, waiting for the right moment to emerge again.
Or maybe something followed me into the building...
The fog in his head was clearing, and he was no longer the frail, confused man she'd found on the floor. His shoulders straightened, his pace steadied. Whatever had happened in there, he was fighting his way back from it.
As they approached the officers, Cassian noticed one of them, a tall, graying man with tired eyes, watching him intently. The cop had the look of someone who'd seen enough strange things to take them seriously, but also enough to know when someone was holding back.
Cassian recounted the events he'd relayed to Tammy, though he left out some of the more unsettling details. The vacuum-scream, the way the groaning had seemed to come from everywhere at once. Those details felt too strange, too easy to dismiss as the ramblings of someone who'd hit his head. The officer took notes, nodding occasionally, his expression neutral but attentive.
"We'd recommend you get checked out at the hospital," the officer said, clicking his pen closed. "Head injuries can be tricky. You might feel fine now, but..."
Static crackled from his radio, cutting him off. A voice came through, tinny and urgent: "Unit 47, we've got eyes on someone exiting the rear of the building. Repeat, individual spotted leaving through back exit."
The second officer, younger with nervous energy, grabbed his radio. "Copy that. Description?"
More static. "Adult male, approximately six feet, moving erratically. Appears to be covered in some kind of blanket or tarp. Subject is heading west toward Arch Street, down an alleyway."
Desean stepped forward, frowning. "The back door's locked though. Has been for months."
The older officer's eyes sharpened. "Are you investigating now?" he chimed into the radio.
"Affirmative. Pursuing on foot. Looks like probably just a squatter who found a way in."
Cassian felt his blood chill. His hand drifted unconsciously to his neck.
The younger officer shrugged. "Happens all the time in these abandoned places," he stated to no one in particular.
Matt and Klara finally made their way over, both looking sheepish and worried. Matt's face was still flushed with guilt. "Cassian, man, I'm so sorry we were late. If we'd been here..."
"Don't," Cassian cut him off gently. "It's not your fault. Traffic happens."
Klara, a slight woman with sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, studied him with the analytical gaze of someone used to assessing structural damage. "You sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The phrase hit closer to home than she could know. "I'm fine. Just... if you guys are still going in to complete the survey, could you keep an eye out for my tablet and phone? I must have dropped them somewhere inside."
"Of course," Matt nodded quickly. "But are you sure we should? I mean, if there's some squatter in there..."
The older police officer overheard. "We'll clear the building first. Make sure it's safe before anyone else goes in. Though honestly, given what happened to you," he looked at Cassian, "maybe consider postponing the survey."
Static crackled again, "subject has disappeared on Arch St. Alley lead to a dead end, leads gone."
Cassian felt something twist in his stomach. Disappeared. Of course it had disappeared.
"I'm getting out of here," Cassian said, more to himself than anyone else. He gave the officer his personal details, his wifes phone number, and they mentioned they would return any of his personal affects. Cassian wondered if he should tell his wife what happened.
The walk to the parking garage felt long, each shadow between the concrete buildings seeming to shift and breathe. His footsteps echoed in the empty space, bouncing off the low ceiling and creating phantom sounds that made him glance over his shoulder more than once.
When he finally reached his car, left exactly like how he remembered, Cassian fumbled with his keys, realizing he'll have to get home off pure memory without his phones GPS. His hands steadied, but there was still a tremor here and there, a residual shakiness that he couldn't quite shake off. From this mornings nightmare to this incident, he felt targeted. He slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut, the stale air and heat wrapping around him like a security blanket.
He was reaching for the ignition when he saw it.
The silver necklace lay coiled on his dashboard like a sleeping snake, its delicate chain catching the dim garage lighting.
Cassian's blood turned to ice.
He knew he had put that necklace in the glove compartment before leaving. He remembered it clearly, distinctly. He'd been worried about leaving anything valuable visible in the car, especially in this city. He'd opened the glove compartment, placed it inside and locked it with everything else.
He was absolutely certain.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the glove compartment latch and pulled it open. He wasn't crazy, but he knew the necklace hadn't moved itself.
The car was locked before he got in.
Someone had been in his car.