The mortifying ordeal of being known

The mortifying ordeal of being known

  I dreaded going to get groceries, but I had to at least once a month. I observed the outside from my window. It looked cold, some clouds but precipitation seemed unlikely. More importantly there was no one to be seen. I’ll wear a coat, but unfortunately no hood. It’s unnecessary today and would just draw attention. I dressed up and retrieved my wallet, cellphone, keys, and pocket knife. I unlocked each lock on my apartment door and left, carefully relocking them behind me. 

 These damned stairs. It took me a long time to plot it out, but I’d finally perfected my route down them. Left, middle, left, right, right, left, right, left, skip to center, left. They creaked anyway, but I avoided the really bad spots.

 I cracked the lobby door open and peaked through.There were several people walking along now. Two across the street and one on my side. Cars ambled by. I closed the door, waited a minute, opened it and stepped outside. I couldn’t peek twice.

All but one of the people had moved on, a man in a gray overcoat. He was now standing a little bit down the block, leaning up against a chain-link fence. He must be watching me. I steadied myself and descended the stone stairs with mock confidence, turned sharply left, and began walking. 

I reached the end of the block and had to wait for the walk sign. Ugh. At least it would be acceptable to look around, and I did. I pretended to check my pockets and turned around to look back at the man. He was still leaning against the fence, not looking at me. Better. 

I turned back around to see that the light had changed. Shit! How long had it been that way? Just a second? Two or three? If it was more than three then I’d look suspicious. But at least I had the excuse that I was checking my pockets. Always prepare an excuse.

I hastily crossed the street, exaggerating looking both ways in order to take in my surroundings. Two cars were lined up to cross the intersection toward me. Their drivers seemed to pay me no mind. One was looking down at his phone and the other seemed to be bobbing his head. Do any of them pay attention while driving?

I glanced over my shoulder again once across the street to check on the man in the coat. He was still there. He was at the edge of my vision now, so I can’t be sure, but I think he was looking in my direction. I shuddered and walked a little faster. 

The rest of the way was about as smooth as it could be. I only had to stop for one more light and no one spared me a glance. Not bad. Now I had to actually go through the store. 

I went in and grabbed a basket, looking down to avoid the camera. The first aisle was “junk food,” so I grabbed a pack of cookies. I went around to the refrigerators in the back and took a half gallon of one of the many types of milk, down the next aisle a box of macaroni and some sauce, next a box of something-or-other. The shoppers’ eyes bore into me, and I was quickly running out of patience for choosing things carefully. I just wanted to get home. I hurried down the remaining aisles, grabbing a few more increasingly random things and some fruits and vegetables.

I finally made my way up to the registers and unloaded onto the conveyor. Of course someone immediately got in line behind me… That always seems to happen. I could feel sweat prickling my neck and back. She scanned the items, one after another. It seemed to take an eternity for the cashier to scan and bag everything, and I’m pretty sure she shot me a few strange looks. It’s fine though, she was too busy for me to stick in her mind.

I paid with my card and hustled out of the store, heart racing from that stressful situation. I walked around to the back of the building and took a moment to lean up against the store wall and breathe the cool afternoon air. Peace… And quiet, in this empty alleyway, away from prying eyes.

After I had regained my composure, I carefully checked around the corner, and with no one entering or exiting the store, I walked to the front with my purchases and turned left to head home. Just before turning, however, I spotted something that made my eyes dilate with worry. I couldn’t be certain it was him the quick glance I stole, but it certainly seemed likely. 

The man in the gray overcoat.

I stiffly turned my head as ice shot through my veins and my mind raced with fear. I started walking, steps quick and sharp, toward my home. I got into a rhythm and felt that I was making good progress, and I didn’t need to stop for the first light.

The second one stopped me though, and I found myself short of breath. The skin on my back still crawled and I almost didn’t have control of myself as I turned my head to look back. I knew I was breaking the rule… I didn’t have an excuse, but I needed to know.

There he was. Heading my way. Moving at a steady, deliberate pace. He was looking right at me. Shit.

I turned around and, seeing that no cars were coming, brazenly defied the walk sign. I pushed my feet forward and pulled my body along with all my strength. I already had his attention, I didn’t want to draw that of any others.

A fiery determination welled up inside of me, pushing down the fears telling me to start running. I took long strides and was so keenly aware of my surroundings that I felt like I had eyes all over my head. I was certainly going to be alright, I am better than him.

I quickly came to the last intersection with its angry red light. I stopped and decided to check behind me once again, and in an instant my temporary confidence was shattered. 

There were three men now, walking unnaturally fast in an arrowhead-like formation. They were about half a block away.

My eyes shot wide open in terror and I broke into a run. A car horn blared right next to me and I heard squealing tires, but I didn’t care. I ran for my life. I reached my door and slammed the key in the lock, turned it and tore it open, shutting it tight behind me. Through the small window in the front door I saw seven or eight of them, all dressed in long, dark coats and concealing hats, standing like racked pool balls, looking right at me.

I backed away from the door and ran back up the steps, unlocked my apartment and went in, sealing it up tight behind me. I dropped the bag of groceries in the trash and shed my clothes down to my pristine, unblemished skin. 

I walked to my sparsely populated bookshelf and pulled it aside, once again laying eyes on my steely pod. I walked in and hit the button on the wall, the semi-circular door sliding shut behind me. The lights came on one by one, illuminating the various control panels and pilot seat. 

I pulled in my knees, reversing the direction of the bend in my legs, cracked my neck to the left and right, allowing it to elongate. I stretched backward, allowing my spine to revert to the proper shape and my second pair of arms to emerge from my chest plate. I made sure to unfold them slowly and give the phalanges a minute to unfurl. I stretched and moved all of my various appendages around. It’s been a while, and I don’t want to pull a muscle. 

I couldn’t allow myself to bask in the freedom of my true form, though. I took my place in the seat and started flipping switches and pulling levers. The small room changed around me and whirred to life, and in but a moment I’d be able to go.

Time to relocate.