LETHAL COUNTDOWN

I’ve been watching you and now I know. You’re doomed. In three days you will intentionally destroy yourself.

DAY 1

“What the hell?!” I grabbed the note left on my bedside cabinet. Who wrote that? I sprang out of my bed and pointed my gun at the invisible target—there was no one there. I lunged at the bed and looked under it. Nothing. The window!

With one silent leap, I got to the only open window in my house and leaned out. A dense fog shrouded the surrounding. Weird. It was 9:00 o’clock in the morning; the fog shouldn’t be there.

I sprinted downstairs to check the front door and the back one. Closed; no signs of forced entry. Who could have left such a note? And how did that person get inside, in the first place? The window, of course. Yes. It must have been it. I lived alone, after all.

I dialled the number of my partner from the investigation department.

“Mike,” I said, “send some guys to me, I had a break-in.”

“Sure, where are you?”

“At my place.”

“What—? Okay, the boys are coming. Anything lost?”

“No,” I said and read the note again. “Nothing.”

Twenty minutes later, a few of my workmates arrived at my place to dust for prints. We searched the place together in vain. The muddy ground under my window didn’t reveal anything either; there were no footprints.

“We’re dealing with a pro,” one of my workmates said.

“That was his first and last damn time. Stupid joke,” I said. “I need to go to work.” I left them and set off to the police station, trying to focus on the road. The words from the note kept echoing in the back of my head. “Sick joke!” I told myself and relaxed my fingers on the steering wheel.

My partner was expecting me. It was good to see him after a long time.

At the sight of me, he took a cigarette out of his mouth. “Nasty thing about your house,” he said, “but we’ve got to deal with our case today. Sorry, mate. I’d rather tell you about my holidays, but we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, I can feel that.”

I could feel that too. Our boss had even assigned me to the case because of my accurate observations regarding the next move made by the leader of an occult murderous crew. The group operated on our territory, but we were sure the leader pulled the strings from the other side of the globe. It was easy for me to connect the dots and determine who was going to be the next victim. I’d saved a few people. Mike called me an intuitive freak. I called myself an unusually perceptive cop.

Together with Mike, we went to our office and spent hours analyzing new traces. The murderous circle had killed twelve people so far. The victims were all men from our city, men of different ages and social statuses. Only two things connected them. First, they had all gone at least once to the other side of the globe. And the second… the second thing was odd, to put it mildly. The victims were all physically similar to a bully who had ruined my life back in high school. The similarity to him was so striking that I’d even installed a camera in my house, fearing that I might suffer from some kind of dual personality, and I was to blame for the crimes. Fortunately, the camera proved otherwise. I’d never told anyone that.

Anyhow, Mike and I, we both had the feeling that we were missing something, but we couldn’t say what that was. There was something eerie about the entire case; we’d witnessed a lot, and yet…

When the clock struck 8 o’clock in the evening Mike yawned and packed his things. “I’m done,” he said. “I’ve just come back, and what? I’m doing overtime straight off. I’m not thinking clearly anymore… Damn, I already feel as though I see the case wherever I look.”

“Same,” I muttered. “I can’t even sleep without dreaming about the case.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. At least that’s what it seems. Every morning I wake up with a hazy memory of blood, victims, and the leader. But you know what? I don’t mind, maybe it’ll help me get into his head.”

I hit the road with one thought in my head: “To make sure the author of the note will not reenter my house.”

The city had already plunged into darkness. When I was driving through a forest, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the lights of a car. I frowned. I was driving slowly, and yet the car didn’t seem to be willing to pass me. Just to check, I downshifted. The car did the same. I curled my fingers around the grip of my gun. “Relax!” I told myself. “That’s probably just an inexperienced driver.” I sped up and left the car far behind me.

Back at home, I locked everything and even scattered some flour at both doors and under every window. Even if the stranger was shrewd enough to open doors and windows leaving no marks, he or she couldn’t fly for sure.

Punctually at 9:00 PM, dead tired, I fell asleep immediately.

DAY 2

I woke up at 9.00 o’clock in the morning. Heavy rain beat against the window. At once I remembered the sinister note from the previous day—my eyes darted at the bedside cabinet, but it was empty. Great!

The flour under my window was intact—perfect. Just in case, I checked the rest of my “traps”. Clean. Whistling, I went to my bathroom and there it was:

Every minute you’re getting closer to destroying yourself. You’re doomed. In two days you will intentionally destroy yourself.

My back leaned at once, my knees bent, I was ready to fight back. The stranger had to be still inside! How come my workmates and I had found nothing the day before?

I stole into my bedroom, took my gun, and searched the house. Tiptoeing, I checked every room: my bedroom again, two bathrooms, the living room, my study, and the kitchen. The furniture looked untouched. I strained my ears, but the howling wind and the banging rain muffled everything.

And then the storm burst and a tremendous bang resounded outside—a tree collapsed, broken in half. I lingered only a moment. There was one more room I hadn’t checked: the cellar.

I crept to the door and creaked it open. I reached out for the light switch. Power failure.

I came back with a flashlight and slowly, I moved step by step down into the place I hated. The ray of yellow light began revealing the empty recesses of the underground. Eerie shades flashed furtively across the walls and old boxes. The intruder surely knew he was trapped. He might lurch at me any moment now, with a knife or a gun.

CRACK CRACK

I whirled around in order to see the source of the noise — there was nothing there.

Suddenly, the play of light and shadow pulled some tricks on my mind—I thought I saw someone moving between the boxes, but as soon as I shot my gun, the door shut behind my back. In a flash, I found myself at the exit, pushing against the iron block, but to no avail. I checked the magazine in my gun—dammit, I hadn’t changed the ammo clip after the last clash. I had only one bullet left. Should I use it on the lock?

Was this the intruder’s plan from the very beginning? To lock me up here with no escape and make me kill myself out of helplessness?

Over my dead body! I aimed and shot at the lock. I didn’t see if it’d worked, though, as a sudden wave of dizziness empowered my mind and I lost my consciousness.

DAY 3

As soon as I realized where I was, I leaped to my feet and cursed. The door stood creak open; the sunlight was pouring into the cellar. I examined my body in a search for any injuries; there were none. What was the intruder playing at? I carefully went up the stairs, hoping that I wouldn’t black out again—it was my unusual affliction. The doctors couldn’t detect why, but I tended to lose consciousness every now and then. I dug my nails into my arm in order to stay awake.

I pushed the door open, ready to confront the intruder, and froze. My house was covered with dozens of notes; they were everywhere—on the walls, and even on the floor. The smell of glue saturated the air.

I tore one note off the floor and it said: “If you knew, perhaps you could save yourself, but you don’t and you won’t. You’re doomed. Tomorrow you will intentionally destroy yourself.”

“I’m sick of this!” I shouted. Once again, I scanned my house in vain.

My phone rang—it was Mike.

“David,” he said, “You need to come immediately! You’d think the hurricane should have limited the number of victims but it’s the opposite. Come quickly, the boss is furious!”

“Coming,” I said. To hell with the psycho. But the front door didn’t budge—an enormous tree was blocking it. I scoped the back door. The same. Damn! I regretted having fixed windows installed on the ground floor. I called Mike. “I’m trapped with a psychopath.”

“What?!”

I explained everything to him. What he told me didn’t raise my spirits—the entire city was impassable, and he couldn’t bring any help. I hung up and looked around.

My house came across as a tomb now. Psychos were the worst, I thought. A sane opponent, no matter how violent, was less of a threat than a psycho. I ignored my quickened heartbeat and went upstairs to my bedroom and locked the door. Could it be that my investigation and the threats were connected? I bit the knuckle of my thumb and got bogged down in the details of the case. I wouldn’t let the leader kill anyone else.

I turned on my laptop and started examining the files Mike had forwarded to me. I stared at the names of three more victims who had been killed since yesterday. Murder weapon: a knife. “As always,” I muttered and read on. Time of death: between 3 PM and 3 AM. The first victim died around 3:00 PM, the second around 6 PM, the third one around 3AM. I rubbed at my forehead. That was weird. Normally the victims died at night, never during the day. I continued reading. The murder site: within a two-mile radius of the police station. Wait, what? It happened right under our nose?

The leader of the ring had become bold.

Odd. He used to act methodically, choosing his victims like a panther—passing judgement on one person at a time.

Something persistent broke through my reverie, and I realized yet another storm was coming. Thunderclouds had already taken the sunlight away. A chill ran down my spine. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants.

My phone rang—it was Mike again.

“I’m coming to your place, buddy, we need to think together” he said. “All hell broke loose here! If we don’t solve the case, we’ll lose not only our job!”

“Both of the doors to my house are blocked,” I reminded him and added after a moment’s thought, “You could rustle up a ladder to get through one of the upstairs windows. And mind the psycho. He’s still inside.”

That didn’t stop my tough companion, and three hours later he got to my place, even though it normally took him half an hour—that bad the situation in the city was.

“I’m here,” he texted me. I warily left my room, trying to be as soundless as possible, but the old wooden boards under my feet creaked, as though at least four people were marching on them. The intruder surely knew I was outside my room. I peered into the semidarkness. Maybe he’d at least confront me instead of lurking somewhere there.

I got to my study—Mike was wobbling on the ladder behind the window.

Once Mike found himself by my side, we barricaded ourselves in my study. He was drenched in rainwater.

He flopped down into a chair and frowned at me. “Why did you lock yourself up with a psycho?”

“I’ve already told you.” I shrugged. “There’s no time to waste, we must stop the bloodshed. Besides,” I patted my gun, “I’m ready if the psycho wants to confront me.” I was glad, though, Mike didn’t know about the sickening squeeze of my stomach.

He grunted something in reply, and we focused on the case.

We’re running out of time. More innocent people were about to die…We had so many traces, and yet it wasn’t enough. The leader was smarter than any other criminal we’d faced. Something was missing, I knew that. Mike had had persisted that we should infiltrate the murderous ring, but no one from our agents had succeeded so far.

Around 8:00 o’clock in the evening, as usual, my eyes burned and I couldn’t help yawning. Armed, Mike went downstairs to the kitchen to bring us some energy drinks from my fridge. But I seriously doubted if that could help. When he came back, he waved with one note in front of my eyes, his face alarmed.

“David, for heaven’s sake, you’re stuck with a psycho who’s threatening you, that’s what you’ve already told me, but you haven’t said a word about this bloody countdown! It says tomorrow you’re going to kill yourself!”

My eyes lingered on the note, my lungs stung, so I reminded myself to start breathing again. I looked aside.

“The psycho wants to manipulate me into killing myself, but we both know I won’t do that. He’s overestimating himself. Why would I kill myself? He’s going to threaten me with what? I don’t have any relatives, and we both know I wouldn’t die for you, buddy.” I flashed him a smile, but Mike’s face remained palish.

I rubbed at my weary eyes and eased myself into an armchair. “I need to sleep now,” I said.

“We can’t afford to sleep!” Mike protested, but I didn’t hear if he said anything more, as I dropped asleep.

DAY 4

 The sound of loading a gun jolted me awake. I opened my eyes and saw Mike crouch at the door. He darted me a meaningful look; I sprang to him.

“Someone’s there,” he whispered, jerking his thumb at the corridor.

We left the safe place and started probing the house. The wind was moaning and made our footsteps sound like some rumbling in a haunted house. We searched every nook, but of course we found nothing.

We came back to the study, but we were both different somehow, as though we were both doomed just like the note said. My every muscle strained; Mike stood still by the door.

To do something, I sat down at my desk. “Did anyone get killed at night?” I asked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Damn.” I turned around to turn on my laptop.

And then the barrel of a gun touched my temple.

“What the hell?!” I shouted and dared look up. Mike’s face was inscrutable.

“YOU!” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s been you, all this time?!” Suddenly, I remembered—I had told Mike about the bully the other day when we’d got drunk in a bar. “Mike, what the hell?!”

Mike budged. “It’s not me. It’s you. Or rather, something about you.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?!”

My right hand stirred to reach for the gun, but I knew I had to wait for a moment of Mike’s distraction. I raised my hands. “Come on, Mike, you know me! I’d never hurt anyone innocent!”

“Like it or not, it’s you.”

“Is this because the victims resemble the bully I told you about? You think I haven’t suspected myself? I even installed cameras in my own damn house! But it’s not me!”

“My trip was just a cover,” he said, and I froze as he continued, “I went to the other side of the globe and managed to get closer to the leader, and now I know. You, your strange sleeping habits, your blackouts, it’s not a normal thing.”

“Of course it’s not normal,” I said slowly. “But I’m telling you, I checked myself and I don’t go anywhere when I sleep.”

“But you wake up somewhere else. Or rather, partly you.”

“What?”

“I even don’t know what to call it, but you two are connected. Whenever you sleep, he’s awake for 12 hours, then you’re awake for 12 hours when he’s sleeping. When you have your blackouts, it’s simply because he’s been woken up. And your dreams? Those are not dreams, David. I don’t know who the two of you are, but I need to put a stop to it. YOU need to put a stop to it.”

I just stared at him. “Mike, what are you saying? Listen to you yourself.”

“David, that’s why you can’t control falling asleep and that’s why you cannot even leave our time zone. Do you remember when we both tried to go to the other side of the globe? Your body couldn’t function normally, and you ended up in hospital. The doctors were unable to explain what was wrong, but you were fine once you got back here. David, we need to finish it. Whatever the both of you are, you need to die. And you, you’re a good cop. You can save so many people… Put a stop to it. Do what a good cop should do.” He rotated the gun so that I could take it.

My heart started to race as I realized what I was about to do.