You're Not Me?

The flat song of crickets squeezed through the walls. Their chirps were quiet, muffled, but they weren't quite silent either. The hall hung in a state of inbetween, dustmotes frozen in chilled air, the window at the end blocked by deep green leaves, turned black and silver with the night. Olivia lay her feet carefully so as not to make a sound and wake the students sleeping, still as death, just behind a door.

“Jared’s probably at that party anyways,” Alyssa said. “We’ll find him there.”

“I have a feeling–”

“I spend all my time in the library,” Tate interjected. “I don’t know why you’d think anything’s in there. There’s just books.”

“We should go back to bed,” Jeannie mumbled.

“I’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks,” Alyssa hissed under her breath. “You guys literally said you’d go.”

“That was before Jared vanished!” Oliva whirled on the group. Her friends, their faces hidden in shadow, stared back at her. She sniffed and continued. She debated telling them about her dream, but they would think she was crazy. She was taking them out past curfew to find a trapdoor beneath that ratty rug in the beanbag section no one ever used because she dreamed about it? They would turn back in less than ten seconds, and then she would be alone.

Her ticket to a good life hinged on this. Hinged on Jared and his brain.

And he was missing.

“Parties are dangerous anyways,” Jeannie said. “Best we don’t go…but this is still stupid, Liv. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Jared’s probably just out–”

“He didn’t pick up his phone,” Olivia said to the ground as they entered the library. “He always picks up.”

Olivia needed Jared. She cheated off him on every assignment. He was the only reason she passed. He had even written her entrance essay. She needed him to graduate, let alone stay on top. 

Tata shivered. He rubbed his large arms, scanning the ceiling. “We should just go back. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Dustmoats floated through shafts of moonlight splitting the air high above. Three circular windows sat at least a hundred feet off the ground, little dots of moonlight, leaving the rest of the room teeming with darkness. It crept around the bottoms of the looming bookshelves, pooled in corners, and hid the eyes of everyone. The cricket-song has vanished.

Olivia glanced at her hands. Her fingers tingled. “I just have a feeling.”

They crept to the back of the library. “I didn’t know you had feelings,” Tate joked.

She ignored him and knelt on the ratty rug she’d seen in her dream. It was blue, plain blue, not even a stain marring it, but little specks of fabric were missing, eaten by dust mites. She yanked it away. Beneath it a clean square of wood, its color slightly darker than the floor, with deep lines around it and a handle.

“What the–” Tate started.

“This is a horrible idea,” Alyssa mumbled.

Olivia grabbed the handle.

“Woah!” Jeannie tore her hand away and glared down at her through her ginger bangs. “You just found this then?”

Olivia shook her head. “Jared told me.” A lie. A dream. The thought unsettled her as she glanced back down at the trapdoor, but it felt almost right as it settled into the back of her mind. The itching in her veins was enough to override her sputtering heart. 

“Jared has a hideout?” Tate asked.

Jeannie, still gripping Olivia’s arm, said, “We should tell the dean.”

Olivia futilely tried to free her arm. “We’re not telling the dean. He could get in trouble. Jared’s probably just asleep down there. We’ll just check on him.” Her eyes were drawn to the door. She felt a pulsing beneath it, through her feet and to her heart and hands. It made her tremble. Jared had to be down there.

She just knew it. 

She had to check on him.

“Okay, but let's be quick about it,” Alyssa said.

Jeannie sighed and released Olivia’s arm.

Olivia darted to the trapdoor and pulled it open. Little specks of a coarse white dust stuck to the bottom of the door and swirled round the air like mold; they drifted through the ladder, descending into rough darkness. A lantern bobbed from a low ceiling, but there was no other light. Olivia threw herself onto the ladder and began to lower herself into the room.

Immediately an acrid smell flooded her nose. She gagged. It was almost sweet but just beyond, like the way sour milk tasted, but not rotting. No. It smelled like the dust had been gathering for a thousand years in the damp. The smell clung to the back of her tongue but she didn’t delay her descent until she landed on a coating of dust. 

Tate landed close behind her, holding his nose. “This is black mold–”

“It’s not black mold,” Olivia scoffed.

“We’re going to get sick!” 

“We definitely need to tell the dean.” Jeannie dropped to the ground, ignoring the last three rungs, and turned to help Alyssa, who had paused halfway down the ladder. “There’s no way this…dust stuff is safe.”

Olivia examined the bottom of her shoe. A thick coating of the substance clung to it. She rubbed a finger through it. It felt wet but wasn’t.

Alyssa finally landed. “Olivia, I’m going to kill you.”

“Jared’s probably just a little further–”

“There is absolutely no way Jared’s down here,” Tate said. His eyes glimmered as he scanned the shadowed desks scattered about. “But it's kind of curious. What is this dust?” He rubbed some between his fingers. “Doesn’t seem like mold…”

“I don’t know,” Olivia mumbled. She began to creep forward. The lantern glowed. It had been lit recently. Desks lined the room on either side and the back surrendered to the dark, far out of reach of the lantern, so she unhooked it from the ceiling. “Is there a light switch?”

“Not that I see,” Tate said.

Alyssa rubbed her arms. “I don’t like this.”

“Just a little further.” Olivia ran her hands over one of the desks. Papers littered the surface. “Look at this!” 

Tate rushed to her side. “Biology…” Diagrams of the human brain with scraps of text from old newspapers nailed to the corners.

Lobotomies.

Whoever worked down here was studying the lobotomy.

“But that makes no sense. Those were outlawed fifty years ago,” Tate mumbled. “I doubt no one’s been down here for fifty years.” 

A chill snaked up her neck. She had always hated the idea of a lobotomy. A pick being broken through your skull and plunged into your brain, the nerves snapping as they severed, the patient’s eyes wide, their arms pinned to their bed. The pick being pulled out. The scratching of metal against bone. Those eyes going dead. Staring off into space, never to see the world the same again. 

As her mind cleared, she noticed a small black object in a pile of dust on the side of the desk. She grabbed it. A phone. She tried to clean the dust off but it stuck to the screen. Stuck to her hands. Giving up, she turned it on. Her blood froze. The user had three missed calls. From her.

“This is Jared’s,” she said.

“What?” Jeannie hurried over.

“It’s Jared’s phone.” Olivia looked to Tate but he was staring at the desk, where the phone had been. 

“Uhm guys,” he said. “What’s that?” 

A white object jutted out of the pile of dust. Olivia brushed it away, then stopped suddenly. Her throat tightened.

A fingernail. Painted purple. Purple to match her own. She had Jared had done each other’s nails two days earlier. For Halloween.

“That’s–”

“That’s it!” Alyssa said. “That’s it! I’m leaving. I’m done. You guys can die down here all you want–”

A scratching noise screeched from the darkness.

Everyone froze. The silence stretched and clawed at Olivia’s throat as her blood began to pulse in her veins, her heart a drumbeat and her hands itching. Rivulets of dust formed across the floor like iron fillings beside a magnet. 

“What was that?” Tate said. His voice echoed. “Let’s–”

Scratchhhhhhh…

Like nails digging into concrete. 

Scratchhhhhhh…

The sound turned from muffled to clean as the air grew a heartbeat. Olivia felt at her neck only to find that the heartbeat did not match her own. This wasn’t in her mind. This wasn’t a dream. The phone still clutched in her hand was Jared’s. That fingernail was his. And that scratching slowly lowered in pitch.

That scratching started to scream.

The four students met each other's eyes before darting for the ladder.

A black blur shot past them.

Materialized at the base of the ladder. It rose slowly, no taller than Jeannie, wearing normal clothing. It faced the ladder, it's back to them, fists clenched. A normal person but the shadows clung to it. They clung to the base of its skull, the top of its head; the lantern swinging from Tate’s hands failed to breach the aura.

It turned.

It had nothing but a mouth.

Alyssa screamed. Jeannie dove for the beast with a knife falling from her sleeve. The beast cocked its head and sidestepped, like a dancer. Jeannie scowled. Lunged. “Run!” she screamed. 

“WHAT IS THAT!” Alyssa ducked behind Jeannie and threw herself on the ladder. It swayed.

Tate froze.

Stared.

The beast turned to face him but Jeannie threw herself in front of it, brandishing her knife. The beast stepped back.

And smiled.

It whirled and blurred and in an instant crashed an arm into the ladder. Alyssa fell but the beast caught her by her back. Claws dug into skin. Held her by the scruff of her neck. She opened her mouth in a silent scream. Olivia watched. Her blood burned through her. Her heart pounded.

She couldn’t move.

She tried to, tried to, but this wasn’t in her mind. She couldn’t move.

The beast lowered its face to Alyssa’s, dropped her, and vanished back into the darkness.

Olivia stared off after the beast, even as Alyssa screamed and sobbed, even as Jeannie knelt beside her, even as Tate stared at their friends, his mouth open, before looking at the ruined ladder, their only form of escape. Olivia stared into the dark. She stared into the dark, her mind searching for something without her permission. She stared into the dark, her feet itching to follow. She knew the ladder was gone. She knew they were trapped. With that thing. 

But she didn’t care.

The realization catapulted her back into her body. She rocked. Vomited a gray liquid. Alyssa screamed. 

Olivia hurried to their friend where she lay in the dust. A bite mark leaked blood from her cheek, and red stained the back of her collar. Jeannie raised shaking hands over Alyssa’s face. Tears stained her cheeks.

“I tried,” Jeannie muttered, before turning away and pulling her legs to her chest. She sobbed as she rocked. 

Tate dropped beside them.

“It…” He glanced back at the dark with wild eyes. “It doesn't look bad.”

“We need to get out of here,” Olivia found herself saying. She didn’t mean to say it. It just came out.

Alyssa’s sputtering brought them back to her. She clawed at her throat, at the mark on her cheek, but it was already healing. Stitching itself up. The back of her neck ceased its bleeding. The skin stretched together, met, and closed, like nothing had been, leaving a faint pink mark. 

“Jeannie look,” Tate muttered. “She’s healed–”

Alyssa tried to scream but only a gurgle came out. She clawed at her throat.

Jeannie returned to her side. “She’s choking! She’s choking! Someone do something! DO SOMETHING!”

Alyssa finally managed a scream. Her body convulsed as she tried and failed to rise. Then she stopped moving, her back arched, her mouth open, her eyes wild. Then the light faded. Her eyes grew tame. Her mouth closed. She stayed in the same position, but her body turned gray.

Then it turned porous.

Then it disintegrated into a pile of dust.

Of sticky, gray dust. A reek flooded the room.

Jeannie screamed.

Olivia just stared. Stared at the dust like she had starred at the dark but it felt different. Instead of searching, she felt lost. A gaping hole opened up inside her. Sunk into her gut.

“EVERYONE LEAVE,” Tate screamed. He strode to the ladder, picked it up and tried to prop it against the wall. He failed. It was benet. Awkward angle. He looked back at them with watery eyes. “We repair this. We leave.”

“What about Jared?” Olivia asked.

“Jared’s dead!” Tate yelled.

“No!” Olivia shouted. It echoed through the room, the silence clean and clear. Only Jeannie’s sobs muffled it. “He’s alive. I know it.”

“Ya and you had a feeling about this room too!” Tate screamed. “Now look!”

“I need him!”

“He’s dead!”

“I’m not giving up until I have a body,” Olivia said.

When they had been arguing Jeannie had dragged herself to the wall and repaired the ladder with some tape. She propped it against the wall. “Go,” she said, her voice flat.

Tate glanced at the dust covering the floor. He said, at barely a whisper, “This is his body.”

The emptiness inside her widened. “Even if he’s…gone,” she managed. “Even if he’s dead there’s still that thing down here. If we just leave it’ll terrorize campus. Who knows how many people will die?”

“We’ll get the police,” Jeannie muttered.

“They’ll take too long. We need to kill it. Now. And if someone…made…it, then they might have left something on how to kill it.”

Jeannie pursed her lips. Tate opened and closed his mouth. 

“Alyssa,” Jeannie sobbed. Her face broke and she covered it with her hands. “Do you really think it’d get out? Do you?”

“Yes!” Olivia said. “Did you…” She swallowed. “Did you see it move? It could get to every student here in like a minute.”

Jeannie straightened her back. “Okay then,” she said, voice watery. “Okay…”She handed both Olivia and Tate a knife. Her posture was still straight and tall as she stared into the darkness, but her hands shook.

Tate considered the knife in his hands. “I…do you think it would get me?”

“Not if we kill it,” Olivia said.

“I…I don’t want to be alone,” he whispered.

“Then stay,” Olivia said.

He looked at her with a hurt expression, his mouth slightly open. But her mind had already moved on. She hurried back into the darkness, snatching the lantern. She scanned the desk where Jared’s phone had been. Nothing but research on lobotomies. A little further another desk sat. She quickly rushed to it. Jeannie and Tate hurried to keep up with her.

To stay in the light.

Their footsteps echoed.

A single, black notebook sat on this desk. Olivia held the lantern to it–

Jared White.

She opened it and flipped through the pages, her heart pounding. It detailed an experiment. They were reopening research on the lobotomy in the hopes of creating superhumans. People smarter than possible. People with a pain tolerance so low they could destroy endurance, and even some strength, events. People without a drive for dopamine. Who could complete tasks without distraction.

Olivia turned to the last page

It spoke of testing their theory. 

Her blood went cold. 

Their first test subject was her.

“Jeannie?” Tate said.

Olivia whirled. Jeannie backed away from them, shaking, her eyes wide. She stared at a nick in her arm, where blood had slowly started to leak. “I thought it was small…we shouldn’t worry…” She backed to the edge of the light. Terror painted her face gray. Then she disintegrated.

Tate choked back a sob. 

Before Olivia could move he bolted towards the ladder. Olivia stood frozen as she left her circle of light, still grasping the notebook. Her fingernails dug into the leather cover. The air suddenly cleared again. A heartbeat appeared. Scratching.

A black blur whizzed past her.

Tate screamed.

A thud.

Silence.

The echo of footsteps. Olivia straightened as the monster sauntered into her circle of light. It smiled at her, tilted its head. And laughed. A human laugh, but fake, as if it had been told what a laugh was, but had never actually wanted to laugh before. 

“What are you?” Olivia asked. Her voice felt foreign. Far off. 

The monster stopped just before her. It loomed despite them being the same height. In an instant its face flashed into focus. It hadn’t been missing, Olivia realized. It had just been blurred. Her heart leapt and stopped at the same time.

The face was hers. 

She stared, unable to move, unable to tear her eyes from its eyes. Her heart slowly stopped racing, the anxiety, the dread, the grief, all evaporating from her gut.

The monster tilted its head. Suddenly it's brows knitted. It stumbled back, clutched its head, screamed a silent scream. Then it snapped back to her. Its eyes were wide. Its hands dropped to its side. It was her, but different. Its head was shaved, little red marks littering its skull.

“Who…” it sputtered. “Who are you? Why are you in my body?” It fell backwards into the dust and screamed as the substance coated its hands, its arms, crawled up its legs. Olivia slowly approached. Her hands weren't hers. Her mind wasn’t hers. She tilted her head and knelt beside the monster. Besides herself.

It scrambled back.

The monster screamed. “YOUR EYES!” It roared. Its voice was deep. “BLACK!”

The two Olivia’s rose together. An ounce of dread dropped into her gut. The monster snapped its head back to her, all the while the emptiness, the tightness in her veins crashed back into her. The monster grabbed her by the collar.

It dug its claws into the skin of her neck. 

And smiled.