What He Wanted

It started with an anonymous missing person tip on the city police website. In the following weeks, flyers began to appear on utility poles like an unlikely pox, spreading out in all directions from the city center.

By the time the news picked up the story, it was to tell everyone about the “mysterious disappearance” of Kyle Smith, assistant to the city council secretary. Bob Keller, the council secretary was nervously vague when asked what kind of person Kyle was.

“I, uh, guess I would have to say he was quiet,” Bob said. “I mean, I can see all his employment and pay history, including his signature on hundreds of documents that passed through my office, but….” He cleared his throat. “To be honest, I don’t remember ever seeing him, much less talking to him.”

The news anchor’s face replaced the pre-recorded interview. Her smile was practiced and plastic; completely out of place given the nature of the story. “Perhaps the most mysterious part of this entire case is that no one we interviewed had any recollection of Mr. Smith.

“Police have combed his residence in the Graham Tower complex for clues. All they were able to determine was that he had lived there for nine years, and not a single neighbor recalled seeing him. DMV have provided this photo from his current driver’s license. If you see this man, please call the hotline at the number below.”

Her plastic smile extended to near-unrealistic proportions. “Now here’s Susan with the weather.”

 Sid muted the TV above the bar. “Anybody here recognize this guy?” he asked.

There were grunts of dissent and shaking of heads. The patrons quickly lost interest in the subject and began pleading with Sid to switch the TV over to the game.

A chyron scrolled beneath the game. “Missing 42 days: Kyle Smith’s car found abandoned off I-5. Police fear missing man dead.”

“Shit.” Ally waved Sid over. “Another.”

He pulled a bottle of imported beer out of the cooler, removed the cap, and exchanged it with her empty. “Problem?”

“We have a leak in the department,” she said. “No one was supposed to pass anything to the press until we were done processing the car.”

“So the ‘feared dead’ thing? Is that legit?”

Ally grunted. “That’s pretty much been the thought after the first week. Now it’s just down to figuring out how, when, where, who, and why.”

“Isn’t it odd that someone could work in city hall for years, and no one remembers him? Not even his direct supervisor.”

“You saw the picture,” she said. “He looks like an ‘everyman,’ the type that spy agencies love to use.”

“You think he was a spy?” Sid asked.

“Nah.” Ally took a long swig of her beer. “He wouldn’t be an assistant secretary for city council here. Maybe in a city close to a military installation or a major financial and intelligence hub.”

“You think you’ll find the guy responsible?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just a matter of time. The sick fuck has been sending us empty texts from Smith’s phone, but it never stays connected longer than it takes to send the text. It’s always when he’s on the same tower as me. I think he’s in sight of me when he texts, but we still haven’t seen him.”

Ally’s phone chimed. She checked the message. Another blank message from Smith’s phone. She called her supervisor. “Just got another one. Verify the location, I’m locking down the bar.” She lifted her beer and spilled a bit of it on her way to her lips.

“You okay?”

“Just a spasm,” she said, “probably stress and not enough sleep. Go lock the doors. No one’s leaving until we find that phone.”

#

Kyle had thought he’d enjoy the little city sprouting unexpectedly in the middle of miles upon miles of farmland. The big city where he’d grown up was too loud, too crowded, and he felt too seen.

He landed a job the second day he was in the city and moved into an apartment in a midsized complex. Still too crowded for his liking, and he had some neighbors that felt intrusive and nosy.

It was close to one year after he’d started working for the city council that he was already starting to feel too many eyes on him. He spent his free time hiding in the back stacks of the library where the rare and reference books were hidden. Then he found it; the book that contained a collection of rituals to bind demons to do one’s bidding.

He didn’t believe it, of course. He wasn’t stupid or superstitious. Still, he sounded out the nonsense words of one of the rituals there in the dim light of the library’s forgotten stacks. Feeling nothing, he chuckled and put the book back.

Kyle walked home, annoyed at the people he passed that said, “hello” or “good evening.” He just wanted to be left alone. If everyone around him could just ignore him, that would be ideal. He already did everything he could to keep his head down at work and not have cause for his boss…or anyone else…to speak to him.

Over the next couple of years, his refusal to engage with anyone approaching him or trying to speak with him began to pay off. He could come and go, unmolested and untroubled.

He had no interactions with anyone beyond that which was required to live his life. Kyle bought a coffee at 7:15 on his way to work every morning, requiring only the words “Americano, black,” and “thanks” on his part. He knew his job inside and out and had the files his boss needed ready and waiting before he was asked.

The grocery store’s self-checkout was a major boon. It didn’t require Kyle to speak to anyone, ever, and was always clear on his late Thursday night shopping trips. With his utilities and bills paid automatically through his bank, and his paycheck going into his account rather than a check, he fell into a solitary rhythm rather quickly.

Kyle was living in his perfect world, or so he thought. However, the day came that required him to speak to his boss. He hadn’t taken a vacation in nine years, and he wanted to get approval for a month off.

He entered Bob’s office, leave request in hand. “I…uh…would like to…um…get some time off, please.” He laid the request on the desk.

The council secretary continued staring at his laptop screen, not acknowledging Kyle’s presence. He continued to scroll through whatever he was watching, clicking occasionally.

Kyle walked around the desk to see what was so engaging. It was cat videos. “Bob? Mr. Keller? Hey. Could you sign my leave request?” He waved his hand between the screen and Bob’s face to no reaction. He tapped him on the shoulder; nothing. Feeling desperate, Kyle slapped Bob’s face. Still nothing.

He spent the rest of the morning wandering downtown, trying to get anyone to acknowledge his presence. It was as though he didn’t exist.

In a flash of inspiration, he went to the coffee shop where he’d ordered his coffee. Not only was he rudely pushed aside by anyone around him, but no one responded to any complaint, threat, tap, pinch or slap. It was the same at the grocery store.

After spending the day determining that no, he wasn’t invisible, and yes, he felt very much alive, he sat on his couch to figure out what he would do. He fell asleep pondering what could be done.

When he woke, he showered and changed, and decided that with or without Bob’s signature he was going on vacation. He carried his suitcase down to the garage, where he found his car had been stolen. Kyle dialed 911.

“911 dispatch, what is your emergency?”

“My car’s been stolen,” he said.

“Hello? 911 dispatch. Are you unable to talk?”

Kyle yelled into the phone. “My car! It’s been stolen!”

“Okay, if you’re not going to speak, I’m going to hang up now.”

Kyle screamed. “No!”

The call disconnected.

He decided to take another tack. Maybe he really was dead and didn’t know it. He went to the police website and tried to report his stolen car. The form told him to call 911 for vehicular theft. Trying again, he entered a missing person’s case for himself from their non-emergency contact form.

Kyle walked into the police station and found that he could go anywhere without question, assuming the door was unlocked. He followed one of the officers through the locked partition into the back of the station.

By wandering about and looking at everyone’s desk, he figured out which detective was assigned his case. Ally’s phone sat next to her, unlocked. He picked it up to get her number and sent a text from his phone to hers. He typed “I’m Kyle Smith and I’m standing right next to you,” and hit send.

Her phone chimed and showed an empty text. He tried again four more times over the next few minutes, every one of them empty on her phone. He watched as she looked up the number and discovered it was his.

Her next few hours were spent setting up a response team that could tell her what tower the texts were coming from. When she discovered that the texts had been sent from the area of the police station, officers scrambled, trying to locate him, although one said his phone was no longer “pinging,” whatever that meant.

Kyle began putting up missing posters with his picture, sending the printing job online and having them delivered to his post office box. The police staked out the post office and never saw him walking in, opening his box, and walking out with the stacks of flyers. On a whim, he attached one to the police car’s driver-side window. They didn’t notice it until their replacement got there.

After weeks of being unable to get anyone’s attention, including Ally, he decided to make it easier for her. He rode with her in the ride-share she’d taken to the bar. Neither she nor the driver noticed him.

The bar patrons were busy with the game, and Ally was suitably relaxed. No matter how he tried to get in her way, she avoided him. He put his hand where she’d been about to set her beer down, and her arm deflected so that she set it down just beyond his hand. Kyle texted her again. “I’m right next to you.”

She raised her beer again and he grabbed her wrist. “I’m right here!” he screamed into her ear. Despite spilling some of her beer, she still didn’t notice him.

He looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw a shadowy figure standing behind him. When he turned to look, it wasn’t there. He looked back in the mirror, and glowing orange eyes appeared on the figure.

The voice that rumbled through his head left no doubt that he was hearing the figure. “Are you not pleased? You got exactly what you wanted.”