Part 2

Pushing aside possibilities that someone was in the house and hiding very well, I tried to come up with explanations that didn't require an intruder. I added onto thoughts of roommates leaving doors unlocked with misremembering whether I closed the front door behind me or not. Or just not closing it right or securely. I'd just run around the house in blind terror and shock. But my muscle memory was indisputable. I was absolutely sure I'd closed it completely...

Rubbing my lips, I walked over to the big, woolen black couch and settled in. It was all-consuming and deep. Perfect for hiding from my worries. No one from the door would see me in it. And, my traitorous mind whispered, I wouldn't see anyone coming at me from behind. I could see the other, longer same-color couch against the wall with an ocean painting hanging above it and a couple of crumpled gray blankets from where Matt liked to snooze when he got home.

Digging myself into the cushions, I settled and let the tiredness be swallowed up by the couch. I shut my eyes and gave a noiseless yawn. I just rested my eyes. For how long, I didn't know. But it felt like a while.

When my eyes bent open, the first thing they sighted was the other couch. I watched it. Same as always. Then I frowned. Not the same. Something was different. I wondered if I'd shifted a bit and that was it. My waking mind was clear enough to tell me something was wrong. I edged back on the couch and surveyed the other one carefully.

Yes, something had changed. The blankets. They'd been wrinkled and bunched up before. Now, they sat swollen, rounded. Like something was under them. Or someone. The shape. I looked over the shape and wondered where I left my knife. It wasn't a huge form. Not obvious. But it was big. Large enough to be a person.

But it wasn't moving, and the mass was completely covered. I took a slow breath through my nose. I wanted to have the knife. Where was the damn knife? I tried to think. Maybe by the hallway. Too far to go back for. I couldn't turn from the mass. Again, it wasn't huge.

I tried not to make the springs squeak as I pushed up from the couch. Still, I could feel a little groan slide past my ears. It felt like a scream broadcast everywhere. I watched the mass attentively. It didn't stir at my noise.

I kept crouched and tried not to scuff the carpet. Standing over the mass, I tried to sense if it was breathing. I couldn't tell, but it was ridged and a bit loose in spots. I didn't take a breath. My lungs ached.

Reaching a hand down, I felt my thumb quivering. I wasn't sure where to touch the material. What would happen if I did the impossible and actually pulled it back? I tried not to think about it. Just act, just pull it away. I could feel the coarse fabric of the blanket against my hand. Was there warmth? I wasn't sure. Before I could debate or fear, my fingers seemed to act on their own, they gripped the mass of blankets and pulled them aside.

The couch was bare. Mostly. There were a few damp spots near the back. I cursed to myself and wondered if Matt had left a drink on the couch again. He'd done that before and it took forever to get the smell of cola out of the material. With a sigh, I searched the rest of the blankets. They were a bit wet too, but there was nothing underneath.

Bunching them up so the wet part was inside, I dumped the blankets in the wash and checked the couch. There were some dark, wet stains. I took out the cleansers and treated the material. I couldn't smell any particular odor. Probably was just water but it was hard to tell and rubbing it didn't leave behind any traces I could see. When it dried, I turned over the cushions and sighed.

Cleaning took my mind off the unfounded fear of someone underneath. As I heard the washer go, I sighed and wondered if I should attempt to rest some more. It was just after two in the morning. I was beginning to feel a little hungry.

I chuckled to myself and sighed. I should've called someone, even if it was the cops, to set my mind at ease. But my memory of the events nudged me and told me that nothing had actually happened but too much imagination and some dumb mistakes in not locking doors. And the shadow was probably just a light-exaggerated cat trail. Some part of me didn't believe a word of those explanations. Still, I could only shrug.

Grabbing my wallet, my reliable cell phone, and my keys, I stood before the front door for several long moments and stared it down. It didn't do anything. I half-expected it to growl.

I rested my hand on the knob but didn't turn it till I had a few seconds to really absorb the sounds around me. The washing machine was slowly going through the motions, which meant the pipes groaned but that was all.

Opening the door slowly, I looked out. The light was off. I went over to the switch and flipped it. It blasted the front porch with light. Moving slowly, I felt the lock and secured the deadbolt before closing the door. Then I tested the knob a few times before I was satisfied. That done, I looked over my shoulder at the porch. Nothing but me. I gave a glance over to the side area. The neighbor's lights were off, which left that area a total mass of darkness with only a dusting of light from the porch lamps and the streetlights. Not nearly enough to show anything. The moon was a nail sliver and not much help either.

For two long breaths, I considered checking to see if the gate had been opened recently. But I really didn't want to do that. My car was closer than that unknown space of trees, roots, dirt, and who-knew-what-else. I backed away till I was right next to my car.

It was an older one, turn of the millennium, and a deep, dark green which looked closer to navy at night. I usually only had good memories of my car. Zooming across the endless desert with the Zen of a steady wheel. Tracing the darkened streets for food after everyone had gone to bed. But tonight was different. I'd had a scare on my drive back.

The memory already felt dreamlike in so short a time. It was foggy after a bit of drizzle leaving work. I decided to take the old road because no one ever took it, especially at night, and that meant light traffic.

The slow journey had been uneventful. My eyes started to blink for longer and longer. I thought about a coworker who offered to drive me home, but I didn't want to impose.

I could feel the machine-gun thumps of the lane markers and my eyes darted open. I groaned. I needed something to keep me awake. I flipped on the radio and let it search till it came to rest on an old Rolling Stones song. I listened, but I still felt just as drowsy. So I rolled down the window to catch the cool night air on my head. That helped, but I still gave long blinks as the mottled haze of the foggy night passed by. I slowed a little more and yawned. The song crooned in my ear and the melody actually made me even sleepier. For a long moment, my eyes closed completely.

WHAM!

I felt that all through my body. The car shuddered and swerved off. I gripped the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The song played on. It sounded so damn loud. I tried turning it off, but I was flailing for the buttons and I couldn't find the right one. Forgetting the radio, I looked out the window and all around. There was nothing.

I looked behind. Nothing as well. I backed up gingerly along the side of the road, realizing it was probably the wrong thing to do. I wondered if my car was all messed up. I pondered the possibilities. My heart raced all the while and my eyes stared. I knew I had to be careful because this side of the road was right next to the main storm drain of the local river. I could hear a swift, flowing sound of water very close by. I stopped and realized I'd have to get out.

Carefully, I stepped out of the car and checked all around. I couldn't see much beyond the red glow of my parking lights. There were a lot of dense weeds which looked like piled static. The frail fence separating the road from the wash looked like a crushed human ribcage. It was in a sorry state. Countless drunk drivers had completely disregarded it or broken it in places. I wondered if I had curved so far over as to glance against it. I couldn't see anything else I could've hit. I paced a few steps away from my car, but it was nothing but blackness and the moist soup of the fog.

Walking back, I made sure to check the sides of my car. The same song still played on the radio. I traced a hand along the edge, but I didn't feel anything out of place. My side mirror was a little back but then I sometimes forgot to put it in the correct position. All the junk in the back seat was undisturbed. I checked slowly along the bumper. It was wet but then it was sitting near a large puddle. It dripped quietly. I blinked against the blaze of the front lights.

The bumper did have a mashed place across the front and it was coming off towards the back. But then it had that before. Reminders of old fender benders in parking lots. I couldn't honestly tell if there was anything new on it. The lights were fine. The other side didn't show any damage either. And, yet, the harsh sound was still reverberating in my head. I had to have hit something. At worst, I figured I'd glanced off a deer. They were common around here. And it had run. At best, I'd just grazed the fence and bounced off. Actually, neither idea left me feeling all that great. But I settled back into my car. The song ended. I drove off. That was all...