1

The snow broke into clumped, powdery pieces under the shovel’s force. Black asphalt began to appear once again as it had in the previous months. The man wielding the snow shovel grunted under the force he transferred into the shovel. 

He had done this every winter for the past twenty years he had lived on Woodbury Street. Nobody paid his work any attention, and they certainly didn’t appreciate it. He contemplated this thought while he continued to clear the sidewalk. He questioned himself as to why he had put up with their snarky remarks for so many years. Maybe it was because he felt he owed them something? Perhaps he had simply wanted  them to recognize him for his work? He knew that neither of these thoughts were true. The real, genuine reason for his acts had simply been because it was what his father did before he died. 

Twenty years ago, his father died when he had just hit adulthood due to liver failure. His mother simply couldn’t take society’s judgment and cut off all connections to the family. 

In his father’s will, it had stated everything to go to his son; the man shoveling the sidewalk. That had included his family’s home, finances, and all personal possessions. He had never felt very close to either parents. They were both alcoholics, and although his father was a successful businessman, he never felt the need to build a relationship with his son. 

After his father died, his mother felt jealous about the will. She tried to convince her son to give her the house and take the rest. When he declined, that was when she burned the bridge with her son before its construction even began. 

These thoughts circled around in his head as he continued to shovel the sidewalk, now with more force. He then hit a chunk of ice that refused to move under the shovel’s blade. He began to repeatedly stab the block of ice with as much force as he could possibly bear. 

“Hey, Brad!” The man shoveling the snow paused and slowly turned his head towards the voice. It was his neighbor that lived next door. When Brad had thought of all the people that failed to recognize his act of kindness, he failed to recognize another’s. Brad’s neighbor, Ed, short for Edward, was the only person in the neighborhood that didn’t despise Brad. Brad loathed him for that. Although Ed was very nice to Brad, he had everything. He had a family; a wife with two kids, and not to mention his job. He worked at the same place of employment as Brad’s father had before he died. He held the same position as his father, too. That meant he was rich, but somehow he stayed humble while everyone else didn’t. 

“Hi, Ed.” Brad said this in a voice that Ed could barely hear. It was a somber voice, and although it was quiet, it shouted desperation. Every time Brad spoke, the words all sounded the same; quiet and desperate. Brad saw Ed’s smile begin to diminish until it had faded away completely. 

“Hey, thanks again for clearin’ the snow. I was wonderin’ if you wanted to stay for dinner tonight?” Ed said this nearly on a weekly basis, but just as often as the question was asked, Brad declined. 

He had agreed to have dinner with his welcoming family once. It was the best meal Brad had eaten in years without a doubt. TV dinners were popular now and that was just about all Brad ate. His mother never taught him how to cook a proper meal, so his kitchen was covered in dust, and he doubted if any appliances would even turn on.

In Ed’s eyes, the dinner had gone quite well. Perfect, in fact. Brad filled his plate three times and his face lit up like a christmas tree. Little did Ed know, however, that Brad hated it with a passion. Going to that dinner had only shown Brad all the things that he didn’t possess, and that he never would. 

He never accepted another dinner since, but Brad and Edward had shared a beer more than often. When that did happen, Brad noticed Ed’s wife looked at Brad in a way that looked like pure disgust. She never had liked Brad all that much, but she never told him to leave, and for that Brad was thankful. 

Edward’s kids hadn’t shown much interest in Brad either. They never spoke to him for more than a few seconds because Brad always cut the conversation short, just as he often did with most people. He had also never offered to babysit their kids. He never thought he could handle such children at the ages of six and eight, regardless of their polite behavior. 

Ed’s eyes looked at Brad with hope that he may accept his offer, but they both knew the answer to that question. Brad hated to say this but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. “No thanks.” His responses were all one to two word answers.

“Well, if ya change yer mind, my door is always open.” Ed continued down to the sidewalk where he bent over and picked up the newspaper. He gave Brad a head motion that said ‘have a nice day,’ then he went back inside his home. 

For the next hour, Brad continued to clear the snow from the sidewalk. His anger washed away and he continued his daily routine. His boring daily routine that hadn’t changed for years. It consisted of eating, sleeping, and watching television. 

Brad was sick and tired of his unhealthy habits but made no change, nor cared enough to change them. He knew it was taking a toll on his health, which was why he stopped going to see his doctor. He didn’t want to be told to stop, not because didn’t know of his issue, but instead because he simply didn’t care.

If he had died, no one would even notice. One day he would drop dead while watching television, or maybe he wouldn’t wake up one morning. None of these possibilities truly scared him enough because he almost wanted it to happen.

He wasn’t suicidal, but he also wouldn’t mind if he did die one day in the near future. He was only forty-seven years old and for most people, that is quite young. Of course, not that anyone would even notice if he was dead. Ed may have his suspicions, but Brad had gone days without leaving his home more times than not.

He would stay on his sofa, rotting and decaying until someone noticed the smell. There, the police would find his body and only Ed would attend his funeral. The thought of him being the only person there sent a chill down his back, giving him a wave of goosebumps in the process. 

For that reason, Brad had sworn that he would outlive his friendly neighbor, though it seemed extremely unlikely. Ed was healthy and fit. He didn’t lift weights, but he was far from overweight, unlike Brad. Brad didn’t remember the last time he checked his weight, but he had only gained more pounds as the years went by. 

Ed also, unlike Brad, had thick, brown hair. Brad had already begun to bald but made no effort to shave his head to cover it up. His blond hair had turned gray, and his face grew a great deal of wrinkles. 

Brad began to silently weep at his dark thoughts and he sat down in his living room. He picked up the remote and started to do exactly what made him weep just moments before, and for the next few hours, he sat on his sofa and watched television.

2

Brad didn’t know what time it was when he stopped watching television until it was too late in the afternoon. He recalled dozing off after about three hours of his binge, and when he awoke, the television was still on. 

He was sick and tired of his unhealthy lifestyle and wanted to put a stop to it, of course that was what he said every day for as long as he could remember. He sighed again and stood up from his sofa. A large imprint was left where he sat but this wasn’t new. There had been one in that exact spot for years so Brad didn’t even take the time to acknowledge it. 

He walked into his bedroom to gaze upon his clock. It read 7:00 in the evening. Now it was about dinnertime, but he didn’t feel the need to eat anything. He had already demolished a bag of potato chips during his TV binge and now felt sick to his stomach. The thought of tasting anything made his face turn into a sour expression. 

He glanced at his calendar, and although it wasn’t of the correct month, it still read the same year: 1964. The calendar said it to be December, but it was actually the third of January. To him, each month didn’t mean anything new. The entire month of December, besides Christmas, was the most depressing time of the year. It was the time when families got together to sing Christmas songs, but it was also when Ed pushed the hardest for Brad to eat dinner with his family.

Now, the horrid month of Christmas has led to the slightly less worse month of January. The decorations were finally done being packed up for next year and shelves in stores were back to normal without decorations. Now it only meant Brad would have to shovel the snow for the next two months. 

Brad sat on his bed for just a few moments while staring out the window. All of the curtains were closed in every other room of the house, but today he left the bedroom window curtains open. 

Moments turned into minutes while Brad stared at his other neighbors on Woodbury street. They weren’t nearly as friendly as Ed, for they had never spoken to Brad for more than a few seconds. They didn’t even bother to answer Brad when he said ‘hello,’ or ‘how are you.’ Though, Brad never answered any of theirs either. 

Like Ed, they had a family of four. They owned one of the largest houses on Woodbury street, and certainly knew it. They made every effort to show other residents their success. Their kids went to a private school and were very spoiled. They never learned manners, so if Brad had ever seen them outside, then the kids (both boys) would scowl and walk away without saying a word. 

Brad had seen countless guests visit their nicely furnished home on a weekly basis. He had assumed that they were having dinner with the guests during those visits because when he looked out his window, he could see the dining room light on. They had never offered to have Brad over for dinner, and now that he was thinking these thoughts, he had realized they had also never invited Ed over to their house.  The most likely reason was because he was friends with Brad, though Brad didn’t consider Edward the same way. These thoughts and questions were completely insignificant though, regarding the situation. 

As Brad stared out the window at the house next door, belonging to the Morrisons, a scream erupted from outside Brad’s bedroom. It was a high pitched yelp, most likely originating from the mouth of Mrs. Morrison next door. This was followed by the cries of her little boys and the hush of Mr. Morrison. 

“Shhh! W- Don- Want t-,” The voice of Mr. Morrison was muffled and quiet, but Brad was able to make out a few words. It was obvious the voice of Mr. Morrison struggled to calm his family’s fear, but he didn’t seem to be doing a very good job. 

The screams of Mrs. Morrison began to slowly diminish but the sound of the boy's cries didn’t seem to fade. At this point the entire neighborhood, Brad suspected, would have heard these cries, but the front doors of the homes in the neighborhood never seemed to fly open, and this was the same case for Brad’s. Although Brad wasn’t quite sure what was going on at the moment, he was still completely shocked to his core. He couldn’t feel any warmth in his legs and he felt that if he were to get up and sprint to see what was the matter, his legs would give out beneath him. For this reason, instead helping, Brad simply watched from afar through the window. 

A large, but not tall wooden picket fence slightly obstructed Brad’s view, and he was sure that if he were to stand up, he would get the full view of their backyard. Firstly though, he wanted to listen to the commotion to see if he could make out what the situation was. Was it a robbery? A murder perhaps? What could possibly cause the neighbors next door this much trouble? 

On one hand, Brad desperately wanted to know what seemed to be the matter, but the voice in his head begged him to leave it alone. On the other hand, Brad was afraid. He wanted to listen to the insignificant voice in his head, even though he was sure that it was not his own. 

Brad, along with most people, has at some point in their life heard the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ Brad thought that this saying couldn’t be more true at this exact moment. Regardless of his fear, however, Brad began to slowly but surely make his way over to the window. His legs felt like jelly as he gazed out the window to find what was causing the problem.

3

As he glared out the window, he first noticed the odd lighting that prevailed. The sky was a deep orange that seemed to be blocked by the evening clouds, resulting in a strange, yet beautiful color to be shined down at the half-melted snow and the patches of green grass.

Next, Brad noticed the backyard of his neighbor’s house. He could indeed see the entire backyard, along with the family cowering in fear. At first, he didn’t know what it was that they were cowering from. His confusion was disregarded as he saw the husband, Mr. Morrison, step away from his family. Initially Brad had thought that he was running away, but that's besides what really happened. 

Mr. Morrison pulled his family inside, one by one, though they stayed in a clumped group the entire time. He could still hear the cries of their kids, then Mrs. Morrison continued to cry once again.

“Harry, get the gun!” Mrs. Morrison shouted at her husband. 

At this moment, Brad realized that he had never even known their names. Mrs. Morrison calling out her husband’s name was the first time Brad had ever heard it. Brad assumed that Harry was short for Harold, but his thoughts quickly disappeared. 

After Mrs. Morrison screamed once again, ‘Harry’ was already halfway up the stairs. By the sound of it, he must have been sprinting up them three at a time. 

Harry unlocked the safe underneath him and his wife’s bed, and pulled the M1917 revolver from its case. The black metal was cold as it came into contact with his fingertips, and Harry, for the first time noticed its weight. Although it was not particularly heavy, this was still the first time, besides the moment he made the purchase, that he had held the firearm in his palms. He wished he never would have to, but he was also glad that he had it available. 

Harry sprinted down the stairs, nearly skipping every step with the single action revolver in his hands, reloading it as he hit the floor. Brad did hear the large thud as Harry hit the floor and thought that, by the sounds of it, it must have hurt a great deal.

Brad saw the silhouette of Harry through the window. It depicted him rushing to push his family back. “Plug your ears!” Harry yelled directed towards his children. This was when Brad finally decided to stand up to see what was truly going on.

Brad raised from his knees, one after the other, and stared out past his previous limited view. Brad noticed the entire family standing near the back-door. Both kid’s ears were covered by their palms, and Mrs. Morrison hugged them tightly while looking away from the horror, Tears rolled down her face at rapid speed. What this family had witnessed had truly taken a toll on them, and although Brad wanted no part of it, he was too curious to see what was the matter.

Besides, Brad was not involved. He was merely monitoring from afar. Whatever it was was on the other side of the fence, on the other side of his window, with a thick wall in between the two. Brad was protected from the horror that awaited his gaze.

4

A loud gunshot traveled through the air. It made Brad flinch, but he also expected it. A yelp escaped from the mouths of the children next door, and now there was no doubt that the entire neighborhood was aware of the situation. Regardless of their knowledge about what had really happened, Brad’s house was the only home in the neighborhood that had a view of the Morrisson household. 

Brad's window was slightly elevated to the point where he could see over the wooden fence. The Morrisons probably hated it, but Brad never had any intention to peek over the fence until now. Brad knew that whatever the danger seemed to be, he would have to look now if he ever wanted to see what it really was. The gunshot must have scared off whoever, or whatever it was that was causing the Morrisons the trouble.

Brad glanced towards the right of the family and into the backyard. A tall, uncanny figure stood in the center of the yard, stalking the family. It seemed to tower over the family by at least a few feet, most likely standing at nine feet tall.

Its limbs were slender, as was its torso. They seemed to nearly touch the ground with their inhuman length. At the end of the skinny arms lay giant hands that didn’t seem to fit its figure. As Brad looked closer, he realized that the strange man only possessed four fingers instead of five at the end of each hand. Similar to the rest of the body, its fingers were very long, allowing the unknown creature to touch the ground with its hand. This made Brad shiver.

Its legs seemed to be just as tall as Brad, and its feet lay bare in the snow. The white snow seemed to blend in with the creature’s features, as the creature was extremely pale. Although Brad could see a distinct blue tint engulfing the creature, the majority of its body was an unsettling white. This was much more easily shown on the creature’s chest. Its rib cage was very visible, and as the bones stuck out leaving their shape on the skin, the setting sun seemed to glow on the pale colors. 

The face of the creature almost seemed too human, but the abnormal features on the rest of its body taught Brad that it was besides the case. It seemed to try too hard to mimic the facial characteristics that made a human distinguishable from an animal, but this was clearly not human. 

This entity belonged in the dark pits of the uncanny valley, where no one could see its excuse for a face and it couldn’t cause any harm to families such as the Morrisons. That was the confusing part, though. Although Brad would have had an extremely similar reaction to witnessing this beast in his backyard, it truly had been observing the family. It hadn’t caused any harm to the family, besides traumatizing them of course. 

It never attacked the family. It had never moved from its stationary position to approach the Morrisons. This begged the question; why? Surely it was capable of bringing harm and wreaking havoc, but it had only been observing the humans as the humans were observing it. Suddenly, Brad felt compassion for the creature. 

Whatever it was was not causing harm of any kind, and yet they screamed and ran away. They shot at it, and although Brad was very glad it was in their backyard and not his, he didn’t seem to think that these methods of repelling against the creature were necessary. 

Brad’s thoughts of compassion instantaneously vanished from his mind, leaving Brad to think once again that this disgusting beast deserved to die a slow, painful death. It should never be allowed to witness the sun rise from the East again, or to feel the sun’s warmth come into contact with its skin.

This was very strange to Brad, as these feelings of compassion for the creature had seemed to come out of nowhere. Brad raised one brow and was left in this confused state for a few moments.

Just as quickly as Brad’s thoughts of compassion vanished, the bullet flew through the air, shattering the barrier in which sound traveled. Brad had expected to hear the bullet dig deep into the creature's flesh, tearing its tissue as it passed through, but the speeding bullet only seemed to hit the wooden fence. 

Brad saw splinters of wood fly into the air adjacent to where the bullet made contact with the wood. He looked back into the snow covered yard, searching for the creature, but to no avail, it was never found. He scanned the entire yard, but still he had no luck in finding it.

Whatever had been there, just moments ago had spontaneously disappeared. It amazed Brad to the point where he questioned if the creature had even existed in the first place. That was impossible, though, because after the gunshot, a new sound took its place. This was the sound of police sirens arriving from up the road of Woodbury Street. 

Brad was initially surprised why no other resident had offered a helping hand to the Morrison family after hearing their cries for help, but now Brad was aware of their silent aid. 

5

The adjacent homes to the Morrison family had all called the police, but only Brad had witnessed the tragedy. Should he tell the police everything that had happened? Would they believe him? Brad contemplated these unanswered dilemmas for a few moments while the police had pulled into the Morrison family household’s driveway. 

Three police cars with red and blue flashing lights rapidly approached the driveway. Six policemen wielding firearms exited the vehicles and began to take cover behind their cars. They wore black uniforms and looked more than prepared to neutralize the threat. 

The front door suddenly flew open, and the terrified Morrison family rushed out. Each parent held a child in their arms. Tears ran down their faces, and Mrs. Morrison broke down on her knees and cried. Her pants were wet from melted snow, and the most Harry could do was let her cry in peace.

The policemen hesitated, drawing their weapons, but as they noticed that it was, in fact, the family they were trying to help, they holstered their firearms. One policeman, seemingly the head of the operation, sprinted as quickly as he could to Harry. They began to have a conversation, though Brad didn’t know what it seemed to be about. 

He could make a pretty good guess, though: Harry was telling the policeman his unexplainable story. Brad couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but he could read lips. He was able to make out certain words such as ‘horror,’ and ‘tried to kill.’ 

Brad wasn’t exactly sure if the words that he was saying were true, but they had seen the creature far before Brad had even built up the courage to look out the window. They almost certainly had witnessed significantly more than Brad, but something about the policeman’s face implied to Brad that something was wrong.

Although the police were certain to disprove whatever information the Morrison family had, Brad felt that some information had been tampered with. Brad suspected that the Morrisons had made up some of the information, but Brad was simply taking that from the very few words that he had been able to make out. 

The policeman made some hand motions to the rest of his crew, and the Morrisons got in their family minivan. They started the engine and took off, following one of the police cars. The rest of the policemen kept their pistols at the ready while they entered the Morrison household. 

Brad put his head down from the window and fell to the floor. He couldn’t seem to move any of his limbs, as they felt like jelly. Brad lied there for longer than he knew. He didn’t move his head to glance at his alarm clock directly next to him, and he just stayed there. 

When Brad finally had the strength to get up from the floor, his analog clock read: 9:00. He had lied on the floor for much longer than he had anticipated. More and more questions seemed to arise from the depths of his mind, and it had taken nearly two hours for those thoughts to diminish. 

Brad had now hoisted himself onto his bed and let out a long sigh. He coughed and sat there on his bed for a few moments before lifting himself to his feet. By now, he had noticed his entire body was encased in a layer of sweat. He hadn’t even realized this until now, and his house wasn’t particularly warm. Even in the colder months of the year, such as now, he hadn’t really paid attention to the temperature of his home.

He especially hadn’t wanted to pay any extra money for his heating bill because his electric bill was already high enough. He had made a steady living working as an engineer for a large company just minutes away from his house. He wasn’t treated very well just as he wasn’t in his neighborhood, but he didn’t mind. 

Brad believed that he had at the very least earned their respect, and for that he was content. Brad wished he had earned the respect of those living in his neighborhood, but he was happy to sacrifice that for his job. He didn’t really have to socialize with any of the other residents on Woodbury Street besides his neighbors, and although he didn’t particularly like anyone, they shared the same opinion about him. 

At this point, Brad had decided to take a shower. A cold one. Tomorrow he would ask the Morrisons what had truly happened. Perhaps they hadn’t actually seen the same creature as Brad? Maybe Brad was just crazy, driven to madness by his lack of having a conversation with a human being for months? Whatever was the genuine reason, Brad was not sure, but he had nothing better to do than to find out.

6

That night, Brad dreamed of seeing the same entity as the night before. It had come to him in his sleep, and instead of showing him a sense of compassion, it had really just projected a sense of fear into the skull of Brad Stevens. 

At first, Brad had known that this was simply a dream that he could not escape, turning this into a nightmare. Brad had become fully aware of its presence and now it was supposed to end. Brad waited and waited until finally, after what seemed to be days of waiting, its presence had disappeared. 

Brad had never truly seen the creature in his dreams, but he had been fully aware of its dark presence. It brought a sensation of very pronounced uncomfort. It screamed this at Brad, and although there was no sound in the void that was this nightmare, it, just like the creature’s presence, was certainly there. 

This was all luckily cut short by the sound of Brad’s alarm clock sitting beside him on his nightstand. It required Brad to move his arm and hit the button on the top. This was so Brad had to wake up and move his arm to stop the ringing originating from the obnoxious device. 

Brad, after remembering what had happened the night before, was wide awake. He grunted and slammed his hand down on his nightstand. He hadn’t actually looked to see where the alarm clock was located, so he just continued to slam his fist down on the table until his hand had found the button. 

A sickening crunch had pierced through the air, and Brad knew that this could only be the glasses that Brad had worn every day shattering under the weight of Brad’s fist. A sharp pain shot through Brad’s hand as shards of glass pierced his skin. 

A trickle of blood began to spill from his fingertips. First just a few drops landed on his nightstand, then a few more. This continued until Brad finally decided to fully awaken from his slumber and look at the damage. 

The left lens of his glasses was shattered, leaving small shards of glass scattered on the table. Brad sighed and covered his face with his hands without realizing the blood that engulfed them. He noticed this and once again grunted in anger. He slowly rolled off his bed and gazed into the mirror. His face sagged and a frown was very present on his face. 

He saw the drops of blood on his face and wondered how they had gotten there. He had still not fully woken up so his memory was as good as gone. He suddenly recalled his bleeding fist and walked into his bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Brad washed his hands and put his face under the faucet to wash away the blood. 

In a flash, a flood of information rushed into Brad’s mind, informing him of his horrific night just the day before. This startled Brad, making him hit his head against the faucet. His head ached in pain and and began to throb. 

Brad’s anger never seemed to dissipate, as it only grew stronger. Brad marched back into his bedroom after cleaning his face and put his broken glasses on. Luckily, only the left lens was broken so he could still see out of his right eye. This eased Brad very slightly, but he was still quite annoyed with his morning.

He had had days like this one. They were the days that he loathed and hated more than anything else, even more than Ed. He had found himself having these rough mornings more and more recently, so he was not surprised by its reappearance. 

Brad’s next appointment with his eye doctor was in a month, so he would have to deal with his broken glasses until then. The large crack almost completely obstructed his vision, but he had now realized that his dominant eye was his right. This allowed him to see somewhat clearly.

Brad gazed into the mirror and stared at his sad, sagging face. He hated himself, and he suspected he would for years to come, if he were to even live that long. A tear began to roll down his cheek, then fell onto the tiled bathroom floor. No more formed in his tear ducts, just the single, lonely drop of sadness. 

This single tear reminded him of himself. Lonely and depressed. The teardrop seemed to stare back at him from atop the floor. Brad lowered his bare foot down onto the tear, preventing it from reminding Brad of his sadness, and he then continued to contemplate and comprehend the information from the night before. 

7

Thousands of thoughts rushed through Brad’s head, and he was aware of what he had to do. He had to know that he was not crazy. He couldn’t have possibly been the only one to see the strange creature because there was still one thing to check; the Morrison family. They had seen the strange beast as well, and even if they didn’t appreciate the fact that Brad was staring out of his window, he was sure that they would like to know that they were not alone.

Brad would have to prepare to see his neighbors for the first time in years. He would have to have a conversation with them, and for this reason, Brad felt dreadful. Brad stared back into the mirror and recoiled in disgust. He couldn’t show up to their house looking like this!

His balding hair was matted down and he was covered in sweat. He was still in his pajamas and looked miserable. He was a sick excuse for a human being, but some things he could not change. For instance, he would have to wear his broken glasses. He couldn’t see without them, and he was sure he just might run into moving traffic if he didn’t have them. 

Brad stuck his head under the faucet to wet his hair, and he continued to shape all that was left of his hair into something that might just pass as combed. Brad opened his wardrobe and began searching for his best dress clothes. He didn’t remember the last time he had worn any, so he was nervous there may not be any. 

After a few moments of searching, Brad had acquired a cheap polo he had borrowed years ago from his neighbor, Ed. He didn’t weigh as much as he did now when he had first received the shirt, so it was a tight fit. Brad suspected that it would work just fine for now until he had gotten a new one. 

He slipped the shirt on along with a pair of khakis, put on a belt, and called it good. Now, although still looking miserable, he could pass for a human being. Brad smiled into the mirror. He thought it could make him look more friendly, but he quickly realized that was besides the point.

Brad was there to do business, and although it wasn’t truly ‘business,’ he did have a goal, and that was to find out if Brad had seen the same thing as the Morrisons. If Brad came off as too crazy, then they would surely call the authorities. After all, he hadn't seen his neighbors in quite some time. 

A stench filled the air around Brad, and he didn’t notice it until now. It smelled horribly of body odor, and Brad recalled having some sort of cologne he had gotten from the store once tucked away in his closet. 

After applying a healthy amount of deodorant, he continued to spray a few puffs of the cologne. He smelled and looked unlike himself, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He liked this new him, even if that meant he still wasn’t exactly ‘perfect.’ 

Brad was ready to embark towards his goal, but just as quickly as he had opened his front door, Edward had opened his. Brad sighed and thought about going back inside, but in the end decided to stay as to not look rude.

“Mornin,’ Brad! Did you hear what happened last night? It was right next door to ya?” His voice, like usual, was quite chipper and energetic. Brad’s mood completely dissipated and he once again felt like himself.

“No, I didn’t hear anything.” Brad’s voice quietly said in response. He was in no mood, nor was he ever in a mood to talk to his neighbor.

“Oh… What happened to yer’ glasses?” 

“They broke.” He couldn’t have possibly given a more obvious response, but Brad didn’t want to speak to Ed for longer than he had to. Brad began to turn away towards the Morrison family household and heard Ed tell him to ‘have a nice day.’ 

Parked on the side of the street in front of the Morrison family’s house stood a black car with tinted windows. Brad could not see inside them, not even the seats in which the driver sat. The hood of the car, along with everything else, seemed to shine in the sunlight, even when there was an abundance of clouds in the sky.

The car was clean and looked brand new, but the license plate was nearly impossible to read. Its numbers were not painted the traditional black that all cars usually had, and it seemed to be scratched off so no bump was present. Brad quickly recoiled from the vehicle at the thought of someone being inside and continued to investigate the Morrison’s home.

8

Standing at the front door of the Morrison’s home was a handsome man wearing a pair of sunglasses. He was clothed in a sharp, black suit with a matching black tie. The tie seemed to fold onto itself, and Brad recognized it to be the Ediety knot. 

The Ediety Knot was rare, but Brad had occasionally seen it on models in clothing stores during the rare times when he left his house. It appeared to have a smaller tie embedded in its center, and it was quite impressive. 

The strange man also wore a pair of freshly shined dress shoes alongside a pair of black pants. His light-brown hair was combed to the side in a common fashion with hair grease keeping it in place.

The man seemed to be speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Morrison from outside their front door. Brad noticed the stranger speaking significantly more than the Morrisons, and the expression on the Morrison’s faces seemed to only grow darker. Brad was not able to read the man’s lips, as his back was turned, but he could see Mrs. Morrison share a split-second glance at Brad. The man must have noticed because he too turned his head to see what was the matter.

“Mr. Stevens. How do you do?” The man spoke to Brad in a calm yet intimidating voice. His lips were dry as he spoke, and he sounded very well prepared. Something about the man’s voice made Brad feel obligated to respond.

“I’m fine, how bout’ yourself?” Brad was surprised by how clearly he had spoken, he had only expected a mumble to escape his throat.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to step any closer, Mr. Stevens. This site is reserved as government property. I cannot allow you to interfere with our investigation. If you wish to speak with the Morrisons, I would advise you to visit them at their new temporary address. Would you like me to give it to you?” The man didn’t bother responding to Brad’s question, but Brad had already forgotten what he had asked. The man’s voice which screamed authority stopped Brad from asking questions for himself. He could barely comprehend what the man had just said.

“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks.” Brad began to quickly turn away and started walking very fast towards his home. He eyed the black car one last time, and he could have sworn he saw movement from within. Regardless, he had to get away from this strange man. Something about him made Brad feel uncomfortable. He was dangerous, and Brad did not want to find out why. 

As Brad placed his hand on the doorknob to his front door, a thought struck him, preventing him from moving further. How had the man known his name? Brad certainly didn’t remember telling him, for he had just met him moments ago. 

As much as Brad wanted to run away into his home and completely forget about the event, his feet simply wouldn’t move. His brain was telling him to get the heck out of there, but the rest of him was too curious. It was this reason exactly why he bolted back towards the Morrison’s house just as the front door was being closed.

Brad scanned his surroundings for the black car, but it was nowhere to be seen. He checked the parking spot, but the car seemed to disappear. It was almost as if it was never there, but Brad knew he had seen too many movies for that to be true. 

Brad looked up the road of Woodbury Street and sure enough, the silent government vehicle was already gone. It was speeding down the street, and Brad would never get the chance to ask the strange man how he knew Brad’s name. In the meantime, however, Brad would get the chance to finally ask the Morrisons what they had seen. 

Brad began walking once again towards their front door, and to his surprise, Mrs. Morrison had opened it before he could even reach the steps. Beads of sweat were lying on her face, and her expression was rattled. 

“Bra- Mr. Stevens! May I call you Brad?” She was speaking very quickly, and Brad could barely understand what she was saying. It took him a few moments to completely process what she was saying.

“Uh, yes. Yes, you can call me Brad. I, uh. I have a uh-” Brad was stuttering. He, at that moment, forgot what he was supposed to say to her. “I have a question.” Brad finally was able to spit out. 

“Oh? Well, I don’t have all day. That strange man that I was speaking to told my family that we have to move by the end of the day. It was because of that… thing we saw. Oh wait, I’ve said too much! What was it you wanted again?” Her mind was jumping all over the place, and in the very few moments in which she spoke, she couldn’t maintain a consistent emotion.

“Well, Mrs. Morrison, it’s actually about that thing you saw that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“The strange man told me not to tell anyone. He says it’s ‘government information’ that ‘cannot be disclosed.’ I think it’s all a bunch of lies.” Her voice was calmer now; she seemed to be significantly more collected.

“Well, my apologies for spying on you, but,” Brad leaned closer to her ear, and his voice was dark and somber. “I saw it too.” Brad slowly leaned back, watching the shocked expression change on Mrs. Morrison’s face to pure horror.

“I thought I must have been dreaming. I thought that my whole family was somehow stuck inside the same fantasy! I’m sorry Mr. Steven- I mean Brad. Thank you, but I’m afraid I must take my leave. I hadn’t gotten time to process what had happened last night, and with this whole government thing, I don’t think I have time now.” Mrs. Morrison closed the door in quick succession, leaving Brad to his thoughts. 

9

Brad stood there on the steps of the Morrison family household for longer than he had ever expected. It was only a few moments, but it seemed like forever. Brad felt the sun hit the back of his neck, and the cold weather felt much warmer now. 

Brad began to walk back to his own home when a strange sight caught his eye. He was only halfway down the snow covered sidewalk when a familiar noise caught his attention. 

A black car whizzed past Brad at speeds that couldn’t possibly be legal. Just like the one Brad had seen parked outside the Morrison’s home, this car was black. It too shined in the light of the sun, reflecting its energy onto Brad’s eyes for half a second. Its windows were tinted pitch black, and as it drove by, Brad never caught its license plate because it too had been scratched off. 

Brad could have sworn a bright light flashed from inside the car as it drove past Brad. It reminded him of times when he had had his picture taken, which was not often. Brad shook this sensation away just as quickly as it had arose and bolted in through his front door. 

Brad was safe at last in the comfort of his own home. He double checked to make sure the blinds were closed on all of his windows, and he continued to lock all of the doors. He certainly didn’t want any unwanted government officials knocking on his door, because they would most likely confiscate his home and belongings just as they did with the Morrisons. 

Brad changed into some comfortable clothes, acquired a beer from his refrigerator, and watched TV for the rest of the day. All he wanted to do was forget about what had happened, but no amount of alcohol could do so. The amount of thoughts running around his head in circles was extremely overwhelming, and could not be ignored. 

Had Mrs. Morrison even told Brad if she had seen the creature, or did she think Brad was insane? How did the strange man from the government know Brad’s name? All of these questions led back to a single simple one with a very complicated answer; what was the thing Brad had seen the night before to cause government officials to show up to his neighbor’s house?

Regardless of what they might have said to the Morrisons, and although Brad was not sure what they had even said, they were not telling the truth. This wasn’t a matter that should be taken with a grain of salt, but instead a #1 priority.

Unfortunately however, Brad was tired, and Brad wanted to go to sleep. In his dreams, he dreamt of the strange creature and men in black suits. They scared him more than everything, and throughout the night, Brad had awoken multiple times in a cold sweat. Sometimes he would wait hours until he got back to sleep, and this would continue for days without an end in sight, but Brad could have never expected what was yet to come.

10

The next day, along with the day after, consisted of Brad Stevens going through the different stages of denial. He ate, drank, and slept, and he only rarely arose from his chair. He tried his very best not to think of what had happened, but he only could get so far as to convince himself that he would eventually get over it.

The day after Brad’s visit to the Morrison family household, the Morrisons had packed up their many belongings and left their home. He supposed they had gone to their temporary home for the time being, but he was unaware of how long that may take. He suspected it would take just a few days, but he hadn’t seen them return for quite some time.

He watched from his window as they left with their property, and as the strange government agents set up their odd equipment. Most of it looked very high tech, seemingly more complicated than Brad’s radio. Most of them had wires running from one electronic to the next, connecting them all to a silent generator. 

Unfortunately for Brad, however, he could not spy on their tests. He kept the window curtains closed so they wouldn’t see him peeking through the gap, but even if he wanted to watch, a large curtain was draped on the side of his house. It allowed light to pass through, but Brad was unable to see what was going on on the other side. 

Sometimes Brad would hear strange beeping noises that would last for hours without end coming from the opposite side of the wall. Other times, Brad would hear the muffled sound of the government people’s voices coming from the other side. This scared Brad, but what scared him even more was the noise that he had heard coming from in front of his own home that same Tuesday.

Tuesday was trash day on Woodbury Street, and every resident would place their trash away from the snow patches that littered their yards. Fortunately though, the weather was looking up for a change, and it was very easy to find those bare patches of green grass because there was not much snow left. 

Brad had left his very large amount of garbage in a metal can next to the sidewalk on the side of the road. It was nowhere close to any snow, so he didn’t have to worry about the can getting wet and rusting. 

In the evening before the trash had been collected by the garbage truck while Brad was watching television, a jingle of metal hitting metal interrupted Brad’s relaxation. At first Brad had thought nothing of it, assuming it was just a raccoon, but as the moments went by, it seemed to grow only louder. Now it was extremely obvious that something human was creating this noise because it was very pronounced. 

To Brad’s surprise, Brad’s window curtains were already opened, and so was the window. Brad didn’t remember unlocking them, let alone the opening of the curtain, but he thought nothing of it. After all, Brad was going to open it anyway. 

Standing outside of his home stood his garbage, alongside a man. The man was different from the one Brad had seen before, but he wore similar clothes. It was the same black suit with the tie that seemed to fold into itself, and his hair too was combed to the side. 

This one, however, was rummaging through Brad’s trash. He was rapidly moving his arms through the can, making sure not to get anything on his suit. Cans and empty bags of potato chips flew in the air, and the loud banging sounds of things clashing against each other never seemed to diminish. 

Brad watched from afar as the strange man, oblivious to Brad being present, sifted through Brad’s garbage. He then moved on to the recycling, throwing cardboard boxes onto the sidewalk at his feet. 

After a few more moments of watching the strange man, Brad had decided that he had waited far too long. Brad carefully crept up to his door, and he slowly opened it without making a sound. He spotted a black car parked outside of his home. This was quite similar to the other one as well. This too looked shiny and brand new, and the windows were tinted pitch black. Brad could, once again, not see into the driver’s seat, but he knew that someone was there. 

The license plate on this car too was scratched off, leaving no recollection of one ever being there. As a closer glance, Brad also noticed the wheels of the car were very strange. Not only did they look new, similar to the car, but they were matt black, and no company’s logo was on the side. Usually, companies put their logo on the side of the tires that they produce, but these strange government men could have easily bypassed that with little to no effort.

Brad stayed there, standing in the doorway of his own home, waiting for the man sifting through his garbage to eventually notice him. After a few more moments, the man turned his head and stared at Brad. This continued for longer than it should have; at least a few seconds. Brad began to feel uneasy, but the man, with no sense of rushing, or with any speed, stood back up and walked over to his car. 

It was strange to Brad that he didn’t have any intention of hurrying, because it was very obvious that Brad was aware of his presence. The man didn’t, from what Brad could tell, have any change in facial expression, and instead kept a similar intimidating and calm expression. 

Just as Brad had suspected, the man opened the door on the passenger side, and for a split second, Brad could see the driver of the vehicle. He too wore the same black suit and strange knotted tie that the others had worn before him. The driver never turned his head to see Brad, but instead kept his eyes on the road. 

Just as quickly as the door to the car had closed, the silent engine was turned on, and the strange men were already halfway down the street. Brad had never said a word to them, and he continued to clean up the mess of his garbage that the strange men had left.

11

As Brad cleaned the mess that was left on the sidewalk, he noticed his mailbox was open. This was unusual to him because he had always made sure to close it whenever he got mail, which was rare. 

Commonly, he had only gotten mail every few weeks, and usually it was just magazines and advertisements. The most mail he had gotten was election week, where he would vote for a new mayor in his small town. They would send out a flier nearly every single day to Brad during that week. Sometimes they would leave things on his door, but of course Brad had never even voted. 

This week was different, though. Brad actually had mail in his mailbox. He usually had gotten the newspaper, but he never cared to check it every week. Instead, he would go a month or two until he finally decided to pick it up. This reminded Brad of his upsetting habits, but that's besides the point. What really mattered was the fact that it was open, but why?

After cleaning the rest of the garbage and recycling up from the sidewalk, Brad walked over to the mailbox and retrieved the papers. Inside was the weekly journal from the past four weeks. They had accumulated to the point where it was difficult to fit anything else inside, but regardless, Brad took them inside.

For the next hour, Brad read through the entirety of the newspapers until he got to the one important one: The Erie Post. It was his local weekly paper that he quite enjoyed reading. It was interesting, and although Brad didn’t care in the slightest about what it had to say, he still enjoyed reading it. 

In every Erie Post newspaper, there were twelve pages. For as long as he could remember, even since he was a kid, there had always been twelve pages. Brad didn’t know why that was the part that stuck with him, but he had always remembered. 

Brad, like routine, counted every page, but today was different. As Brad was reading, the article was cut off. Brad searched for the missing page in the pile of white paper and black ink, but the page numbers between 4 and 7 were nonexistent. He looked on the floor, and even walked back outside in the cold weather to make sure he hadn’t forgotten it in his mailbox.

His table was covered in black and white photos and text, similar to the movies, but none of those images contained the page that he was looking for. Brad wondered what article could have possibly gone missing, and he tried his best to not dwell on that thought. Something about the recent circumstances kept Brad wondering, though. He wanted to just forget it. He knew that it had never happened before, but instead of letting it go, he just completely ruled out the possibility that it had gone missing in the printing process. 

This had put Brad in a horrid mood that made him wince when he thought of it. His favorite newspaper was missing a page. How could something so small and unimportant put him in such a mood? This quickly dissipated when Brad looked at the calendar adjacent to him on the wall. He had remembered today to be Monday. 

Today, Brad had rarely left the house, so he must not have noticed the newspaper near the sidewalk. Brad stood up from his chair and began to walk towards the door, almost without realizing what was outside. He didn’t hear anything, and because of the recent lack of activity coming from the strange men, he hadn’t thought anything to be wrong, but as he opened the door, however, he had realized something was off.

He felt the presence of another being just a few feet away from him, and sure enough, there was someone there. His newspaper was where it always was, and towering above it stood another strange man wearing a suit and the strangely knotted tie. The front page of the newspaper read: MISSING, but Brad couldn’t see what the rest of it had read.

The man standing over the newspaper was rapidly trying to take that front page off from the rest of the article, but he was ultimately failing. Brad must have opened his door in the nick of time, however, because he had startled the strange man. 

This seemed very odd to Brad because when he had seen the other man rummaging through Brad’s trash, he hadn’t even changed his facial expression. This man jumped back and looked extremely startled instead of keeping his composure. Unfortunately he would be punished later on, but Brad was unaware of what had occurred when they had left.

The strange man dropped the stack of newspapers and began to sprint off and back into the black vehicle. Just like the others, the tires were lacking a company’s logo, and the windows were tinted black so much that Brad even doubted that the driver could see where he was going, but that must have been besides the case. The man opened the passenger side door, and the driver took off even before the door was even closed. 

12

After the driver had driven a few miles and was far from Woodbury Street, a loud gunshot filled the air. They can’t stand to taint their intimidating reputation, and disorganization cannot be accepted. Their power can’t possibly be trifled with.

After the man had been startled. After he had been noticed, and was visibly shocked, both he and the driver knew exactly what was required to neutralize the situation. They cannot be looked down upon, and for that reason, the driver had pulled the black metal revolver from his side.

“You don’t have to do this, man! I didn’t mean it!” The man sitting on the passenger side was sweating and was speaking very quickly.

“You and I both know this is necessary. You looked quite frightened out there and you know we can’t have that.” The driver said in an extremely calm voice, almost reassuring. The expression on his face didn’t show compassion, however. He didn’t seem to even hesitate to pull the trigger when the man screamed.

13

Brad picked up the newspaper from the ground and nearly dropped it again after seeing the image that sat below the title: MISSING. Brad’s fingers began to shake as if there was an earthquake, and his face was frozen in a mortified expression.

Brad began to walk backwards, running into his door on the way, neary tripping. He quickly snatched the newspaper from the ground and sprinted as quickly as he could into the comfort of his own home. He made sure to lock the door and latch the windows shut. Strangely, however, the window that had been opened before was still open. It had been quite a while since he had opened it to gaze at the strange man rummaging through his recycling, but he must not have remembered to close it. 

Brad paced around his entire house numerous times, making sure that everything was locked. He sat down on his living room chair and began reading the newspaper. What had shocked Brad to his core was not the MISSING title, but the image underneath it. 

Staring at Brad from the paper in his hands, calling for help, was a family photo of the Morrison family. They all seemed to be smiling, and they stood in front of their house. The image must have been taken just before the unfortunate event because their two children seemed to look very similar to the last time Brad had seen them.

The article read: Unfortunately today’s story isn’t a very good one. Recently, family and friends of the Morrisons have reported them to be missing. They hadn’t heard from them in quite some time, and when visiting their home, they were nowhere to be found. 

The Mossisons have been reported missing since January 4th. They have been away for a few weeks now, and I’m sure, wherever they may be, they would appreciate the help of their friends, family, and citizens of the town of Erie. It is for that reason why I ask you to please report any evidence you may have on the situation. Please call the number found below if you have any information. Thank you, and let us all pray for Morrison's safety.

Brad read this over about a thousand times in his head, and as he read more and more, he realized something was very off. The date, January 4th, was wrong. Brad could have sworn he had spoken to Mrs. Morrison and the strange man on that same date. He was sure of this because he had seen the unknown creature the day before. 

As he recalled the conversation he had had with the government agent, he had remembered something else: the temporary house. Brad, although never given the address, he still felt he was responsible for telling the number on the article what he had known. Quickly, as if his life depended on telling them, he had walked into the kitchen to retrieve the phone. 

He took the phone from its holder, and began to turn the dial to punch in the number. He read the phone digits carefully and waited for someone to answer over the ringing coming from the other end. Just as quickly as Brad heard the ringing, someone had answered. “Hello? Do you have any information on the recent absence of the Morrison family?”

“Yes, I just read the paper. I uh- I think the date is wrong.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yes, the Morrisons went missing the day after what the newspaper says.” Brad was talking quietly but very quickly. He was out of breath. “And have you checked their temporary house?”

“I can assure you we have checked all of their properties.” The man sounded familiar, and as he answered the question, Brad realized who the man was.

“Hey you don’t happen to be-” Brad was cut off.

“Thank you for your cooperation… Mr. Stevens.” Brad dropped the phone, missing its holder. The line began to beep, but Brad didn’t care. The man that he had just spoken to, he hadn’t even mentioned his name to. He should have at the beginning of the conversation, but he guessed it was best he didn’t. He had spoken to the very same strange man from outside the Morrison household, and Brad had just told him everything. Now they would know everything about him, if they could even learn anymore. 

They had already known his first and last name, his schedule, and virtually every single thing about his personal life. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had known how his father died, after all, they had access to all of the records. Brad shivered and walked back to the living room.

He sat down on his sofa and continued to contemplate the crucial details he had just revealed to the villain of this messed up story. Brad wanted to do nothing more than to scream, but he thought they somehow, maybe, were listening. 

14

As Brad sighed and looked around the room, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. It was small, portable, and was hidden. Brad was more surprised that he was able to notice it than what the device actually resembled. Lying on his bookshelf, painted a very similar black was a small box with what seemed to be a string attached to the back end.

Brad walked over to the small device and pulled on the shelf to set it free. It seemed to be glued to the board, but with gentle force and a sufficient amount of prying, it was free. Brad held it in his hands and lifted it up to the overhead light. He watched it for a moment, and waited a few moments before Brad could decipher what this piece of equipment really was. 

Suddenly, Brad recalled the memory of the strange men setting up equipment near the Morrison family’s house. This device was there too, and they were glued all around the house. Brad dug deeper into his mind to find out what this small piece of unknown equipment was.

It all came to Brad, and he threw the device onto the carpeted ground. This thing that Brad was holding just moments before was none other than a recording device of some sort. And upon further examination, Brad spotted a small green light flashing on and off. He held the string in his hands only to realize that it was, in fact, a cord with a small microphone attached to the end. 

Brad, with the recording device in hand, walked over to his kitchen counter and began rummaging through the drawers. He hadn’t remembered the last time he cooked so this was unfamiliar to Brad, and after looking through the third drawer, he found the largest knife found in his kitchen. It was similar to a cleaver, though Brad never could think of a reason to own one. 

With the device set on the marble counter and the knife in hand, he struck the device in the black box with the blade. He used all the force his arm could bear and struck it again. This time, it produced a loud Clang! Sound, like metal hitting metal. 

Brad brought the knife down with great force on the black box until the knife hit the marble countertop. It was now cut in half, and Brad gazed inside to see its internal parts. It contained wires and other small electrical pieces that Brad was not very familiar with.

He placed the knife back down carefully in his drawer, and it was now bent. That didn't matter though, because he didn’t suspect he would ever use it in the future, let alone open that drawer again.    

With the destroyed remains of the recording device, Brad walked it to his trash can and began to dump the pieces into it. He stopped himself before anything fell into it because he recalled the strange men searching his garbage. He would have to come up with another, better idea in order to hide what was left. 

Brad instead decided to bury the remains of the device, but the ground would be too cold to make a dent in it. It would be far too difficult to break the ground beneath his feet, so instead he would bury it in the snow.

Brad walked outside and began to make a hole in the snow. It froze his hands, and they turned red under its temperature. He could see the dead grass under the snow, and he then covered it back up with the snow surrounding the hole, and walked away, double checking to make sure no one was watching. 

He began to rapidly sweat. He believed that somehow, someone was watching him. After all, they had placed a recording device in his own home. Brad paced around the freezing yard, looking in every crack and crevice that was present, checking for a recording device similar to the last he had discovered. A thought occurred to Brad; What if there was more?

He had to know. There would most definitely be another, and he would have to find it soon. The government was onto him, and they were aware of his suspicions. If he wanted to do anything, then he would have to now. He wasn’t even exactly sure what he even wanted to do! Did he want to bring them down? Maybe. Did he want to forget? He knew that was what they wanted, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of winning. It may mean he would die, but it might just be worth it. He would do it for the citizens of this country, and although they had never treated Brad the way they should, maybe that would change. He would talk to a reporter.

15

Brad, going back to his pile of newspapers, began to scatter through the advertisements. There was usually a page where you could submit recent events. He had never called, but he was sure they would pick up. People often didn’t need to, however, because in such a small town like Erie, word got out within just a few days, but Brad did recall there being a story or two most days from that section of the newspaper. Luckily everything was confidential, unless the witness preferred otherwise. Brad thought that it wouldn’t matter though, because the government already without a doubt knew about Brad’s suspicions. After all, he had accidentally called them before and told them everything. 

Brad finally found the page within the newspaper that contained the phone number for the reporter. As Brad read more, he realized that this was simply a very small service run by just a few people. Brad wished it was bigger, but it was all he could get. He was sure that with a story such as this, it would be all over the news anyway. It would make its way towards the largest newspaper companies in the world. 

As Brad began to walk to his phone, he paused. Would they even believe him? It was a crazy story, but he also had the rest of the residents on Woodbury street to support him. They had all seen the strange men; the cars; and everyone knew of the Morrison’s strange disappearance. 

Regardless of what this may be, Brad was sure it was worth a try. This would be his final call for help, because he knew that it was only a matter of time before the government made Brad go ‘missing,’ just as they had done with the Morrison family. He could die any day, so might as well make it today. 

It was that small boost of confidence that would make Brad pick up the phone from its stand and call the reporter. After a few moments of ringing, Brad began to doubt that anyone would answer, but luckily they had. “Hello?” Brad did not recognize this voice to belong to any of the strange men, so he decided he would continue to speak.

“Hello, I’m calling for the reporter.” Brad’s voice was shaky under this nervous pressure.

“Okay, I’ll put you on the line.” The person answering the phone had a calming, female voice. She sounded annoyed, but it was most definitely not that of the strange men, so Brad was content. After the phone rang for a few more moments, an old man’s voice picked up.

“Hello, you wished to speak with me?” The old voice sounded soft and quiet, and Brad had to move the phone closer to his ear in order to hear him clearly. 

“Yes, my name is-” Brad was interrupted by the old man’s voice. It was louder this time, and Brad did not want to trifle with him.

“Do not speak your name; they may be listening. Yes, I am the reporter, and if you wish to speak with me, then you must come to my location.” 

“Who is listening?” Brad questioned, sounding all the more nervous than he had before, but the man did not answer. Instead he asked Brad to write an address down on a piece of paper, and after Brad confirmed that he had, the old man hung up the phone.

Brad glanced at the paper in his hands for a few moments. It had only now occurred to Brad that this man’s office had been over a hundred miles from Brad’s home. Brad hadn’t left the house much, so this would be difficult. He wasn’t comfortable driving at night, so he would have to stay at a motel on the way. 

Brad sat down, still staring at the address in his grasp. Did he really want to do this? He could give up and live, or he could become fully committed to this mystery, but was it really worth it? Brad didn’t think so, but at the same time, he didn’t really know if one answer was better than the other. Would the government still let him live, or would they kill him anyway? He already knew too much information, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t let him live. 

If they had though, would he keep living his same life? Would he continue to be looked down upon in society? Would he still do nothing every day? That wasn’t the life he wanted to live, but he was positive that if the government let him live, then he would do those exact things, and he would die within the next few years due to his unhealthy lifestyles. No one would attend his funeral, and nobody would care if he had died. After contemplating these very thoughts in his mind for nearly an hour, he had decided. 

Brad would fully commit to this problem, whether it killed him or not, and he was more than certain that it would.

16

Brad’s house, like the others on Woodbury street, contained a garage on the right side. Brad’s garage was filled with all the junk he had refused to get rid of, even though he had never used it before. Brad opened the door from inside his home and entered the garage . 

He was hit with a cold wave that made him shiver. The heat had never reached the garage, and especially now in the winter it was freezing. Brad retreated back into his home to retrieve his coat he wore in the winter. He had used it days before when shoveling the snow from the sidewalk, so it was just where he had left it. 

He entered his car, and with no surprise, his gas tank was full. He had barely driven his car, so the gas inside was often untouched. Its brown leather seats were cold on his back, and he once again shivered just as he had before when entering the garage. He could see his breath in front of him as he turned the key to start his engine, and he was soon putting the garage door back up and leaving his driveway.

He hadn’t really put much thought into this decision he had made, so he supposed he would be able to think about it during his drive to the strange address. It had never really occurred to Brad until now that it was strange for a reporter to demand for the witness to go to their own property. Brad didn’t really want to think about this topic, though, because it was truly the only hope he had at this point, and he didn’t want to doubt himself into backing out. 

Brad drove slowly, turning up the radio as he went. On came “The House of the Rising Sun,” by The Animals. It was a popular song that Brad enjoyed listening to. He hadn’t really listened to much music in his free time, but it was a welcoming change whenever he had gotten up the courage to drive his car, which wasn’t very often. 

He tried to sing along but didn’t know the lyrics, which ultimately led to him turning the radio down. After a few minutes of driving, however, he would soon turn the radio completely off. This was due to the fact of what happened to be in the reflection of the right-hand mirror. 

One of the strange cars that Brad had seen far too many times already was driving behind him. They were most definitely tailgating, and Brad was weary that they might hit his bumper. He wouldn’t let that happen, though, because this was his father’s car. 

Most of his belongings had at one point in his life belonged to his father, and he wished that wasn’t the case. He wanted to have something for himself for once, but when given the car in the will, he didn’t show the smallest amount of reluctance. He welcomed the car into his home, which had also belonged to his father. He was grateful that he had the opportunity to own these nice things, but unfortunately his father was a crooked man. 

These thoughts quickly dissipated under the stress of the pursuing vehicle. It seemed to only grow closer, and if Brad wanted to keep his bumper, then he had better get going. The MPH meter in Brad’s car had begun to slowly creep up until he was exactly at the speed limit, but the pursuing car did not seem to give up. It instead only grew faster and faster, until finally it was just inches from the back of Brad’s car. 

A fork in the road was coming up, so Brad motioned for his turn signal to go to the right and instead turned left. His tires made a squealing sound that made Brad wince, but it didn’t matter, because the strange car had successfully been tricked. It turned right, and Brad could finally creep down to the correct speed limit. He assumed there might have been more, so he continued to pick up the pace, but luckily he wouldn’t have to, because for the next few hours, he drove until the sun went down. He would become weary every time a car trailed him, but they never seemed to be the new black cars that the strange government men possessed. No one was after him, and for the first time in longer than it should be, he was safe. 

17

The sun was now just above the horizon, and it would be dark soon. Brad would need to stop for gas and reserve a spot in a motel. The map that he had in his glove box noted there to be a motel just half a mile up the road, so Brad suspected he would stay there. He couldn’t park his car there, however, because if the government agents somehow uncovered his hiding spot, they would surely confiscate his vehicle. 

It was for this very reason that Brad began to slow down near a bush. He recalled a movie that he had seen where the criminals hide their bags of money that they had stolen from the bank in a bush in order to come back to it later. Brad thought that if he hid the car well enough, then maybe the government agents wouldn’t be able to find it. 

He could see the motel in the distance so it wouldn’t take long to walk back. He thought that the bushes next to him would perform quite well in hiding the car, so that’s what he began to do.

He drove his car slowly into the bushes, not caring if it would scratch the paint from the car. He then proceeded to pick up the foliage from the ground and from atop the bushes, and draped it over the windshield. After about ten minutes of covering the car, it seemed to be hidden enough.

Brad checked the time on his watch, and it read a quarter past six. He thought the car wouldn’t be found, so he began his journey to the motel, wallet in hand so he could afford the room.

18

After a just a few minutes of walking towards the motel, Brad began to loosen up. He didn’t see any strange cars parked out front, in fact, there were very few cars there anyway. He was glad, and now significantly calmer than he was before. 

Regardless, however, he knew that he must take all the necessary precautions in order to stay out of their site. That was why he was planning to use cash to pay instead of his credit card. Brad was now just outside of the motel, and as he looked closer, it looked very poorly kept. 

The wood outside showed some signs of rot, and he was nervous to witness what was inside. There was also trash that had been accumulating outside, and no one seemed to be picking it up. He expected there to be cockroaches in his room, and bedbugs in his bed. Luckily when he walked through the door, it seemed to be much cleaner than the outside.

It was well furnished with dark wooden walls. There was furniture in the lobby and a grumpy looking old man standing by the front desk. Brad did not have the time to observe the room, and the old man caught his gaze. He stared into his eyes, awaiting a response. 

“Hey, could I have a room… please” Brad said in as cheerful as his voice could be, nearly forgetting to say ‘please.’ The man didn’t say anything, nor did he break his gaze with Brad. He instead reached behind the counter and pulled out a key, motioning for Brad to pay him with his hand reached outward. 

Brad noticed the sign next to him, and it read: One Room-$9.00. Brad thought that it was expensive for a motel of poor quality, but nonetheless, he paid the man $10. The old man reached behind the counter and retrieved a single dollar to give to Brad, along with the key. 

It seemed to be slightly rusted, and on the side read the room number: 3. Brad walked into the hallway and found the door with the matching name. Regardless of the rust found on the face of the key, the teeth on it seemed to slide well into the keyhole. Brad unlocked the door to find his sad excuse for a motel room. 

Inside lay a bed with a bedframe barely standing above the floor, a chair, and a window. There was no table to put Brad’s few belongings on, so he just decided to keep them in his pocket for now. He, although feeling safe, still checked the lock on his door, making sure it couldn’t be unlocked. After all, he could never be too careful, especially when running from the government. 

Brad then continued to lay the chair against the door, preventing anyone from getting in. He didn’t expect to leave the room until his stay was over. Even the strange old man managing the front desk couldn’t see Brad again, because he might tell the government agents. 

Brad glanced at his watch, and it read 6:45. It had only been a half hour since he had left his car. He didn’t have anything to do while in his motel room, so he just continued to fidget with the lock on his door. It had a lock on the doorknob along with one that was able to be slid to the side. He slid the lock from side to side, sweating rapidly in the process.

Brad, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night. He would fall asleep, and just a few moments after, he would wake up in a cold sweat. Nightmares filled his mind, even though he couldn’t recall what they seemed to be about. He could almost remember them, but decided not to try and remember them if they were so terrifying as to wake him up from his not so deep slumber.

He continued this cycle for hours, and there seemed to be no end in sight. That was, until he was wide awake due to the sound coming from outside his motel room.

19

The sound of footsteps filled Brad’s ears. He was already paranoid of them coming in the night, so he didn’t sleep well at all. Every noise woke him up, and this was no different. 

Brad looked around the dark room, searching for the source of the noise. Whatever seemed to be the origin of the sound was most definitely trying to be quiet. They walked in long strides, staying on their toes so as to not make any more sound than necessary.  Whatever it was seemed to be just outside. 

Brad, now awake to the fullest, continued to scan his surroundings. He left his bed, making as little noise as possible, and froze when his foot hit the floor. He had still yet to make a sound to give his location away to the being outside, but now it was getting closer. 

Brad ducked behind his bed and stared out the single window. The ‘thing’ would now be just outside his window in a matter of seconds, and Brad’s heart only seemed to beat faster. He didn’t want to look, as his mind began racing.

What if it’s the creature from before? Brad’s mind seemed to create images in Brad’s mind of the alien creature standing outside his window, staring at him. Brad imagined the feeling of its presence outside, almost convincing himself that it was real, though it was not. 

The silhouette began to appear, and although this figure was most definitely humanoid, it luckily did not contain the uncanny features that the alien creature possessed. Somehow, that was worse. If it wasn’t the alien creature, then it most likely would have to be the government. Somehow they had found him in his hiding, and were now locating his room.

Brad hoped that they had not yet discovered his vehicle stored away and hidden in the bushes, but he assumed that he may not be so lucky. 

The figure was now fully visible through the window, and although it was dark outside, Brad could still make out the black suit standing next to the window. A face peered through the window, now showing the figure’s eyes, and Brad ducked down further behind the bed. He prayed that they would not find him, though he was not a religious person. 

Brad knew that at this moment he needed to devise a plan in order to escape his room. He would somehow need to retreat back to his car before they could find him, but he also wasn’t aware of how many there were. If the man outside didn’t notice him, they would surely notice the un-made bed, but that could have belonged to anyone. 

After a few moments, Brad recognized the slight sound made by the strange man walking. He waited a few more moments and slowly peeked his head above the bed. The figure’s silhouette had disappeared, but to what direction had they gone? Brad did not know, so he would have to escape based sheerly on luck.

Brad, still slowly and quietly, stood up from the ground, checking his pockets to make sure that he still had his belongings. First, he felt the room key and the car keys in one pocket. In the other he felt his wallet. He hoped he didn’t forget anything, but he wouldn’t have time to look if he had lost something regardless. He needed more than anything to get away from the motel. 

He thought about leaving through the front, but if they were checking the windows, then they would surely guard the entrance door. He wasn’t sure if there was a back, and if so, he wasn’t sure where it may be located. Brad’s only option of escape would be through the window, and there very well could still be the man out there, looking through each and every window. It was too dark to see if he was still turning each room upside down, so Brad would be forced to take a risk.

20

Brad, after going over the much less than countless options in his head, realized that there was no other choice but to retreat through his motel window. He reckoned that he would fit with little difficulties, so after checking his pockets once again, he bolted for the window. His escape was close, but he was also more than aware that it may just be the very thing that dooms his chances of surviving. 

His thoughts were filled with prayers for his own safety. He didn’t care if it was selfish or not, but he was too close now. After opening the window, he firstly peeked his head out of the window. He could only see just a few feet in front of him, but from his little vision, he did not notice any of the strange government agents to be anywhere. 

His arms emerged from the window next, allowing for Brad to finally push and thrust from the window. He, just as expected, made it through with very little difficulties, besides his waist of course. He knew that he should have lost weight years ago, but he luckily was getting exercise now. In fact, he was burning calories simply from his heart beating quickly. He was sweating profusely, so he suspected that it allowed him to slide through the window faster than it would have without. 

After Brad’s legs found their way on the ground, his ankles began to burn. It wasn’t a very tall fall, but with Brad’s added weight additional to him falling on the ground created a burning sensation that made Brad’s eyes tear. It only lasted a few seconds though, so he was quickly back on his feet again, as prepared as he would ever be in a situation such as this one. 

Brad had a very slight and brief panic session after having the thought that he forgot where his car was parked. Luckily that too only lasted mere moments, as he remembered that he had hidden it inside of a bush. 

As Brad’s mind was racing with thoughts only made to terrify him, his feet ran as fast as humanly possible for someone as non-athletic as Brad. The trees and bushes were directly behind the motel, so Brad had a very quick and easy getaway plan, although not a single factor of this journey was easy.

Branches full of splinters and sharp edges obstructed Brad’s vision, especially due to his glasses being broken. They slashed at his arms and cut his shirt. He nearly tripped on what could have only been a stone or branch emerging from the ground. He caught himself and hid behind a tree to catch his breath. Bright white lights began to cast a shadow in the woods, then quickly was turned to the right, away from Brad. He had just dodged a bullet, and he knew it. He made a silent sigh.

Brad unfortunately couldn’t just stay hiding in the woods all night, however. He knew for a fact that momentarily the strange men would without a doubt begin searching for him in the woods. They would not leave a stone left unturned, so if Brad wanted any chance to escape, then he would be required to make a run for it.

Brad, with his breath regained, bolted from the forest in the direction of his hidden vehicle. 

21

Brad could see the bush in which his car was stored just in front of him. Unfortunately Brad was not very close, as it was a few dozen yards away. It would take Brad a few minutes to get there, and he didn’t think that his luck would last. He was already in the open, however, so he would have to embark now in order to have any chance at all of escaping this situation.

With a deep breath and after wiping the bullets of sweat from his eyes, Brad began to sprint towards the bush. His right foot emerged from his stance firstly, then came his left. He felt no sensation of tripping, as he was watching out for any lone stones or branches on the ground. 

His head never turned behind him, and he never heard any footsteps advancing to his location. He would wipe the sweat from his face every few paces, and he never would disrupt his gaze from the bush. Brad seemed to be the most determined than he had ever been before at this exact moment. 

The many years ago when Brad was in school, even when taking a test, he had never been this focused. When his father passed away twenty years ago, he had never even been this serious. Brad thought that maybe this was due to none of those things being particularly important to him. This was different, though. Brad was so close to the truth; to taking these strange government agents down.

Brad’s thoughts of exposing the truth were quickly cut short as he nearly ran directly through the bush in which his car was stored. He hadn’t noticed his lack of breath until he sat down in the driver’s seat and began panting. His chest felt as if it was on fire, and cold air from outside filled his lungs. 

Brad tightly grasped the driving wheel without letting go, allowing sweat to build up on his palms, creating a barrier. Brad’s grip began to loosen up on the driving wheel, and he finally started his engine. He was still panting at this point, but that too seemed to diminish quickly as he started backing up and out of the car’s hiding spot. Just as when he had hidden it, branches made quiet creaking sounds as the car brushed against them. Brad knew that the paint was quickly being scratched off, but Brad still didn’t mind.

After glancing at the map once more, Brad discovered a different route than the way that he was initially headed. He couldn’t possibly have gone the same way that he had gone on the way to the motel, so he would have to take this new route instead. He would be forced to go in the opposite direction than the motel, but afterwards it would take slightly less time to arrive at his destination.

Now Brad was fully out of the protection of the bushes, and he would soon continue his journey to the mysterious reporter. Brad drove through the roads of the country, becoming ever more weary the closer he got to his destination.

22

Brad arrived in the town in which the reporter was located just after noon. It reminded Brad of his own small town, only slightly bigger. The houses all looked similar, being so closely compacted, and the January snow was still present just as it had been in the town of Erie. The reporter’s address didn’t seem to be on one of the main roads, however, and it instead was inside one of the neighborhoods.

As Brad drove through the similar looking neighborhood, the dead trees lining the streets hung down over the streets. They seemed to be making an arch over the cars that drove through them, but Brad was the only one driving a car currently on the street. 

He passed a man shoveling snow on the sidewalk, and that seemed to calm Brad’s nerves. He was glad he wasn’t the only one in the lonely neighborhood, and better yet, he didn’t see any black cars patrolling the streets behind him. Brad sighed in relief at the thought, but his stress was momentarily brought back as he thought of how strange having an office may be within a neighborhood. Something was clearly not right, but in Brad’s current situation, he suspected that nothing really was. Brad sighed and ultimately decided to simply pack up the thought and save it for another day. He didn’t have another option to rely on, besides constantly running away that is. 

Brad recalled how close the government agents had gotten to finding Brad, and figured that it was best if he didn’t stay ‘on the run’ for much longer.

Brad shifted the old car towards the left, and began to slow it down. The car veered into the driveway of a Victorian style house. Its walls were painted a dark burgundy, and were covered in cream-colored wooden frames. These frames surrounded the perimeter of the windows, along with the archway leading to the porch. Although this home offered a welcoming change of pace as opposed to the recent constant levels of stress, it was most obviously not a reporter’s office.

Before Brad stepped outside of his vehicle, he analyzed his paper map once more. He had wondered if possibly he had arrived in the wrong town, but the map had proven him otherwise. Brad then thought that this may be the wrong street, but the address matched up too well, and he had double checked the street signs on the way here. 

Brad supposed that he would knock on the door anyway, just in case. He was quite confident that this was the correct address, but still weary of what it may hold. 

With shaking legs and sweaty palms, Brad had finally built up the courage to leave his car. He had noticed a curtain on the left-hand-side window move vigorously back to its original position. He watched the ripples move up and down the area as he had confirmed someone’s presence within the home. 

Upon further inspection of the Victorian style house, Brad had uncovered some additional information; the front lawn seemed to be very unkempt, along with the rest of the house. Its walls were missing paint in some areas, the cream-colored frames had chunks taken from them, and the grass, even in the Winter cold, had grown very tall, emerging from some of the January snowfall. 

Brad, after nearly tripping on the concrete stairs, had begun to knock on the door. He had made a fist and lifted it into the air in front of the door, and before he could begin knocking, the door swung open.

23

A middle aged woman with a miserable expression on her face stood in the doorway of the house. She wore a blue dress with pink and red flowers on the front, white slippers, and some makeup on her face. Her dark brown hair was tightly curled to look much shorter, and besides her face, Brad would have surely mistaken her to be much younger. Her face, however, made her look as if she was forty.

Her expression softened when she gazed upon Brad’s face, and she had now looked relatively welcoming. Brad noticed that her face instead twisted into an expression of confusion. Brad wasn’t who she was expecting.

Before even a gasp of breath could escape her mouth, another person appeared behind her. Although Brad wasn’t what the woman expected, the old man behind her sitting in a wheelchair seemed pleasantly surprised. 

“Who-” The woman began to speak, her expression still was not showing signs of understanding. The older looking individual began to move his wheelchair towards the door, nearly bumping into the other woman. 

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m the man you spoke to on the phone.” The man, although in a wheelchair, dressed very well. He was clothed in mostly dark colors, aside from his lightly cream colored khakis. 

“I didn’t catch your name,” Brad asked the man. “Mine’s Brad.”

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Brad. You may call me by my first name, Peter. And this here is Lisa.” The girl standing in front of Peter smiled at Brad, now looking much friendlier. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter.” Brad felt very wrong not referring to the man as ‘sir,’ but he supposed that he would follow the man’s wishes. 

Lisa moved away from the doorway and stormed into the adjacent room. She didn’t seem very happy to be there, but Peter didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he began to lead Brad, using his wheelchair, through the hallway. They passed a room which Brad could only assume was the living room, and moved into a small office to the left.

Peter locked the door and motioned for Brad to sit in a padded chair in front of a wooden desk while Peter transferred from his wheelchair to a much more comfortable looking chair behind the desk. Brad didn’t notice what was on the desk when he walked inside the room, and neither did Peter. 

Brad did, however, begin scanning the room’s decor, and there didn’t seem to be any. As he moved his head towards the man sitting behind the desk, his eyes dropped to the loaded revolver lying on the desk in front of him.

24

“You’re most likely very confused as to why you are here, Mr. Stevens.” Brad’s eyes widened with both anger and fear. This man, ‘Peter,’ was one of them. He was armed and had locked Brad into a room in which no one would be able to hear his screams. 

“Firstly, Brad, I must assure you that I am not dangerous, unless you resist.” Peter motioned his head towards the loaded revolver on the table. Brad began to emerge from his chair.

“I know what you saw that night. You have been correct about nearly everything that you have assumed. The Morrisons? You and I both know very well that they didn’t go missing.” Brad retreated and sat back down onto his chair, anxiously sweating. He would bolt out of the room as soon as the man stopped talking, but he wanted to know what he had to say first. ‘Peter’ had Brad’s full, undivided attention.

“Good, I’m glad you stayed. As you might have already figured, I’m not a reporter, but I’m also not one of them.” Peter put emphasis on the word ‘them,’ referring to the government agents that have been chasing Brad for all this time. “I suppose you deserve the truth, Brad. The figure that you saw, the Morrisons going ‘missing,’ was all true. I have been retired for the past fifteen years. And yes, I did work for them.” Brad was now quite tempted to exit the man’s office, but his legs wouldn’t let him. “As you can probably imagine, leaving such a secretive place of work can prove to be difficult. I didn’t get away without such casualties.” Peter pointed with his eyes to his legs. Brad hadn’t noticed anything wrong with them before he had walked inside, but just now he realized there to be a slight deformation where his kneecaps were. 

Even under his khakis, Brad could notice the way they stuck out, and the way the legs didn’t quite match the tilt at the kneecaps. “They broke em,’ called me handicapped, and assigned me someone to make sure I don’t try and walk away and tell everyone. That’s what Lisa is here for.” Peter pointed to the woman that Brad had seen earlier. She was in the other room sitting on the sofa.

“She doesn’t know why you’re here if that’s what you’re wondering.” Peter paused and began looking past Brad, cluelessly. There was no emotion in his eyes.

Brad took advantage of this time to ask Peter a question. Peter looked back at Brad when he began to open his mouth, now paying attention. “So, you worked for them? What exactly did your place of…” Brad stumbled on his words trying to make sense, but unable to find the correct term for the strange place of employment. Luckily Peter recognized his confusion and answered his question.

“We have all grown accustomed to the fact that there are three distinct branches of government; Judicial, Executive, and Legislative. Very few know of the fourth branch of government, and that is what we are. We are the fourth branch of government, but because so little know of our existence, we were not even given a name to go along with the other three. 

My branch of government deals with anything and everything related to the art of keeping government secrets safe; away from the eyes of the public. When someone too influential speaks out, we take care of them. When someone with undeniable evidence speaks out, we take care of them. When the Morrison family saw something that they shouldn’t have, then-” 

Brad finished the sentence for him in a somber voice; “You take care of them.” 

At this point, Brad was confused as to why he was even here. Was it for a confirmation for what he already had known? Brad thought that this would be unnecessary, so why what Peter telling him this? 

Brad watched out of a nearby window, thinking as Peter spoke to him of the government secrets. Peter seemed to pay no mind, but eventually stopped talking after the noise coming from outside startled both of them.

Brad, looking out the window, noticed very quickly what the noise was originating from. It grew louder over the next few brief moments before Brad leapt from his chair, with Peter quickly following him. 

25

Dozens of black government vehicles lined the streets outside Peter’s old, Victorian style house. These were the very same vehicles that Brad had seen so many times before he left to see Peter, who was now most definitely lying to Brad.

Peter couldn’t have followed Brad! He was in a wheelchair!

These were the thoughts that ran through Brad’s head. He was suspicious of Peter’s true intentions, but he had seemed very welcoming, although truly very dangerous. 

As Peter grasped a loaded revolver from underneath the wheelchair, Brad was bolting for the door. Lisa was no longer on the sofa in the living room, but was sprinting for the main entrance instead. 

Brad’s first thought after unlocking the door to Peter’s office and leaving the room was that of Lisa actually trying to prevent Brad from leaving the building. This thought quickly diminished when Brad took the first step from the office and into the hallway in which the living room was located. 

The front door burst open with such force that Brad could tell even from his location that it was open. Loud muttering, erupted from the now wide open entryway. Brad’s initial thought was that Lisa had opened the door for the government agents, but it was actually the other way around.

Lisa had nearly run into the door, and although that would have been a terrible fate, her worst was yet to arrive. Instead of confronting the wrath of the door, she instead fell into the agents on the other side. Before she even hit the floor, the pain was released into her chest. She seemed to now be falling back, away from the door and back onto the floor. For a mere moment, Lisa was relieved that she had somehow caught herself, but it was not her that had contradicted the force of gravity, but instead the bullet that had hit her chest. 

She was confused as to why her chest was burning with such agony until her shoulder seemed to burn in an even more agonizing pain. Breath was taken from her lungs, starving her of oxygen as she realized what had truly just occurred. She didn’t even notice the loud sound of gunshots when she hit the floor, but instead was gasping for breath. Nothing was taken into her lungs except for the dark blood that the bullet had resulted in. Her chest was bouncing up and down as she tried to get up from the floor, but to no avail. 

Color was swept from her face, and her expression of pure mortal fear never seemed to dissipate, even in death when she stopped moving. 

26

Although Lisa hadn’t heard the loud bang from the gunshots, Brad very much had. Everything from this point, time seemed to slow down in Brad’s eyes; the slamming of the office door, blocking Peter’s exit, and Brad nearly tripping on his own feet. Luckily Brad had caught himself, unlike Lisa just moments before. 

A loud bang, though not as loud a gunshot, came from the office in which Brad had closed the door of. Peter’s body slammed against the glass window in the door, creating a shattering effect. Glass shards rained down upon the floor, Brad’s head included. 

Soon after Brad had caught himself from tripping, his hands were thrown up into the air as a shield for the glass. Almost as an instinct, he closed his eyes as well, blocking his vision. He didn’t stop running, however, and this time he wasn’t so lucky as to catch himself again. He knew that his luck had run out, now after somehow avoiding the government agents for days. 

His left foot was caught on the corner of the sofa in the living room just as he was turning right around the corner in the hallway. In an instant, as Brad’s eyes were pulled wide open in surprise, the wooden floor was all he could see. He was heading straight for the floor, and just as his head made contact with the cold floor, his hands shot out from his sides in an attempt to catch himself. This was to no avail unfortunately, and a throbbing pain erupted from Brad’s skull. 

Brad brought himself back up from the ground, his head still throbbing with agony, but now there was a new pain that Brad had never experienced. 

In the extremely stressful situation with no warning, Brad was stuck in the eye of the storm. His chest too started to throb with pain, just along with his head, but there was no gunshot. This was Brad’s heart beating into overdrive, and this pain was much worse than any trauma to the head could bear. 

Brad clutched his chest with his hand, nearly falling back down onto the floor again. Gasping for air, Brad had finally crossed the corner of the hallway. His vision was now pulsing from blurry to nearly complete darkness. He couldn’t see where he was going, and he had run in the direction that he had feared the most. 

He had tripped on something hard on the floor, though he could not see what it was. Flung to his knees by some sort of powerful force, Brad had regained his vision, his heart and skull still throbbing with a painful sensation. 

Lying at his feet was the body of Lisa, one bullet wound in her chest and another in her shoulder. Her blue dress with flowers scattered across was now stained with dark red blood, forever tainting it. Her face was expressionless, mouth open, face pale, but still she looked absolutely horrified. 

Brad looked upward, away from the pitiful sight and at the man wearing the suit that had pushed him to his knees. He too had an expressionless look on his face, though his eyes didn’t show fear, but pride instead. He didn’t need to move his eyebrows or smile with his lips to indicate that this individual was enjoying this moment. 

“Please.” Brad barely spoke out with much difficulties, though no one heard him. No one would ever hear him again, and he was aware. He didn’t try to resist death, because there was no point in living anymore. He had fallen directly into their trap, but he was not upset that he hadn’t seen it coming from before. Brad instead was furious with himself for not leaving a mark in his place. 

He hadn’t impacted anyone’s life in his time on this planet. He hadn’t strived to make his life better, and for this, he was angry. Even if somehow his mission to avenge the Morrison family had worked, it would be a pity for that to be the only thing that he had to show in his over forty years on this planet. No one would even bear an eye at his death, or visit his grave, though he doubted that he would be buried at all. 

As Brad looked down from the man that had looked at him with such glorious intent on killing him, he had waited for his fate that was so eagerly yet to come. He stared back at the wall, now expressionless, as a loud gunshot cut through the air. 

He had no more time to think of his pathetic life, as his other glasses lens shattered, serving as no barrier for the bullet flying directly through his skull, shutting off his brain simultaneously.

Brad had failed.

1

From the inside the decoy home’s office, Peter, as he called himself, began to open the door after hearing the gunshot. He knew that Brad Stevens was caught at last. He had known what they had done to him, but Peter did not show sympathy. 

A man that Peter did not recognize walked up to Peter. His suit had small splatters of blood that had shown even through the dark black fabric. The man’s face expressionless, began to move its lips. Peter could not make out any words that the man had said, as his ears were still ringing. They seemed to move, but no noise escaped them. 

Before Peter could make an attempt to read them, the man slowly pointed his handgun at Peter’s face. Peter was expecting this, however, and did not try to put up a fight. This was inevitable, after all, for all agents of the fourth government branch. Peter was aware that this man’s fate would come just after his, so he leaned up against the adjacent wall as his brains were littered across the floor. 

Peter’s lifeless body dragged against the wall with much friction, and his back fell to the floor. Peter’s murderer then switched the direction in which the gun faced and pointed it to the side of his own head. Another final loud bang sound filled the room, and the agent’s body fell to the floor, leaning up against Peter’s. 

The remaining men standing outside the door then breached the door and entered the building. They were met with the surprise of four bodies lying on the floor, though they could not show their shocked expressions as they cleaned the blood from the floor.

2

Edward, Brad’s friendly neighbor, had grown weary during the weeks in which Brad was missing. The sidewalk that Brad had shoveled the snow from was coated in a thick layer of white ice. Edward had tried to talk to Brad many times now by knocking on his door, but to no avail. 

He had suspected that Brad had simply been sleeping for the majority of the time in which Edward knocked on his door, but it had been far too long for Ed’s comfort. After all, his home was just a few paces away? So why not?

Edward began his short journey to Brad’s house, and not to his surprise, all of the lights were off. Edward had rarely seen them off, but something about this particular occurrence just didn’t seem right. 

“Brad? You in there?” Edward called, but suspected that it was useless. Brad hadn’t answered in days now, so Edward was just going to search for Brad himself. Without any luck, Edward knocked on Brad’s door once more. This time however, he tried to turn the doorknob.

Edward’s confused facial expression only grew stronger as the door didn’t seem to have any difficulties opening. One eyebrow lifted on Edward’s face while he pushed the door open.

He was met with a large amount of envelopes in front of the door, blocking it from opening any more. Luckily though, Edward was thin enough to squeeze through the gap. 

“Brad?” Edward shouted once more, awaiting a response. The house seemed to be colder than the temperature outside. This sent a shivering chill down the back of Edward’s spine.

Edward looked down towards the envelopes on the floor, noticing a note that happened to contain a notice regarding the heating bill; Brad hadn’t been present to pay his bill. That was why the house seemed so cold.

3

Edward, after searching the majority of the bottom floor, began to grow nervous. Brad was not the kind of person to leave the house often, and especially not for this long. Edward was avoiding the garage, knowing that if the car was there, that Brad was either dead or missing. If the car was not, then he had known that Brad must have abandoned everything.

Before checking the garage, however, Edward felt the need to check outside in Brad’s backyard. Opening the back door seemed to bring in slightly warmer air than the air inside Brad’s house. It wasn’t quite warm, but warm enough to melt the snow on the ground, leaving ice to replace it. 

Edward, although feeling that checking outside was useless, quickly changed his mind. In the middle of the yard lied a black box in pieces, a wire attached to one of the side’s missing pieces. He held it up in to the sun, getting a closer look. 

On the end of the wire was what seemed to be a spongy material that one may find on the end of a microphone. Edward wasn’t sure what this may be, but it looked modern enough for him to leave it alone. Edward threw the device back onto the ground still unknowing of what it may actually be. Edward decided to finally check Brad’s bedroom, then the garage, but checking the garage seemed almost useless after what he had uncovered inside the bedroom. 

What had struck him first that he didn’t seem to notice about the entire rest of the house was that it was actually clean. The few times that Edward had visited Brad, his house was full of wrappers and cans that didn’t seem to make it into the garbage can. This, however, was extremely different. 

There was no garbage in sight, and in the bedroom, the bed was made. The pillows smelled of a fresh scent that hinted at their very recent time being washed, but Edward was too focused on the small object lying beside it on the nightstand. 

4

For any normal individual, the object would seem very common. Many others possessed these objects, and to Edward, this didn’t seem all that strange, but Edward had a very distinct memory of the last time that he had seen Brad with broken glasses.

On the nightstand stood a pair of perfectly unbroken glasses, identical to Brad’s.