Letting Them In
Author’s Note: I wanted this to be a bit creepy for Halloween!
The morning started with a sigh and then a knock--incessant and loud from down the hall. It’s always a knock, an 8:15 AM thud. One knock; no answer, then silence.
I ask my landlady about the knocker when she collects my rent. She stares down the hall, “Young couple used to live there before this one moved in. They were quiet and only stayed for half a year but do I miss them. Barely see this one now, except for letting in the knocking fool. I have half a mind to yell at him, if he didn’t look so damn sad.”
“Sad?”
“Mm, he never meets my eye but I can tell. It’s the way he carries himself, all droopy.”
I look down the hall as well, seeing a fancy lock on the door. Silver rectangle with green buttons. “Do you know why he knocks?”
“Oh, yeah. I think he used to just walk in—but I didn’t want to break the law… the locks is just a precaution really. His mom lives there, the poor thing, and can’t see him. Custody issue I think.”
“Poor kid.” I make up my mind to visit my neighbour tomorrow to hear the full non-gossip-driven story. I go to work with the thought parading around my eyelids as I blink: poor kid, poor kid, poor kid. How does he get into the building? Does the landlady let him in? Maybe another neighbour, I know that several of the apartments are empty, maybe he sneaks in through an open window? I shake my head and continue researching.
My boss asks for the deadline on the latest article, two week I tell him. The article is for John’s Locksmiths—the safest and easiest locks to install, perfect for the elderly. It comes with an electronic key-chain for your keys, just in case you forget the pass-code. No more losing keys, no more getting locked out, and no more panic. It seems simple enough, despite my internal wariness for any company. Easy, simple, safe; the article practically writes itself.
“Hey Jen, have you heard of these locks before, with the electronic key-chains?” I turn to my cubicle buddy, known for her excessive knowledge on anything and everything, trying to catch her eye around her ficus plant.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about those alright.” Her head pops up. She purses her lips and rolls her chair next to mine and whispers, “I hear the pass-code is always 1111, aparently you can’t reset it or change it—but no one says anything. My friend’s aunt’s cousin told me her granddad got one and some cameras, thinking he was set. You know how he’s loaded, old expensive cars and antiques everywhere.”
I nod, I did not
“Well he went away one weekend and got robbed! When he told the police, they said there was no sign of forced entry—that the door had been unlocked the whole time. It caused a big hullabaloo, the big wig CEO paid to keep it out of the papers.” She shook her head.
“That’s terrible, how long ago was that?”
“Oh a couple years ago now.”
I hum and she slides back to her cubicle. I wonder if the landlady is telling the truth and the lock was just for precaution. I’ve never seen the kid, but his knocks…the harsh sound, it scares me. I look at the clock, 12PM. No point in thinking about it now, I need to focus on work and then go home.
Tomorrow I will talk to my neighbour. Tomorrow, I will get the full story and then go back to not knowing anyone’s business. I put my headphones on and let the soft tones of piano and violin refocus my attentions to work.
——-
Tomorrow never comes, only the knock. Thud. Footsteps.
Nothing.
My hands shake as I stare at the locked door. I have the deadbolt, a chair and a chain to protect me. But it’s too late, he’s found me again. Another knock, I hold my breath. The door rattles as the chair holds it in place, his voice follows: “let me in sweetie, I promise we’ll have so much fun.” My head swims and I clutch the knife closer to my chest. My last line of defence.
The chair slides, the door settles before it is ripped of the hinges. There’s no time to think—I close my eyes and feel the knife and—My head lifts from my desk, I’m still at the office. It’s past midnight and there’s a note on my lamps as I turn it on. I look around and make sure I am safe, no longer in that room. The note is from Jen: Gone to get snacks, you looked too cute to wake up!
I rub my face and stretch. I haven’t had that nightmare in a while, not since I moved to the city three years ago.
“Hey, sleepy-head!” Jen says as she turns the corner with a eight chip bags in her hands, “I charmed the nightshift security guard into giving me the key—you look terrible!” She mentions horrified, as she sits in her chair.
I smile. “Nightmare.”
She sets the chips on my desk and takes my hand, “Wanna talk about it? I’m a pretty good listener?”
I squeeze her hand and the warmth melts away the rest of the lingering fear. That’s probably why I say, “Sure. But I think I need some chips first.” I devour two bags before I inhale deeply, “I was 17 when I moved here I had never visited a city before so everything drew me in; the noise, the crowds, the buildings. I only had 500 bucks to my name and nowhere to stay so I tried looking for hotels, even ads looking for temporary roommates. I ended up finding this place in the heart of the city; an elderly couple just wanted company. A nice house, but it felt empty. It was an older house with stairs as soon as you opened the door and everything circled around it. My first night there they baked me an apple pie, it was like I never left home, y’know? I lived there for a good eight months, it was amazing. They were kind and funny; on Halloween, it was their tradition to get the house all creepy for the neighbourhood. I woke up and there was fake blood, webs, and those plastic body parts everywhere. I screamed until they told me it was all fake.”
Jen laughs.
“To be fair, I had just woken up so I couldn’t make heads-or-tails that it was fake.” I laugh with her.
“They sound great.”
“Oh they were.”
Jen’s face sobers in realization.
“Yeah, it was December. I made plans to go home the next day. We made homemade eggnog for my family, it was a nice night. The thing about seniors is that they trust too much. They always left their door, windows, everything unlocked. I learned their habit, I mean everything was fine. They had this puppy, Jeremiah, who loved night walks. I think it was because the city was less awake and let him sniff all the scents from the day. It was my turn to walk him, I came back and the front door was open. Which at the time wasn’t weird, sometimes they had it open to air the house out. Jeremiah went stock-still and started to growl. I hadn’t seen it yet but there was a man in the kitchen at the back of the house. So I tell Jeremiah to settle and unhook his leash and yell that I’m back. I didn’t expect a response, they were older and often couldn’t hear me.” I take a breath and eat a few more chips.
“I don’t know if the man was trying to hide or what but I walked into the kitchen to grab a drink and he wasn’t there. But Jeremiah hadn’t left my side. He was looking down the hall into the TV room. That’s when I saw the blood. A small trial from the kitchen into the hallway. Now the house is silent and then Jeremiah growls louder and my heart starts again. I have someone with me, I’m not alone. I don’t know where they are and I don’t have a weapon. I pretend to be reaching for the glass but grab a knife from the block at the same time. I don’t know where the intruder is but all I know is that my room has windows and the door locks. I tried to act normal so that the intruder might leave me alone, I was so stupid. He made eye contact with me, I ran and scooped Jeremiah up the stairs and made it to my room. The handle locked and I pushed my chair up against it. I’d seen it in movies and thought I’d be fine. He starts pounding at the door and all I have is a dog and a knife to protect me. I know I won’t make it out of this encounter—how many people make it out alive, especially after I saw his face? He broke down my door just as I held the knife to my throat. Before I could,we both heard the sirens. Jeremiah latched on to his ankle as he started to run and he knocked his head against the railing.”
“Wow, was the couple okay?”
“Yeah, he just pushed the husband too hard and he started to bleed. They had those life-alert bracelets so an ambulance was already on the way before I got back. It was the most terrifying thing I ever went through. I still have dreams of what the intruder said when he was trying to get in. I haven’t thought about it in a long time.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Jen rubs my knee in comfort. “What caused it to come back do you think?”
“It’s silly, but I have a neighbour whose son knocks on her door every morning, to tell her that he’s still there or something. It’s the damn knock. it sounds like it did that night.”
We sit in silence for a moment, “What about the puppy?”
“I kept him, he didn’t leave my side after and they felt he was better suited with me anyway.”
“A valiant protector, hey if you ever just need to call someone in the middle of the night, just to reassure yourself, call me.”
“Thanks, Jen. I appreciate it.”
——
I open my door and Jeremiah jumps up, licking my chin. I pat his head and set him down. I grab his leash, as I close the door I secure all three locks and make my way down the hall. I pass my neighbours door and try to calm my heart.
When I get back I will lock my door, feed Jeremiah, and go to sleep.
I never set an alarm anymore, instead I will wait for the jolt of fear.
