“Murderous Intentions; Honorable Mentions.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little long for a rapper name?”
I shrugged. “MIHM isn’t.”
Kit rolled her eyes and poked fun at me by miming the letter ‘L’ across her forehead. “How many raps you got?”
“Several.” I said, looking away. Across the street, there was a man sitting on a bench, and he was staring straight at me. I felt a chill.
“Beats too?”
“Yup.” The bus pulled to a stop in front of Kit and I. “Some are even on the radio.” I added.
“Well, I guess that’s not so lame then.” Kit didn’t know that the radio station was being run out of someone’s basement, and even then, only on Tuesdays, when the guy was off work. She got up and waved goodbye as the bus doors squeaked open. “See you later brother MIHM.”
“Toodles.” I shot her the peace sign and she laughed at my weird goodbye. “And I’m not your brother Kit, I just happen to like ya.”
“Whatever,” she said walking backwards towards the open doors. “You may as well be, you're the only one who looks out for me anymore.”
I shook my head ‘no’ and tapped my ear like I couldn’t hear her. The sad reality of what she’d said was true. I was the only one who looked out for her anymore. She was only twelve and she lived across the hall from my apartment with her crackhead mother. I basically just walked her to the bus stop every morning and made sure she got on okay; for that, she called me her brother.
As the bus pulled away, the dude from across the street was standing just on the other side of it. He warbled aimlessly in the middle of the road, staring at me. He was well dressed, for the most part, and wore a bluish gray bowler hat.
He took a few more steps towards me. The man moved slow, so I tried to wrap my head around how he’d gotten all the way from one side of the road to the other so quickly when the bus pulled up. Still, he stared at me.
“You alright, sir?”
He nodded. “Just short of breath is all.” he wheezed. “I’m getting on up in years. Long in the tooth. My skin is all wrinkly. I’m old.” I offered him a hand for support and he climbed the curb and hobbled over to the bench Kit had been sitting on only seconds ago. The man plopped down, breathed heavily and looked at me pointedly. He really was wrinkled. “Not many your age would offer help to an old timer.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.
“Thank you.” he added.
“You're welcome.” Without much else to say, I watched cars crawl by and eyed the bakery across the street. It was on the side the man had come from. I cleared my throat. “I could run across the street and grab you a cup of water from the bakery, if you like.” I stood up, ready to grab him something to drink at a moments notice, when he waved for me to sit back down.
“No, no. I’ll be back to normal in moments.” he swallowed thickly, still struggling to breathe. “What’s your name son?”
“Chris.”
He held out a shaking hand. “Doza.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I said, thinking that his name was strange.
“There is something you can do for me, though, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I nodded again. “What’s that?”
“Kit dies at 12:45 today. I’d like you to stop it.”
“Come again now?” My eyebrows rose and my muscles tensed up.
“Kit. The little girl you were talking to. She’ll die today at 12:45, unless you can stop it.”
I’m sure most people would ask how Doza could know this, but not me. I’d seen him flash across the street quicker than naturally possible. I’d felt a chill in the air when he’d seen me. He was something different than the rest of us. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up because they already knew this fact. It was taking my brain a little longer to catch up.
I said nothing, but in my mind I wanted to ask how I would be able to stop something like that? How would she die? How did he know her name?
“The field trip. The bus crashes on the way to a McDonalds.” He chuckled, showing yellowed teeth and tapped his head. The shiny watch on his left wrist glinted in the light. “You're afraid. I understand. Every time I speak to one of you, all I feel is fear. I want to help those children on the bus, but I'm too weak.”
“What do you want me to do?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was lower than normal, determined; but barely louder than a whisper.
“I just need something to wrap myself in. Something new.”
“So you need clothes? To save a bus full of children? That doesn't sound right, Doza.”
“In a way yes. If you give me yours, I’ll save her. I’ll spare little Kit and the rest of the children on the bus at 12:45.” His eyes danced like there was fire behind them.
I started unbuttoning my shirt.
“No.” he said. “Not here. Don’t you live in this building here?” he pointed behind us.
I nodded.
“Shall we finish our transaction there?”
“No. We can go to the alleyway between my apartment building and the next.”
“You would do anything to save this little girl? Even give your wrappings to a stranger?”
“I would.”
“You haven't asked how I know all of this.”
“I can feel that you're not like me.”
He smiled again, but it was a sad smile this time. “Yes, some of you can. I know you fear me, but without me, this world could not exist.”
I felt that. I could definitely imagine that being true. Something about him just made me feel in awe; like I'd never truly experienced reality until this moment.
Standing next to him, talking to him, was like witnessing the vast expanse of the universe without so much as a pane of glass between me and it. Like staring into the void. It was horrifying and I can't explain that feeling. That preternatural warning system humans are born with that lets us know when we are out of our depth. That whisper of doom.
I blinked and we were in the alleyway.
I almost asked how he was able to do such a thing, but why bother? I already knew.
Teleportation: it was quicker than I thought. I knew in my heart of hearts he was something so old my human mind couldn't comprehend it. And all he wanted from me was my clothing. Or my wrapping, as he called it.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Chris?” His voice was soft and sad.
“If it will save Kit’s life, then yes, I'm sure.” For the second time today, I began to unbutton my shirt. He stopped me with a wrinkled hand.
“Just close your eyes.” He whispered, “This will be over quickly, and I promise it won't hurt.”
It didn't hurt.
Not the actual thing he did to me, it was every moment after that was agony. He didn't want my clothes, he wanted my wrapping. My skin. Because his was old and wrinkled. He couldn't move around like he wanted; not while he was trapped in old, wrinkled skin.
In that moment of transfer between he and I, he was without his wrapping for a split second. He was a terrifying hunched over thing that wasn’t human. He looked evil, beastly and pale.
When it was over, I trembled. Paralyzed, shocked and without my skin in the dirty alleyway between my apartment and the building next door. I looked at Doza, who now looked like me.
He knelt down beside me and reached out a hand, as if he might stroke the bloody area of my scalp where my hair used to be. I cowered, praying he wouldn’t touch me.
“You did the right thing, Chris. I hope you know that.”
I moaned. My cheeks hurt and bled.
“I’ll call an ambulance and you’ll be well taken care of. The children on the bus will live.”
I cried and tears stung the tendons under my eyes. To squeeze my eyes closed was torture.
It hurt so much.
To be without your wrapping was the most painful thing in the world, but Kit was right, I was the only one who ever looked out for her anymore... and now I wish I’d never met her.
♡
