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Macy’s head felt heavy as her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the morning sunlight breaking into the room. No matter which pills Macy took—both prescribed and self-medicated—sleep still evaded her. Every morning was the same: zombified brain and itchy eyes, and a massive lack of enthusiasm for the day ahead.
Staring at the ceiling, Macy listened to the sleepy sounds of the town outside. Birds began their musical chorus; wind blew the trees in a rhythmic, swaying dance. Macy found it strange that she heard no cars driving by. Usually the morning brought a stream of cars and trucks rumbling past on the nearby highway, on their way to work. A man-made discord, now routine and out of place.
A glance at her phone showed Macy it was still not time for her to wake up. Her alarm still had twenty minutes to go. She scrolled through her social media feed, annoyed at the old news greeting her day, yet unable to draw her attention away to the real world.
When her alarm finally chirped, the cheery song unaware of Macy’s dark mood, she switched it off and began to struggle out of bed. She sat on the side, her head resting in her hands, rubbing her bleary eyes. With a grunt of effort, she stood up and padded around the house, preparing for work. Her mornings were habitually plagued with thoughts of taking a sickie, but she wanted to save up her leave for a rainy day. Not that we ever get any rain, she thought, annoyed by the dryness around her. Droughts turned gardening into incredibly arduous work.
Macy peered out the front window, observing the houses and gardens, but no sign of human movement. Is it somehow the weekend? Macy thought. Her phone said it was Wednesday, hump day. The small, rural town should be a bustling hive of activity, but it was as quiet as it was at night, when nearly everyone stayed at home. Even the sky was nearly empty; a small splotch of cloud covering luminous blue as if someone had tried to remove graffiti, leaving only a stain of white.
Once Macy was ready for work, she headed out the door, handbag slung over her shoulder. The absence of machine noise outside spooked her. She had thought that at least one other person would be awake and moving by eight o’clock. Students and teachers had school to go to; retail assistants had shops to prepare; drivers had trucks full of products to distribute.
But not today.
Today, the streets were deserted. Cars had been left in random positions on the road, and Macy drove slowly around them, peering in as she crawled past. She was not going to get out of her car to check more carefully. Macy wouldn’t have been surprised to see tumbleweeds rolling past like in the old cartoons she watched as a child. Even her favourite coffee shop, which usually opened at sparrow’s fart, was closed. She sat in her idling car, peering in through the storefront windows. Had the town caught some kind of sleeping disease which Macy, an insomniac, had been immune to?
Something is wrong, Macy thought, peering around, looking for any sign of life. She saw a flash of movement in her car’s mirror, a shadow within the darkness of the alleyway. When she had turned around in her seat to look more carefully, there was nothing. The darkness remained stagnant, a shadow of the street outside. A shiver vibrated down Macy’s spine; goose bumps formed on her skin. Macy shook her head, blinked, tried to clear the eerie feeling from her mind.
With the sudden realisation that the town’s service stations were always open, she began to drive eagerly towards her favourite one, which was also the closest to her. She loved chatting to Manager Marge, an old school friend. Six years ago, it had been Maggie; but she had grown out of that nickname, and into the managing role at the servo.
Macy parked near the door, leaving her car running. If anything was out of the ordinary inside, then she would be able to—hopefully—make a speedy getaway. There were more cars sitting dormant in the carparks around her, and on the highway. The town’s one set of traffic lights still changed, directing the empty streets, ignorant of the absence of normality around them.
Something strange had happened, as if she had not woken from some horrible nightmare. Yet it all seemed too real. She felt every wisp of wind, smelled the slightly alluring scent of petrol. She even pinched herself like they did in the children’s horror books she had read when she was younger.
Still the scene did not change.
Inside the service station, everything was quiet. The shelves were still stocked with overpriced items. The fridges were still illuminating the cool drinks inside. The cameras still stalked the aisles. All normal, as it should be.
Except for the absence of people.
Macy walked to the counter and peered behind. Maggie was lying prostrate on the floor, one arm bent in a strange angle beneath her.
“Maggie! Wake up! Are you okay?” Macy called out. She was unable to get in to see her. The counter was protected by wires; the door was locked. Protected from criminals, and CPR.
“Marge! Maggie! What happened?” Still, Maggie remained lying motionless on the tiles. Macy pulled her phone from her jeans pocket, peering through the windows into the street as she dialled the emergency services.
“Come on! Pick up, pick up. Pick up!” she said into the phone. The phone continued to ring.
Macy looked back at Maggie, willing her to wake up. Willing everything to be back to normal. She rubbed her eyes—harder than usual—listening to the repetitive dial tones in her ear, stars appearing behind her eyelids. She was so tired, her mind fuzzy. When she opened her eyes again, she thought she saw a flash of shadow pass the bowsers in her peripheral vision. It looked like some kind of monstrous figure, tall and alien.
I’m seeing things. I’ve finally gone crazy from lack of sleep, she thought. A closer look revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
A loud recurring beep sounded in her ear. The phone call had rung out. “What the Hell?” she exclaimed. The emergency number is always answered, isn’t it?
Promising to pay for it later, Macy grabbed an iced coffee bottle from the fridge, drinking half in one gulp. As the milk sloshed around in her stomach, she tried ringing Triple Zero again. She felt sick, unsure whether it was the sweet milk or her current situation.
“Maggie, wake up!” she called again. Her friend remained unresponsive on the floor. Macy knew her friend needed urgent care, but had no way of giving it to her. The phone rang out again as she sipped some more iced coffee. Outside, nothing moved, not even the shadows.
Hurrying to her car, Macy put her bottle in the bin. She strapped herself in and drove off, the air-conditioning a welcome relief as it blew cool air over her flushed face. The hospital was only a short drive from the service centre, and she could see the turn off ahead after driving only two hundred metres.
The hospital carpark was just as deserted as the rest of town. Macy parked as close to the Emergency Room doors as she could, which was still about one hundred metres away. Once again she left her car running, glancing around unnecessarily for signs of life.
Lying on his back in front of the Emergency Room door was a man she only faintly recognised, having seen him walking around town. She had never spoken to the man, who only looked to be about eighteen, like he had just graduated high school. Ignoring him, Macy tried to get inside the hospital, but the doors were locked. Although it still worked, the intercom brought no response from inside. Macy heard the sound of it dialling whatever telephone system it was connected to.
Until it rang out, just like her phone call to Triple Zero.
Macy stepped over the man and peered inside, her hands cupped to the side of her face, touching the glass. There was no movement she could see. All quiet, just like the rest of the town.
In frustration, Macy kicked the man at her feet. He rolled slightly, before coming to rest on his back once more, his eyes closed, his expression blank.
“What the shit is happening?” Macy yelled, banging the doors of the hospital. Macy turned around, peering into the distance. A flash of movement caught her eye, a silhouette flitting through the shadows. Fear gripped her insides, pushing her breath from her lungs. From her brief glimpse, it appeared to be the same demonic form as she saw at the service station. She squinted around her, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The figure had disappeared.
Sweat saturated her armpits, dripped down her sides beneath her blouse, cold and shocking against the heat of the day.
Certain she was being followed, she jogged to her car, slamming the door closed. When the door was locked, she peered through her windscreen, coated in a greasy film she could never keep clean. Whatever she had seen was gone. Yet she still felt like she was being watched.
Macy drove home, travelling slower than the limit, checking for movement. She parked her car in her front yard, not caring about the crooked angle on her driveway. Flinging open her door, Macy ran inside, pressing the lock button on her remote.
When she was safely locked inside, Macy double-checked each door and window throughout the house, before moving back to the front entry. An extended look between the curtains of her front window showed no movement on the street.
Not even the little old lady on the corner was in her garden. Macy couldn’t remember a morning when the old lady wasn’t in her garden. Everything was the same, yet the absence of people made it completely different. While she peered through the window, Macy called every number in her phone’s memory. Although it was only a small list, not one number was answered, cementing the fact that the strange happenings had moved beyond her hometown’s border. Filled with sorrow, Macy wished she could call her parents, her only family she had ever known growing up. Their unexpected death two years ago still haunted her sleepless nights in the dark. She longed to hear their calming voices of reason. Macy knew they’d have a logical explanation for the day.
The sun made its way to the back of the house, while Macy stared out the window, only taking a break to visit the toilet and grab some freshly buttered toast from the kitchen.
There was a time, many months ago, when Macy’s car tyre had been slashed. The following night, she had spent glued to her front window, ready to film the vandals if they returned. They had come back with a slingshot, ready to do more damage to her car. That time, it was the vehicle’s rear window. That was until Macy yelled out from behind the curtains, startling them.
The pair of teenage boys, seeking revenge for an unknown misdeed, had run a few steps, turned back to where Macy stood at the window, and fired a shot straight at her. Luckily, they had hit the wooden panelling beside the window.
Macy was still rattled by that night, wondering how things would have been if they had successfully hit the window where she was. Would she have survived a rock to the head?
Today was different. Today Macy searched for an invisible foe in broad daylight; an enemy that may not even exist. And as the darkness threw its shroud on her town, Macy grew increasingly anxious. The shadows outside flirted with each other, merging into one pit of darkness where the fingers of the street light did not reach. She saw silhouetted figures dart through the dark. Macy kept her own lights off, not wanting to draw attention to herself.
Across the road, a figure opened the front door and moved inside, away from Macy’s view. Is it some kind of elaborate crime spree? A terrorist attack? Some stupid prank? Macy wondered, dialling Triple Zero once more on her phone. The events of the day were too sinister to be a prank. Plus, surely not everyone in town would agree to such a cruel joke played on one person? There was too much effort and detail involved to be a practical joke.
Macy listened to the phone beeping loudly in her ear. There was still no answer. She grabbed her sleeping pills from the kitchen, swallowing them down with freezing cold water. She wanted nothing more than to be asleep like the rest of the town seemed to be.
Large lumbering silhouettes flitted among the shadows towards her, moving from house to house. They gathered at her front gate, which creaked slowly open. In the dim light she thought she saw a crowd of faces looking at her through the window, long sharp teeth dripping with saliva. She imagined long fingers pointing up as they whispered instructions and plans to each other. Plans to get her. As they approached the house, their feet crunched the leaves, twigs and gumnuts on her front lawn, dry and sun-bleached brown.
Macy’s heartbeat increased its intensity, her stomach clamping. She raced to her bedroom, careful to tiptoe around the creaking floorboards, and hid in her closet. The figures stomped up her front stairs, as if warning her of their arrival. The thumping footsteps were like a war drum, encouraging the enemy soldiers onwards.
From her spot in her closet, Macy heard the door rattle, its noise shattering the darkness around her. Macy’s body quivered, a cold sweat glued her clothes to her skin. The rattling noise stopped; Macy held her breath, listening. Waiting.
Loud banging broke the silence. A moan escaped Macy’s mouth. Glass shattered, tinkling as it fell to the ground. They were in her house, her only safe place in the world. Macy’s pulse pounded in her ears.
Let me fall asleep, she pleaded silently. Why aren’t you working, pills?
She heard footsteps coming down the wooden floorboards of the hallway. It sounded like claws were scraping on the wood, heavy feet dragging them along.
The bedroom door creaked open. More scraping. The putrid stench of rotting meat wafted under the door, making Macy gag.
Macy heard a loud sniffing noise, followed by scratching at the closet door. Her own breaths were quick and shallow. She tried to be silent.
Don’t open the door, she thought, a silent mantra. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.
Beneath the door, Macy saw two strips of darkness, blotting out the faint blue light from the moonlight filtering into the room.
The door was thrown open, slamming into the wall behind it. Macy squealed, cowering back further into the corner, as if trying to push her way through the wall. The smell consumed the wardrobe around her, stuffing itself inside.
In the darkness Macy saw a glistening body, nearly as tall as the ceiling, towering over her. Sharp teeth, almost six inches long curved down from an open mouth. Mucus dripped down its muscular body to the floor. Red eyes burned from the shadowy face.
Macy gasped, before screaming as the demonic monster began clicking, its mouth opening and closing, sniffing.
Then, as it reached out for her, Macy wished the sleeping tablets would kick in and send her to sleep one last time.