Don't Let Them In (Part 1)

"Thud. Thud. Thud." I hear outside of my window at 7 am. "Who is doing construction outside of my apartment so early in the morning?" I ask myself. As I sit up, my body creaks almost as much as my 10-year-old bed. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and shiver as my bare feet land on my freezing cold hard-wood floor. I slowly make my way up and off my bed. It squeaks one last time as if it's calling out to me saying, "Come back, don't leave me." I struggle to ignore its cry, not wanting to be awake so early in the morning. My feet shuffle across the floor, aching to reach the soft and warm fur of my thick bunny slippers.

Once I make my way to my slippers, walking to the window is that much easier. At this point, the thuds have transformed into a low, rumbling, grinding noise. I slide open my curtains with a "swoosh", to see a clutter of what can only be called 'mechanical men' dogpiled in the center of the street. Their joints seem to meet at obvious spots, unlike human joints that blend unnoticeably. I knew the government was doing crazy things, but sending down a pile of wannabe men is an all-time high in the 'crazy' category. I can see what's making the noise. It's a malformed jet, looking like a weird dark gray bubble floating away in the sky. My guess is set in stone with this observation, I know for sure that this is what the government officials fly around in. They gave us another present, even better than the last.

As I continue to watch the pile of people, I see some of them get up and start moving. Their once crumpled white uniforms transform into all sorts of outfits. Some are wearing distressed t-shirts and basketball shorts, and others are wearing button-down shirts with interesting patterned ties. The men changed from pasty white to all different skin colors. Some even grew facial hair within the millisecond. Bags in all different shapes and sizes have appeared from thin air, each man holding one that matches their outfits. The skater-type man carries a worn-down backpack, one strap swung over his shoulder blade. The businessman carries a black leather briefcase in one hand and an iced latte in the other.

Like what just happened was completely normal, the men scan the streets, collect their wits, and walk, skate, or ride off into the distance. One man, in particular, catches my attention. He is the businessman whom I noticed before, the one carrying the briefcase and latte. He is wearing a navy blue blazer over a pearly-white button-down shirt. He is a tall black man with breath-taking blue eyes. His hair is curly and black, and his face is bare except for a well-groomed beard. He was the only one who didn't walk towards one of the nearby stores. Instead, he was walking towards my building.

He looks up and into my window, staring directly at me. I close my curtains as quickly as possible and stumble over my own feet, taken aback by what just happened. He saw me, he's coming to my building, and will probably kill me now. My brain is going down every rabbit hole possible after what happened to my little sister.

The government had sent dogs 3 years ago. My little sister was clueless and naive. I came home from school to find her dead on the floor, the dog sitting in front of her wagging its tail. After watching the security camera footage, I found out that she was playing with her newfound best friend that she discovered outside of the door when all of a sudden, it decided to use her neck as a chew toy. That's when I stopped trusting the government entirely.

After going through that extremely painful memory I hear a knock on my door. Forgetting for a moment that the businessman was walking to my building before I got sucked into the past, I opened the door.

He's taller than expected, more muscular too. He is across-the-board handsome. I stood there for a second too long before I realized what I was doing. I stuttered, "H-hello sir, can I h-help you?" He lets out an airy chuckle before answering, "I really hope you can. I'm looking for the financial office, do you know where it is?" Being more than star-struck, I am completely tongue-tied. All I could do was shake my head 'no'. Being a curious man, he asks, "Are you okay, ma'am?" "It's Laura," I say, a little too loudly, startling myself with the seriousness in my voice. I've always hated being called ma'am, it makes me feel old. He doesn't miss a beat before apologizing and then introducing himself as Elijah. Tall, handsome, muscular, Elijah.

Against my better judgment, I let Elijah in. He convinced me that he wasn't one of them, that he wasn't going to hurt me, that he was kind and trustworthy. Something about his demeanor pulled me in, my wariness settled down. I felt safe with him. I finally let myself go after being so cautious all these years. Never letting anybody in. I just hope that I won't regret this decision in the near future…

To Be Continued.

Please check out my other story, Dancing In The Rain https://vocal.media/fiction/dancing-in-the-rain-l22dru04j7