Prologue
Jeremy Teheran
Are they fucking kidding me, I ask myself, as I realize I’ll have to wait another five minutes for the bus to leave its first stop.
So I’ll have to wait another twenty minutes for it to arrive, I tell myself, stamping my left foot restlessly on the hard asphalt.
Every few minutes I glance at my phone screen, as if it could suddenly say, “Sorry, we made a mistake. Your bus is coming soon!” Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen, because this city, while everyone wants to live in it, is fucking clueless about transportation.
Of course, I could have kept my rights and stopped taking the bus. My dad would have bought me a Porsche and I would have had a girlfriend a long time ago.
That’s what my dad would say if he were here, in this situation. Thank God he’s not here and he can’t accuse me of being “unmanly” because I don’t have rights.
But I don’t need them, I mutter to myself.
Suddenly I feel a few large raindrops fall on me. I roll my eyes in annoyance.
Amazing, that’s all there was to it. As if I wasn’t in a miserable situation anyway.
I wait for the bus to arrive with growing anxiety, wondering what could happen in just twenty minutes. At first, I think nothing, because that’s the most likely scenario, but soon my thoughts enter a labyrinth, where there are words like “what if…” and the like.
While I’m thinking like this, the rain gets heavier, making me feel claustrophobic. I’ve never liked being alone anyway, especially when it’s very dark.
On the other hand, who does?
I look at my phone again.
It says 4:50 p.m.
The bus will be in fifteen minutes. Okay, it's coming soon, I try to convince myself that nothing will happen to me, encouraging myself to think rationally.
And really, what could possibly go wrong with me?
I smile at my own fright. Of course, it's all because of the rain. I hate rain.
Suddenly, I feel a tiny vibration in my hand that makes me jump out of my seat. I turn my eyes to the screen of my mobile.
An unfamiliar number.
I frown.
Ha, I definitely won't be stupid enough to answer, I tell myself.
I'm about to disconnect the call, but I suddenly remember that this is my new phone and, probably, I haven't saved all my previous contacts, which makes me doubt whether it's really a stranger calling me.
I hesitate for a few more minutes, wondering if it's worth answering.
God, Jeremy, if it’s a stranger, just hang up. Don’t be a coward, I urge myself to take action.
I gently press the green answer button and hold the phone to my ear. The cold glass touches the skin of my warm ear and sends shivers down my spine.
“Hello?” I answer, trying to keep my voice normal and strong, even though I sense that this conversation won’t end well. Let’s say I have that “sixth” sense.
“Hi, Jeremy,” a cold and emotionless human voice is heard on the other end of the line, making me instantly choke.
I swallow hard, swallowing the saliva rising in my throat.
“What is this?” I don’t squeeze it out like that.
“You really have no idea, Jeremy?” the man asks in a metallic tone.
The voice must have been changed, I tell myself. I used to work on such mechanisms... Well, when I was in seventh grade, but now I'm in twelfth, so I've forgotten a lot of what I learned. However, I definitely remember this one.
"Unfortunately, I don't know." I confess to the interlocutor. "Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself?" I ask the person, but he just laughs.
"Oh, no," he says.
"Why?"
"Because I just need you to play a game, Jeremy." My body freezes, and after a few seconds I laugh softly. The laughter turns into an echo in the station. "What's so funny?"
"Well, it's very strange that you want to play a game," I confess to the person. "And what game are we going to play? Hide and seek?" I say sarcastically, thus making the interlocutor laugh, who, I must admit, is becoming more and more interesting.
The feeling that something is wrong with him is weakening.
“And you’re a joker,” the human continues in the same monotonous voice. “But, no, I don’t want to play hide-and-seek this time, Jeremy. We’re going to play something else.” The human’s tone, although changed so that it doesn’t betray any change in tone or emotion, still sounds more serious and dangerous.
However, I’m too stupid to notice such a “change” in him, because I’m completely focused on the game.
“And what is it?” I ask the human impatiently.
The human is silent for a minute, and then he speaks:
“We’re going to play a game called “Maniac Among Us.” My enjoyment of this conversation disappears the same second it came.
“I-I’m sorry, but what d-did you say?” I ask the human again.
“Maniac Among Us.” That’s what our game will be called." The interlocutor repeats as if nothing had happened, bringing fear back to my brain.
Is it possible that he knows about this game? No, only me and my friends know about this game... and a few other people, but...
"Jeremy, do you hear me?" a cold human voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I clear my throat before answering.
"Yes," I pause. "I still hear you. But can I ask?"
"Of course."
"How... how do you know about this game?" for a moment we both fall silent at the same time. I already think that the person has disconnected from the conversation, because he doesn’t say anything for several minutes, but soon the same emotionless voice is heard:
"Emma." The person says only one word. And it’s enough to bring back the entire past, all the memories – everything that was connected with this person.
“Oh... God,” I mutter to myself, so quietly that I can barely hear myself say what I said.
“Yes, Jeremy,” the person I’m talking to says, as if confirming my thoughts. “I’m talking about Emma.”
“No-no,” I stammer. The bus has long been forgotten. My thoughts are filled with fear and understanding. "But... but... Emma is..."
“Yes, you’re right again.” He interrupts me. “But you were wrong about one thing. You told her that no one would remember her. But I do. Everything... therefore, my dear Jeremy, you must pay for what you did to her.” The man calmly explains.
I feel my knees giving way.
“But it’s not just me who’s to blame... what about the others?” I barely manage to ask.
The person I’m talking to laughs coldly.
“They’ll get it back too. But only... in a different way."
"Another way? What way?" I ask, but he doesn’t answer me, as if this question had not been heard.
"Still, Jeremy, I would suggest you run away from this damned stop. Because if you haven’t noticed, your bus hasn’t even moved from its place." Suddenly, the conversation stops.
A few minutes pass, and I’m still standing there like a pillar, unable to understand what just happened.
Your bus hasn’t even moved from its place, these words ring in my head.
With shaking hands, I launch the app through which I can see where my bus is. I feel despair, realizing that the person was right – the bus hasn’t moved.
It’s broken down. God, what am I going to do now?
I realize that I’m about to have a panic attack. I run through all the possibilities in my head and only one thing pops up: I need to call my mom.
I try to find her phone number, but I can't, because I get a message from an unknown number.
Not again, I scream, clicking on it.
It turns out to be a photo with a person standing in the middle.
I zoom in on the person. And I realize... who's there.
It's me.
My heart drops to my heels. I quickly look around, but I can't see anyone.
A message.
"Haven't you figured out yet that we should get out of here?"
Yes, I understand, I tell myself in my mind and start walking towards the nearest shopping center.
Strangely enough, I feel like I'm in a horror movie, because no matter how unexpected it was, there's not a single person in the bus stop now.
I turn to walk away and...
A stab.
I feel the metal cutting into my skin, piercing it and reaching my flesh.
I want to scream, but I don’t even have time to do it because of the surprise. My legs bend at the knees and I kneel on the asphalt.
A taste of metal appears in my mouth. I gurgle a few times and look at the person in front of me.
He is dressed in a multi-colored clown costume, which is torn in several places, splattered with fake blood. His mask is made of burned fake human skin. Splinters are visible in several places.
The person pulls out a knife with all his might, causing inhuman pain and only then do I scream, falling to the ground.
My head hits the hard and wet asphalt painfully.
My phone disappears somewhere in the distance.
My sweater gets wet with blood.
I barely manage to raise my head and look at the place where I was stabbed.
Damn, I curse when I see an avalanche of blood running from there.
Finally, I look at the man, who is calmly looking straight at me, holding a needle-sharp knife in his right hand, bloody with my own blood.
“What do you... want?” I blurt out, trying to crawl away from the human.
The man laughs quietly but darkly.
“What do I want?” he repeats my question, approaching me. He doesn’t have to walk long; only a few steps before he reaches me. Then he slowly kneels down, grabbing my hair tightly and lifting me straight up towards him. “I want you dead, Jeremy.” The man growls.
Then he lets go of my hair and raises his hand with the knife.
I try to take the opportunity and somehow dodge his blow, unfortunately, I don’t stand a chance.
Another strong stab hits me in the ribs.
I scream.
Again.
Then another... and another... and another...
After a few seconds I feel the blood pouring out of my body, leaving it. I start to feel weak, slowly losing consciousness.
The man stands up and comes to my face. He kneels.
"This is what you get when you have no idea what one stupid child's game can do to others." The man says.
Finally, he raises his right hand with the knife one last time. The metal blade is reflected, the only bright thing he can see. The man waits a few seconds and stabs himself directly in the face...
