I know how it sounds, but there’s just no gentler way to put it:

Something is eating my neighbors.

I first noticed it last Tuesday morning, when I looked out the window and saw that Luis, the old man in the apartment across the street, wasn’t out on his balcony by 7:00 AM. Waving to that bald figure with his fluffy bathrobe, coffee cup, and newspaper had become part of my morning routine, and his absence bothered me more than I would have imagined.

It was as though without me noticing, some subtle and sinister change had taken place in my world, throwing it into a disquieting new orbit.

The apartment two stories above Luis’ had also gone dark. Two kids lived there, and they were always up to something: sticking their drawings to the window, jumping on the beds, or singing into a child-sized plastic karaoke machine. Now, however, there was nothing but blackness in their rooms, and an ominous breeze seemed to blow through their white curtains. Even when it rained on Wednesday and Thursday, no one bothered to close the windows.

Worse still, when I rang Luis to check on him (with no answer, of course) I saw that his mailbox was stuffed full of mail and newspapers.

Luis was so meticulous I could have set my watch by him. There was no way he would have left without putting a hold on his precious daily news.

Even so, I didn’t really start to worry until the noise upstairs came to a sudden stop. The twentysomething couple in that unit had a very active lifestyle: getting up early, working out in the middle of the day, and hosting parties late into the night.

From the sound of it, they also had a very healthy relationship.

Lately, however, there’s been nothing but silence.

If I hadn’t started working remotely, I doubt I would have paid attention to any of this. But now that I’m trapped in my apartment with nothing but time, these little differences become all the more clear. They make me remember things, things that at the moment didn’t seem important–

And also things that I’d prefer to forget.

There are a lot of apartment buildings on this street. Some old, some new, without even alleys to divide them. Looking out the window, it’s clear how easy it would be to move from one building to another.

There are rooftops, sewers, and even empty gaps beneath the buildings. When I had the bathroom redone, the back wall had to be removed. A middle-aged plumber on his smoke break pointed through the gaping hole in the tile wall. The circle of pink insulation around it made the black pit in my wall look like a toothless mouth.

Inside was a three-foot gap filled with a tangle of pipes and dusty spider webs.

“I once pulled a rat as big as my arm out of a space like that,” the plumber exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Another time, we found a bedroll, a bottle full of piss, and dirty tissues on the other side of someone’s wall. That’s the thing about these gaps between buildings. Anyone…or anything…can live there. And there’s no way to know until it's too late.”

At the time, I thought the about-to-retire plumber (him) was just having a laugh at the expense of the remote-working yuppie (me) who couldn’t stick two pipes together to save his life.

But as more and more apartments around me fell into a dark, dead silence, I wasn’t so sure.

They couldn’t all be on vacation.

I used to enjoy taking showers at night, but lately I’ve found myself pressing my ear to the wet tile wall, listening for sounds behind the wall or inside the pipes–

And when I dream, my dreams are of falling through that tight, lightless space between the walls.

Millions of people live in this city, all strangers to one another–

And if one person, or even an entire family went missing, how long would it take anyone to notice?

If several went missing all at once, how long would it take the underfunded, overworked authorities to recognize a pattern?

Weeks? Months? Even longer?

Three nights ago, I woke to a sudden CRASH from below. My eyes snapped open. I lay in the darkness, heart thundering and paralyzed with fright, as something heavy was dragged across the floor of the apartment beneath mine. I finally mustered the courage to get out of bed and investigate, but by then, it was too late. Standing in front of my neighbor’s bare wooden door, I realized how alone and unarmed I truly was.

“Ani?” I whispered my downstairs neighbor’s name, but there was no response. A few hours later–after the sun came up this time–I tried again. I was about to give up when I remembered that I’d watered Ani’s plants for a month while she was on vacation. She’d told me to keep the spare key; it was probably still in my kitchen drawer.

I knocked, rang, and made every other sound I could think of before entering her apartment. I knew full well that what I was doing was probably illegal, and definitely an invasion of privacy.

Ani’s apartment smelled faintly of marijuana and mint oil, just as I remembered, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another odor hiding under those familiar scents–something foul and reptilian. The blinds were drawn, and flies buzzed around a half-eaten bowl of soup on the kitchen table. A knocked-over chair lay on the floor beside it.

“...Ani…?” I tried again.

My neighbor’s jackets and shoes were all in their places. Water dripped from the washcloth in her shower. It was like she had never left the apartment, and yet–

My eyes were drawn to the large ventilation shaft in the bathroom wall. To my anxious mind, it looked like an empty eye socket…perhaps with something nameless staring out at me from the other side.

The wall below it was discolored somehow. I tiptoed closer through the gloomy apartment and reached out to touch it. The wall was slick with a slimy substance that emitted that same strange odor…

The floor creaked behind me.

“Uhhh…what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” A woman who looked like a younger version of Ani stood in the doorway, her mouth open in shock. Ami’s sister, Ellen. She was already dialing the cops.

I looked down at the flashlight in my left hand and the hammer in my right.

“I can explain!” I pleaded. “I was just looking for Ami! I heard a weird noise last night and then when she didn’t answer the door, I thought…” my voice trailed off. Ellen glared at me skeptically with her thumb frozen above the ‘CALL’ button. With one hand on her hip, she slowly lowered her phone.

“You touch anything?” Ellen asked.

“What?! No! I just–”

“Good. I was supposed to meet Ami for lunch, but she never showed. And my sister would die before she’d miss an appointment.”

I hoped not, but given the circumstances, I kept my mouth shut. Ellen opened the blinds and rummaged through her sister’s things while I did my best to describe what I heard.

“I don’t get it.” Ellen frowned. “Her wallet, phone, keys…they’re all here. Unless Ami walked outta here in her P.J.’s, she should be around here somewhere…”

But there was no sign of Ami. Not under the bed, not on the balcony. She was just…gone.

After an awkward mid-hallway handshake, Ellen and I parted ways. I still wasn’t sure if she planned to go to the police, and if so, I didn’t dare to share my theory with her–

But that weird mucus was still thick on my fingers.

After a fitful nap, I decided to ask the older couple across from me if they’d seen or heard anything strange.

As I crossed the corridor, however, a horrible thought struck me. What if they didn’t answer? What if I was the last one left, alone in the building with whatever had taken Ami?

The two minutes between my knock and Marie Puig opening her door felt eternal. I dragged myself out of my paranoid thoughts and tried to smile. I told Mrs. Puig that I’d heard some disturbing things lately, and asked if we could speak somewhere private.

She motioned me inside and put a kettle on. Her husband had gone out, but would be back shortly.

In Mrs. Puig’s apartment, not a hair was out of place. A loud game show boomed from the television, and the air smelled of lemon cleaner and fresh cookies.

My own half-baked theory was starting to feel very crazy indeed. I stammered through a short version of Ami’s disappearance and asked if Marie Puig had noticed anything unusual lately.

“Not since I let my hearing aid go!” Mrs. Puig laughed. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I can barely hear anything at all. I’ve got an appointment to get a new one next week. Things just aren’t made like they used to be…”

“When was the last time you saw Ami?”

“Yesterday night. She was arguing with some man on the phone.” Mrs. Puig leaned in close. “In situations like this…it’s always the boyfriend. Trust me.”

Disappointed, I returned to my apartment and tried to lose myself in the mountain of unanswered emails and incomplete tasks that awaited me. The sun had set by the time I finally logged off, exhausted. I was on my way to the shower when I looked up and realized, for the first time, that all the units in my building had the same oversized ventilation shaft. I reached out my hand to touch the wall below it…and when I took my fingers away, they were coated in a familiar-smelling slime.

I went to the gym to shower. I couldn’t stomach being naked and alone with whatever might be on the other side of my wall. On my way home, I found Mrs. Puig, well-dressed as always, being helped into a waiting taxi cab. She waved me over.

“I meant to tell you!” she practically shouted into my ear, “My husband never came back from his walk this morning. The police are combing the park for him and everything! I’m going to stay with my son until things get settled down. Just thought you ought to know.”

With that, she was gone.

A clammy, lonely sensation crept up my spine as I returned to my apartment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I ought to do the same thing: rent a hotel room someplace, wait for all this to just blow over–

But I’d have to come back eventually.

And what if whatever was between the walls was still hungry when I did?

Even though it was after ten P.M., I grabbed my trusty hammer and used plywood to board up every vent, every window, every other access point to my apartment that I could think of. I didn’t have to worry about noise complaints–

I probably didn’t have any neighbors left to disturb.

Uncounted hours later, I woke up in the pitch-blackness of my sealed-up apartment. My home was as dark as the dream I’d been having: another nightmare of dusty insulation and tangled pipes.

A pounding sound was coming from somewhere inside my apartment. Three methodical taps, one after the other–it was no random noise. Something was trying to get in! I grabbed my flashlight, but its batteries must have died after my excursion into Ami’s unit. Lost in my own apartment and unable to find a light switch, I bounced off of furniture that seemed to have moved during the night, until I finally glimpsed a glow up ahead. The hallway. That’s where the pounding was coming from!

Daylight blinded me as I flung open my front door.

A slender Asian man in a black suit and tie stood before me.

“Lucas Williams?” he asked. I nodded, shielding my eyes from the painful brightness. “I’m Agent Wei. I’m investigating some dangerous, unusual occurrences in your neighborhood, and I believe that you might be able to help me. Can I step inside?”

I let out a deep sigh of relief. The calvary was here! The authorities had finally figured out what was going on, and they were going to take care of it.

In retrospect, I probably should have looked more closely at ‘Agent Wei’s’ badge. I should have asked him for a warrant or spoken to him outside.

But at the time, I was so thrilled to find out that I wasn’t crazy that I welcomed the young man with open arms. I flicked on the lights, embarrassed by the boarded up, chaotic mess of my apartment. Agent Wei, however, seemed to take it in stride.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Lucas, there have been a number of disappearances in this area.” I nodded vigorously. “As part of our investigation, we’re asking the residents of buildings on these streets to permit us to temporarily install motion-activated cameras in their apartment. These cameras will alert us to the presence of any intruder in your unit and allow us to respond immediately.” I frowned. This was unexpected. I wanted to help, but still…cameras? Watching me all the time? “Please, Lucas. Help us to help you.”

Of course, in the end, I agreed. With his slick black suit and sidearm, Agent Wei seemed trustworthy, and besides–what choice did I have, if I wanted my life to go back to normal?

After Agent Wei installed his camera and left, however, I found something–

Something I would have mentioned to him if I had noticed it sooner.

The plywood I had used to cover the ventilation shaft lay on the floor.

It had fallen…or been pushed…out of place.

Although I should have known better, I replaced the batteries in my flashlight, mounted a stool…

And stuck my head into the ventilation shaft.

The dark, narrow space was about the size of my head, and it was difficult to look around. At first, I saw nothing but dust…

But then I caught sight of the man-sized trail of slime that slithered off into the darkness.

Shuddering, I replaced the plywood…and doubled the amount of nails that I hammered into it.

For three days, I heard nothing from Agent Wei. As far as I could tell, there were no new disappearances, either.

But on the third morning, I woke once again to urgent pounding on my door.

I was in such a hurry to answer it that I didn’t notice that the plywood covering the vent had once again fallen to the floor.

“Lucas Williams?” Agent Wei asked again, as if to confirm that I was really me. “We’ve discovered something you need to see. May we come in?”

This time, Agent Wei wasn’t alone. Two more men in black suits were behind him. A dark, spindly man he called Agent Gelida, and a stocky, nervous woman who went by Agent Lopez.

Agent Wei seemed much more on edge than he had during his last visit. The others swept my apartment as we spoke. I started to protest, but then I remembered that the agents had already seen every corner of it anyway, via their cameras.

“I’m going to ask you to take a survey for me, Lucas.” Agent Wei sat me down at my work desk with a paper and pen. “It’s very important that you answer all of the questions honestly. Can you do that for me, Lucas?” I had no idea what was going on, but I nodded. After all, what was the harm in answering a few questions?

While I was busy filling in bubbles and ticking boxes, Agents Gelida and Lopez scanned my walls with strange instruments, collected samples, and set up a laptop on my kitchen table. Although I strained my ears to their limit, I wasn’t able to eavesdrop on the hushed conversation between them. Besides, I was struggling with some of the questions. As I answered them, a unsettling pattern seemed to emerge, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was:

How long have you lived in this unit?

When was the last time you ate?

What is your earliest memory?

Where is the last place you slept?

“...Are you sure you want to do it here?” Agent Lopez was hissing to Agent Wei. It was all I heard of their conversation before Agent Wei motioned for me to sit in front of the laptop that was open in front of the kitchen table.

He nodded through the answers to my survey questions, as though they confirmed something he’d long suspected. As he prepared a video to play on the screen, I was uncomfortably aware of the aggressive presence of Agents Gelida and Lopez behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that their hands rested on their weapons.

“I’m going to show you a video now, Lucas,” Agent Wei explained, “and I warn you, what you're about to see may disturb you. Please, try to remain calm.”

I didn’t understand what I had to be ‘disturbed’ about; after all, the image on the screen was me.

It was a night-vision recording of my bedroom, captured by the cameras Agent Wei had installed. He fast-forwarded through several hours of me sleeping, tossing and turning in bed, and then–

In the recording, I watched my left leg suddenly stuck out rigidly beneath the sheets. It seemed to extend somehow, followed by my right. My hands pawed at my bedroom wall as my arms and fingers stretched, almost doubling in length. I brought my hand to my mouth as I watched the ‘me’ on the screen distend into something hideous and wrong…and slither across the floor toward the bathroom ventilation shaft.

I was still processing the nightmarish video when Agent Wei brought up another clip. This was grainier footage from a security camera. It showed Marie Puig’s husband, Javier, walking through a dark alley on the far side of our building. As he passed a sewer grate, a horrifically distended hand that I now recognized as my own shot up with tremendous force and grabbed his leg, dragging him down…

I’d seen enough. I retched all over the floor, but turned away from the puddle immediately–afraid of what (or who) I might see in it.

“We’re aware that you’re a special case,” Agent Wei was saying, from what felt like very far away, “and we know that it’s not your fault. For beings like you, this is part of a natural cycle that occurs every thirty years or so. We’re going to get you the help you need, but there are crimes here that have to be answered for. Luis DuBois; Rachel Kellerson and her two children, Tom and Roise; Javier Puig; Ami Martin and several othe–”

“Wait.” I held up a hand weakly. “Ami Martin. That can’t be! I was in my apartment when she disappeared! I heard her–”

I fell silent as a groaning noise echoed through the pipes above us.

“Fuck.” Agent Lopez drew her pistol.

“What?!” Agent Gelida responded.

“That means there are two of them!”

From the darkness of the ventilation shaft in my bathroom, a pair of glowing eyes stared out at me–

And grinned.

X