Right Place, Right Time

I noticed them in the bar almost right away. The short guy - well, he wasn't actually short, probably close to six feet, but compared to his creepy friend he was - was a bog-standard bar creep. He mumbled some godawful pickup line from Reddit and offered to buy a drink. When I gave him a flat 'no' so as not to waste either of our time he called me a bitch under his breath and went to sulk over shots at the end of the bar. His friend was a lot closer to seven feet than six, and wearing a plain gray hoodie that looked like it came out of a dumpster. That guy never said a word, just hovered a little back during the exchange. Moral support or something, I guess. The bar was pretty dark to start with, so I couldn't have picked either of them out of a police lineup.

Poor choice of words, actually, come to think of it.

I caught the douchey guy staring at my ass when I went for a bathroom break. When I made eye contact, his face crinkled up in the same expression that a baby gets when you don't give it ice cream, a pale little raisin-face of petty hate and a complete disinterest in anything outside of themself. I glanced up at his tall friend and couldn't make eye contact at all because of the hood and the shadows, but he lifted one arm and held up a finger in a "Shhh" gesture. He was wearing white gloves and had the longest fingers I'd ever seen. Maybe he was a basketball player, with that height.

Captain Douchenozzle was still glaring at me over his beer when I came back out, making eye contact on purpose this time, and that's when I started getting nervous. I wouldn't normally have gone out drinking alone, even at the Taphouse, but Becky and I had just had a really terrible fight and I hadn't felt like seeing any of my friends at the moment. I was a little too unsteady to drive home yet and I didn't want to drop the cash for an Uber or anything, but you learn to listen to the voice in the back of your head if you spend any time in clubs and bars these days. I didn't even stop back at my table to finish my last drink.

Outside, it was getting colder. Still technically summer, sure, but Oregon isn't shy about chivvying the warm seasons back out the door fast to make room for all the cold raining we gotta get done over fall and winter. I tucked my right hand under my armpit and used my left hand to call up the ridesharing app. It blinked and started spinning the stupid loading dial at me - the Taphouse has always had shitty reception; this whole area does - and out of unthinking idiot habit I went around the side of the building where I can usually get at least three bars for long enough to summon a ride or call a boyfriend or something. I realized my mistake when I heard the front door slam shut again. I turned around but I was already too late.

Douchy McAssholeface and his weird tall buddy were blocking the entrance of the alley. He didn't have a weapon, but who knew what Spindly Creepycoat was packing under that thing? Plus there were two of them, and the shorter one probably had about eighty pounds on me and a lot more show-off arm muscle, which still means something even if it's not great for actual fitness. My extra cardio wasn't going to be worth shit if I couldn't get out of the alley.

"Hey," Doucheboy said, clearly enjoying himself, pretending to be casual like a fucking movie villain. "You lost, little girl?"

“I already called the cops," I bluffed, waving my phone at them. "Get out of my way."

"No, you didn't. But you should have." He started forward, his partner close behind him, raising his arms.

Fucking drama-llama asshole shitweasel. "Yes, I did! You and your friend better get moving or you'll be sorry." I started fumbling in my purse for my keys.

He stopped for a second, as though what I'd said had confused him. "No, I'm not falling for that dumb 'look behind you' bullshit," he said. He lunged forward and knocked my bag and phone out of my hands. My eyes automatically followed the movement, so I didn't see clearly what happened next. I got an impression of a huge white hand, like a gigantic spiderweb, closing around Douche's entire head, and a strangled cough and shout from him. When I looked up, the alley was empty except for a crumpled gray hoodie. I caught a brief glimpse of movement around the corner, something pale and knobbled, skin glistening wet and taut like a frog's but bigger, so much bigger. There was a little spatter of reddish droplets against one dirty wall of the Taphouse.

And that was it.

I don't think I was saved. I don't think there's anything special about me, any reason I was chosen. A dark night, an isolated area; a predator was just waiting for the right opportunity, that's what I think. I'm not sure why I could see it beforehand and the guy couldn't. Maybe because I wasn't the target of whatever it was doing to keep so close to him unnoticed? Or maybe just a little joke on its part. Or maybe it does think I'm special and it's saving me for an equally special occasion. That might be the worst.

Lately I find myself spinning around suddenly for no reason, especially if it's dark or rainy out and I'm alone. I don't think it would do any good, but I can't help it. I know it's out there, and it knows I know. Maybe there are others. Maybe they're following a lot of people, all the time.

I try not to think about it. Probably you shouldn't either. But maybe take precautions if you're going to go out at night. Take a friend. Take a few. Watch out behind you. Listen to the little voice.

And be careful where you walk.