The Guy in the Bar

I usually stop at the Toad in the Hole on my way home from work on Thursday nights. It's my late night, and Marie is out with her friends on the nights I work late. I don't like going home to an empty house. Too much of that in my youth. You'd think a strapping guy like me wouldn't be afraid of anything, and I'm not afraid to go home to an empty house exactly, but I just don't like it. And that's another story altogether.
 
This here story is about that Thursday night I stopped going to the Toad in the Hole.
 
The day started like any other day. I got up, kissed my wife goodbye for the day, and headed off to work. What I do is unimportant to this story. Suffice it to say, it's hard, honest work.
 
So, I'm sitting there, drinking a beer and eating some fish and chips and chatting with Mike, the barkeep. Mike's an alright guy. Sorry I don't see him anymore. But after what happened that night, I can't go back to the Toad in the Hole. But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?
 
So, I'm sitting drinking my drink, and eating my food and chatting my yapper when this guy stumbles in and sits right next to me. The Toad in the Hole is usually pretty quiet on a Thursday night - part of the reason I like to go there on Thursdays. So, there were plenty of seats, both at tables and at the bar, but this guy sits right down next to me. I could tell from his breath that he had already been to at least one other pub in the area.
 
"Gimme a beer, mate," the guy says to Mike.
 
"Looks to me like you've had enough somewhere else," Mike said.
 
"Who asked you for your opinion? Just gimme a beer. After what I've been through, I need it. You would, too, if you'd been through what I've been through."
 
"I'll give you one beer, but I'm giving you some food to go with it. I'll order you a spaghetti."
 
"NO!! Not spaghetti. Please, anything but that. I'll have what he's having," he said, gesturing to my plate of fish and chips.
 
"Right, I'll get that up for you right away." Mike said, drawing the gentleman a pint.
 
"Thanks, mate," the guy said, taking a long pull from the glass. "Ahh. That goes down smooth, now, don't it?"
 
"Guess so," I said, turning back to my dinner.
 
"What a night," the guy said, to no one in particular. I wasn't really interested. I only came to the pub to kill time between work and Marie getting home from her girls' night.
 
“I tell you, pal, after what I been through tonight, I don’t think I’ll bother staying sober anymore.”
 
“I’m not your pal,” I mumbled.
 
“We’re all friends, here.  And after I tell you my story, we’ll be friends for life.”
 
“I don’t need any more friends.”
 
“I gotta tell my story, pal.  I gotta get this off my chest.  I don’t tell someone, I’m gonna, well, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
 
“I’m not really interested.”
 
“You’ve got to listen.  Look.  I’ll talk.  Listen or don’t, but I’ve got to get this off my chest.”
 
I said nothing.  Clearly, no matter what I said, this guy was going to talk.
 
“The world is ending.”  He started. I rolled  my eyes.  Great.  So he was one of those doomsday guys.
 
“So I hear.   December 21, 2012.  The Mayan Calendar.”
 
“No.  I mean now.  As we speak.  There’s something going on out there.  People are changing. I started noticing it at work.  Then with my wife when I got home.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“I got to work today, I’m an accountant.  I know, exciting job.  Anyway, I got to work today, and the person who usually greets me was there.  I mean, she was there, but it wasn’t her.”
 
“What is that supposed to mean?”
 
“It looked like her, and it sounded like her, but it wasn’t her.”
 
“Then who was she?” I couldn’t believe I was getting involved in this.
 
“It wasn’t a she. It was an it.”
 
“An… It?”
 
“Not It.  It.”
 
“Oh. Well, excuse me.”
 
“Anyway, I  thought maybe that was just one, but when I got up to my office, there were more.”
 
“More?”
 
“More.”
 
“More what?”
 
“More of them, of course.”
 
“Who are they?” I asked.
 
“I don’t know.  I have theories, but I can’t be sure.”
 
“What do you think they are.”
 
“Like I said, I can’t be sure, but I have theories.  I won’t say what I think until I’m sure.”
 
“How will you know?”
 
“I have some.”
 
“Some?  What do  you mean some?” I asked.  Now I was hooked. Good gracious.  What on earth what I doing?
 
“I always loved biology in school.  I would have been a scientist, but I was rubbish at the Maths I needed.  I know.  Ironic – bad at Maths but an accountant. I did very well in Business Maths, but I was rubbish at Trig and Calculus.”
 
“And that has what to do with this story?” I asked.
 
“Well, you see, I had to do what I did.”
 
“What do you mean?”  I was starting to regret engaging this guy in a conversation.  Or rather, allowing myself to be engaged in his crazy talk.
 
“Well, I have to find out what’s causing it.  So I needed something to test.”
 
“Wait.  I don’t think I like where this is going.  I don’t think I want to hear the end of your story.”
 
“You need to. I have to tell someone this.”  I sighed. 
 
“Mike, another beer,” I groaned.  “Please.”
 
“So, I had to find out what was happening.  Why were they changing?  What was changing them.  So, I took a couple.”
 
“You… took a couple?”
 
“I got rid of the rest, but I took a couple with me.  I subdued them, and that was hard.  They bleed a lot.”
 
“They… bleed a lot?”
 
“Like stuck pigs.  I couldn’t believe how much blood there was.  But I couldn’t take them all with me.”
 
“Wha…?  Okay, buddy.  I’ve heard enough.”
 
“NO! You haven’t!! I have to get this all out.  So, I first noticed that they don’t move the same way.  More fluid.  Less… clumsy.  Then, I noticed their eyes.”
 
“Their eyes?”
 
“Yes. Their eyes.  Their eyes are clear.  No clouds.  It’s like they’re seeing the world for the first time, yet they’re not all that impressed by it. They’re almost bored.”
 
“Bored?”
 
“Yeah. Like they’ve seen it all before.”
 
“Like, maybe, every day?”
 
“Yes.  Well, no. Not exactly.  So, I just watched for a while.  Pretended I was going about my day.  But really, I was watching them.  They acted like the people I worked with every day for the past fifteen years. But different.  They moved differently and talked differently.  They looked at me when they passed my office.  They looked hungry.”
 
“Hungry?  Was this near noon, perhaps?”
 
“You don’t believe me.”  He stated.
 
“Well, you’re not making a lot of sense.  Pretty much all I’ve heard is that you had a pretty typical day.”
 
“Just let me finish.  I watched them.  I was going to talk to my boss, but he was one of them.  I realized, I was going to have to handle this on my own. I knew I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.  So, I started with my boss.  He was pretty easy.  Went down fast.  I got rid of any of the ones who changed.  Anyone who hadn’t, I locked in the conference room.  For their own safety, of course.”
 
“Of course,” I agreed.
 
“A couple of the women were far more vicious than the men.  They had more fight in them.  Once I’d taken care of the office, I took a few of them and put them in my car and brought them home.  I wanted to show my wife what was happening.  But when I walked in the door I found out that she, and our sixteen year old son, had both changed.  I had to take care of them, too.”
 
“What do you mean by take care of them?” I was afraid of the answer.
 
“I took care of them.  Made sure they couldn’t change anyone else.  Because they can do it, you know.”
 
“Can they?”
 
“They can.  You gotta watch for it.  You can’t miss it, when they’ve changed.  They’re themselves, but not.  You’ll see. Well, it’s been real.  I’m going to go.  After all, I have work to do.”
 
“Should you be driving in your condition?”
 
“I didn’t drive.  I live right ‘round the corner.  Walked here, din’t I?”  He was slurring his words at this point.  I was glad to hear he was walking home.  But I wondered if we shouldn’t be following him.  Or calling the constables.  “Watch for it, mate.”
 
“Right,” I tipped my glass at him as he staggered out the door.
 
“You believe that shit?” Mike asked me, clearing the guy’s plate, cutlery and empty pint glass. 
 
“Naw.  But I’m a little worried that maybe there’s something that’s gone down in the city?” I glanced up at the TV above the bar.  “Turn that up, Mike.”
 
“In late breaking news, London Police responded to a distress call at an office complex on Charing Cross Road.  Upon arrival, Police found several office workers locked in the company’s conference room and a scene of horror as they searched the rest of the office.  Police are looking for this man, who the surviving office workers say locked them in the conference room before beginning  his rampage through the office.” They posted a picture clearly taken from a security pass.
 
It was the guy who just moments ago had been sitting beside me.
 
“Shit! Mike! That’s the guy.  The guy who was just here.  You ever seen him before? Know where he lives?”
 
“He said he lived right around the corner.  Nowhere around here anyone could live besides Highland Acres.”
 
“You gotta call the constables, Mike.”
 
“I’m on it.  Look, you go home.  I’ll let the constables know you were here.  They can call you, right?”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
 
“I’m sure. Not like you or I did anything.  I’ll give them your number.  You okay with that?”
 
“Yeah.  Marie should be home by now.  She works on Charing Cross Road.  She might have seen or heard something about this. I’m sure she’s worried.”
 
“I’ll be in touch.  Or the constables will be.  See you next Thursday?”
 
“You bet.  Take care, Mike.”
 
“You too.  Crazy fucks out there, huh?”
 
“Craziest.”
 
I drove home calling Marie’s mobile phone and our house phone.  There was no answer at either.  I was worried.  It wasn’t that late, but late enough.  Marie usually got home around ten, and it was eleven thirty.  She’d often be in bed by now.  I tried the house phone again, thinking maybe she’d been sleeping and the phone had roused her, but not in enough time for her to answer before the answering machine got it.
 
I pulled into the drive and saw Marie’s car in the drive.  If she was home, why wasn’t she answering the phone?  I unlocked the door and saw her sitting on the chesterfield, with the television on.  She was watching some reality show we’d both agreed was banal.
 
“Good evening Aaron.  I’ve missed you. How was your day?”
 
That wasn’t Marie…