Just Another Other

Don’t cough, don’t cough, don’t cough. DON’T.

My chest tightened, and my esophagus burned with intensity as I attempted to stifle the convulsions rippling through my body. Slowly, the urge to cough lessened and after what felt like forever, I was able to relax and take a deep, silent breath.

I kept my head completely still and using only my eyes, I glanced around the dim room, checking to see if any of them had noticed my respiratory episode. Mercifully, everyone’s heads were still turned towards the whiteboard.

Except for Mr. Shanson, who’d locked his beady eyes right on me. At least, it looked like Mr. Shanson.

Now he was just “teacher.” Just another Other.

“Student...you’ve been….quiet today....why don’t you...take a turn?”

My heart skipped a beat, and I resisted the urge to widen my eyes. Was this thing serious? Everyone is silent.

I decided the best thing to do was to just go with it. Sometimes these things act out of the “norm” and you just have to go with it.

I stared at the whiteboard for a moment, reading the word Mr. Shanson was pointing to. I wanted to smirk. These things had a knack for irony, at least.

“My pleasure...Teacher...A ‘façade’ is an outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality” I said, years of practice allowing me to effortlessly mimic their halting speech.

Mr. Shanson stared at me for a moment, and then curled the edges of his lips in a grotesque attempt to form what they consider to be smiles.

“Very...good.”

The rest of class was uneventful, but the interaction had left a bad taste in my mouth. I knew I was safe at this point, and if I’d been figured out or even suspected, I’d already have been taken. Still, the end of class couldn't come fast enough.

When class was over and everyone rose, I brushed aside the usual bit of nerves that always accompanied this part. Standing with them was one of the few things I’d never mastered, and I was always a half second behind.

There was no bell or dismissal to signify the end of the hour. Instead, all of the Others rose in unison and that's how I knew it was time to leave. It could sneak up on me if I wasn’t paying attention, and if I didn’t rise with the rest of the students it would be a dead giveaway.

In an orderly line, my classmates and I entered the hall. This is when it was creepiest, when there were hundreds of them all around me. Despite the numbers, it was completely silent save for the rhythmic sound of footsteps against the marble floors.

All I had to do was make it outside, walk the half-mile back to my house, and I could finally relax for the day.

“Oh god no! Please no! Nonononono!” A terrified voice shrieked from the other end of the hall.

A pit formed in my stomach. All the Others in the building came to a quick stop and flattened themselves against the walls, myself included. It’d been almost a year since the last one but I’d seen this before, and I knew what to do.

I resisted the urge to look at the pleading cries as they drew closer. To my dismay, I realized that I recognized the voice. It belonged to Eric Fields.

We’d never been close, but I’d been in his class a couple times in Elementary school, back before. I sat near him in my fourth hour, and I’d never would have guessed he’d still been, well, him.

But I guess that was the point of assimilating. No one was supposed to guess.

I wondered how he’d been caught. Maybe he blinked too many times, or maybe he’d dozed off in class. Maybe, like me, he’d had a cough except he couldn’t hold his in. The idea that I’d been so close to being in his shoes sent chills down my spine.

Eric’s cries turned from scared and pleading to angry and defiant, and he began shouting threats and curses at his captors.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you pathetic excuses for humans! Let me go!”

Finally, he was dragged in front of me by three teachers. He was flailing wildly, but their terrifying strength held him locked firmly in their grips. I meant to keep my eyes down as all the Others would be doing, but as Eric was dragged past me I couldn’t help but glance up. His terrified eyes met mine and for the briefest instant, he went completely silent.

I realized my mistake: One of the Others would never look, and by doing so I’d given myself away.

With that one action, he knew. At a minimum, he suspected.

I feared he might start begging me for help, but instead all he did was give an almost imperceptible nod. In that simple gesture I saw a world of emotion, and I knew he wouldn’t give me away.

Despite Eric’s outward anger towards his captors, I could see the truth. He knew what was coming, and he was beyond scared.

He was still looking at me, silently begging for confirmation. Any sort of show of solidarity, of humanity. I inwardly grimaced, knowing the dangers that the smallest mistake can bring. Still, if these were Eric’s last moments, I would provide him the small comfort of knowing he wasn’t the last.

I nodded back, and I could see the relief flash across his face.

And then he was gone. They’d taken him out of my field of view and the volley of insults and threats resumed. The sound of his voice faded and eventually a door slammed shut and his voice was cut out completely. The sound of rhythmic walking resumed in the hall.

They’d taken him wherever the Others take us, and Eric Fields was no more. No one knows exactly what happens to the taken, or at least I’d never figured it out. I hope I never do, because that just means it's probably happening to me.

Tomorrow, there’d be something that looked like Eric. Something that had his voice and some of his basic memories, but it wouldn't be Eric. It would just be an Other.

On my walk home, I couldn’t help but tear up at what had happened to Eric. Crying was yet another giveaway, but luckily most of the Others were gazing up at the screens that sat atop erected posts all through my town. They paid me no mind as they watched whatever the screens displayed. Only the Others can make sense of the random images and colors that appear on every television in the world, twenty-four hours a day.

Usually the screens filled me with dread, but today I was happy for the distraction they caused. A few loose tears had started to run down my face, and the more I tried to stop the flow, the worse the problem became.

It was ridiculous to get upset over one person I’d barely known in passing, especially since I was much closer to many others who were gone now. I hadn’t cried when they’d taken my dad or my little brother. I hadn’t cried when the last of us had admitted defeat to ourselves and decided that assimilation was the only way to survive. I hadn’t cried when mom had to kill the Other version of my dad and brother that had shown up.

So why the hell was I crying over Eric?

As I turned onto my street, I slowly swiveled my head to make sure I was alone. Once satisfied, I quickly lifted my arm to wipe off the tears. I used every mental trick in my arsenal to stuff the image of Eric’s terrified face into a locked box.

It mostly worked.

I was distracted from thoughts of Eric when I saw an Other on my street, walking a dog down the same sidewalk I was on, right towards me. I say walking, but it was more like dragging. The poor dog was cowering as far away from the Other as the short leash would allow, and every step forward caused the animal to cry in fear.

Shit.

I’d learned my lesson to stay away from dogs. Sensing my normalcy, they’d always try to escape the Others and bolt towards me. Luckily, Others don’t seem to understand the significance of the interaction, but they do take notice of it and in this world, any attention is dangerous.

I wanted to cross the street and avoid the interaction entirely, but that would surely draw attention. My only choice was to walk forward.

“Hello...adolescent.” Said the Other as I approached. The scared dog perked up as I passed, and my heart quickened.

“Hello...adult.” I responded. The dog bolted towards me, looking for some sort of safe haven. The Other didn’t budge an inch as the dog ripped the collar taut. It let out a hacking cough as its neck pressed against the leash, and I felt a pang of sorrow for it.

“He likes...you.”

“Yes...goodbye.” I continued walking rhythmically towards my house. The feeling of being watched by the Other was overwhelming, and I swear I could feel its creepy eyes boring a hole into the back of my head. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not look back. In all likelihood, I was just being paranoid. I’d dealt with this before and Others always just brushed it off.

If I wasn’t being paranoid, then looking back would certainly doom me. I just had to keep walking, one foot after another.

I arrived at my home, thankful to return to its relative safety. I let out a desperate sigh and unlocked the door. Once I was inside, I could forget about Eric. It would all be fine and I could laugh and joke with my mom as we ignored everything going on outside the sanctity of our walls.

I opened the door and instantly, I was hit with a sense of danger. I don’t know how to explain it, but the feeling that something was wrong filled my mind and became the only thing I could focus on. I could hear the faucet running from the kitchen.

I reached into my pocket and took out my totem, placing it around my neck. It was just a cheap black chain, nothing special- that was the point. The Others only had the most major memories, and they’d never think to put on a meaningless chain necklace. Before we’d cut communication with other survivors, we’d always wear our totems when meeting. These days, my mom and I only wore our totems in the house, around each other.

Thinking of mom, it was odd that she wouldn’t come to the door after I got home. She was always waiting for me, eager to engage in real human interaction after a day of acting.

A fear began to seep through my bones, and adrenaline spiked through my body as I crept towards the kitchen. At the end of the hall, the floorboards creaked under my weight and I winced from the sound. The faucet stream cut off and I froze, holding my breath. For a moment, nothing happened.

“Hello...son?” Asked a halting, monotone voice from the kitchen.

I didn’t speak or move. Please, please no.

“Son?” The voice asked for the second time. I knew I wouldn’t survive a third time.

“Hello...mother.” I could barely get the words out.

“Hello.” The sound of the faucet resumed.

Without entering the kitchen, I spun around and walked slowly to the second floor. I opened the door to my mom’s room. I already knew, I knew that the thing in my kitchen wasn’t my mother, but I had to get proof. I had to see it with my own eyes.

And there it was, her totem, sitting on her nightstand. I picked up the plastic heart-shaped locket and clutched it in my fist.

I dropped to the floor and wept in total silence for some time.

And then I wept loudly. I didn’t care about the noise anymore, and I kept sobbing on the floor even as the sound of rhythmic footsteps approached.