The Scavenger

I first saw the Scavenger in late autumn when the leaves were nearly gone. I was riding home on the bus one night after catching a movie with some acquaintances. As the bus grew empty, I became aware of someone sitting behind me. He was nondescript, well-dressed, thin and tall. Yet there was something chilling about the way he made notes in a slim black notebook he kept taking in and out of his coat pocket.

“Hello,” he said.

I jumped. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he said with a slow cavernous grin. “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded uneasily.

He stretched his long arms and legs into the aisle between us. I shrank back toward the cold window. He relished my discomfort and leaned toward me. “How often in your life do you get a return on investment?”

I must have looked lost, because he looked annoyed. “The time you spend, the people you see, and the places you go—should be worth something to you,” he said evenly.

I nodded. I’d just watched a movie I knew I wouldn't like; just to spend time with forgettable people. He raised his notebook and waved it slightly. “I can make it easier for you to get what you deserve,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, but the bus had reached my stop. Propelled by a growing sense of dread, I stumbled toward the door, looking back to ensure he wasn’t following me.

“You’ll see,” he said as I stepped out. The doors closed behind me with a whoosh and the bus sped away.

I woke the next morning to a text message, “Hey bro, we still on for tonight?” Ugh, I thought. This guy keeps asking me to get drinks with him because he needs a wingman. Before I had a second thought, I’d replied, “Nah, something came up. Maybe next time.”

My day at the office flew by as I contemplated the perverse pleasure I felt at turning him down. Now I had the whole evening to myself. I decided on laundry and reruns. As I dumped a basket of clean dry clothes onto my couch, a crumpled $20 bill landed between some socks. I never carried cash, so where did this come from? After searching the rest of the pile, I found a total of $46. I put the cash in my wallet and forgot about it.

Days later, some guys from work asked me to join them for lunch at a nearby coffee shop. I was on a tight deadline and declined. That month, checking my credit card statement online, I saw a mysterious credit on my account for $18.63. I searched the transaction history to see if the amount matched anything else I spent. I scrolled through several months of statements before I saw it: numerous charges from that coffee shop when I always used to eat there. My order was always the same, and always cost $18.63.

By then I should have felt uneasy, but the cash was too enticing. I told myself I was only being more selective with how I spent my time. However, all the money I’d found or received was quickly adding up to hundreds of dollars. It was like a game. The thrill of discovering new ways to play became my addiction. Like any game, it had rules. For example, early on, I invited a couple friends to watch the game at a sports bar and bailed on them at the last minute. To my great irritation, I got hit with “bank fees” amounting to the cost of a night out not just for me, but the other guys as well! In order to profit, I had to be invited.

Furthermore, sometimes the payoff was far greater than I’d expect. One day, I found a scratch-off lottery ticket on my doormat worth $2,000. I couldn’t recall what I’d done to deserve that – until a week later when I realized I’d forgotten to call my mom on her birthday. It filled my mind with possibilities. How much could I get for Thanksgiving if I faked having the flu? All those office parties and useless gift games could be exchanged for cash and hours of video games at home.

I made bank on the holidays. Making excuses for turning down all the parties got easier every time. Turning down family gatherings was harder, but knowing I was that close to the biggest payout of my life made it doable. When I told my sister I couldn’t make my nephew’s recital, she complained they never saw me anymore. I do regret laughing at her –and not only because I wasn’t invited to the celebration afterward.

By mid-March, it was getting harder to get my rewards. As it turns out, the more you bail on people, the less they want you in their lives. If I wanted more opportunities, I’d have to “re-prime the pump.” Maybe a happy hour or two, call up an old friend to get back on their radars.

I was sitting in the corner at a company happy hour when I saw Karla out of the corner of my eye. Karla: second floor, first cubicle on the left, best hair in all of Accounting. We’d hit it off once or twice shortly before all of this started. Her attention was occupied by a tall, thin well-dressed man. No doubt, her date. As I watched them, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen him before. Something about the way he stretched out his gangly limbs to embrace the space around him, or his laugh, which was too big for the room, and a touch too cold. Then I saw a slim black notebook sticking out of his coat pocket. It was him – the man from the bus.

I froze. Had he been bribing me to relinquish the space I occupied in people’s lives? Was he feeding on my decaying social life? At that moment, he turned to me from across the room and smiled. I felt I was looking into the eyes of a vampire who was paying installments on my soul. I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my coat, and rushed out of the restaurant. No one noticed.

I was becoming a ghost. I went days without a single look or word from anyone. My role at work had always been independent, but my coworkers used to visit my cubicle from time to time. Now, they walked by as if I didn’t exist. I made feeble attempts to catch their attention but had little success. What’s more, I saw him everywhere – at work, on the street, and in the shops and restaurants I’d pass. The more invisible I was, the more visible he became. I called him the Scavenger, and as I obsessed about him, I became convinced the notebook was the source of his power over my life.

I needed to get the book from him. He seemed attracted to social events, places I should have been. I decided to lure him out into the open with one last date. But those were so hard to come by these days. Who would invite me anywhere now? Was there even anyone left who could still see me?

I searched through my phone. I don’t know how I came to Karla, or why I even had her number. She barely knew me, though at this point, that was probably a good thing. The phone rang three times before going to voicemail. I hung up and dropped the phone on the bed. Head in hands, I sobbed. Was I lost?

The phone slid over to my leg and I realized it was vibrating. I fumbled with the screen desperately.

“H-h-hello?” I stuttered.

“Hey. Thomas, right? What’s up?”

“I-uh… it’s been awhile. How’s it been?” I hoped she wouldn’t hear my voice trembling.

“Oh…good,” she said, sounding unsure.

“Um…. you like folk music, right?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remember that,” she said.

“Well, there’s a folk festival downtown this weekend and you might like to go. It’s ok if you say no and you probably already have plans, but please, just-”

“Thomas – stop. I’m already planning to go,” she said.

“Can I…?” I held my breath.

“Sunday at 10?” she asked, slightly amused.

“S-s-sure. Thank you.”

---

I arrived early on Sunday morning and surveyed the crowd mingling by the food trucks and artisan booths. I saw Karla in a red jacket on the other side of the field near the stage and I started toward her. But halfway across the field, I glimpsed the Scavenger headed in the opposite direction. As always, the notebook stuck out of his coat pocket. I turned away from Karla and started to follow him. I dropped down behind a trashcan as he stopped in front of a booth selling homemade jewelry and incense. As the seller made her pitch, I reached out for the cursed book. My fingers had just brushed the book’s spine when he abruptly turned toward me.

This was it, now or never. Heart racing, I grabbed the book and ran. In the distance I could hear a clamor and a piercing shriek, “Thief!!” I sprinted across the field, weaving and ducking through the crowd. I didn’t have a plan except to run. I looked back just once, and my blood ran cold. He had changed – his long arms and legs had multiplied and he had the face of a ravenous spider.

I ran across the street toward the riverbank, where crowds were gathered around fire pits. It occurred to me I could throw the book into one. I was almost there when my left foot collided with a tree root. I fell face-first on the sidewalk. The book slipped out of my hands and skidded a few feet. As it fell open, my life flashed before my eyes from its pages. I saw myself as a child, ignoring my sister’s pleas to let her play with me. I saw myself at countless parties on my phone the whole time. I saw every conversation where I only pretended to listen. Every missed opportunity to connect was a transaction. Then I saw the rewards I’d gotten lately. The total reached $20,000. Funny how small that amount seemed now.

Pain shot up my leg and a bony hand closed on it with a vice grip. “Fool!” the Scavenger whispered fiercely. “You let yourself go for a pittance! Do you even think there’s anything left to save?”

Desperate, I fought back like a trapped fly. He was stronger, but his limbs were clumsy and uncoordinated. Even so, I could tell I was losing this fight. I made a desperate grab for the book lying on the sidewalk and felt my shoulder twist out of socket. Fighting the pain, my fingers closed around the book and I threw it as hard as I could toward the fire pit.

He let out a terrified shriek and rushed toward the book, lying a few feet from the pit. I dragged myself after him. He was bent over the book when I collided with him. He rolled into the fire and burst into flames like fine tissue paper. With a final scream, he disappeared, leaving a trail of black smoke.

I collapsed on the ground beside the book and put it in my pocket. Then I got up and turned toward the stage, looking for the spot where I’d last seen Karla. I saw the edge of her red jacket seated on the ground. I half-ran, half limped to where she sat. Her back was turned as I reached her. “Karla!” I gasped.

For a moment, time stood still.

Then, she turned and smiled at me. “Thomas, you made it! You look like hell.”

Dumbly, I nodded and pulled out the notebook, as if to try to explain. But as I did, it turned to ashes in my hands and blew away in the wind.