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Watchers By Guy Belleranti
Is Dr. Manggold right? Tyrone asked himself. Are the Watchers just a product of my imagination? He flung glances over both his shoulders, and picked up his pace along the pedestrian clogged sidewalk. Dr. Manggold thought they were, and had even prescribed medication. But the pills hadn't helped. Oh sure, Tyrone thought, I don't always take them, but that's not my fault. I don't like the way they make me feel. And anyway, they aren't gonna help. They're not gonna help cause I'm not sick. The Watcher's are real. I know they are. I've seen them. Tyrone cast another look around. People everywhere, but no Watchers. But there would be. They were clever, far smarter then any human. Yeah, others might not give them a second glance, might think they were just regular people, but he knew different. He knew what they looked like. He'd seen their glowing eyes watching him, and would recognize their smiles - smiles that displayed unnaturally white teeth. Yeah, he just had to warn others of their existence before it was too late. The first person he'd told was Irene. But she'd only laughed at him, laughed and continued to laugh when he tried to impress upon her the seriousness of the situation. "Mankind - and womankind - is in danger, Irene," he'd insisted. But she wouldn't listen, wouldn't believe, and soon wouldn't even laugh. And then one day he came home to find her leaving. "You need help, Tyrone, but I'm not the one who can provide it." Help? Tyrone scowled, and walked a little faster. Dr. Manggold had prescribed those pills, but what good had they done? Tyrone stomped his feet impatiently as he waited among a throng at a busy intersection. Three blocks to Dr. Manggold's and still no Watchers. Was it possible he'd evaded them today? "Change, light, change," he implored loudly. "Change before the Watchers find me." He noticed a woman staring at him and whirled on her. "Who can I trust? Do you know? Do you?" The woman's mouth fell open, and she shook her head, backing away. "Someone's gotta know," Tyrone insisted. He looked
around for someone else, but didn't see a friendly face among the crowd. People scattered, giving him a wide berth. "Fools!" Tyrone shouted. "You're all fools! Even Dr. Manggold!" The light changed and Tyrone rushed across the intersection, his mind a jumble, thoughts of last night returning. The worst -- that's what the night had been. He'd turned on the television, wanting to escape and they'd been there -- smiling right out of the box at him. He'd turned the set off quickly, but it hadn't helped. They had remained in his dreams, eyes burning bright, and lips upturned in white smiles, the most perfect alien life form one could imagine. A large car slid up along the curb, and Tyrone saw the driver and passenger through the vehicle's open window. Both were smiling and-- Watchers! He shrieked, and broke into run. Two blocks to Dr. Manggold's office. One and one half blocks. One. Another red "Don't Walk" light blocked Tyrone's path, and he looked to his left into the window of a small café. Four sat at a table right on the other side of the glass. Four with glowing eyes above wide smiles. Tyrone uttered a cry and tore into the road, oblivious of the squealing brakes and blaring horns. Doctor Manggold's. End of the block. Seventh floor, Suite 718, Whitcomb Building. "I dare you to follow me to Dr. Manggold's," Tyrone shouted as he ran. He sprinted at full speed, grabbed at the heavy glass door, pulling it open and practically falling into the building. "Dr. Manggold. Dr. Manggold!" And miraculously Doctor Manggold was there, standing by a bank of elevators. "Tyrone? What--" "They're everywhere. In my television, in the cars, in the café...." The doctor strode toward him, his glance stern. "Have you forgotten to take your medicine again, Tyrone?" "No, I--" "There's no one you have to fear, Tyrone. But you must take your medicine. You--" Dr. Manggold broke off, looking beyond Tyrone, his eyes widening. Tyrone spun around. They were there, a half dozen at least, smiling and bright-eyed, advancing. Tyrone tried to duck, but was too slow, and he felt a hot wave course through his body as they touched him. "Tyrone...." Dr. Manggold began. He edged to one side, the Watcher's now moving in upon him. "Tyrone...." Dr Manggold repeated. "I'm sorry, Dr. Manggold. I didn't think they--" A sudden spasm swept through Tyrone's body, and he blinked uncontrollably. Then his vision cleared and he saw Dr. Manggold staring at him in horror. "My God!" Doctor Manggold cried. He turned and rushed out the street door, with the Watcher's right behind. Tyrone hesitated, then followed. And as he moved along the sidewalk he caught a sudden look at himself in the reflective surface of building's tinted window, a reflection that revealed smiling lips, gleaming teeth, and glowing eyes.
About the Author Guy Belleranti creates fiction, poetry and puzzles from the hell heat of southern Arizona. His work has appeared in many publications including The Eternal Night, AlienSkin, Futures Mysterious Anthology, Orchard Press Mysteries and Nocturnal Ooze. His homepage on the web is: http://www.authorsden.com/guybelleranti
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