Acquaintances, pt 1

They showed him the park. The grove was there, but it looked a lot less intimidating. It was just a few trees, nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of Harmon was just as Charlie remembered it. On their way to St Abraham Park, they'd passed the train station, almost got run over by a few trams when crossing the street, and then his heart had leapt when he saw the clock tower of the university. He was still looking longingly towards it across the park when he noticed that something was off. He looked around. The leaves were yellowing. It was autumn. Last time he had been here, it had been high summer. He remembered deciding to stay over the holiday to get better acquainted with the school grounds and preparing his courses.

"I've been gone for months." The other three avoided his gaze, even Julian, who had kept a watchful eye on him ever since they reached town. "You knew?"

"Man, I'm sorry. You probably been gone longer than that. How old are you?"

"31, why?"

"Rita?" She took a compact out of her pocket and handed it to Julian, who gave it to Charlie. Gertrude, back to her butterfly self, winced and turned away.

Frowning, Charlie opened the compact. "Wha- Fuck." Staring back at him from within the tiny mirror was some decrepit parody of himself, an old man with wrinkles criss-crossing his face. His hair was still black, but longer and unkempt. His nose and oddly hairless chin jutted out more than usual. His whole appearence was jagged and worn. He looked like a walking warzone. Charlie had become a completely different person. He didn't know who he was anymore, but one thing he knew for sure. This kind of change didn't happen in a few months.

"They'll wonder where I am."

"Who?"

"My colleagues, at the university, I have to go there and tell them I'm OK, that I'm alive, I've been missing for years, they probably think I'm dead! Oh shit. Mom."

"Charlie..."

"She calls me every week, she must be so worried!"

"Charlie, you can't go back."

"I have to find a phone. Do you guys have change? I'll pay you back."

"Listen to her, man!" Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was Julian. Gertrude was standing next to him.

"Charlie, they leave someone else. To take your place, you've been... exchanged. Like the bogeyman, you know how they tell you when you're a kid, where they would scare you and tell you the bogeyman would come and take you? It's true. It happens. That's pretty much what happened to all of us. And with each of us, they leave someone, something, behind. Something that looks just like you, talks just like you. So that no one misses you, no one will come looking."

"That's impossible."

"Charlie-"

"No, enough, fine! I'll go there myself, what time is it? Never mind, there's the tower. OK, if I hurry I can catch them between classes." He walked off, pushing every doubt and nagging question to the back of his mind, but they kept popping back up. Why hadn't anyone come for him? They must have, but how would they find him? Not even he knew where he'd been. And for how long would they keep searching? How long had it been? He looked at least 20 years older. His heart sank when he thought of the face in the mirror. All the time he had lost, all the things he could have accomplished, should have accomplished by now.

He stalked across the school grounds and past the gymnasium to the administrative building. He pulled open the front doors and was right on the doorstep when someone called his name.

"Charles Holcombe! Where do you think you're going, you rascal?"

It was a woman's voice he didn't recognize, and he couldn't place the source. The reception was milling with people, students queuing for exam results and teachers pushing past him to get to their next class. Someone else spoke, right next to his ear.

"What you got for me, Mary?"

One of the teachers turned away from the door and walked over to the receptionist's desk. He leaned over the counter to speak with a blonde girl. Mary. Charlie remembered her now. She had offered to show him around when he first got here. He looked at the man again, and his stomach turned. It was him. It was someone wearing his clothes, looking exactly like he had done when he moved to Harmon, as if no time had passed at all. He even spoke like him, in his voice. It was Charlie's job, Charlie's life. Charlie felt like he was in free-fall, he felt sick. He hurried out, afraid someone would see him, afraid someone would notice that his sword and gun were real.

Just as the doors closed behind him, he looked back. For some inconceivable reason, Charlie was compelled to look back. And the Charles Holcombe stared him straight in the eyes through the glass doors. Charlie saw a spark of recognition in its eyes. It knew.