A corpse. As in a dead person. There was a dead person in my closet!
I felt my throat constrict. It was hard to breathe for a few seconds. Various thoughts swirled in my head. Why is there a corpse in my closet? Who put it there? Was it me? The 'me' in this world? Did 'I' kill this dude? It was driving me crazy!
Urgently and silently, and almost mindlessly, I closed the closet back.
I was still trying to be rational despite the situation I was in. Though I wouldn't say the same to my chest that kept banging against my rib cage, threatening to explode.
And the doorbell rang once again.
I didn't wanna open it. I didn't wanna confront the man. But I feared he would report me to the police like he threatened me, so hesitantly, and with a butcher's knife in my left hand, I let him in.
And before you bombard me why I let a stranger in my house, in my defense, if he were to say something about the corpse, I would rather him say it inside where no one would hear him.
I was already in a weird and dire enough situation. I wasn't gonna dig any more holes for myself though I'm sure letting him in was no different from digging a hole deep enough to bury myself.
He sat on the sofa with his one leg crossed over the other. Continued to puff some more smoke from his cigar. And then he turned to me and said, "coffee."
"And please put that thing down," he added. Obviously referring to the butcher's knife.
"Huh?"
"Make us some coffee and sit. We're in for some talk."
"I… Okay. I—I'll be back in a minute."
I didn't waste my time dilly-dallying in front of him. Last thing I wanted was to annoy him.
I headed to the kitchen pronto. And if anything, even if I wasn't in my own world anymore, I was grateful things didn't really change much.
Like, say, the cupboard where I put all my mugs and packs of instant coffee. And the 'me' in this world also has the habit of always having hot water ready in his thermos.
In less than three minutes, I finished making the coffee. One for me and one for the man waiting in the living room.
I dragged the stool from the kitchen to sit across from him at two-meter distance. I dare not sit beside him.
"Please take your time," I told him. And I mean it.
And he DID take his time. He didn't speak a word until he reached the butt of his cigar. Took his sweet time drinking the coffee. And at that moment, I honestly wished he spoke even just a tiny bit. The wait was driving me mad!
The coffee had already gone cold in my hands but I hadn't taken a single sip.
"Dandie Gunnerman," he finally spoke. And almost in a reflex, I fixed my posture. I was all ears. "You are a weird person." He told me. Not what I expected him to say exactly.
I let out a nervous laugh. "Haha. Whatever you mean by that, sir."
But he ignored what I said. Instead, he cleared his throat and took something from his inner breast pocket. I became alert. Is it a gun?
It wasn't. It was a thick A5 notebook, leather bound with multicolored sticky notes peeping out the sides. There was also a letter on top of it.
"You are a weird person, Dandie Gunnerman." He told me again. "It was the first. To deliver a package at a specific date and time. Why would a person send a package to himself? And why would said person pay me big just to deliver a beat up notebook and a piece of paper? And why would said person tell me to threaten him a specific way had he denied my doorbells the second time?"
He gulped the last of his coffee and put the mug down to the coffee table beside the remote which reminded me of the one I destroyed. They looked identical. Same color, same looks, but different brands.
"Asking me to say some very specific words at a very specific time. 3:33 in the morning, 3rd day of March. You are a weird person, Dandie Gunnerman."
He must really find me weird if he told me that three times in a row, don't you think? But something about what he said caught my attention even more. 'I' had him deliver a package for me? For me? It was as if the other me had been planning to switching place with me for a very long time.
He handed me the A5 notebook and the letter.
"Lowlander Street at exactly one tomorrow. Don't be late." And he stood up, patted his trench coat, and left. "Old Klein awaits your arrival."
I can't remember exactly how long I stayed there. I heard the door close, the engine coming to life as it drifted away. I was in so much shock. Everything was happening way too fast and when I finally had the time to breathe, I felt the world around me collapse all at once.
What will happen to me from now on? I wanna go back but how exactly? What about that thing in my closet? Should I leave it there to rot and wait till my neighbors complain about the smell?
These were only a few of the tens and tens of questions I had in my head at that moment.
I considered calling the police but if "I" were indeed the one who did it, then how was that any different from picking a rock and hitting my own head with it? So I didn't.
I inspected the letter. It was addressed to me. I ripped the envelope and took it out. It was kinda long. The content were the following:
"Hello, other Dandie. If you are reading this then the switch must've been a success. Look. I'm sorry for suddenly pulling you into this but there was no way to communicate to you and I really need your help.
"You see, all the Dandies in all the different planes are about to go extinct. It was because of that one Dandie who made a deal with a middlefolk to save his own ass and now the middlefolks are trying to capture us all as per the agreement. And I know it sounds crazy but you have no choice but to please believe me for now. Look. We've switched, haven't we? This shit was supposed to be impossible going by logic but it happened anyway.
"Middlefolks are these weird black spots. They can transform into humans and the one you saw in your plane was still a newborn. You were lucky. They could grow into the size of a town. First, they eat the things that belonged to you until they grow big enough to swallow you whole.
"And the body in my closet? That ain't human. That's a middlefolk who tried to kidnap me on the time we were about to switch so I killed it. I didn't have time to dispose it so please just give it to Betty if all else fails.
"Lastly, I gave you my journal. It contains my day-to-day life and I am hoping you use it well. And I have to tell you something. In that plane, you aren't Dandan. You are Mr. D.
"Good luck, other Dandie."