Case File #137: The Mimic
Tales from the Bureau
The ground beside the freeway had been breathing for almost an hour before anything emerged.
It started as a faint rhythm in the red Alabama clay — a slow expansion and contraction, barely visible in the strange green light of the oversized moon. Cars rushed past on the I-565 interchange, their headlights sweeping across the embankment without stopping. No one looked at the shoulder of the road. No one ever did.
Three long, oily stalks rose from the grass. They waved tentatively, each one moving independently, tasting the humid air. There was no wind.
The soil bulged. Something beneath it pressed upward, tested the strength of the packed earth, and retreated. Pressed again. The clay split along a seam and three leathery limbs emerged — thin, multi-jointed, bending at angles that suggested too many elbows. They braced against the ground. Tensed. Pushed.
More followed. A dozen, then two dozen, erupting from the dirt one after another like the legs of something vast turning itself inside out. Each stalk moved on its own agenda, groping and flexing without coordination, a tangle of independent intentions. The soil broke apart and the body came through — a small, dense thing, dark and slick as a wet plum, suspended in a chaos of reaching limbs.
It lay in the grass, twitching.
The limbs fought each other. Several pulled left while others pulled right. Two tried to lift the body while three pushed it flat. For a long time the thing simply writhed, a knot of confused impulses slowly — very slowly — learning to agree.
A hundred yards away, near the concrete footings of the overpass, the earth had opened again.
Second was faster.
It pulled itself free and hurried to the hole in the chain-link fence where the wire met the concrete. Five crooked limbs probed the gap, hooked the far side, and hauled the rest of it through. It vanished onto the roadway above.
First watched it go.
Its limbs had stopped fighting it. They’d found a pattern. It wasn’t graceful or coordinated, but it was functional. The body rose on a thicket of stalks, swaying badly. It took a step.
And fell.
It rose. Fell. Rose.
It realized the problem. There were too many contact points. The limbs drew inward, bundling together, merging their efforts. It found that fewer legs meant more stability. The body climbed higher. The remaining limbs thickened and pressed together.
Two legs. Two arms. A vertical spine.
Its body swayed as it moved into the tree line and through the dark. Its silhouette would seem human from a distance. Details wrong perhaps — arms too long, head canted at a bad angle, torso rippling and moving — but that was okay.
Along its sides, small bumps pushed outward. Some opened into dark wet circles that might have been mouths. Others rose on thin stalks, glistening, rotating slowly. Sensing.
It moved toward the lights beyond the trees.
Redneck Riviera’s neon sign buzzed softly in the wet heat. The “I” and “A” blinked once, went dark, then came back and held. The door opened and three men stumbled out; loud, laughing, holding each other upright.
Second was there. Watching them.
It had elongated and flattened itself against the side of the building until it was nearly invisible. Eyes on stalks stretched thin to track the men’s movement.
First watched from the trees.
It saw the men cross the parking lot. It saw Second’s shape peel off the wall behind them with a fluid, serpentine motion, staying low, staying dark, compressing into the gaps between the parked cars. It flowed forward like oil following a crack in the floor.
“Shut the f’up Mike”, the first man was saying. “I see that look.” He fumbled through his pockets and pulled his keys out with a flourish pointing them accusatively at Mike. “I’m. fine. to. drive.” he said, punching the air to accentuate each word. “Right Lou?”, he laughed and clapped the third man’s back. Lou rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Sure”, he agreed.
Mike wasn’t listening. He’d seen something. “What the hell was that?”
The shape behind them froze. Flattened. Became the shadow of a truck.
“What?”
“Thought I saw…” Mike shook his head. “Nothing.”
They walked on. The shape followed.
They stopped at the truck. “Coming Mike?”
“Nah, I’ll walk.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He heard the other two laughing, their voices muted as the doors slammed. The truck roared to life, kicked gravel as red tail lights swept the lot and then it was silent.
They were gone.
His boots crunched on the gravel as he pushed his hands deeper in his pockets and continued alone along the shoulder of the road toward home.
The shape followed.
First observed from the tree line. It’d slithered up into trees so it could watch from the taller branches. Second had shifted. It was no longer hiding. Mike felt it. Someone was there. Someone was watching him. He stopped. Turned.
A hulking shadow stood about twenty feet behind him, silhouetted in green moonlight.
“Hello?” Mike called out.
His head was a bit fuzzy and his eyes couldn’t quite focus on what he was seeing. It was… someone, but they weren’t quite right. There was something about the outline that he couldn’t quite process. The details of its form kept shifting and moving making him blink his eyes furiously trying to get them clear. He shook his head and squinted.
“Tha’ fuck’s there?”, he said. He was starting to get pissed.
It hadn’t moved. The green light shone around it and through it. Through it? It hadn’t moved, but it was moving.
“Hello?”, he repeated, taking a step back.
The shape moved forward a step and suddenly Mike could see it. He gasped.
What Mike had mistaken for a head was a lump of flesh puckered upward into a tumor-like parody of something that suggested human. It perched on a small, fleshy body sitting atop a mass of limbs that pushed and pressed and came together to give the appearance of something standing. Its limbs writhed and pulsed within its silhouette. Mouths formed and receded and eyes pushed forward on stalks to watch the man as he stumbled backward.
A wet, layered attempt at language emerged.
“Hello,” it answered.
CASE FILE #137
Observation Log — Initial Emergence
Two entities observed.
Primary subject demonstrates rapid locomotion adaptation through limb consolidation.
Secondary subject exhibits accelerated learning curve and early predatory selection behavior.
Notable: Subject response to human curiosity appears catalytic.
Recommendation: Continue passive observation.
— No intervention required.
End of Installment One — The Mimic
Next: The Door
Something learns how to enter.
Unbelievably creepy!
Eerie, and suspenseful!!! Sent chills up my spine! What happened to Mike?