The Number 7

Alicia Willard was excited. She finally found the job that was going to get her out of the food service industry for good. After eleven years of bouncing from one restaurant to another, hanging out in after hours bars when her shifts ended, and telling herself that she was going to get back to that psychology degree next semester, she finally decided to enroll in the massage therapy program at City College. Nine months later, she had her certification, and now here she was, on the number seven bus heading toward the Harbor District to start her new job with the Dagon Hydrotherapy Group.

She had worked at a couple of the fancy new restaurants that popped up during the “Harbor Renaissance” several years ago and was still employed at the Blue Marlin, but she wasn’t familiar with either Dagon Hydrotherapy (although that sounded vaguely familiar for some reason) or the Dunwich St bus stop, which Mr Whateley insisted she must not miss during her brief online interview. She figured it must be at the far end of the main strip of businesses that now lined East Harbor Boulevard, and that was still a couple of miles further up the road.

She looked around at the few other people scattered throughout the bus at 10:30am on a Thursday. There was Jackie up front driving, same as she had been doing for as long as Alicia had been riding the seven. In the seat directly behind her, blatantly ignoring the sign right above his head asking him to “Please Refrain From Talking to the Driver,” was Ed Heck, a retired English teacher who spent most of his time in that seat, keeping Jackie company whether she liked it or not. Alicia was pretty sure Mr Heck had a bit of a crush on Jackie (for good reason too; at 61 years old, she was aging quite gracefully), and she thought it was cute.

The rest of the bus was occupied by a shabbily dressed man in the back who seemed to be taking an extended nap, a kid in the middle listening to earbuds and wearing an old Grateful Dead shirt with bears playing hockey on it (he looked to be about the right age for skipping high school gym class), and a older lady near the front who had a small, friendly terrier mix with a pronounced underbite sitting in her lap.

The little pup was so delighted to see a new face when Alicia got on the bus that she had to stop and say hello to the little fellow and his owner before taking a seat. Alicia was terrible with people’s names, so the lady’s slipped her mind moments after she heard it, but she couldn’t possibly forget the name of the adorable little cuddle bug she just met. Gizmo.

After giving Gizmo some well-deserved attention, she settled into a seat across from her new friends where she was now going over the email she received from Mr Whateley after their online meeting. He opened the message by again stressing the importance of getting off at the Dunwich St bus stop as there would not be another opportunity to get off the bus. The body of the email was mostly tips for her first day (dress comfortably, be prepared to jump right into action), things she needed to bring to bring for payroll (id, social security card), and the names of the coworkers she would be meeting (Wilbur, Lavinia), but at the very end, before thanking her for choosing to work with the Dagon Hydrotherapy Group, Mr Whateley reminded her once again to make sure she got off at the Dunwich St bus stop because there would absolutely not be another opportunity to get off the bus. She found it strange that he felt that point was so important that he needed to mention it twice and italicize it the second time, but she figured that people must miss that stop, and consequently their appointments at Dagon Hydrotherapy, often enough to warrant multiple reminders. Still, why wouldn’t she just be able to get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way?

The bus cruised into the Harbor District and rolled up to the South Harbor bus stop, picking up a middle aged couple who were leaving the Lazy Egg after a late breakfast. Alicia looked up from her phone for a quick peek at the newcomers, and when she looked back down, she noticed a link at the bottom of the email that she could have sworn wasn’t there before the bus stopped.

The bus started moving again toward the next stop, North Harbor, as Alicia peered in closer at the blue text. It was mostly random letters and numbers, but here and there were characters she was unfamiliar with. As she tried to make them out, they began moving around the screen. More of the unfamiliar characters swam through the text of the email, and she started to become light headed.

She looked up to try to clear her head and saw the North Harbor bus stop pass by. They were approaching the Commerce St intersection, where the bus would make a left turn, then another left onto West Harbor Blvd, heading back toward her apartment. Dunwich St must be somewhere between, she thought, Almost there, I need to see what that link is. The thing was, she didn’t actually want to click on it. The thought of seeing those strange characters floating around her phone screen again terrified her for some reason, but the promise of a new, better job got the better of her and she opened the link.

A video chat opened up, and Mr Whateley’s face greeted her, only it wasn’t quite the face she saw last night. This face looked almost like a caricature of the man she saw in the interview. It seemed to change its shape slightly but constantly, as if it was a mask covering a liquid head underneath, and his eyes, set in deep sockets, were the eyes of a goat with strange, horizontal pupils. She felt instant revulsion and thought she would throw up until the Whateley-thing started to speak, unleashing a fear inside her that overrode every other instinct she had.

“Be sure to get off at Dunwich St. We’re terribly understaffed, and we have a lot of appointments today,” it said in a loud, buzzing voice that had a distinct bleating quality to it. “The bus stop is coming up.”

Alicia looked up to see if anyone else on the bus heard it, and was horrified to see that despite the fact that she could see the shapes of her fellow passengers, she didn’t believe they were actually there anymore. They all had a translucent quality to them. She could see the bus seats through them, although she didn’t think she was still on the bus in any real sense either anymore. She thought she could hear the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance, but she couldn’t be sure. Panic began to take over as she suddenly came to the realization that the bus hadn’t made the turn onto Commerce St but had continued straight. Where the fuck are we going?! she thought.

“We’re going to Dunwich St, so you can be employed in the service of Dagon,” replied the horrible voice of the Whateley-thing despite her not saying a word, and she realized the voice wasn’t coming from her phone, it was inside her head. “And Dagon is HUNGRY!”

She felt everything around her begin to change. The shapes of the seats on the bus warped, the aisle seemed to stretch on for a hundred feet with Mr Heck and Jackie barely visible in the distance, and the windows started bulging outward and contracting as if the bus were now a living thing, inhaling and exhaling. The air itself changed, becoming a tangible thing like invisible tentacles groping her, looking for a way inside both her mind and body. She felt them, warm and wet, coil around her ankles and wrists holding her, moving up her arms and legs. Feeling. Searching. She felt violated in a way she never thought possible. A little closer, but still far away, the sound of a small dog barking became clearer.

Alicia’s phone was still in her left hand. She was able to look down at it again and saw the Whateley-thing’s mask slough off his face revealing an abomination that was at least part human, but mostly goat with pulsating purple tumors oozing thick yellow pus. She tried to scream, but felt invisible tentacles crawl into her mouth stifling it. She felt their heat slide down her throat. The Whateley-thing laughed in that buzzing, bleating voice, and she felt herself being taken over by whatever was behind those tentacles.

“Next stop, Dunwich St. Last stop. End of the line,” it said cheerfully. “Everybody off.”

She felt herself stand up, unable to resist, and start to walk down the long aisle toward the exit, sure that whatever was waiting for her at the Dagon Hydrotherapy Group on Dunwich St would be far worse than any earthly death when she heard the dog barking again, this time much closer. She looked ahead and saw Gizmo standing defiant between Alicia and the exit.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT DOG DOING HERE!!!” the Whateley-thing screamed in anger. And in fear too, Alicia thought to herself. “MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” it bleated in that horrible buzzing voice. “GET THAT FUCKING DOG OUT OF HERE!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Alicia felt the tentacles retract a little from her body and mind and started to feel hope creep into her heart. Come on Gizmo! she thought, It’s scared of you! Please, Gizmo, save me!!!

Almost as if the small dog could hear her thoughts, he redoubled his efforts, running right up to Alicia’s feet, barking and growling for all he was worth, and it was working. The tentacles retreated, dissolving back into the air leaving her feeling as though her very essence had been cleansed. She was back in control of herself.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” the Whateley-thing screamed in her head loud enough for a dagger of pain to shoot between her eyes knocking her back into her seat. “GET UP, YOU FUCKING BITCH! THE STOP IS COMING UP! YOU’RE GOING TO MISS IT. YOU STUPID CUNT! YOU HAVE TO GET OFF THE FUCKING BUS! DAGON IS HUNGRY AND HE MUST BE FED!!! GET THE FUCK UP!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Despite the pain that voice was causing her, the panic Alicia heard in it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. That panic meant that she, with a huge assist from Gizmo, had survived the Whateley-thing and whatever Dagon was, narrowly avoiding the proverbial “fate worse than death.”

The Whateley-thing gave one last try, screaming for Alicia to get off the bus, then faded into nothing as everything on the bus resumed its normal shape, including its passengers and driver.

“...but it always makes me smile when you’re smiling, Jackie,” Alicia heard Mr Heck say as she drifted back from what seemed to be a deep daydream. The bus was just making the left hand turn onto Commerce St. Soon it would turn onto West Harbor St headed back to her apartment with no extra stops at any unfamiliar street names.

Damnit, she thought. I zoned out pretty hard there. I missed my stop. But what was at her stop? She couldn’t quite remember. She looked at her phone. Instagram was open. Funny that she didn’t remember ever opening the app. She couldn’t say why, but she felt like she was better off not getting off the bus at her stop anyway.

She was suddenly aware that Gizmo was yapping his head off, and the lady who’s name she couldn’t remember was having trouble holding him in her lap. He finally got loose and jumped into Alicia’s arms and started frantically licking her face.

“I’ve never seen him take to someone like this before,” the lady said. “Out of nowhere, he just had to run to you, like it was the most important thing in the world. Never seen the like. I think you’ve got a friend for life.”

“I sure hope so. I can’t really say why, but I feel like I really needed him today,” Alicia replied, and rode the number seven all the way home with Gizmo on her lap.