Did something ever happen to you that you couldn’t explain? You begin to wonder if it did occur or if your imagination was playing tricks on you.

You reach out to another person who might have seen what you’d experienced. But they leave you even more confused, as you will see in . . .

What Stranger?

     I sat at my large mahogany office desk staring out the window. The trees fluttered in the wind. The autumn leaves escaped their branches and floated, like colorful, small magic carpets, to the ground. The sun cast shadows across the rolling hills surrounding the parking lot.

     I turned back to my iMac. My mind continued to drift. I didn’t get much sleep last night and my body suffered from its absence. I struggled to stay awake. My head started to fall. It began a slow descent toward my computer keyboard.

     The ring a ling, ding a ling of my computer calendar reminder rescued me. I jerked my head up and back to the reality of the day. In the center of my computer screen, a beautiful Hawaiian princess held a card indicating the time and day of the appointment I had across town—a date with my psychiatrist.

     The last thing I wanted to do was see my shrink. He thought I was a real head case who blew the simplest things out of proportion. But I needed this visit as an excuse to get me out of the office and release me from the dullness of my day. Maybe the cold fall wind blowing against my face would awaken me.

     My therapist’s office was eight blocks away—a twenty-minute walk through some pretty upscale, store-lined streets. I liked to gaze in the shop windows, not to look at the goods on display, but to catch a glimpse of the crazy people who frequented the shops.

     I left plenty of time for my excursion, so I could take in these weird sights at my leisure. And weird they were. One had only to look in the window of the Victoria’s Secret store. Wow! Two sixty-something women pranced around in negligees, engaged in a show I’m sure they were not aware could be seen from the street. I wanted to applaud and scream, "Hooray," but didn’t have the guts to do so. And then . . .

     “Uh oh, what the hell’s going on?” I muttered, as I wandered into a huge crowd gathered on the street. I pushed my way through the onlookers to get a glimpse of what was happening.

     A police officer yelled at the mob, ”Please, get back. For your own safety, please.”

     Get back from what? I thought. And then I saw it. “My God, a police barricade. Oh my, the SWAT team’s been called in. What do I do now?” I grumbled.

     A man, pushing back through the crowd, hollered, “It’s an armed robbery in progress. The police think it’s a hostage situation.”

     “Well, I can’t stay here. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment,” I moaned. Then, I remembered I’d seen an alley a block back. Maybe I can get through the horde that way. I turned and scrambled up the street. Yes, there it is—the alley. It’s clear. I hustled through it. To my good luck, it emptied onto South Madison, around the corner from my doctor’s office. “I’m going to be on time,” I sighed.

     I entered the building and took the elevator to the third floor. I walked down the hall to the fourth door on the right, opened it, and went in. My shrink shared the office complex with five other couch docs, so it was filled with patients.

     After checking in at the front desk, I found a vacant seat in the rear of the waiting room and collapsed into it. The events of my day and a sleepless night had taken its toll on me. My mind began to wander and I drifted into a state of oblivion.

     A male voice penetrated my silent escape. “They’re going get you,” he grumbled.

     “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Who’s going to get me?”

     He gave me the weirdest look and turned away. I composed myself, leaned back in my seat, and didn’t say another word. Picking up a sports magazine, I leafed through the pages. I found an article on my Mets and immersed myself in it.

     Chancing to look up, I saw the man, standing about three feet away, staring at me again. I wondered why he found me so interesting. He seemed anxious, as he stroked his scraggly bearded chin. His eyes squinted. His head slanted to the left. His unkempt hair shot up like spears pointing to the sky. He wore a shabby green jacket; wrinkled black jeans; and dark brown, pockmarked boots. He looked a sight.

     “They’re going to get you,” he mumbled.

     I couldn’t make out the rest of what he said, as his words were jumbled. I tried hard to avoid his squinting eyes, but albeit, with little success. Although I didn’t want to get involved with him, he did pique my curiosity.

     “You have to listen to me, I’m not crazy,” he shrieked.

     My head began to spin. Who was this guy? And what’d he want from me?

     He blurted, “You’re in danger. You must protect yourself.” 

     Man, this freaked me out. He seemed to be nutty as a fruitcake, but his sincerity concerned me. I fidgeted with my hands. I began to sweat. My eyes began to burn. I knew I had to be blowing this all out of proportion. However, it seemed he had information I didn’t have, so I believed I should heed his warnings.

     I began to watch my back. Why not be careful? I thought.

     “They’re coming, they’re coming,” he screeched.

     My head pounded. My heart beat so fast, it felt like it would jump out of my chest.

     The next thing I knew, I was being shaken. My head tossed left and then right. Someone had control over me. I had to get free. I tried with all my might, but my legs shook in fear and my feet seemed cemented to the floor. Two hands grasped my arms. Then, a soft, pleasant voice spoke, “Mr. Wainer. Mr. Wainer, please come with me.”

     Looking up, I saw a pretty woman smiling at me. I tried to comply with her request, but had trouble standing on my shaky legs.

     “What happened? Who are you?” I sputtered.    

     “You appeared to be asleep. I woke you. I’m Dr. McCann’s assistant. You must’ve had a dream, or . . . maybe an hallucination.”

     “A what?” I stammered. “Where’s the stranger who warned me about the danger I was in?”

     “Stranger? What stranger?” she asked.

     “You didn’t see him?”

     “No, I didn’t. You have to come with me, Mr. Wainer. You need to see the doctor. And you need to see him, now.”
     "All right."

     She led me into his office. “Sit over there, on the couch. The doctor will be in shortly.”

     “Okay, but . . .” Before I could finish what I wanted to say, she turned and left the room. I sat there staring at the closed door.

     Then the door behind the doctor’s desk opened. A tall, bearded man entered the room. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. McCann. And you are?”

     “Huh, you don’t know who I am?”

     “Why should I?”

     “I’ve been seeing you for six months.”

     “I don’t think so. I would’ve remembered that.”

     “Are you kidding me?”

     “No. Absolutely not.”

     “Then I shouldn’t be here.”

     “But you are. And I will take care of you.”

     The next morning I awoke in a strange room. I couldn’t move. My legs and arms were tied to the bed.

     Standing at the foot of the bed was the scraggly bearded man I’d seen in the doctor’s waiting room. He peered at me and mumbled, “I warned you they’d get you.”

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.