Clayton

The layout of the apartment was very similar to the one Clayton had just fled, except the woman who lived here appeared to be some kind of accumulator, borderline hoarder. The two bedroom apartment was filled with all manner of odds and ends and boxes, like a tornado had hit a rummage sale. Moving in amongst the astonishing amount of clutter, he secreted himself away, waiting for the sounds of commotion to diminish. He chuckled softly to himself, had he started the fire in this apartment, he likely would have razed the whole building to the ground.

He heard the door close and the sounds of soft footsteps approaching.

“So what the hell was all the hubbub out there?” he heard an unseen male voice ask and the sound of heavy footfalls.

“I guess the lady next door had a fire,” said a higher pitched female voice, also out of his line of sight.

“Oh yeah, that pretty chick from the university,” he said.

“I’m not sure what she does over there,” replied the woman.

“Fucking stinks like smoke in here,” the man said. Clayton could hear the sounds of movement very near where he was secluded.

“There’s some scented spray in the bathroom,” offered the female voice.

“Fuck it, I’m out of here, give me a call when it airs out,” answered the male. Footsteps grew closer and louder as they passed then receded.

“Don’t go,” said the female, softer footsteps following.

Male laughter as the door opened and closed. Soft footsteps returning, a noise like a sob.

Andrea Welland sat down on her chesterfield amidst the sea of clutter in her apartment and lowered her face to her hands, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. At twenty nine her life felt like it was in shambles. Without life insurance, the tragic passing of her parents in the plane crash three months earlier had left her in a state of financial ruin, not to mention the sea of grief she felt in losing them. The investigation into the cause and the subsequent litigation would take years to unravel. She hadn’t even had time to process the grief before the bills and notices from creditors started mounting.

She looked around her apartment at what was left of her parent’s life, before burying her face again. She tried to convince herself she loved Bryce, knowing deep down she was only really clinging to him out of desperation and a need to have somebody in her life to chase away those lonely feelings of desolation and pain. He would come over at his convenience, eat a meal, fuck her, then tell her she was pretty and leave when he was done. Once in a while he would stay the night. She felt cheap, but at least someone cared, or so she deluded herself.

Leaning back, she took a tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes before blowing her nose.

Clayton moved from his hiding spot, between some boxes to get a look at the woman. The impulse was to hide, but he knew it was certainly no solution to his predicament. He needed help. Stepping out from between two of the boxes, he began waving his little arms over his head and shouting.

She heard the sound, like someone far away yelling. A slight bit of motion caught her eye as she spied something small moving near the boxes from her parent’s condo.

At first, she thought it might be a mouse and quickly drew her legs up on the couch, but it wasn’t a mouse, it was a tiny little person, standing there waving arms over its head. She took in a sharp intake of breath, eyes wide with alarm as she attempted to comprehend the fact there was a miniature person standing in her living room.

“It’s okay,” he shouted, bringing his arms down and holding his hands up at shoulder height as he moved closer to her, silently praying she would be reasonable.

Seeing it was a tiny naked male figure, “Oh my god!” she exclaimed, leaning forward to see the little man better.

“My name is Clayton,” he hollered, stopping near the couch but still in her line of sight.

Bringing her legs back down, she bent at the waist, reaching a tentative hands toward the wee figure. He waited as she slowly curled her fingers around him and brought him before her. She could see a smile on his little face.

She shook her head in disbelief. “This can’t be real.”

He nodded. “There was an accident at the university, the woman next door, Dr. Olivia Featherstone brought me to her apartment and has been holding me hostage for the last few days. She murdered another one of the doctors from the school. No one knows where I am except you, please, you’ve got to help me,” he pleaded.

“What?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

“The lady next door,” he repeated.

Andrea frowned. “From the university?”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Yes.”

“She did this to you?”

He shook his head, “No, there was an accident at the lab there and Dr. Hans Brauer and I were inadvertently shrunk, along with another man,” he explained.

“How did you wind up here?” she inquired.

“Dr. Featherstone brought us to her apartment and has been holding us captive. Earlier tonight she murdered Dr. Brauer right in front of me.”

“No, I mean how did you wind up in my apartment?”

“I started the fire next door to create a diversion to get out of her apartment and now thankfully, I’m here with you, I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” he said apologetically.

“Andrea,” she replied.

Cradled in her hand, he tipped his head forward, “I am very pleased to meet you,” he responded, smiling up at her.

She chuckled, “It’s a good thing you didn’t go the other way, Bernice has like fifteen cats, that would not have been good for you,” she said, eyes wide. So many thoughts raced through her mind. On one hand, she wanted to help the tiny man, but even though she was holding the man in her hand she still couldn’t almost believe what was happening. On the other hand, the bizarre situation might be a possible solution to all her current financial problems, a chance to get her head above water.

He laughed. “Anything would have been better than waiting to be killed by her. Dr. Elliot Sommers is still over there. I think maybe we should call the police,” he suggested.

“The police? Yes,” she nodded. What would they do? They would have to see Clayton otherwise they would think she was a kook. If she took him in, they would confiscate him. She frowned. If what Clayton said was to be believed, then the woman next door might be willing to offer some type of a reward or such.

Clayton let out another sigh, body shuddering with a sense of relief and gratitude, “Thank you Andrea, you just saved my life.”

She smiled down on him warmly, a part of her mind wondering what she would do if it is was Bryce here in her hand.

Dr. Featherstone

Olivia scoured her apartment for any trace of Clayton, but he was gone. She slammed her hands down on the coffee table in frustration. The stink of smoke still very strong in her nostrils. Getting up off of the couch, she walked back into the room she used as her office and pulled open the drawer. Elliot, conscious now but very quiet, was sitting on his butt, arms wrapped around his knees. Scooping Elliot up in her right hand, she lifted the remnants of Hans out of the drawer by a foot with her left hand and brought both of them to the kitchen. She set Elliot on the counter beside the sink before turning the water on, then the garbage disposal. Holding the corpse over the dark hole in the bottom of the sink, she let him drop, there was a brief grinding noise marking the passing of the dead doctor, then only the sound of the whirling blades remained.

Elliot dropped to his knees and shuddered. “Please Olivia,” he begged. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, I swear.” Tears streamed down his face as he looked into the sink.

She looked from him to the sink and back. “Contrition now, Elliot?”

He bobbed his head. “I’m so sorry,” he said between sobs.

She frowned, not because she was moved by his pathetic display, she just wondered if there was any value to keeping him alive versus the risk he might try to escape.

“Did Clayton discuss any plans with you?” she asked.

He shook his head. She nodded, he had been unconscious when she had seen them together last.

She frowned. Scientifically, Elliot Sommers was very gifted and she could benefit from his unswerving allegiance to her and the new project, but with Clayton running loose, she wasn’t sure how she wanted to proceed.

“Please,” he sobbed.

Reaching over, she shut off the garbage disposal, then the tap.

“Thank you,” he said effusively, “Thank you.”

A half smile on her face, she nodded. Picking him up from the counter around his chest and abdomen, she took his left foot between the thumb and index finger of her right hand.

“Thank you,” he repeated, leaning forward and kissing her hand.

“I need your mind, Elliot, not your body,” she said.

He looked up, a puzzled expression on his tear streaked face.

“They used to call this hobbling during the slavery era, to prevent runaways,” she said, squeezing the thumb and forefinger of her right hand together, crushing all of the bones in his tiny foot.

He screamed, almost passing out from the pain.

“If you try to escape, or alert someone, I swear, your ending will be excruciating,” she said coldly.

He mewled in agony, nodding his head.

“Good,” she said. Returning to her bedroom, she placed him in the lower drawer of her dresser. She cleaned out the habitat she had made in the other room, removing all evidence of ever having housed tiny people.

Checking her watch, slightly after three in morning, she knew there was no way she could sleep in the pungent apartment. Grabbing a quick shower, she got dressed and headed for the university.

Pulling into the parking lot, she got out and started walking toward the Science Building. She heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Flicking a quick glance over her shoulder in the direction of the sound, she saw a massive burly man, moving with apparent purpose in her direction, his long legs eating up the distance between them rapidly. Turning back toward the building, she increased her stride, but the sounds of his footfalls were getting closer, his image reflected in the glass nearly upon her. Through the glass door, she could see Warren at the security desk.

“Excuse me,” said the man from behind her, voice deep.

Warren looked up from the desk and saw her. Standing up, he moved around the desk and was approaching from within the building.

“Excuse me,” the man repeated.

“May I help you?” she asked, hand on the door and turning back to look at him. He was a physical very large man, at least five inches over six feet, broad shoulders. He looked to be in his forties, a dusting of silver through short hair parted to the side. Square jaw covered in two day old stubble clenched.

“I’ve seen you here before, you work with Sophie, right?” he asked.

She nodded slowly.

“My name is Ted, Ted Stillwell, my son Theo has been seeing Sophie, but I haven’t heard from him in a few days, which is very uncharacteristic of him,” he said, extending a large callused hand.

She took his hand, hers vanishing inside his, “Dr. Olivia Featherstone,” she said, shaking her head. “Why ask me?” she inquired, puzzled expression on her face. Inwardly she cursed. Sophie’s boyfriend on the loose, like Clayton, and now the boy’s father built like a bloody TV wrestler comes sniffing around.

Releasing her delicate hand from his mitt, he turned and pointed to Theo’s pickup truck out in the parking lot. “His truck has been here for days, and nobody seems to know anything or give a damn,” he said, tone angry, he seemed to get bigger, like an ornery grizzly bear. “You look like someone who might be able to help me get some answers.”

Warren tapped on the glass from the other side, “Everything all right Dr. Featherstone?” he asked, hand on his nightstick.

She waved Warren off with a quick flick of her hand, mind formulating. “I’m sorry Ted, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said apologetically.

He scowled, his face becoming darker, more menacing. “I think there’s something going on in here and I swear I’m going to get to the bottom of it even if I got to rip this place apart brick by brick,” he growled, the veins in his neck prominent.

This could be problematic and might jeopardize the situation. She held her hands up, “Mr. Stillwell, Ted, I realize you’re concerned right now, but why don’t you come in and have a look around?” she offered, favoring him with a conciliatory smile.

He looked passed her to Warren then back, “You would do that?” he asked, voice suddenly softening,

“Of course, in the interest of trying to help in whatever way I can,” she said, turning to Warren, she nodded.

Warren nodded in return and stepped back from the door as Olivia opened and held it. “After you Ted,” she said, opening her hand to him and indicating for him to go through.

Stepping through the door, he paused by Warren, the security guard shrank back a couple of steps. Olivia stepped up beside Ted, “I’ll show you to the lab.”