Strange Men

Strange Men


“Tracy, my man,” Officer Garen said, sliding a cup of lukewarm coffee across the table to me. “You don’t visit me unless there’s something heavy on your chest. What’s going on?”

I smiled faintly, though my head was full. Garen had been a friend since school days, before life pulled us in different directions—him into law enforcement, me into running businesses here and there. He still had the same sharp eyes, the kind that looked right through you.

“Nothing much,” I said, wrapping my hands around the mug though I had no intention of drinking. “Just checking on you. Been a while.”

“Too long,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. His uniform was creased from the long shift, and his badge caught the dull light of the office. Then his tone shifted, softer, curious. “You didn’t just come to say hello though, did you? You’re restless. I can tell.”

He was right. My nerves had been stretched thin since Ree stumbled into my life. She was like a storm I couldn’t predict. But instead of admitting that, I said, “You been dealing with anything unusual lately?”

Garen scratched his chin, then let out a low whistle. “Now that you mention it… yeah. Something odd happened just before you came back to town.”

I leaned forward. “Odd how?”

He glanced around as if the walls might be listening, then lowered his voice. “Two men showed up here. Tall, broad shouldered, too stiff to be ordinary folk. They wore these… I don’t know how to put it… they looked like they stepped out of a place that doesn’t want to be noticed but can’t help demanding attention. The kind of men who walk into a room and you know they’re trained for something dangerous.”

My chest tightened. “And they came here? To Tipet?”

Garen nodded. “Walked right in and reported a missing person. But get this—” He tapped his desk, his mouth curling in disbelief. “The woman they claimed was missing wasn’t even from Tipet. She’s from Fenceville.”

My throat went dry. “Fenceville?”

“Yes. That’s what shook me. Why would two men from God knows where report a Fenceville citizen’s disappearance to us when it’s outside our jurisdiction? Fenceville has its own system. Hell, better than ours. They pride themselves on being ten steps ahead in tech and monitoring. They don’t need us.”

I stayed silent, and he kept talking, his words bitter now. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Fenceville’s always acting like they’re above us. Always better facilities, better machines, better jobs. Even their bridge—” His lips twisted. “You know Tipet men built half of that, right? Spent their sweat and blood. But you won’t hear that across the river. No. Over there it’s all ‘Fenceville ingenuity.’ They treat our stories like smoke.”

His jealousy was naked, and it reminded me of all the old tales my father used to tell. How workers were lured across to Fenceville with promises of gold, only to return years later looking hollow. How the bridge we admired wasn’t theirs alone. Tipet had scars in its history, and Fenceville’s shine only rubbed salt in them.

“Did the men leave any names?” I asked finally.

“None,” Garen said. “Wrote down a description, kept their faces stone blank the whole time. I swear, they weren’t just men in coats. They were something else.”

I forced myself to stay calm, though every instinct screamed. Something about the way Ree had arrived, broken and fearful, was tying itself to what Garen just told me.

“Tracy,” he said suddenly, softer now. “What’s this really about? You know something, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, searching for the right words. But what could I say? That the girl hiding under my roof might have drawn those men here? That I didn’t even know how to name the danger I felt pressing in? No. I couldn’t put that weight on him.

“Just a bad feeling,” I muttered.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he placed a hand on my arm. “Listen, if anything goes wrong, you come to me first. Promise me that.”

I nodded, though my promise felt as thin as smoke.

\---

The night air greeted me cold as I stepped out of the station. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and started the walk back. My mind replayed every word Garen said. Two men. Fenceville citizen. Disappearance. Why here? Why now?

Halfway down the street, I caught it. A shift in the air. That sense of not being alone.

At first I thought it was just nerves. Ree had shaken my balance. I told myself to breathe, to focus. But the feeling didn’t go away. My skin prickled. Someone was behind me.

I didn’t turn immediately. Instead, I slowed my steps, then veered into a longer route, down side streets I knew too well. The alleys stretched, quiet except for the drip of water from an old pipe. My shadow lengthened under the dim lamps, but another shadow seemed to stretch with it.

I quickened my pace. Whoever it was, they moved when I moved.

My heart thudded hard against my ribs. I crossed into another lane, pretending calm, though my hands itched to reach for something—anything—that could protect me. The sound of footsteps faded and returned, like the night itself was breathing down my neck.

Finally, the gate to my house came into view. Relief flickered, but I didn’t relax. Not yet. I swung around, fast and sharp, ready to confront whoever dared follow me.

Nothing.

The street was empty. No footsteps. No shadows. No breath but mine.

But the feeling didn’t leave. The night pressed closer, heavy, as though something had just melted back into it. Watching. Waiting.

I swallowed hard and pushed open the gate. Whatever had trailed me was still out there.

And it knew where I lived.