5 I. Simon says... Part 3

I woke up almost at noon. It's been a long time since I slept so much, it's been a long time since I had a nightmare without realizing that I was dreaming. Usually, I know I am dreaming, and I control the illusion as I please, but this time it was different. It was like witnessing something real. It felt real.

Weeks passed without feeling anything out of the ordinary. I started meeting people, making friends, and creating small groups to stay in while I was here. I never thought I would be able to see that person with a wolf mask again, and I was much calmer thanks to the passage of time.

It was the middle of January and Valentine's Day was approaching. The residence hall hosted a fellowship dance with each of the sponsors who hosted their students there, and of course, outsiders from other residences were also welcome.

The day before that, I left work early, and apparently, the day of love and friendship would not have many differences. I went down to watch movies on the television located in the kitchen of building one, with a group of friends with whom I had become a habit for a couple of weeks.

"I'm coming!" Alexandra wrote when she finished showering after getting home from work. The cold was excruciating that night. Minus fifteen degrees sheltered us from the heat.

Already for a few days, we had begun to notice strange things in the kitchen. Like rubbing on the back of the neck, smells, voices, or even people watching us from the windows on both sides of the building. Ramcés had noticed it too. Even Fiorella, who tends to look away whenever something similar happens. But she had seen it too.

"Do I hit the play?" I was plugging the HDMI into Noelia's laptop port while waiting for the general public to keep quiet.

"Yes, what chapter is this?" Alexandra asked, somewhat lost with the series.

"It's the fifth," Ramcés replied, "but turn on the subtitles so as not to translate the Dothraki."

"No way... I'll leave it like that," I protested.

"Yes, it looks better in without them," Fiorella supported me. "Subtitles make it look... weird."

"Oh sure, Benji! As you know how to speak Dothraki..." the newcomer from work complained.

"But you'll see, from now to the fifth season you'll be fluent in the Dothraki language ..." Ramcés encouraged Alexandra. "From here, you are going to put in your CV, in the part of "special abilities": I speak Dothraki fluently, any problem?"

"Hey look!" Alexandra pointed to the glass behind me, and they all turned suddenly "Did you see it?! Did you see it ?!

"Did you see it too?" I said.

"Yes, someone ran by. I mean, I don't know if it was someone, but it was like a shadow or something like that." She tried to explain.

"Yes," I agreed with her. "And it makes no noise, have you noticed?"

I couldn't let go of the similarity of that "thing" that ran past the glass on the back face of building one, right where I had chased the boy in the gray shirt in my dream. It had to be him. What else could float behind the glass and pass silently? The same thing happened when he ran towards me and pierced me, and although I know it was a dream, it is probably something else in itself. Maybe a vision, in that case, it wouldn't surprise me, I've already had a few.

The bad news is that they all carried death with them.

We finished the Game Of Thrones session around three in the morning. Fiorella resides near my room. In 5320, right next to the stairs that lead to the cemetery. He walked me back to our building and we left the rest at theirs, number one.

There were no nightmares that night. It was pretty quiet. Junior, who moved into my room two days after we met, and Álvaro, who was the last to fill the beds, arrived a few minutes before me, tired from an excursion they had taken to Madison. Not even Holger, the third roommate, spoke in his sleep that night, and he often does, more than once, sometimes, like yesterday morning, for example.

I didn't get enough sleep to work hard, but luckily there wasn't much to do. I left early just like the day before. I saw couples with boxes of roses and bouquets of chocolates, or was it the other way around? I could see, yes, but I wasn't paying attention.

I still assimilated whether or not to tell someone about the dream I had about the boy in the gray shirt. I had a good story stuck in my throat wanting to go out, but it made me stupid to tell it for no reason, I had no evidence, and the guards would not do us the favor of seeing the recordings; we had already tried it before, with no luck.

As I left early, I decided to walk and not wait for the transport that moves us from the residence to the hotel and brings us back. It was a cozy minus two degrees, where typical locals can go out in zero sleeves and shorts to enjoy the sun in that climate, but since I was a foreigner, I wore warmers underneath, a diver, a double polo shirt, and a leather jacket on top, accompanied by gloves in case I got a little cold.

I almost slipped three times, but it was worth it. Good weather in Dells shouldn't be wasted just like that. I was already passing through the main street that intercepts Hiawatha Drive when I witnessed a traffic accident. A small silver Volvo lost control on the road and crashed into the traffic light, only to be hit from behind by a gigantic Ford that did not see what was happening. All because of a stupid deer that was looked wearing a hat on and embedded in the little horns that protruded from its skull.

I didn't know anyone involved, so I went on my way without glancing too much. When I was already reaching the small Subway at the gas station near the residence, a message arrived on the phone with a number that I did not have added.

"Follow my directions and everything will be fine." It read in the message.

"Who are you?" I replied.

"Open the box and put the clothes in the red suitcase, in the same where you kept the envelope." Whoever was this knew about the letter. It was probably the sender, the clown.

"Who are you?" I repeated.

That person stopped responding and I instantly quickened my pace. It was daytime, but the street gave me the creeps. Being alone had never drowned me as much as that day.

I passed by the building they are modifying, number six, to shorten the way to the residence. I hurried up the stairs to the third floor, but on the threshold between the stairs and the passageway I met a familiar face on the way.

"Benjamin, hi!" Camila greeted me. "You're good? You look somewhat pale."

"Hi, how are you?" I got the answering machine on. "I feel good. And you?"

"Yeah, well..." He lowered his gaze to the ground and his brow furrowed for a moment. "I've been better."

"What happened?"

"It's just that, I was supposed to be free today, but they called me and I realized that no, and well, I don't know, I'm not very excited."

"This is your third warning?"

"Yeah, but I hope they kick me out already. I hate it, I really hate it. It's the worst place to work in the world, it's horrible." She covered her face and kept smiling as she delicately cursed her job.

"But quit, I don't think there's a problem. You have two more jobs, so it's fine, isn't it?" I noted out of the corner of my eye that there was a package outside my door.

"Yes, I know... But I do not know if I should. Something strange happened yesterday, you know? While I was at the reception. I made the hotel earn money without wanting to." I had to open it, I didn't listen or pay much attention to what she was saying thanks to the messages that recently reached my tray.

"What do you mean you made them earn money?" I asked out of courtesy.

"It's just that a Mr. Green checked in yesterday afternoon, but he never came. He paid for two days, but never took the room, " she explained.

"Are there no returns in those cases?"

"The hotel returns a percentage, but he never claimed it, so... they kept it."

"Ah well," I looked at the box in the distance, "how lucky for you, I guess."

"Yeah, I think so," she sighed.

"I'll go rest for a moment," I tried to excuse myself. "I must regain strength for later."

"Oh, okay. Okay." She smiled and crossed his fingers, letting them rest on his belly. "Will you watch movies later?"

"I think so. I'll let you know later, I must wait for Ramcés," I said, as I approached my room.

"It's okay. See you." She kept smiling and made a gesture with his hand, moving his palm from side to side quickly.

I didn't return the gesture, instead, I looked at the strange box that was waiting for me at the foot of my door. It was wrapped in magazine paper, taped together, and adorned with a small yellow note above the purple bow at the top.

"I'm sorry. It will all make sense later, I promise. Follow the instructions to the letter, and please don't involve your friends in all this, it's not safe."

I hurried into the room with the box loaded in both arms when I noticed that Junior and Álvaro were approaching from the opposite side of the hall, and put it in my closet.

"Hey Benja, how are you?" Junior greeted me. "Didn't work today? You are not usually here at this time."

"They dumped me early," I explained.

"Ah ok... awful job you got, seriously." He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows slightly, remembering something. "Hey, by the way, did you notice the light from the kitchen in the front building yesterday?"

"Which of all? The one on the second floor?"

"Yes, that one. Did it turn on by itself again?"Junior grinned.

"Yes, twice, and I don't think it's some failure in the connection as you say, because they lighted up in a row, the one closest first and then the others as if someone were walking through the kitchen from one door to the next."

"I took photos yesterday, but I haven't reviewed them yet, I'm scared to do it alone." He laughed at himself.

He took out the phone and, shaking his wrists, opened the gallery of images that his external memory stored for him. Her eyes grew more narrow than usual, and paleness washed over her face. Surprised, he saw me and asked me for something peculiar.

"Hey Benja, look..." he showed me the glass of his phone. "This here is like smoke, right? Or what do you think?"

"It just looks like steam."

It took me a moment to notice, but in the end, I did. There was some kind of specter on the window and they fixed their gaze on capturing the photo. He was standing, if he had feet, behind the door that adorned the second-floor kitchen of Building One, which was right in front of our bedroom window.

"Álvaro," I called him from my bed. "Check the photo yourself, see if you notice anything."

"I don't see anything, just smoke coming out of the tube." He looked at the photo for a long time without knowing it.

"Check the kitchen on the second floor, don't see the smoke," I explained.

Álvaro shouted at the sky in shock. At least Junior knew he wasn't losing his mind.

"Let's go to the building in front, or to the fourth, where they say that boy committed suicide," Junior suggested energetically, still somewhat nervous.

"Now?" My tone of voice sounded higher than I expected. "But it's almost three in the afternoon, we won't find anything."

"So, at dawn then? At three thirteen, when the light comes on again."

I gladly accepted the offer. It's not every day that you get the chance to catch a ghost on video. They stored their things in the usual places: closets, beds, floor, and went down to the kitchen on the first floor to prepare lunch. I took advantage of the moment alone to review the package that was resting outside my door a few seconds ago.

I tore the packaging apart, somewhat nervous, and began to notice what it was about. It was an old soda box, already open and somewhat dismantled on the sides. They were the kind I usually use, the green boxes with a diagonal red stripe that Mountain Dew dictates on top. Obviously, the cans were gone, and in their place were a GAP plum t-shirt and white UA sneakers. "Store it in the red suitcase, the one where you have the letter." It said the message, so I did. This was already starting to bother me a bit. Someone played with me and treated me like their puppet, and even worse, I didn't know why. I did not get into trouble with anyone, much less had I heard that someone charged me with anger.

I checked the messages again. It took me a while to reflect on everything that was happening. Without realizing it, my roommates had already been in and out of the room, leaving behind the feast of smells and flavors that chicken and rice leaves behind. It was already four in the afternoon, so I helped myself to the pot that Junior left with hot food, while I wrote to the mysterious puppeteer back.

"The clothes are in the backpack. What is all this about?"

"Sleep. Today will be the longest night of your life." That person replied a couple of minutes later.

"Who are you?" The eternal question without an answer, but there was nothing to lose trying.

"Good luck."

I called repeatedly without receiving an answer. The receiver didn't hang up, it simply did not ring in any call, and each message the guy had written me had a free interpretation of emotions, you could not imagine which was the correct one.

I didn't know if the sender's intentions were the most appropriate for me or the ones that would take me to my final destination.

I took him at his word and lay on my bed, turning everything over in my head, trying to follow his requests to the letter.