Doppelganger

Iris was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cutlery drawer. She had her back to Emily, who stopped in the doorway, considering whether to rejoin the others in the main room and forget about getting a glass of water. Iris was the only member of the group that had come away to the cabin that Emily didn’t gel with.

The four of them had been at the cabin for two days now. Emily was glad there were three bedrooms so that she and Iris didn’t have to share; that would have been highly uncomfortable, given Iris’s aloof nature. Oliver and Danny were sharing, obviously, and judging from the noises emanating from their room in the early hours, still enjoying being in the throes of a new relationship.

Emily liked Danny. He was more earnest than Oliver and less socially gregarious, but his quiet smile when Oliver was being his effervescent self, showed he enjoyed these differences. He seemed happy for Oliver to carry the weight of socialising, while he opened up more gradually, particularly after a few glasses of wine.

Iris worked for Danny at his art gallery. Danny claimed she was more adept at enticing visitors to buy pieces, while he was just the moody artist who occasionally wandered through from his studio, making agreeable noises. Emily found it hard to imagine Iris charming people into parting with their money.

Emily had been friends with Oliver since their schooldays. She’d immediately been drawn to the talkative blond boy and they’d actually been boyfriend and girlfriend between the ages of 10 and 11. But even at that tender age, Oliver’s gayness shone through, and they had effortlessly reverted to just friends — it hadn’t involved any major changes; they just held hands a bit less and stopped trying to enjoy kissing with tongues. Twenty years later, their bond prevailed, and they lived within walking distance of each other in Manhattan.

Iris suddenly turned to face her, clutching a fork in her right hand like a weapon.

‘You okay?’ asked Emily, resisting the urge to take a step backwards.

For a moment, Iris just glared. This was hostile behaviour even by Iris’s standards.

‘Iris?’

Iris finally appeared to deflate, her face relaxing into her usual sullen but non-terrifying demeanour. She placed the fork on the small table in front of her. ‘I’m fine. I thought I saw someone outside just now.’

‘Really?’ Emily stared out of the kitchen window, any view of the hills and forestland beyond completely obliterated by thick, swirling snowflakes. ‘Someone was out in this?’

‘I must have imagined it.’ Iris turned away again, now busying herself with washing the dishes from their recent evening meal.

‘Want some help?’ offered Emily. She noticed Iris’s jumper looked too big for her, and her jeans were collected in folds at her booted feet. It wasn’t the outfit she had gone to lie down in.

Iris shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine.’

Emily shrugged, grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge — she didn’t really need water — and headed back towards the living room. She was halfway down the narrow passage that separated the living area from the kitchen and bedrooms, when she heard Oliver screaming.

*

When she pushed open the living room door, the chill blasted her like a grenade. Oliver was still screaming, and the sound was coming from outside, beyond the open front door through which a swarm of snowflakes was blowing.

‘Guys!’ she ran forwards, but the cold assaulted her. She pulled a throw from one of the couches. She wrapped the rough material around her shoulders and pulled it tight across her chest, before heading through the doorway, squinting into the blinding flakes.

‘Oliver! Danny!’

Oliver’s screams had subsided, but she could hear his hysterical voice, accompanied by Danny’s deeper, but obviously disturbed tone.

She saw their outlines just ahead, near the small wood shed. They were standing close together, facing a bundle of something on the ground. Oliver looked around as she approached; he was sobbing now.

‘What is it?’ As Emily reached him, Oliver fell against her, his sobs growing more raucous.

‘Danny?’ she looked over Oliver’s shoulders at his lover. He looked haunted.

‘It’s Iris,’ he said pointing towards the bundle. ‘She’s dead.’

‘Something ate her face,’ sobbed Oliver.

Emily gently freed herself from Oliver’s grasp. ‘Guys, Iris isn’t dead, she’s in the kitchen, I was literally just talking to her.’

‘Look!’ shrieked Oliver, jabbing a finger at whatever lay on the ground.

Emily stepped closer, using the torch on her phone for illumination. She saw a pair of light blue jeans, a thick, red jumper…

‘Oh, Jesus!’

‘See!’ shrieked Oliver.

The woman’s face was decimated, just a mess of gore, bone and brain; blood-drenched hair, which could have been any shade, made the head look like a Halloween fright mask.

‘Iris is in the kitchen,’ insisted Emily.

‘They’re her clothes,’ said Danny.

‘Jeans and a red jumper,’ said Emily. ‘Anyone could be wearing those. You can’t know this is Iris, she has no face.’

Emily didn’t question her inappropriate calmness as she tried to remember what Iris had been wearing minutes earlier in the kitchen.

‘I don’t know who this poor woman is,’ she said, ‘But it’s not Iris.’

She trudged back towards the cabin, and after a brief hesitation, the men followed, Oliver still sobbing quietly.

*

‘See, she’s not here,’ said Oliver, sounding like a sulky child now.

Emily surveyed the kitchen, but Oliver was right. ‘She must have gone back to her room.’

Danny was already heading down the passage, knocking firmly on the door to Iris’s bedroom. The three gathered outside, listening for a response.

Danny knocked again. ‘Iris?’

A drowsy voice called. ‘Yes?’

Danny pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He flicked the switch for the main light, and there was Iris, lying on her bed, fully clothed in the blue jumper and dark jeans. She hoisted herself onto an elbow and stared at them.

‘What is it?’

‘We thought…’ began Danny.

‘We thought you’d been ripped apart by a wolf!’ wailed Oliver, running to embrace Iris, as if he’d always adored, rather than barely tolerating, her.

‘I was just resting.’ Iris seemed genuinely confused.

Emily felt a chill on her left cheek and glanced towards the window.

‘One of the panes of glass is broken,’ she said, walking across the bedroom towards the source of the draft.

‘What?’ Iris looked over her shoulder, frowning at Emily. ‘Oh, yes, I broke it by accident.’

‘How?’ asked Emily. “And why is the glass inside the room?’ She crouched to examine the jagged shards lying beneath the window.

‘Can you guys give me a minute to wake up!’ Iris sighed and swung her leg over the side of the bed, resting her still booted feet on the carpet.

‘There’s a corpse outside,’ said Danny, ‘dressed in the clothes you were wearing earlier.’

*

‘Well, it obviously isn’t me,’ said Iris, stomping back towards the cabin, wrapped in a thick, quilted coat.

The others followed, Emily at the rear, glancing back at the body. ‘Why isn’t it wearing any boots?’

‘What?’ Danny looked back.

‘The corpse, it’s not wearing boots. Are we saying the wolf or bear, or whatever the hell we think did this, stole them?’

‘What’s your theory?’ asked Danny as she drew closer.

Emily shrugged. ‘Iris is wearing boots, and why did she change clothes just to have a rest?’

Danny frowned. ‘What are you suggesting?’

Emily shuddered. ‘I’m not sure, but something is off.’

*

Emily bolted her bedroom door that night and placed a chair under the handle for good measure. Something beyond an animal attack on a stranger had happened that evening, she was sure of it, and Iris was at the centre of whatever was going on. She lay awake for several hours, waiting for a gentle tap on her door and the sound of Iris’s voice pleading to be let in.

*

The snow had stopped falling the next morning, but it lay thick on the ground. Through the kitchen window, Emily could just make out a lump under the snow by the woodshed.

‘What are we going to do?’ she asked Danny, who was sitting at the table sipping coffee.

‘We need to tell someone about the body,’ he replied, ‘But none of us has phone reception, and there’s no way the van will make it to the town with the snow this thick.’

‘Pretty stupid to trap ourselves here like this,’ said Emily, pouring herself a coffee from the stove-top pot.

‘It wasn’t forecast to snow this heavily.’ Danny sounded uncharacteristically irritable.

Emily joined him at the table. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t blaming you. I’m just a bit freaked out.’

‘We all are.’

‘Is Oliver sleeping?’

“Finally. He was awake nearly all night.’

‘What about you? Did you sleep?’

‘Only for a couple of hours.’

‘I wonder how Iris slept.’

Danny pinned her gaze with his own. ‘Badly, I expect. This has been a shock for her too.’

Emily dropped her gaze to the table. If Danny wanted to pretend there was nothing strange going on, let him.

‘We need to leave as soon as we can,’ she said.

‘You don’t say,’ said Danny, his tone cold.

Someone hammered on the cabin door.

*

The man standing outside was about six feet tall, bearded and burly. He was also holding a shotgun. At least the barrel was pointing towards the ground.

‘Yes?’ Danny tried to fill the doorway with his comparatively slender frame. Emily stood just behind him, eyeing up the visitor.

The man removed his fur-lined trapper’s hat and nodded. ‘Sorry to bother you folks, my name is Hank and I live about four miles from here. I’m looking for my son.’

‘You’re son?’ asked Danny, shivering.

‘Shall we talk inside?’ suggested Hank.

Danny hesitated.

‘Before you catch your death,’ added Hank.

*

‘My son, Bo, disappeared yesterday afternoon,’ said Hank, sitting on the couch closest to the fire.

‘How old is he?’ asked Emily.

Hank frowned. ‘He’s twenty-seven, but he’s not quite right, if you know what I mean. He still needs taking care of.’

Danny was standing on the other side of the fire. ‘What was he wearing?’

Hank considered this. ‘As far as I remember, a blue jumper and jeans, and a pair of sturdy walking boots.’

Emily gasped. Danny cast her an indecipherable look.

‘Something wrong?’ asked Hank.

‘Nothing,’ said Danny.

‘Tell him,’ insisted Emily.

‘Tell me what?’ Hank stood up, eying his gun, which was propped just inside the front door.

‘We found a corpse yesterday,’ said Emily. ‘At first we thought it was our friend, Iris, because it was wearing her clothes, but Iris is still alive and well. But the body was a woman, so it’s not your son.’

‘How did you get here?’ Danny suddenly demanded, staring at Hank.

‘I have a snowmobile,’ said Hank, it belonged to Bo before…’

‘Can you drive it to the nearest town and tell them about the body…and your son?’

Hank shook his head, sinking back onto the couch. ‘I’m low on fuel. Probably just enough to make it back to mine, but definitely not enough to make it to town. Where is this friend of yours now?’

Sleeping,’ said Danny.

‘When did you last see her?’ asked Hank.

‘What’s this about?’ Danny took a step towards Hank. Emily half expected the man to run for his gun and take Danny out, but he just looked sad.

‘I need to be honest with you,’ said Hank. ‘When I finish telling you what I need to tell you, you’re going to think I’m batshit crazy and tell me to leave, but I couldn’t sleep again if I didn’t warn you.’

*

‘A week ago something came out of these woods,’ said Hank.

Danny went to say something, but Hank raised a hand for silence. ‘Just let me tell what I need to tell, then you can ask questions.’

Danny nodded and finally sat on the second couch next to Emily.

‘Something came out of these woods,’ repeated Hank. ‘Maybe it’s been here before, but me and my family have lived here for decades, and I’ve never come across it. It looked like a normal man when it arrived at our home, apart from the way it was dressed. It must have been 10 below, and he was wearing nothing but jeans and a sweater, and he wasn’t even shivering.

‘He said his name was Charlie and that he was lost, asked if we could help him get hold of the friends he had been hiking with. I knew something wasn’t right, so I told him we couldn’t help and tried to close the door. Just then, Bo came up behind him, carrying some wood for the fire. I can still see his smiling face. He was always welcoming to strangers, that boy.

‘I just watched as the thing that called itself Charlie turned and ripped off my son’s face. What had looked like a normal hand when he’d first arrived at my door had turned into a huge claw, and those talons tore into my son like his body was made of butter. I ran for my gun and managed to take a shot at the monster, but I only hit his arm. It wasn’t enough to stop him, or save my son.’

‘But I thought…’ stuttered Emily, but Hank silenced her with another raised hand.

‘It took me a while to recover my senses. I’m a seasoned hunter, but this was something else…by the time I’d raised my gun again, the thing had started changing. Right in front of me, it stretched and bubbled and finally settled again, and I was looking at my son. He was dressed in the clothes that the creature had arrived in, but his face and build were Bo’s.’

Hank paused, took a sip of coffee and a deep breath.

‘”You gunna shoot me?”’ Bo asked, sounding just like him.

‘I’ve never felt so confused. My son was lying dead in a pool of blood, but also standing right in front of me. Finally, I did what needed to be done; I shot my boy through the head.’

‘Jesus.’ Danny was looking nervous. Emily wondered if he might make a run for the gun.

‘The shot didn’t kill it. This thing has a way of healing itself. But it gave me time to restrain it and drag it to the outhouse. I tied it with rope to a wooden support beam, and I managed to keep him there until yesterday. I know I should have killed him, finished the job, but once the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off, I just saw my Bo. He knew everything Bo would know called me pop, like Bo did. I just couldn’t…’

Hank released a sob.

‘Are you saying that your son, or whatever that thing was that killed your son, came here and murdered Iris?’ asked Emily.

‘For God’s sake, Emily.’ Danny stood, glaring at Hank, and pointed at the door. ‘You need to leave!’

Hank stood with a desperate sigh. ‘Please, keep the gun.’

‘We don’t need your fucking gun…’

‘Thank you,’ said Emily. “We will.’

‘You’re as mad as him!’ stormed Danny, following Hank to the door.

As Hank stepped onto the snow, Danny grabbed the gun and thrust it towards him. ‘Take it!’

But Hank turned and walked away, towards the snowmobile parked up near the woodshed.

‘Take it!’ Danny yelled after him, but Emily gently prized the gun from his hand.

‘What’s going on?’

Oliver was standing in the doorway to the living room, looking drowsy. He was naked, apart from a towel wrapped around his waist.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ asked Emily, as if that was the most pressing question right now.

Oliver shrugged. ‘Not really? Who was just here?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Danny. “Some crackpot.’

‘Where’s Iris?’ asked Emily.

‘Still sleeping I guess,’ said Oliver. ‘I’m going to make some breakfast.’

Emily strode across the living area and down the passage to Iris’s room, still clutching the gun. She pushed the door open without knocking. Iris’s bed was empty. She checked the bathroom next, but Iris wasn’t there either.

‘Emily, what are you doing?’ Danny was standing at the end of the passage by the living room door.

Emily ignored him and marched to the bedroom he and Oliver were sharing, she pushed the door open and screamed. Oliver’s body lay on the bed, face a gauged-out mess, naked torso awash with blood. On the floor next to the bed lay a bundle of clothes — a blue pullover and a pair of jeans.

‘We need to get out of here,’ she said to Danny, as Oliver stepped out of the kitchen, grinning like the Devil.