While lying on his couch Alan closed his eyes and thought about what the hell he was doing with himself. He was 27, unemployed, and being supported by an inheritance from parents which he never even knew. While refusing to graduate college he was just taking courses purely out of interest. Why couldn’t he simply move on with his life? Was it because his friends were gone? Was it because of Ashley? Was it because he hasn’t had anyone to call his family since his grandfather passed a decade ago? All he knew was that he was perfectly content with his life until he got that notification on his phone. ‘I can’t do this anymore’ he thought. This whole thing with Tia had shaken him to the core. How could he be so attracted and repulsed by the same woman?

The first thing that came into view when he opened his eyes was his enormous book case. At the moment this representation of the past seven years of his life was an eyesore. Alan stood up and made his way towards it. Biology, Physics, Archeology, Anthropology, Latin, Herpetology, Spanish, the catalog was endless. ‘This seems so ridiculous now’ he thought with his hands on his head. In a final act of frustration he grabbed a random loose shelf and yanked, emptying a small part of the case. ‘They look better in a pile on the floor’. He took out his phone and checked the time. ‘I suppose showing up early and having a beer couldn’t hurt.’ Taking a large step over the mess he made Alan made his way towards the door. ‘Matt better show up alone this time’ he thought.

. . . .

Agent Mathews looked over the new intel from Correa. ‘Why would she tell her name to a nobody?’ he thought as he sat there perplexed. He immediately pressed a button on his desk phone. “Correa get in here ASAP.”

Minutes later a knock was heard at the door. “Come in”

“Can I help you sir?” As usual she gravitated towards the center of the room without one erroneous movement.

“This Messer kid, you really think he is involved with our suspect?”

Correa was confused by the question. “Sir? That wasn’t in my report. I only stated that he seems to sympathize with her for some reason.”

“They weren’t together long enough for it to be Stockholm syndrome Correa, he likes her. That’s the only way I see him sympathizing with a murderer. Also if she is willing to risk herself and not take a free chance to kill him, chances are she like him back. Ro-fucking-mantic now isn’t it?” He slaps the folder she gave him back onto the desk.

Correa sensed something was wrong. This kind of guesswork was not what the FBI did. It certainly was not what Agent Matthews did either. Why was he pushing this?

“I’m going put one of my guys on surveillance and wait for second contact. In the meantime you’re off the case. Here’s a ticket back to Quantico for tomorrow afternoon, pack your stuff.” He finished moving papers into another file and held it out to her with the ticket on top.

Correa stood motionless, her eyes like daggers while she bit her tongue. She was furious. This was her first real case since being promoted and she didn’t want to leave with every fiber in her body. Before she could gather the courage to speak Matthews was already across the room pressing the file and ticket into her chest.

“Leave Correa that’s an order.” He removed his hand and she was forced to grab the file before it fell. She turned around and left without a word.

Matthews returned to his desk and took out a piece of paper. However this paper was much thicker and darker than the sheets scattered all over his desk. “If you won’t come out I’ll make you come out.” he said chuckling to himself. His index finger moved to the top of the page and his nail grew two inches longer in an instant. The nail scratched a note and what appeared to be rune-like shapes directly into the paper. He then grabbed a photo of Alan off a board and placed it in the center of the page. After dropping a piece of blood on the note it folded itself several times before bursting into flames. He sat there still laughing to himself. ‘The first slip up you’ve ever made Tia, and all because of some human brat. You will earn me such fortune.’

. . . .

There were only two empty bottles next to Alan before Matt showed up with a woman on each arm. “Girls look, that’s the guy I was talking about. Spent the night in the house that the Collector showed up to, even murdered someone in.”

One of the girls broke away and sat next to Alan as Matt and the other girl took two more seats. She reached over to his arm that was on the bar and leaned towards him to make eye contact. “You escaped a serial killer? You must do MMA huh? I dated a guy who did MMA once, best sex ever.”

She continued without pause as Alan found himself yet again in his own personal hell. This is what going to the bar with Matt meant. Matt shows up, gets more attention than he can handle, and the overflow falls to him. Then he either fails to live up to the image Matt talked him up to or Alan finds some reason not to enjoy himself. ‘Another stupid behavior of mine to add to the list’ he thought taking another swig of beer. He stood up and it seemed as though the girl continued on like a machine. Making his way slowly over to Matt without breaking the girl’s trance-like speech proved difficult but he somehow managed.

He tapped Matt on the shoulder. “Hey man can I talk to you outside for a second?

“Yea sure hold on a second.” He stood up and looked the girls. “Alan and I are going to head down the street to grab me a pack of smokes. You two stay put and we’ll be back before you know it.”

After a synchronous “Kayyyy~” we left the bar and started walking towards the drug store. It was already well past dark and the crowds thinned the farther we got from downtown. We cut through a park and reached the drug store on the other side of the square. Matt bought his cigarettes and lit one on the way out.

He leaned up against brick of the store and exhaled smoke. “So are you really okay man? You sent me several texts saying so but I wanted to hear it out loud.”

Matt may be a womanizer and a catalyst for trouble but he was still a loyal guy. Alan knew he was lucky to have at least him in this town. Things may have been a lot worse for him if Matt wasn’t there to keep him on his toes. He looked up and saw he was being offered a cigarette.

“No thanks, I appreciate it though. I actually could have used one while I was detained though, something about being in a cell make you want to smoke I guess.”

Matt laughed at that. “Hah! That is definitely the truth” Alan joined in because he has been Matt’s one phone call on more than one occasion. Alan eventually got serious and asked what he wanted to ask.

“Do you think you could fall in love with someone who killed a man?”

Matt choked on the smoke in his throat. “W-what cough cough what the cough fuc-ck man, are you serious? Alan waited for an answer.

“Wow that’s a toughie. I don’t really look to in get their hearts man, just their pants.” He looked for laugh and didn’t get one.

Matt took a deep breath and started over. “I guess you would need to consider why she killed someone and who the person was. Don’t you think? For all you know it could have been some really fucked up situation.”

Alan was stunned. What was it that Tia had been trying to say the night before.

“Alan I want you to take a deep breath and please calm down. I am the one responsible for the body upstairs but me killing that thing is in no way murder.”

What did she mean by ‘that thing’? Could there actually be a legitimate reason that he refused to hear? He began to think that he made a horrible mistake. He desperately wanted to find some way for Tia to not be evil but he refused do something as simple as listen to her. Maybe if he went home she would be there once more. ‘No…..she won’t come back, not after those horrible things I said to her.’ Alan knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive someone that easy if he heard those things, why should she. He didn’t have any desire to go back to the bar. He made up an excuse to Matt and left.

Alan found himself in the park again but this time heading in the direction of his apartment. He was mentally agonizing over his troubles when he stopped where he was. There was no sound around him whatsoever. No insects or rustling of leaves in the wind, as a matter of fact there was no wind at all. He finally understood the term “deafening silence”. As he took another step forward he was stopped again, not by the lack of sound but by a horrible smell. The only way Alan could describe it was like a sweater that was covered in BO before being rubbed in ripe road kill and then finally left in a sauna for a day. He covered his nose with his shirt and took a few step before collapsing to his knees and dry heaving. The odor was getting stronger and felt like a stinging vapor in his nose and throat. Alan gathered everything he had to make one final attempt to move but it was all crushed when he lifted his head. Standing almost 50 feet away was a monstrous creature which resembled Bigfoot. As the thing made its way closer its features became clearer. It looked as if a small giant was covered in hair from head to toe, full of knots and tangles with just its deformed face visible. No, it couldn’t be Bigfoot. Adding that smell it could only be one thing, a shampe.

Alan thought back to what he knew of the monster from Choctaw legend. The shampe was an ogre like creature with a body covered in hair. They have been described as looking like anything from a hairy man to a giant ape. However there are two things the legends all agree on: they are man-eaters and their smell is debilitating. The smell of a shampe is said to bring warriors to their knees and death to the weak.

Alan knew he was no warrior. Hell, after last night he wondered if he was a real man. He chased out a beautiful woman that he might love when she risked everything explain herself. Then he refused to listen. As the shampe grew closer Alan wished he had one more chance to make things right.

As that thought ran through his mind a gust of wind blew at Alan’s back and the foul stench left his nose. The shampe made an angry guttural bark and beat its chest with its massive fist. Footsteps sounded with a causal tempo and they made their way closer to Alan from behind. As he turned his head he saw a beautiful profile walk right past him and towards the shampe before stopping ten feet in front of the monster. Once more Alan heard the voice he never thought he would hear again.

“Let’s get this over with you rank piece of shit I haven’t got all night!”