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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Sonofposiden18 on 2024-11-18 20:50:09+00:00.
First off, my name is Oliver Wyatt, and ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted to be a police officer. I got an intense amount of pride out of the idea of upholding the law and being someone of authority. As a kid, I would run around my front yard, waving a toy revolver at imaginary bad guys like I was dirty Harry. That might sound like a tremendous cliché, and it probably is, but it’s my life. So, after high school, I picked up a minimum wage job until I was old enough to sign up for the police academy. Looking back, I wish I had stayed at that greasy burger place 15 minutes from my house.
After 22 weeks of (not exactly intensive) training, I graduated and finally achieved my dream. Dad couldn’t have been more proud, and mom couldn’t have been more terrified. I tried to console her, but even I was sweating a little. I will admit that years of anticipation began to climax in fear. Fear that all my ambition would get me is bullets flying in my direction. Only to see myself on the evening news, all of my dreams blowing up in my face. I have to say though that the first few weeks were more boring than I expected, even disappointing to some degree. Driving around dealing with car accidents, domestic abuse calls, and busy bodies welding cell phones like weapons. None of it scratched the itch for justice that I was looking for. I wanted some action! Some shit that you might see on numerous daytime TV cop shows. I was so naive. If I had any sense, I would have listened to Carter.
Carter Halpert was my old partner. He was an older man with a massive white mustache that would have put Nietzsche to shame. He had straight gray hair that was cut just above his shoulder and piercing green eyes that seemed to suck the truth out of any situation. All that and his thick Georgia accent that made him feel like the grandfather everyone wanted in their youth. The man genuinely carried himself like an old west sheriff, something that became quite clear whenever he scolded me for my action-hungry attitude. Or, whenever he scolded anyone for that matter. He always told me that I should consider myself lucky that I hadn’t seen something truly messed up, and maybe never would if I played my cards right. I knew he was right, even back then I knew that he was right. But I always wanted more action. I wanted to feel like I was doing a service.
At first, this seemed like it was finally going to be one of those calls. Someone apparently heard gunshots at an apartment complex out in the middle of nowhere. It was called Paramount Apartments. I knew the address was odd. It was way out of town, seemingly right next to the highway —a more fitting place for a chain hotel, not an apartment complex.
“Who the fuck is living next to the highway in the middle of nowhere?” I asked Carter, perhaps a bit more vulgar than I should have been. I remember that Carter made a face, a piercing scowl that I hadn’t seen on him before, as he stared off into the distance. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but before I could say anything, he grabbed his radio.
“10-4, squad car on route.” Just like that, Carter made a few quick adjustments, and we were off with our lights and sirens blaring. I was almost positive it was some old woman calling about a kid’s video game being too loud or something like that. But I had hoped it would be something interesting. We drove for about 12 minutes before we came to the next exit. I can’t remember any exit signs, but then GPS just made us peel off at an exit that seemed to come out of nowhere. The road turned off seemingly into the forest. It was a more drastic turn than I had expected. I braced myself like a child expecting a crash, but Carter took the turn like a seasoned stunt driver. He seemed to chuckle at my sudden panic, only to focus back on the road as we disappeared into the forest. The road came to a sudden fork in the road at a flashing red light. A stop light that illuminated two roads going in opposite directions.
“Recalculating.” The GPS sounded. I turned to look at the GPS, and I wanted to say something. I knew the GPS shouldn’t have needed to reboot. Did we make a wrong turn somewhere? I really wanted to say something. But I knew Carter was determined at this point, so I shut myself up. He made the right, and I found myself holding my breath as the red light drifted off into the distance. Carter made a right and continued down the dark road, with the red light blinking behind us.
I looked out my window to try and catch my bearings as we drove. I thought we were in some kind of forest. The intense black surrounding us could only be explained by a dense forest in the dark of midnight. But as I looked around, I realized we were driving through a town. I thought I could see buildings of some kind, but with no streetlights and no lights on, I couldn’t be sure. I tried to focus on the shapes moving past my window. They didn’t look like they had any depth to them, like the silhouettes of buildings where they should have been. My eyes were quickly drawn to a bright light that seemed to appear right in front of me. The road suddenly opened up into a well-lit parking lot— a medium size parking lot with way too many lights for the space. I felt like I was under fluorescent office lights when I was outdoors. It also didn’t take me long to notice that the parking lot was completely surrounded by trees. I could have sworn that the parking lot was surrounded by other buildings, but they seemed to lose their shape when we got out of the car. A well-lit apartment building with at least 15 floors sat at one end of the parking lot. I was confused as to how the two of us hadn’t seen the building sooner. Sitting behind the tacky water feature was a sign that read, “Paramount Apartments.”
“Be alert. Something is wrong.” I nodded as Carter parked the squad car. I was at least happy he was just as weirded out as me.
When Carter and I pulled up to the building, there was a man in his mid-40s standing out front. He was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, a pink polo, white sneakers, and Oakley sunglasses worn backwards. The man looked like some HOA asshole going through a midlife crisis. It was like all my worst fears were confirmed at once. This was some middle-aged entitled prick complaining about children. Or something else he happened to mistake for gunshots. In any other situation, the man wouldn’t have raised any suspicion – and he certainly didn’t beyond my first thought. But now I find myself looking for anything, any clue that could have let me know what was going to happen next.
“Oh, thank God,” he said with seemingly genuine concern on his face, “I heard gunshots in apartment 307. I think someone might be hurt!” Carter and I glanced at each other before looking at the man skeptically.
“Do you live here, sir?” Carter asked, realizing we still had no idea who this guy was or what his business was here.
“My name is Matt Miller, and I am the building manager. I have been getting complaints about this room for a few months now. They seem like good folks–a nice family. They pay the rent on time, but a couple times a week, I get a complaint about fighting and screaming coming from that room. Then when I go to check on them, it always seems to be over and everyone is all smiles. I’ve never actually heard the fighting for myself and no one ever seemed to be hurt. ” He explained as Carter raised his eyebrow.
“Please take us to the apartment, sir,” Carter said calmly. The man nodded and led us inside. He pushed a few buttons on a keypad; the door system let out a loud screech, and he let us inside through a dirty and somewhat bare lobby. I couldn’t help but think the room was absurdly small, with no chairs for anyone to sit in. One side of the room had an elevator, the other had an open door leading to a flight of stairs. The man calling himself Matt then ushered us into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. I then turned to him.
“But why have you never called the authorities to deal with it before?” I asked, wondering why I had never heard of this building before or even heard the address on a debriefing.
“Like I said, I have never actually heard the fighting myself or seen anyone hurt. I don’t go into people’s private lives.” The incompetence of this manager started to get on my nerves. The elevator opened, revealing a long, cramped hallway with sickly green carpeting and dozens of doors on both sides. The green of the carpet struck me: it was the same green as dirty pond water and the smell wasn’t too far off. I had to stop myself from gagging and Carter was right behind me in that regard. Many of the lights were flickering or were out altogether. The lights bathed the whole hallway in a piercing light, the color of movie theater popcorn butter. I couldn’t help but notice dead insects inside the bulbs, but then I noticed some were alive. There were so many. The live ones seemed to be crawling over each other–and the dead ones–in a desperate attempt to get out. It was then that I noticed the bugs crawling on the wall. Every dark point on the wall seemed to move the more I looked at them. From that point on, I did my best to stay in the middle of the cramped hallway. The whole place seemed like it was falling apart, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. As the man calling himself Matt led the two of us down the hallway, a question popped into my head.
“Do…
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