Don't Open the Door

Like every other night, it began. The refigerator was humming louder than the city outside, and the flat was dark. The only light in the room was the glow of from my phone as I scrolled through previous messages.

The notification appeared.

Warning from TCOSA: DO NOT LET ANYONE IN TONIGHT.

This containment notification is standard. Until there are any updates, stay inside.

At first, I didn't even blink. We have previously recieved weather, safety, and power warning messages. However, this one felt a little different. The phrase "DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR FOR ANYONE" weighed heavy, as if it were spoken rather than written.

A couple of minutes went by. One more buzz.

Update: Don't say anything. Don't answer external voices.

I uttered a faint laugh. A hoax by the government? A bug? I looked out the window; there were no sirens, no neighbors, and the streets were deserted. Only that yellow, chilly streetlight that constantly gave the snow a wounded appearance.

The first knock then came.

Measured and soft. Three times.

Every muscle in my body tensed up before my head did. The knocks returned, a bit more forceful. Staring at the door, I stood. Once more, my phone buzzed.

Please remember not to open the door.

I took a step back. Before a voice interrupted, my heart was pounding so loudly that it could drown out the silence.

"Hey...It's me. Are you inside?"

Ben. My own brother. It was the same soothing, lighthearted voice I had heard during lunch twleve hours prior.

He continued to speak softly and incoherently. "I was instructed to come here. Man, let me in. It's freezing."

Every instinct cried out for the door to be unlocked. But before I could move, another alarm was sent.

IMMEDIATE: THEY WILL SOUND FAMILIAR. AVOID OPENING THE DOOR AT ANY COST.

I stared at the screen as I froze. Outside, the voice faltered, now nearly a sob. "Please, I'm afraid, dude. Something is out here."

"Ben?" I muttered. However, it was pointless. The voice outside began to giggle, a soft fragmented sound that no longer matched his own.

One more alert.

DON'T GO NEAR THE DOOR. DON'T ENGAGE.

The tapping became hammering. The giggling ceased. Then only breathing. Shallow, long, and iches away from the wood.

Then there was quiet.

My hands were shaking too much to unlock the phone when the next notice arrived thirty minutes later.

EVERYTHING IS NOW CLEAR. STAY INSIDE. WAIT UNTIL DAYBREAK BEFORE OPENING THE DOOR.

I sat on the floor, listening and staring at that door until the sky started to lighten. All the building's creaks sounded like footsteps.

And shortly before I went to sleep at four in the morning, there was another sound. Inside, not outside. The carpet in the hallway is being brushed by something. Something is dragging.

I looked at my phone once more. No fresh warnings.

Only one message remains unread.

From: Unknown.

I appreciate you keeping the door closed.

The following day went by quickly. I skipped going to work. I didn't pick up the phone. I finally climbed into bed after sitting and staring at the door until the sun rose high enough to bleach the room white.

Sleep, however, didn't help. The walls simply felt thinner as a result.

The first notification arrived as night fell.

TCOSA WARNING: STAY INSIDE. THERE WAS NEW ACTIVITY FOUND.

I felt sick to my stomach. This was the first time I had witnessed "new activity." I shut off the lights, locked the windows, and sat on the floor once more, waiting with my phone in hand.

It took very little time.

This time, the knock was gentler. Only one. A pause. Then a voice.

"Dearest..."

The air escaped my lungs. My mother's voice was heard. The way my mother woke me up for school as a child was warm and melodious. However, my mom passed away five years ago. A house fire.

"I've really missed you. Open the door, please, sweetheart."

I raised my trembling phone as it buzzed.

Don't move. AVOIDING SPEAKING.

Every phrase in the voice outside was accompanied by a sob. "Why won't you respond to me? It's chilly. This place is quite frigid."

Slowly at first, then furiously, the scratching began. Splintering nails, dragging down the weak wood.

One more alert.

THEY ARE AWARE THAT YOU ARE INSIDE. KEEP QUIET.

My eyes hurt with tears. Before I could stop it, a whisper that hardly passed my lips, "Mom?" came out.

The scraping ceased. The door was forced against silence. Her voice suddenly became lower, guttural, and wrong.

"I know you're in there."

Once more, my phone vibrated.

DO NOT ENGAGE. AVOID MOVING. AVOID SPEAKING.

The metal squealed as the doorknob twisted and rattled. I covered my lips with my hand. The apartment's lights flickered once, twice, and finally died, leaving only the screen's illumination.

My name, which no one else knew, was muttered by the voice on the other end, just like she always did. Then it made a faint, moist sound, like breath caught in a watery throat, and started to chuckle.

STAY PUT UNTIL FIVE O'CLOCK.

My phone darkened and the battery icon turned red, and I sat motionless, staring at the door. Hours passed while the laughter ebbed and rose, mingled with sobs and clawing.

Then it stopped as the first rays of dawn crept through the blinds.

The screen flashed another notification.

THE SPACE HAS BEEN MADE CLEAR. SOMEONE HAS SEEN YOU. STAY INSIDE. AWAIT ADDITIONAL INSTRUCTIONS.

Another message from an Unknown number appeared before I could touch the screen with my thumb

It keeps you in mind. Tonight, don't make any noise.

I stopped looking at the time. The phone was already in my hands on the third night. As if the full battery could keep the gloom out, I had fully charged it.

At 11:27 pm, the first alert was sent out.

TCOSA NOTICE: THERE IS STILL A CONTAINMENT ADVISORY IN PLACE. KEEP CALM. STAY INSIDE.

I didn't switch the lights on. Except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, the room was silent and the color of dust and moonlight. The door across from me was shadowed, and I sat cross-legged on the floor.

No knocking just yet.

Midnight. One more buzz

They're on the go once more.

It stated nothing more. No instruction, no warning. Only those words.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle knocking, like fingers on wood. This time, it circled the apartment rather than coming from a single location. Ceiling. Floor. Window. Back to the door after that.

STAY STILL. DON'T ANSWER.

The voice came next. Perhaps a man's voice. Then a female's. Then a kid's. Hundreds of them whispered, cried, begged, and laughed over each other. My name was mentioned by some. I'd never told anyone some of the things they stated.

The sound of someone else's breathing made the air thick and heavy.

I put the phone to my chest. The screen came back to life.

THEY'RE OBSERVING.

With a slow pulse that matched my heartbeat, the walls shook. The phone buzzed again, and I wanted to scream, flee, and rip the door open to stop it.

They're nearly gone. KEEP QUIET.

Then there was stillness. Total, oppressive quiet. The refrigerator was no longer humming.

The door did not open.

The voices grew quieter.

I waited for the light to reach the room at daybreak.

It was almost mild as the last warning sounded.

The end of containment. Don't open the door.

Don't open the door.

Don't open the door.

Until the battery died, it kept repeating.

I'm still here.

The sun is up now.

Outside, the city is silent.

I haven't moved either.

I was unable to.

On the opposite side, something is breathing in sync with me.

The door is secured.

I haven't opened it yet. I don't know if I ever will.