Mannequins

“Hey, this ones unlocked.”

“Good. Now get it open so we can get out of this cold.”

Jason was already opening the window. “How did you find this place?”

“Remember Phil?” Mike answered as he watched his friend enter the building that he was hoping to become their new home.

“Cheery big black guy with family from Philly? Haven’t seen him in about a year. Hand me my bag.”

Mike handed Jason’s bag down to him. “Yea, that’s him. It was about a year ago he told me he was heading out to these abandoned warehouses near the train yard. He wanted someplace with four walls and a roof to get through the winter. Ready for my bag?”

“Yea, hand it over. So you think this is the place?” Jason took the bag and placed it on the dusty floor next to his. Then helped Mike through the window.

“Has to be the place. Smells kind of funny though. Hey let’s look around for a spot to set up camp. Got your flashlight?”

“Sure do. Its right here with my keys to the car and my house,” Jason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his keychain with its sole occupant, a small flashlight.   

Mike pulled his small flashlight out and switched it on. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yea, I guess.”

The two men barely took five steps away from the window when Jason’s flashlight beam struck onto a shadowy figure.

“Hey who’s there?” Jason asked nervously.

Mike had taken a step closer and laughed at what he saw. “Relax. It’s a mannequin,” As he moved even closer his beam revealed that there were several more all facing them. Some male and some female but all showing only slight wear and tear from the years.

“Hey, there are more over here,” Jason had walked several paces to the right of the window. “These ones have tags on strings around their necks.”

“These ones don’t,” Mike called over. “What do they say?”  

Jason walked up and clos to one of the female mannequins and leaned in to read the tag. “Trevi Collection. Chicago, May 1975.”

“Wonder why some have the tags and others don’t. Must be a collection of some sort,” Mike mused aloud as he looked at closely at one next to him. “Care to dance?” he asked the female mannequin as he reached out and gabbed her hands. He took only a dozen steps in what he thought was a waltz before her right arm fell off in mid spin. “I guess you don’t like to dance,” he said as he dropped the arm on the floor.

“At least put the arm back on,” Jason said after watching the dance.  

“No point. Besides we still need to look around for a good spot to set up camp. Keep going your way and I’ll head over to the back wall,” Mike told him as he walked off.

Jason turned around and continued walking. There were at least twenty mannequins around him all lined in rows. They came in various sizes, colors and sexes. Some were even clothed. Jason only knew they gave him the creeps as he walked by them. As he approached the far wall, he couldn’t escape the sensation that he was being watched. Slowly he turned around. All the mannequins were looking at him and some had moved. “What the hell?”

Panic set in and Jason ran along the wall to keep his distance. He stopped at the corner and turned around again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He pointed his flashlight back in their direction. They had move again and even had different poses.  “This isn’t happening!” he said in a panic and turned to run again, this time to find Mike. Just as he made the turn, a mannequin was right in front of him. As Jason froze in place, the mannequin thrust his hand into Jason’s mouth breaking several teeth.

Mike had walked for a few minutes before finding the wall he had been heading towards. He figured he passed by a dozen or so of mannequins along the way. At least the ones his meager flashlights beam made out. Every now and then he swore he could hear something moving but just shrugged it off. “Must be Jason,” he thought to himself.  

“I guess this is as good as it gets,” Mike muttered to himself after not finding that special good spot to call home. Just as he was going to turn back his light caught something on the floor in the corner. When Mike got closer, he could clearly see what was there and the explanation of the odd smell there was when they entered the building. “Oh shit, Phil,” Mike barely uttered as he saw the remains on the floor. The desiccated body was wearing the now tattered cloths he had last seen Phil wearing.

Mike began to back up when he was suddenly hit in the back of his head, knocking him to the floor. As he rolled over onto his back, he reached for his flashlight and pointed it up. The female mannequin he had danced with was standing over him holding her arm. There were several others beside her all looking down at him. He tried to scream when she raised her arm and swung down onto his head.

Word count: 894

Inspiration: Part of it came from the Kolchak: The Night Stalker episode The Trevi Collection. Some more came from just mannequins themselves where just like pictures they just seem to keep looking at you.