The wheels of the car skidded to a halt, leaving Renee stranded on the rural road. She was in the middle of nowhere, with no phone signal, and the evening's light was slowly creeping down. Renee's tri-fingers twisted the key in desperation, only to hear the dull rumble of the engine's useless rotations. She had fueled up only 3 hours ago, so the problem was well beyond her limited capacities, which wasn't an unfamiliar experience for her. Still, she reached down to pop the hood of the car, hoping to make out some obvious clue in the nest of wires and belts. Her blue eyes darted towards the glove compartment, snapping it open to grab a flashlight, as well as the heavy paper bag-clad object that sat silently beside her in the passenger seat.
As she expected, the engine's flaw was hidden in a meaning unattainable to the simple fox.
Placing the flashlight on the ground, she reached into her skirt pocket to fetch her phone.
The transience of this phone's contacts is a testament to the fleeting nature of the relationships Renee attempted. However, two numbers remained unscathed for unconventional reasons that betrayed a darker motive. 'Home' had been disconnected years ago, but Renee could not bear to erase it. The number served as a memorial to her mother, snatched away by a vicious illness that left Renee with a permanent ache in her soul.
The second permanence was a contact named 'Reannon.' The mere mention of her name made Renee's blood boil. While the world considered her elder sister a picture of success, Renee knew better. Reannon's ambition had destroyed not only her own life but their mother's as well. Renee kept her number close as a reminder of that. Flipping the phone shut, Renee decided it was for the best if she just continued on foot. She seemed to recall seeing a welcome sign for a town just before her engine trouble began.
Unfortunately for Renee, a light shower began to set upon her not long after, and she clutched her green sweater in annoyance. She had a hazy memory of her mother warning her that water would damage certain fabrics, but the exact knowledge had slipped away—like she had.
Despite the discomfort, Renee persevered, her tender paw pads carrying her into the town's heart. The buildings that surrounded her were a hodgepodge of different styles, yet they still managed to maintain a cohesive aesthetic. It was clear, however, that this was a town unlike any other she had visited before. With a heavy heart, Renee trudged through the relentless downpour that had been plaguing her for hours. The bag she tightly clutched had all but disintegrated in her hands, leaving the pistol it held exposed to the elements. Anxious and desperate, she quickly ripped off the sodden bag and concealed it in her damp skirt's pocket, hoping against hope that it would go unnoticed.
As she looked up, Renee's eyes rested on an unusual sight—a building that resembled a suburban mall yet was constructed entirely of mobile home material. She moved closer, marveling at the oddity of it all. Motivated by an urgency to seek shelter from the elements, Renee approached one of the buildings but found the door locked tight. Disheartened, she reached into her pocket to check the time on her phone, only to discover that the device had been rendered useless by the rain. She tried in vain to revive it before giving up and pocketing it once more, her hopes of finding refuge dashed.
She tried another business; the door opened this time, and she quickly stepped inside. Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the earthy smell of incense and the gentle tinkling of wind chimes. Renee shook the rain off of her fur, feeling the droplets cascade down her legs and tail in a tangled mess. She looked around and realized that the store was seemingly deserted.
The crystals and stones that lined the shelves were a kaleidoscope of colors—yellows, whites, purples, and blues that sparkled even in the dim light. This was clearly a place frequented by the skinny hippie-types of her hometown, the same people that used to scoff at her and her family's unusual look for supposed foxes. Renee took a deep breath and tried to push aside her doubts and fears. She hoped that the emptiness of the store implied a lack of business—a petty victory against the hippies. She made her
way towards the polished and sanded stones that lined the shelves in baskets, the disturbingly familiar color scheme going over her head. She made her way to the empty counter and looked around for any signs of life. Her eyes locked onto a tiny figure she did recognize.
"What are you doing here?" Renee said with a sigh at the action figure that stood proud on the counter top: it was the character Reannon played on that stupid TV show, the show that made both of them who they are now. Renee picked up the figure in contempt; the figure was grossly off-model to either of them, looking more like a yellow-furred wolf with a massively disproportionate figure designed to tantalize men. "This is what you reduced us to, sister. Hope it was worth it." Renee uttered it under her breath.
"Pathetic." The figure replied in that unmistakable tone.
Renee threw it against the wall in both shock and anger, saying, "Fuck you!" She shrieked in reflex.
She was about to approach the scattered mess when a shuffle behind a shelf caused her ear to twitch.
She turned to try to sight the source. Her adrenaline pumping, she fumbled for the stowed handgun before pulling it free. "Who are you?! Show yourself!" Renee shouted at the shelf, handgun trained.
Nothing. The only noise to be heard was the pattering of the rain and the tinkling of the chimes.
Having had a chance to calm down, Renee lowered her gun and stared at it. An improv purchase with a black intention to it She returned it to her skirt band and decided it was best to leave, but before she did, she glanced back at the counter top and found a tacky tourist map of the village. There was a laundromat right across from here, and judging by the feeling of dampness against her skin, she was in desperate need. The rain had worsened in the short time she was inside, and she swore she got damper in the time it took to get across the rural plaza. As she stepped into the laundromat, the dampness clung to her like a second skin. Renee glanced down at her mane, noting the way the raindrops seemed to have seeped into every fiber, leaving her feeling shivery and cold. The laundromat was a welcome sight—a place where she could dry off and warm up.
But as she looked around, something felt off. The dryers, stacked haphazardly against one wall, looked ancient and worn, their once-bright colors faded by years of use. The folding tables, littered with abandoned laundry baskets, had warped legs that left them unstable and wobbling.
Only the shining new machines in the corner, untouched by human hands, seemed to gleam with any sort of life. Renee found herself wondering just how long it had been since this place had seen a customer.
As she stood there, she tried to recall the laundromats of her childhood. Memories of her mother clattering coins into change machines and shoving detergent into their washing machine bubbled up in her mind—memories that always brought a smile to her face.
But this place was different. It was eerie somehow, with the silence of the machines and the stillness of the air making her skin crawl. Still, if she wanted to avoid dying of the cold, she had to stay here.
She trotted over to one of the empty dryers, setting her handgun, phone, flashlight, and map aside on one of the more stable tables. She tugged at her soaked green sweater, grimacing at the sound of it peeling off her damp body. Her skirt clung to her like a second skin, but it too had to go. Renee stood before the mirror in nothing but her damp panties and her shivering fur.
Her petite breasts were almost completely covered by her wet, white mane. She cupped them, feeling her erect nipples against her paws. Renee then hugged herself and rubbed at her fur, attempting to fluff it up in a desperate bid to get herself warm. After a bit of this, she grabbed the wet garments and placed them in an empty dryer. To her surprise, the machine didn't require any tokens or coins to activate.
Soon, the rumbling of the dryer overtook the silence of the empty store, and Renee found herself pacing in front of the machine.
An action figure couldn't talk; Renee didn't know a lot, but she knew this.
Renee was all too familiar with the world's cruelty. Her many "boyfriends" had accused her of being insane once they discovered she wasn't her sister pretending to be someone else. But Renee refused to believe these cruel jabs. Perhaps she was cursed in some way, but she knew in her heart that she wasn't
crazy. She was just Renee—imperfect and flawed, but not insane.
Another ear-twitching sound brought her back into whatever this reality was. "Who's there?" she snapped at the source. Once again, nothing responded. This time she didn't brush it off; grabbing the handgun off the table, she moved throughout the place, searching for whatever made that noise.
As Renee made her way through the desolate laundromat, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. The dimly lit space felt ominous and foreboding, its silence broken only by the sound of her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. She tried to shake the feeling away, telling herself that it was just her imagination running wild.
But then, as she cleared one of the dryer towers, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a figure in the window of one of the dryer doors. "What the fuck?" she muttered under her breath. It was probably just her own reflection, but she couldn't be too sure.
With a shaky hand, Renee tentatively opened the door, only to be met by a writhing, yellow-clawed appendage that reached out and scratched her arm in a grotesque attempt to grab her. She recoiled, letting out a panicked scream as she fell to the hard floor, her eyes transfixed on the slowly emerging creature.
As the thing took shape before her, Renee could see that it was a vacant-eyed replica of her own appearance. The horror of the situation was almost too much to bear, but Renee refused to let it get the best of her. She scrambled to her feet, trying her best to find her balance on shaky legs.
The creature had now fully emerged, its grotesque form looming over Renee as she stood there, gazing in terror at the three bleeding claw marks on her arm. The points around them seemed to dissolve the surrounding fur, amplifying the horror of the situation.
Renee's hand trembled as she raised her handgun, only to be met with the dreaded sound of an empty chamber. She fiddled with the gun in desperation, pulling the slide back in a frenzied attempt to load it. She took aim once more, her finger hovering over the trigger as she tried to steady her trembling hand.
With a deafening bang that seemed to cause the world to shake, Renee fired. The bullet hit the creature squarely in the face, leaving a gaping hole from the impact. Yet the creature showed no sign of slowing down, its body still writhing and thrashing in horror as black liquid oozed from its wound.
Renee fired again, followed by a third shot, but the creature still refused to fall. It wasn't until the fourth bullet hit its mark that the creature froze, its body collapsing in on itself in a grotesque, bubbling mess. Black liquid splattered across the floor, causing Renee to recoil in disgust and horror at the sight before her. She was left there, trembling and panting heavily as she gazed at the remains of the creature before her, the echo of her gunshot still ringing in her ears.
Just as she thought to relax, she heard two separate thuds from her side.
Turning her head in fear, she saw three more of the mimics fully emerge from other dryers, one of them face-to-face, only kept away by the row of dryers. The mimic leaned back and threw his elongating arm with intent. She only managed to dodge it as it flew past her bare chest into another dryer, shattering the glass door. Renee double-backed to her own dryer, taking an improper shooting stance and firing at the nearest one. Another four hits reduced it to a blackened mess. She aims for the next, BANG, BANG, BANG. The fourth shot is interrupted by another arm swing, causing it to go off into the ceiling as Renee ducks. She stands up and points again. Click. Renee stares at the extended slide in horror. She didn't buy another magazine.
To make matters worse, the door to the laundromat kicks open with a slam.
BANG, a much louder sound echoes through the store, reducing the faraway mimic to goo.
The figure cocks whatever weapon he's holding back after the shot, running further into the store to take aim at the mimic closing in on Renee. BANG. The black goo splatters against her bare golden coat, and fortunate for her, it isn't corrosive. The ball-capped figure approaches, ejecting a spent casing as it does. "You okay there, mis—Oh, uh, sorry. "I didn't know you weren't decent." The man turns his head away. She looks down and remembers to be embarrassed. "O-oh, right. My clothes are in the dryer." She sulked over to the dryer, only to find it locked. "...You've got to be kidding," Renee said. Pulling the
door in a rapid series of pulls.
"Problem, miss?" The man asked, his head still turned away.
"Umm, the door's stuck." Renee said.
"Well, let me take a look; I'm pretty good with these types of things, if you don't mind my boasting."
Renee shuffled to the side as the man, who was obviously human, stepped over to the dryer.
He tugged at the door pull, but it still wouldn't budge. "Hmm, this thing's stuck alright; maybe if—wait a second. There's something written on the top of this."
"What does it say?" Renee asked, her ringing ears perking with curiosity.
"It's a riddle, listen. ' In mythology, he was old, the first of his kind, A tiller of soil, but his hands were not kind. Brother to Abel, a tragic tale told. His envy and rage did his brother's unfold. In this dryer's lock, a secret lies—a name that echoes through blood and skies. Look for the mark of the first murderer's shame.
And unlock the truth in this silent game.'"
The man rubbed his chin for a moment. "Why, that'd be Cain, wouldn't it?"
A click came as the words left his mouth, and so the dryer opened.
"Wow, I would've never guessed that in a million years. I'd have been stuck naked if it weren't for you.
The man chuckled, "Can't have that; can we miss? name Jonathan, by the way. Do you live out here, miss?"
Renee shook her head as she struggled to pull the now slim-feeling sweater over her head. "Ugh, no, I was going to ask you the same thing."
"Nah. The highway was jammed packed; I tried to cut down a side road to dodge it, but then my engine cut it.
"I tried to get help at a farmhouse and ran into these things. Lucky I had my shotgun with me."
There was no escaping the fact that her favorite sweater had shrunk, but at least it was warm.
"I'm... Renee, and that sounds exactly like what happened to me." Renee stepped back into her now warmed skirt.
"Mighty spooky coincidence, that it is." Jonathan looked grim, before breaking back into a smile.
"Glad to have you, Renee."
"You don't know who I look like, do you?" Renee asked, expecting an obvious reference.
"No, miss, should I?"
"...No, actually, it's... new for me." Renee smiled.
"Say, miss, I think something else popped out of that dryer." Jonathan pointed his rugged hand at the coin slot. Sure enough, a poker chip-looking object sat in the tray.
Renee picked up the chip-looking thing, only to find a key attached to it. The object had a plate and a fork embedded in its face.
"Huh, I think I saw a symbol like this on my map." Renee walked over to the table with her things and looked. "...Yes, I did; it's the Homeslice Cafe logo."
"We might as well head on down there then; I'm hungry. Don't think the guests will be too accommodating, though." Jonathan said.
Renee gathered her things, her fingers tapping on the gun. "I-I don't have anymore ammunition for my handgun, I hate to say."
Jonathan scratched his chin. "USP, right, miss?" Jonathan held out a black magazine with a copper-jacketed bullet crowning it. "Uh, I don't know; I didn't ask," Renee admitted. After a bit of a search, she found the magazine release and dropped the empty magazine to the floor. The replacement Johnathan handed her fit perfectly into the gun. "Wow! Where did you find that?"
"In that farmhouse. Now this is just getting a bit too foreboding for my tastes."
"Well, at least I can help kill these horrible things. I'm sorry for how they look."
What do you mean, miss?"
"Well, these monsters all look like me, don't they?"
"No, they don't, miss, not like you at all."