The Doppleganger

Summers in Arizona reflected the heat back at you from all angles. Even amongst the shade of the parking garage, Peter swore the concrete festered it from every possible angle as droplets of sweat trickled onto his back and leaked onto his dress shirt. Yet, it couldn’t remove the cold emptiness that filled him. He never brought much to the office, so he could save himself the embarrassment of carrying it back to his vehicle with everyone watching. Yet it actually didn’t make much of a difference in the end, it was still more than he ever hoped to bear.

He reached his mid-luxury sedan and looked down at his reflection below him. That thing gave him a negative net worth, and would be eating away at his reserves for the foreseeable future.Yet, his pride wouldn’t settle for anything else during his hour commute while he was employed, with an engine powerful enough for decent AC. How long would it take until everything was gone? One month? Three months? Six months? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Even if he took whatever job he could to survive, what was to say he wouldn’t find himself back here again, with no one to go home to, no one to help make a difference for his miserable existence.

He looked over the buffer of his parking spot and felt himself immediately blinded by the scorching sun above. He looked over the valley, drenched in the rays of an oven while everything below him moved like ants. Perhaps he could just inch himself forward and jump past it to embrace radiating concrete below. He wouldn’t have to face his disgusting reflection again that night. Nor the morning after, or the one after that. Then all of this wouldn’t matter, would it?

“It would matter, you know, far more than you can even realize."

Peter jumped and turned to face the voice that boomed behind him. Only it wasn’t another man, it was him. How he envisioned he should be at least, if he were a foot shorter. Wearing what appeared to be a Medieval Nobleman’s outfit, dyed royal blue with accents of red and white with a flowing cape, and possessed sharp features with skin that was tightly pulled back across his jawline, he stood with a self-assured confidence that seemed almost alien to Peter at this point.

Peter wanted to say something, anything, but nothing could come out. The doppelganger held out an envelope. “You’ll know what to do with this when the time is right.”

“...W-what’s happening to me?”

“You’re going home.”

Just as quickly as the doppelganger had appeared, he was gone. Peter looked down at the blank envelope in front of him. Whatever was inside, whatever the whole exchange meant, he didn’t get too long to consider it. A roaring engine echoed throughout the parking garage and screeching tires grinded across the pavement, shooting their way into Peter’s eardrum. A giant black accelerating SUV stormed towards Peter at a breakneck pace. Its high beams flashed on and off, but he couldn’t move away. The hollowness he felt seemed to lift as the blinded lights came headfirst for Peter, all but guaranteeing a headfirst collision into him and his vehicle. Peter closed his eyes. Deep down he was partially relieved all of this would be coming to an end soon. As he waited for the lumbering vehicle to consume him whole, he felt a sharp pressure on the lower half of his body, but it was not the metallic force of a vehicle.

Instead, what he felt was muscular and fleshy, with rough bristles of hair poking into his legs. He no longer smelled the smog and heat from the city, instead he heard the squawks from seagulls and the salty air of the coastline entered his throat. He opened his eyes and found himself spinning in place. A lanky boy, no more than fourteen, stood over him in a panic. His muddy brown gambeson and sword stashed away at his side looked as foreign to him as the grassy green crossroads he found himself in front of. Yet Peter could still feel his drab sack suit draping across his body. He lulled his gaze from one side to the other on the crossroads. One side led down to the sea, the other the forestside and another right outside of the walls of what appeared to be a medieval city, with its cobblestone roads leading up to a city gate.

The lanky boy’s deep umber eyes frantically searched within Peter’s as he yanked his head forward and shook him to stay awake. The horse on top of him didn’t breathe, and he could feel the fat on his throat tightening even more than usual, making it harder to draw breath. The beast’s body lay firmly past his lap and onto his protruding stomach. The imposing weight suffocated each heave he made, making each drawn breath less firm than the last.

“Lord Zrinski, Your Grace. Stay with me.”

He felt a canister of water pour onto his head. He gasped as the cooling sensation rushed past his face, but the spinning wouldn’t stop.

“W-where am I?”

“Home, your Grace. Zemliharos is only a stonethrow away. I can get you home, just stay with me.”

Peter tried to speak again, but the crushing weight below him simply was too much. The boy's head spun and spun, until darkness was all that followed…