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Story Notes:

Story one of my Twilight Zone series. I just wanted to see how I could make a few of these TO related and I enjoyed how this one turned out. I will have the entire story posted by 6/13/08.

Now complete. 

Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

Michael Scott was walking down a deserted dirt path in his business suit. He was alongside groups of trees and bushes in the middle of nowhere on a bright and sunny morning. The air was comfortable and he was smiling. He reached his hand up and ran his fingers through some leaves hanging over the pathway. As he walked further down the path he began to hear music, an orchestral jazz number. He continued on around a corner when he saw a cafe and a paved road. The music had grown louder as he got closer to the restaurant.

It was extremely quiet outside and the cafe's parking lot was empty. He decided to grab a quick bite to eat before continuing his walk. When he pushed the door open to the small place, he was surprised to see the room was empty. The music was much louder and coming from a jukebox in the corner.

He walked up to the counter and leaned on his hands while peering into the kitchen. "Hello? I see there's a town up the street. Anybody know what it's called?" No one responded. He decided to walk around the edge of the counter to take a look behind it. He walked through to the kitchen and put his hands on the door frame, leaning into the room.

"You have a custo...mer," he trailed off. The space was empty as well, not a soul in sight.

"Hmmm," he pondered.

There was a back door in the kitchen; Michael thought he'd take a look outside. Maybe the owner was out back. "Hello... you have a customer out front," he shouted through the doorway. There was no one out there either.

He turned back into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. Over the loud music he heard a bubbling noise coming from the right side of the room. He looked around a refrigerator and saw a coffee percolator steaming on the stove. Next to the coffee were 3 pies cooling on a rack. Somebody must be around here, he thought.

"You have a customer out here..." he reached for a coffee cup and poured himself a glass. Suddenly the jukebox went quiet and turned itself off. "I was looking for breakfast, I’m starved. I have cash." When no one responded again he leaned over the counter and took a sip of the coffee. A few minutes later he finished his cup and placed a dollar on the counter.

He flipped the "Open" sign on the front door to read "Closed" and then shut it behind him. Stepping back out into the bright light, he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and looked up and down the road. Everything was so quiet. He had come from the south so he decided to continue heading north. He followed the bare road from out front of the cafe up to a small quaint town. There were houses around him as he headed to the town square. When he approached the middle of town a church bell rang from the left corner of the street. It surprised him and he expected to see parishioners pouring out of the church doors. There were no voices, no laughter, and no sounds anywhere. A post office was placed on the opposite side of the street next to a market and laundromat.

He walked over to the sidewalk lined with stores and peered inside a hardware store, it was also empty. He continued down the sidewalk looking in every window, and every door.

Nothing.

"Hello? Is there anybody in here?" He asked inside a bakery doorway.

Nothing.

When he turned away he saw a truck parked across the street. He began walking towards it when he saw a woman sitting in the passenger seat.

"Ma'am? Oh thank goodness..." he skipped down off the sidewalk and headed toward the truck. "It's the stupidest thing. I haven't seen anyone around, maybe they're all off somewhere but really you're the first person I've seen all morning. I was wondering if you could help me." He stopped in front of the hood and continued talking to the woman. "The thing is I don't remember who I am. I have no clue what my name is, I woke up this morning... well actually I didn't even wake up. I just sort of was walking down that road over there. I suppose I have amnesia or worse I'm going to need a doctor." He walked around to the door of the truck and pulled it open when the woman fell out of the seat onto the ground next to him. It wasn't a woman after all, it had been a mannequin dressed in women's clothing and placed on the passenger seat.

Michael leaned his hand onto the truck door and chuckled to himself. He stepped over her and slid his back down the side of truck sitting beside her.

"I didn't mean to upset you. You know I always had a thing for the quiet type." He reached over and scooped the doll up into his arms and set her back inside the truck. When he shut the door behind, he noticed the words "Bratton's Store Mannequins" painted on the side of it. He rolled his eyes and then turned back to the street.

The courthouse, the school, the market, everything was empty. The park located in the middle of the square was bare, not even a flock of birds bathing in the fountain. He turned around and looked at the truck again. He ran back to it quickly and reached inside the driver's side window hoping to find the keys.

Nothing.

"You don't happen to have the keys do you?" He jokingly asked the mannequin. The sound of a telephone ring suddenly filled the air. Michael stopped and turned looking for the source of the sound. There was a pay phone across the street. Michael ran as quickly as he could and reached inside for the phone.

"Hello?" He answered breathlessly.

Nothing.

"Hello?" He began hitting the flapper trying to get someone. "Operator? Anyone?"

Nothing.

He shifted the phone over onto his shoulder and reached into his pockets for change. He pulled out a few quarters and dropped one into the change slot then dialed "0".

A woman's voice came over the line, "This is the operator..."

Michael interrupted her and began speaking. "Oh thank goodness, operator I was wondering if anybody down there could tell me..."

"...please make sure you have the right number..."

"Heh-row?" He stopped and let the message play over.

"This is the operator. The number that you have reached is not a working number please make sure you have the right number and dial again..."

"Damn you!"

“...this is a recording. This is the operator. The number that you..."

Michael slammed the phone down and leaned his hands against the glass booth. His breathing still labored and sweat was glistening down his temples. He looked down and saw a local phone book hanging beneath the telephone. He lifted it up and read the top of it.

"Scranton local directory"

He started flipping through the pages reading names to himself, "Baker, Balsworth, Benny... where are all of you?"


He dropped the book and pushed on the phone booth's door, it didn't budge. The door was stuck and he kept pushing to try and get out. "Ha ha, can someone let me out? Soooo funny I forgot to laugh. Come on, somebody?"


He kept pushing and pushing and the door gave way just an inch. He could get his fingers out enough of the crack but it was jammed and refused to open all the way. He dropped his hands and took a deep breath, calming his nerves. Then he slid his palm inside the crack and pushed it against the door from at the top. It began to move and with one last aggressive push, he got the door free.

Michael stepped out of the phone booth and took a deep breath. He looked up and saw a sign above the building in front of him.

"A police station, perfect."

The door to the station was open, just like all the stores’ had been. He walked inside and began looking around. A police radio sat on a desk behind the counter and he picked it up and made an announcement.

"Calling all cars, calling all cars, suspicious guy walking around the police station. He's tough, rugged and good looking. May have super powers..." he stopped and gazed across the room as a small line of smoke raised up from a cigar sitting in an ashtray on the counter top. He set the radio back down and grabbed the cigar, lifting it up to look at it. It hadn't been there long; it was still about 5 inches in length.

He put it back into the ash tray and walked over to the cell area. The bars creaked as he pushed them open. His footsteps were loud on the cement as he walked through the jail cell's corridor.

Nothing.

He turned the corner and could hear the faint sound of water running. He took a few more steps and looked inside one of the cells to see a shaving kit sitting on a sink with the water still running. There were shaving crème remnants floating in the water. He stepped inside the cell and took a portion of the shaving crème between his fingers inspecting the freshness. Behind him the cell door began to close and he lifted his head watching the shadow across the wall. His heart began to pound and he threw the shaving crème into the sink and pushed open the door quickly, then raced out of the jail.

Once outside he began to yell while running across the street. "HEY! Where is everybody?"

 


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