The wooden gate opens with the tug of Apricot’s pale hand. Cars and well-kept shrubbery line her streets around the Signa family home. The shadows from the fixtures under streetlight purpose a constant suspicion of danger. “They are coming to my house now,” Apricot whispers under her breath, her eyes darting towards every strange shape. Stretching her fingers through her hair she tugs at her roots, the pain stealing any hope that this is a bad dream. The cool night breeze makes her shiver as it brushes against her skin. Strangely enough, this brings her comfort as the air is not frigid.

Apricot had concluded these phantoms cause phenomena in their surroundings. Arctic temperatures follow them along with electrical disturbances. These two signs satisfied her as guide stones to identify when these beings were near. Moving through the night streets, Apricot could not help notice how empty her quiet burrow seems. As if the civilized world had vanished with the night, like crossing some forbidden threshold. All the talk of terrorist attacks must have people scared from going out she figures.

She stops in the middle of an intersection. A convenience store lights the night street shining like a glowing beacon and there it is, the subject of her curiosity. Peering through the large store window she notices the magazine rack with a stack of Erie Truth’s Monthly on a lower shelf. The store door opens with a synthesized bell. “I can’t believe I am doing this,” she mumbles under her breath as her heart pounds with embarrassment. Behind the counter, an elderly man gives her a quiet nod acknowledging her presence. She waves back to him, a simple but kind gesture of reciprocation. She passes by several assorted racks of junk food, a fixture displaying a new gum, and a cooler filled with various soft drinks. Glancing over the magazine rack she considers grabbing several hoping to mask her intended purchase. Instead, she decides to look through the issues pages. She holds the copy reading over the embellished cover as a bead of sweat drips from her nose onto the magazine’s face. “Well I can’t go back now,” she says as the splotch seeps into the paper.

Apricot tosses the magazine onto the counter flashing a smile at the gruff looking old man. “Will this be all for you dear?” he inquires with a professionalism from a time past Apricot admired.

“Yes, weird thing to get at night huh.” Apricot submits.

The old man chuckles “I have seen stranger things, hun. These can be quite the entertainers. I read the Daily Notes myself.” The daily notes Apricot grunted in her mind. No one but the most desperate journalist write for that one. Then again, the same could be said for Eerie truths, and yet she looked for answers where she knew better not to.

“You don’t say.” Apricot senses the heat around her getting more intense. “You like this place kept warm huh?” she comments. “Perhaps, maybe… no, that is not the pattern.” she thought to herself.

“The place gets a little chilly every time that door opens. So I like to keep it at a solid 75 degrees,” he says after ringing up the magazine. “Your total comes to five Marks, my dear.”

Apricot draws a plastic card from her pocket swiping against the reader. The little screen displays the number of marks being taken out of her account with a short animation to show the transaction going through. “75 degrees you say.” Apricot hesitates, feeling as though the heat was well over a blistering one hundred and twenty.

“You know now you mention it. It is feeling a little warm in here.” the old man offers. He raises his hand to his head removing several beads of sweat. He walks over to a beam behind the counter looking at a small white box. “Nope, the heater is set to 75. It seems cooler over here. Must be my dang computer system overheating again.”

“Yeah, the computer system,” Apricot adds reassuring herself. “Maybe temperature changes in general are a signal.” Apricot considers. “But if that is the case…”

The older man doddles back over to the counter. “Young lady, I am sorry if it caused you any discomfort.” he apologizes handing the magazine to her in a white plastic bag.

“Oh not at all. It is fine. I feel bad for you having to work in this kind of heat.” Apricot comments. “Thank you, sir.”

“No, no, thank you. Now you go enjoy that magazine of yours.” the man says before lowering behind the counter grumbling about unclogging the dust from the computer’s fan system.

~

Apricot could not get home fast enough. As she left the man’s store she was close to a full sprint. The heat seemed to follow her. Through her front door, she snaps the locks shut and up the stairs she goes. Once in her room, she jumps onto her bed flopping on her stomach flipping open the magazine. As she rests on her bed, she glances over to the window. “It’s locked. It’s not open.”

She begins by flipping through the first few pages, spreads of various advertisements of survival equipment, something with a man with a taped up face, she was not entirely sure what it was about and some other uninteresting text plastered pages. Once she found the table of contents, she scans the magazine for anything that may explain things. “I can’t believe I am doing this.” she thinks to herself while browsing the page.

“Paranormal Experiences Of Eastway Park And The Eastway Monster – P. 04
Religious Cult And Ritual Performance On Stage At Matsume Theater – P. 15
Tricked Into Initiation By Vampire Club – P. 28
Man-Eating Leeches Found In Okabe Sewers – P. 33
Boy Claims To Be Alien From Another Planet – P. 40
Claw Fingers Linked In Ikijoji Murders NEW PHOTOS – P. 42
Mental Travel And Astral Projection – P. 51
Woman Claims To Have Caused The Blue Ash Crisis – P. 57
International Conference For Paranormal Studies Blocked By Okabe Government – P. 62”

After looking down the list she chuckles to herself, “What am I doing?” Apricot flips to page 42 to see an image of “Claw Fingers” caught on surveillance footage.

“It appears wherever disaster strikes, ”Claw Fingers” appears. Many people have theorized that ,”Claw Fingers” has caused disasters around Okabe since he appeared several months ago. “Claw Fingers” was first photographed during the subway disaster in Tsungdung, appearing inside the subway tunnel while crews were removing the wreckage of red line 45.”

Some grainy images showing what appeared to be the reaper standing accompanied the text of the article. However, it is hard for Apricot to tell considering the images are so blown up and manipulated.

“He has had several sightings around the city since then. There were reports of him watching from the rooftops at the mysterious Bokohara antique shop attack. Still no information on what that was about. Now we have new reports of him being sighted on Ikijoji street last week before and after the murders had occurred. What we can say is that “Claw Fingers” is not going away and is being increasingly sighted. Authorities have refused to comment on the sightings but instead, have suggested that this is some kind of mass public hysteria. I think they know something and they are not telling us. What do you think?”

Apricot stops reading the article putting it down. “He said something about being a reaper. Maybe he is there because that is his job or something.” Apricot lets out a laugh. “Listen to me. I am theorizing about a freaking urban legend,” her giggle frenzy comes to a halt with a sober acknowledgment, “One I saw.” With a hard toss she sends the magazine flapping across the room. It strikes the wall and lands onto the floor. With one glance at the open page of “Claw Fingers” she turns away and leans back in her bed. “They are as clueless about everything as I am. I was crazy to think one of these magazines could hold the answers I was looking for. This “Claw Fingers” is not my threat right now though. It’s these “phantoms”. I can’t keep running away from the truth. The reaper said something about having to stop them. What is he crazy? I can’t fight those things on my own. I can’t even see them. And I can’t tell the police, that is for sure.” Apricot muses. She lets out a sigh placing both her palms atop her eyes laying against her pillow.

She glances back over to the magazine on the floor. On the other page next to “Claw Fingers” is an advertisement for a pistol. “A gun,” she says aloud removing her hands from her face. “I need a gun.”

~

The next morning Apricot made her way across town. Two subways, a bus ride, a bite to eat at a small restaurant called “The Blue Lady”, window shopping and still she could not find the nerve to purchase a weapon.

She had passed Bullseye’s several times. The shop window plastered with flyers for ammunition and new tactical gear along with Ready To Eat Meal specials. She watches as a young lady about her own age strolls out of the shop with two bags. “Well, maybe it won’t seem so strange to them,” Apricot assures herself rousing what little courage she has.

She crosses into the storefront she notices her fingers tingle. The unoiled door opens with a creak greeting her with walls overspread with every kind of black tactical weapon she has ever seen and even some she hadn’t. Her eyes grow wide as it strikes her with intimidation. Several glass cases displayed various knives along with some decorative swords. Survival gear and backpacks with an assembly of accessories line the other walls. As she looks around, she is overwhelmed. “You look a little-lost hun. Whatchya in here for.” comments a young man at the counter.

Apricot sheepishly walks to the counter. Each step small and deliberate as she scans the room with her eyes. “I want a gun. A pistol,” she says.

“A lady that knows what she wants. I like that in a girl.” he chirps. “A pistol, huh? First-time buyer?”

Apricot nods looking at a rather menacing long-barreled rifle. “Is that, a sniper rifle.”

“Why yes honey that is a rifle. Why this is a Maji-O’ B15A112, pretty little girl isn’t she. If you got the right sights, you can land a shot dead center from half a mile away. Gas piston so she needs a little more love than your spring variant but she is hell’a more accurate.” the man tells her. He bends behind the case picking up a small pistol from the back. “Since this will be your first gun, I suggest the Markov C14 also known as Justice,” he chuckles admiring the short-barreled silver polished weapon in hand. “This little gun is a standard issue of civil servants, has a carrying capacity of seven 9mm rounds, plus one in the chamber. Lightweight, easy to carry, and won’t break the bank either. You don’t need to clean it as often but she still needs love from time to time. It is good for first-time buyers because she is easy to care for and the recoil won’t be breaking your wrist.”

Apricot nods. “Yeah that. That will work. How much?”

“Well, tell you what, normally I would sell this to you for 400 but since it’s your first gun, how about 250 Marks?”

Apricot draws several Jade cards out of her wallet placing them on the counter. “Done,” she says.

The man smirks at her. “I like your enthusiasm. I do. But you need a background check first.” he says drawing several papers out of a folder. “I need you to fill out these forms and then we can send it on in.”

“How many hours do I have to wait?”

“Eager, heh, well, it takes about a week. Sometimes longer depending on how many are sent in.”

Apricot shakes her head. “No no, I need that gun today.”

The man shakes his head. “Sorry sister, that won’t be happening? Gun laws you know. Did you get trouble? If you do, I would suggest going to the police before taking things into your own hands.”

Apricot nods. “I am a student reporter sir. I need a weapon for protection.”

“Heh, you think that will convince me to break the law? Honey, do you understand the amount of trouble I could get in if I let you have this gun without a proper check?”

“I do but, this is different. I really need it. I can’t explain why but I need it.”

“No. I am sorry hun,” he says taking back the papers. “I don’t feel comfortable selling this to you. Like I said if you are having trouble go to the police. I can’t help you. Sorry.”

“Fine, I will do the background check. Look I need this ok.” Apricot retorts.

The man turns. “I don’t feel comfortable with this. I will have to ask you to leave my store. I won’t report this to the police cause I have a feeling you are looking for an article. However, I would suggest you don’t do this with anyone else. You got it.”

“I just want to buy a pistol.” Apricot fumes turning away from the counter and out the front door.