# 10 True Walmart Horror Stories That will Hunt You at Night!

An episode of [AfterDark Reddits](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1896809423), 22 Oct 2026, 1 h 14 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/74987400/055_10_true_walmart_horror_stories_that_will_hunt_you_at_night.mp3



## Transcript

[0:03] Speaker 1: The first thing you need to know is, I wasn't
[0:05] Speaker 1: supposed to be there that night. My name's Ethan Walsh.
[0:09] Speaker 1: I'm 26, flat broke, and just trying to keep my
[0:11] Speaker 1: head above water. Between night shifts at Woolworths Metro and
[0:14] Speaker 1: clinical rotations, for paramedic school, I get maybe four hours
[0:18] Speaker 1: of sleep on a good day. I'd love to tell
[0:20] Speaker 1: you I'm a hero in the making, someone who saves
[0:22] Speaker 1: lives and drinks black coffee with a steady hand. But
[0:26] Speaker 1: truth is, I flinch every time my phone rings. It's
[0:29] Speaker 1: July 15th, 2024, Melbourne winter. Cold enough that your breath
[0:33] Speaker 1: turns to steam and your hands go numb just taking
[0:36] Speaker 1: the trash out. I'm working the night fill shift alone
[0:39] Speaker 1: after my manager bailed mid-shift. Said something about the freezer
[0:42] Speaker 1: alarm glitching again. Never came back. It's not the first
[0:46] Speaker 1: time I've been left solo. And with everything going on,
[0:49] Speaker 1: losing my car, failing my trauma assessment, rent due tomorrow,
[0:54] Speaker 1: I didn't push back. I remember it was 2.35 a.m.
[0:58] Speaker 1: I'd just finished stocking dry goods when I ducked. Into
[1:01] Speaker 1: aisle three to grab a carton of full cream milk
[1:03] Speaker 1: for myself. Thought maybe I'd sneak it into the staff
[1:06] Speaker 1: fridge for the morning tea crowd. The store was dead quiet.
[1:09] Speaker 1: Fluorescence buzzed overhead like a faulty defib. The kind that
[1:13] Speaker 1: charges but never fires. Rain slicked the outside glass. Not
[1:18] Speaker 1: a soul in sight. Then the PA system crackled. Team
[1:22] Speaker 1: member required and static. Immediately. Weird thing was I was
[1:27] Speaker 1: the only team member left. I frowned up at the speaker,
[1:31] Speaker 1: listening for a repeat. Nothing. Just silence. Then a warbled
[1:36] Speaker 1: hum like the speaker was breathing. I should have walked.
[1:40] Speaker 1: Out then. I had every reason. But that's the thing
[1:43] Speaker 1: about being desperate. You normalize weird. You keep clocking in,
[1:49] Speaker 1: keep playing along, hoping the world doesn't push back any
[1:52] Speaker 1: harder than it already has. That was the last moment
[1:55] Speaker 1: I still believed I was alone in the store. I
[1:58] Speaker 1: turned the corner into aisle four looking for dish soap
[2:01] Speaker 1: and nearly collided with him. He was huge, tall, broad-shouldered,
[2:06] Speaker 1: and dripping wet in one of those heavy canvas dresa-bone coats,
[2:10] Speaker 1: hood up, even indoors, which threw me. The coat looked aged,
[2:15] Speaker 1: almost waxy with water. He wasn't holding a basket, not
[2:19] Speaker 1: even a phone, just one thing, a bottle of drain cleaner,
[2:23] Speaker 1: one of the heavy-duty ones in the metal canister, gloved hands,
[2:27] Speaker 1: work gloves, Like he'd just come off a job or...
[2:31] Speaker 1: something worse. The smell hit me next. Not just rain
[2:36] Speaker 1: and wool. Something chemical underneath. Methylated spirits, maybe. My throat tightened.
[2:42] Speaker 1: He smiled too wide. Like someone trying to practice emotions
[2:46] Speaker 1: in a mirror. Bit fresh out, eh? I took a
[2:50] Speaker 1: step back. Just need some dish. Soap. I muttered, trying
[2:54] Speaker 1: to keep it casual. His smile stayed frozen, eyes locked
[2:58] Speaker 1: on me. Funny, that's an aisle too. He wasn't wrong,
[3:02] Speaker 1: but I wasn't looking for soap anymore. I was looking
[3:06] Speaker 1: for exits, for logic, for something to click in my
[3:09] Speaker 1: brain and go, this is just a guy. Let it go.
[3:15] Speaker 1: But nothing clicked. I gave him a nod, tight, polite,
[3:19] Speaker 1: and backed up the aisle. I tried not to turn
[3:22] Speaker 1: my back, but he didn't follow. Just stood there with
[3:24] Speaker 1: that bottle dangling at his side. fingers twitching around the
[3:28] Speaker 1: cap like he might unscrew it. I moved fast, angling
[3:32] Speaker 1: toward the staff break room, but when I passed the
[3:34] Speaker 1: front doors, I stopped cold. They were frozen mid-swing, like
[3:40] Speaker 1: someone had pulled the emergency override. I waved a hand
[3:44] Speaker 1: in front of the sensor. Nothing. Locked. Then the PA
[3:48] Speaker 1: system came alive again, only this time it didn't speak.
[3:52] Speaker 1: It sang. A warped, broken version of waltzing Matilda crackled
[3:56] Speaker 1: through the speakers. Slowed down. Off pitch. Like. A child
[4:01] Speaker 1: humming underwater. And just past the end of aisle seven
[4:04] Speaker 1: I saw something I can't explain. That same man. At
[4:08] Speaker 1: both ends of the aisle. Same coat. Same stance. Both
[4:13] Speaker 1: staring at me. I did what any rational person wouldn't.
[4:17] Speaker 1: I ran. Straight for the walk-in chiller behind the dairy section.
[4:22] Speaker 1: Door was heavy. sealed tight once shut. I slammed it
[4:26] Speaker 1: behind me, twisting the lock even though I knew it
[4:29] Speaker 1: wouldn't matter if he was already in my head. Cold
[4:32] Speaker 1: blasted through my clothes. My breath fogged instantly. My phone
[4:36] Speaker 1: said no signal. No surprise. The chiller walls are steel-lined.
[4:42] Speaker 1: But still, I tried. Dialed triple zero. Nothing. Just dead air.
[4:49] Speaker 1: I pressed my back against the shelf of yogurt tubs
[4:51] Speaker 1: and tried to think. What the hell was happening? Was
[4:54] Speaker 1: it stress? Sleep deprivation? My exam in three hours? Maybe
[5:00] Speaker 1: I'd finally cracked. Seen too many. Traumas. Lost too many
[5:05] Speaker 1: hours of sleep. Maybe the guy in aisle four never existed.
[5:10] Speaker 1: But I could still smell the milk on my hoodie
[5:12] Speaker 1: from where the carton had leaked. Then the door handle jiggled.
[5:16] Speaker 1: Soft at first. Then louder. Metal clanging like someone trying
[5:20] Speaker 1: to pry it open. I looked around for a weapon,
[5:23] Speaker 1: found a two-liter milk carton. Pathetic. But I gripped it anyway.
[5:29] Speaker 1: The handle stopped. Silence. Then, click. The latch began to turn,
[5:36] Speaker 1: slow and steady. Didn't wait. As the door opened, I
[5:41] Speaker 1: launched the milk like a grenade. It exploded across the
[5:44] Speaker 1: man's coat, soaking him in cold cream. He didn't even flinch.
[5:48] Speaker 1: I grabbed the nearest cleaning spray from the utility shelf.
[5:51] Speaker 1: bleach-based disinfectant and shot it straight at his eyes. That
[5:55] Speaker 1: did it. He screamed, shrill, not deep like I expected,
[5:59] Speaker 1: and stumbled back. I ran. The back hall was darker
[6:03] Speaker 1: than it should have been. Security lights flickered overhead, casting long,
[6:07] Speaker 1: twitchy shadows against the walls. My shoes squeaked across the
[6:11] Speaker 1: wet concrete as I sprinted past rows of pallets and trolleys.
[6:14] Speaker 1: Behind me, I could hear him moving. Heavy footfalls, steady
[6:18] Speaker 1: breathing like a bull priming to charge. but he wasn't yelling,
[6:22] Speaker 1: wasn't threatening, just humming that same sick version of waltzing Matilda.
[6:27] Speaker 1: I crashed into the emergency door by the loading dock,
[6:30] Speaker 1: slamming the red bar. Bam. Alarms exploded in my ears,
[6:35] Speaker 1: shrieking into the night like a hundred angry birds. I
[6:39] Speaker 1: fell outside into the yow. Rain, skin instantly soaked, breath
[6:43] Speaker 1: catching in the freezing air. The concrete was slick but real,
[6:47] Speaker 1: solid beneath my feet. I ran into the alley, didn't
[6:50] Speaker 1: look back. Fifteen minutes later, I was standing by a
[6:53] Speaker 1: tram stop on Elizabeth Street, shivering and dripping, watching headlights
[6:57] Speaker 1: blur through the rain. I didn't have my lanyard. Didn't
[7:01] Speaker 1: have my phone anymore, either. I think I dropped it
[7:04] Speaker 1: in the stockroom. I didn't care. The store stayed behind me,
[7:07] Speaker 1: glowing faintly under the city lights. It looked so normal. Mundane.
[7:13] Speaker 1: Like nothing inside it could have possibly gone wrong. But
[7:16] Speaker 1: I knew better. I didn't go back. To work. Didn't
[7:20] Speaker 1: even try to collect my pay. The police took my
[7:23] Speaker 1: statement the next morning. What little I could give them.
[7:26] Speaker 1: They found the store locked tight. The loading dock door
[7:29] Speaker 1: had tripped the alarm, but there was no sign of
[7:30] Speaker 1: forced entry. No damage. Nothing stolen. They found a pool
[7:35] Speaker 1: of vomit in aisle 8 near the pet food. Found
[7:38] Speaker 1: the drain cleaner. Empty. My manager? He claimed he went
[7:43] Speaker 1: home with food poisoning. Couldn't remember turning off the doors.
[7:46] Speaker 1: Didn't remember paging anyone. Security footage showed me moving through
[7:50] Speaker 1: the aisles alone. No sign of the man. No split-image tricks.
[7:55] Speaker 1: Just me. Running. Hiding. Spraying air. They found my staff
[8:00] Speaker 1: lanyard in the break room. Torn to hell. Like something
[8:04] Speaker 1: had scraped across it again and again. No DNA. No prints.
[8:08] Speaker 1: No explanation. Now I catch the tram to Coles, even
[8:12] Speaker 1: though it adds twenty. Minutes to my commute. It's smaller, brighter.
[8:16] Speaker 1: And it closes at midnight. Some nights, though, when the
[8:19] Speaker 1: tram passes the Woolworths on Elizabeth... I swear I see
[8:22] Speaker 1: a figure by the automatic doors, just standing, waiting, and
[8:27] Speaker 1: I can almost hear it again. The thing about starting
[8:34] Speaker 1: over is nobody tells you how damn cold it is.
[8:37] Speaker 1: I lost my factory job in June, 12 years running
[8:40] Speaker 1: presses down at the plant. They said downsizing, but I
[8:44] Speaker 1: know what that means when you're pushing 40 with a
[8:46] Speaker 1: herniated disc. By October I was stacking shelves at the St.
[8:50] Speaker 1: James Walmart on night shift trying to prove to my
[8:53] Speaker 1: ex-wife and a judge that I could still keep a
[8:55] Speaker 1: roof over my daughter's head. Kaylee's asthma meds alone could
[8:58] Speaker 1: bankrupt me. But she needs them. And I need her.
[9:04] Speaker 1: October 28th, first snow of the season. 15 to 6 outside.
[9:08] Speaker 1: My boots tracked salt in through the back door as
[9:10] Speaker 1: I clocked in. No holiday spirit. Just overnights, cracked fingers
[9:16] Speaker 1: and fluorescent lights that buzz like a migraine. I was
[9:19] Speaker 1: wrestling this 12-foot animatronic scarecrow into place in seasonal. Thing
[9:23] Speaker 1: weighed a ton, probably built for outdoor displays. Not one
[9:27] Speaker 1: lonely aisle by the automatic doors. Every 47 seconds, it
[9:32] Speaker 1: let out this high-pitched cackle that was supposed to be
[9:35] Speaker 1: spooky but sounded more like a broken toy. Plastic costumes
[9:39] Speaker 1: swished behind me. Ghouls and glittery witches on wire hangers,
[9:43] Speaker 1: all sagging like they knew Halloween wouldn't be fun anymore.
[9:47] Speaker 1: I was halfway through setting up a fake hay bale
[9:49] Speaker 1: when my walkie crackled, Carter, stop slacking. Halloween reset needs
[9:54] Speaker 1: to be done by 6 a.m. That was Greg, the
[9:57] Speaker 1: night manager. He hasn't smiled since 2009 i muttered something
[10:03] Speaker 1: under my breath and turned back to the scarecrow something
[10:07] Speaker 1: felt off like its head was tilted just a little
[10:11] Speaker 1: more than before i shook it off maybe i bumped
[10:15] Speaker 1: it maybe i'm overtired Maybe it's just Halloween getting under
[10:20] Speaker 1: my skin, but I swear it was watching me. Around
[10:23] Speaker 1: midnight I took a breather near the front, leaned against
[10:26] Speaker 1: a pallet of discounted pumpkin buckets, my breath fogging even indoors,
[10:31] Speaker 1: still not used to working nights. Body doesn't know when
[10:34] Speaker 1: to shut down, when to eat, when to care. I
[10:37] Speaker 1: glanced over to seasonal. That damn scarecrow had shifted, its
[10:41] Speaker 1: burlap face looked tighter, pulled toward one side like it
[10:44] Speaker 1: was smirking. The button eyes, glossy black, were catching the
[10:49] Speaker 1: red glow from the exit signs, making them look alive.
[10:53] Speaker 1: I knew it hadn't been facing that direction before. I
[10:56] Speaker 1: walked over and straightened its shoulders. Its overalls smelled strange,
[11:00] Speaker 1: like gasoline and wet mulch. I hadn't noticed that before.
[11:04] Speaker 1: Maybe someone spilled cleaner nearby. As I adjusted its arm,
[11:08] Speaker 1: straw slipped out of the sleeve. Just a few pieces.
[11:11] Speaker 1: Not weird, right? But the thing is, it felt... warm.
[11:16] Speaker 1: Just then, Mia arrived, late as usual. She's 23, always
[11:21] Speaker 1: smells like spearmint gum and complains about everything except payday.
[11:25] Speaker 1: Why is it watching us like that, she joked. I laughed.
[11:29] Speaker 1: So did she. But it didn't last. We both looked
[11:33] Speaker 1: at the scarecrow, quiet. Its arms were lower now. Slightly.
[11:38] Speaker 1: We didn't say anything more. She clocked in. I went
[11:43] Speaker 1: back to stalking every 47 seconds. The thing laughed. I counted.
[11:48] Speaker 1: Mia went to check inventory in the back. Said she'd
[11:51] Speaker 1: grab more fake spiderwebs. She didn't come back. Fifteen time.
[11:59] Speaker 1: I was pulling a box of glow-in-the-dark skulls from the
[12:02] Speaker 1: top shelf when I heard it. Static over the PA.
[12:06] Speaker 1: No voice. No music. Just this low, humming crackle. I
[12:11] Speaker 1: timed it. Sixty-six seconds exactly. I called out for Mia.
[12:17] Speaker 1: No answer. Figured she was dodging work again. Until I
[12:21] Speaker 1: walked past the scarecrow. Its hand was holding something. Mia's
[12:25] Speaker 1: name tag snapped right through the clip. I stood frozen.
[12:30] Speaker 1: My skin prickled like it knew. Something I didn't. I whispered, Mia,
[12:36] Speaker 1: this isn't funny. No response. Just the scarecrow's laughter. Shorter
[12:40] Speaker 1: this time, almost cut off. I ran through the store,
[12:43] Speaker 1: half thinking it was a prank. Mia was the type.
[12:46] Speaker 1: Break room. Nothing but her half-eaten sandwich on the table,
[12:50] Speaker 1: covered in straw. I checked. Backstock. Found the witch mannequin
[12:55] Speaker 1: we'd set up earlier, now wearing Mia's jacket. Not just
[12:58] Speaker 1: a similar one. Hers. With the little safety pin she
[13:02] Speaker 1: always kept on the zipper. My heart hammered against my ribs.
[13:06] Speaker 1: Last shot. I sprinted to electronics, praying the security footage
[13:11] Speaker 1: would show Mia clowning around or sneaking outside for... a smoke.
[13:16] Speaker 1: What I saw chilled me worse than the snow outside.
[13:18] Speaker 1: The feeds showed me. Alone. Restocking. Talking to air. No
[13:24] Speaker 1: sign of Mia. I ran for the fire exit. Sealed.
[13:29] Speaker 1: Lights above it flickered once. Then died. The store was silent.
[13:35] Speaker 1: Except for the laughter. Don't remember how long I sat
[13:39] Speaker 1: on the floor by the batteries. Maybe five minutes. Maybe twenty.
[13:42] Speaker 1: Felt like hours. I tried calling 911, but there was
[13:46] Speaker 1: no signal. The building always had crap reception, but not
[13:50] Speaker 1: this bad. I went back to seasonal. Slowly, the scarecrow
[13:55] Speaker 1: hadn't moved. Not that I could prove. I reached out,
[14:00] Speaker 1: tried to grab Mia's name tag. It wasn't in the
[14:03] Speaker 1: scarecrow's hand anymore. But something else was. A piece of paper.
[14:08] Speaker 1: A schedule. Mia's schedule dated that night. Signed in Greg's handwriting.
[14:14] Speaker 1: I pocketed it and backed away. My footsteps echoed through
[14:18] Speaker 1: the aisles. The overhead lights were humming louder now, like
[14:21] Speaker 1: pressure was building. Or maybe that was just my ears ringing.
[14:26] Speaker 1: Checked the break room again. The sandwich was gone. In
[14:30] Speaker 1: its place, a bundle of straw, a single rubber boot,
[14:33] Speaker 1: and an empty inhaler. My legs gave out. I threw
[14:37] Speaker 1: up in the trash can. Tried to breathe. Tried not
[14:40] Speaker 1: to think about Kaylee. I was the only one left.
[14:43] Speaker 1: That's what the cameras said. That's what the air said.
[14:47] Speaker 1: Even the scarecrow seemed calmer now, like it had what
[14:50] Speaker 1: it wanted. I sat by register three, closed my eyes,
[14:56] Speaker 1: told myself if I woke up and it was morning,
[14:58] Speaker 1: I'd quit, never come back. And if I didn't wake up, well,
[15:03] Speaker 1: that solved everything, didn't it? I woke up with the
[15:05] Speaker 1: beeping of checkout scanners and a cart rattling past me.
[15:09] Speaker 1: It was morning. Sunlight slid across the tile. Shoppers moved
[15:14] Speaker 1: like nothing was wrong. Mia was gone. No one remembered
[15:19] Speaker 1: her working that night. Greg said she wasn't scheduled. HR
[15:23] Speaker 1: said her name wasn't in the system. I showed them
[15:26] Speaker 1: her jacket, the inhaler, the name tag. They said I
[15:30] Speaker 1: must have brought them from home. Suggested I talk to someone.
[15:34] Speaker 1: Maybe take time off. I did better than that. I quit.
[15:39] Speaker 1: That afternoon I picked up Kaylee from her mom's place.
[15:43] Speaker 1: She climbed in the truck, said, You smell like pumpkins
[15:46] Speaker 1: and gasoline. I smiled, told her I'd been working hard.
[15:51] Speaker 1: Why'd you quit? She asked, wheezing a little. Walmart's too
[15:54] Speaker 1: cold at night, I said. She nodded like she understood
[15:57] Speaker 1: more than I expected. We drove home. I tucked her
[16:01] Speaker 1: in after giving her her meds. She asked if we
[16:04] Speaker 1: could decorate for Halloween this year. I said sure. Later,
[16:08] Speaker 1: I stood in the backyard, put something up by the fence.
[16:12] Speaker 1: Just a little setup, 12 feet tall, burlap face overalls,
[16:16] Speaker 1: and my old Walmart vest on its chest. Just for
[16:20] Speaker 1: the season, or maybe longer. Sometimes at night I hear
[16:23] Speaker 1: it laugh, every 47 seconds. It was one of those
[16:31] Speaker 1: nights where the cold crept in through your bones and
[16:33] Speaker 1: sat behind your eyes. The kind of Saskatchewan winter that
[16:37] Speaker 1: makes you question every decision that got you here. I
[16:41] Speaker 1: clocked in at 3.55 p.m., and by 11.30, all I
[16:45] Speaker 1: wanted was to get home to my boy, Caleb. He's 10,
[16:48] Speaker 1: type 1 diabetic. His insulin isn't cheap, not even with coverage.
[16:53] Speaker 1: Not when your ex-wife takes your savings and your dignity
[16:55] Speaker 1: and leaves you scrambling to decide between groceries or medication.
[16:59] Speaker 1: I picked up this Walmart closing shift last fall, thought
[17:02] Speaker 1: it'd be temporary. Four months in and I'm still here
[17:05] Speaker 1: folding hoodies and processing returns for minimum wage and manager side-eyes.
[17:10] Speaker 1: Tonight had been slow. A few people grabbing clearance items.
[17:14] Speaker 1: One guy buying a snow shovel and then returning it
[17:16] Speaker 1: an hour later covered in slush. Typical. At 11.48 p.m.,
[17:23] Speaker 1: with maybe a dozen minutes left on the clock, the
[17:25] Speaker 1: automatic doors hissed open again. And in walked... the tall man.
[17:30] Speaker 1: He had on a Canada goose parka and winter gloves
[17:33] Speaker 1: he kept adjusting but never removed. His walk was deliberate.
[17:37] Speaker 1: Not slow. Not fast. Not fast. like someone who'd done
[17:40] Speaker 1: this before. He passed five glowing self-checkout kiosks and stepped
[17:46] Speaker 1: into my lane. His bags looked stained, maybe reused, and
[17:51] Speaker 1: something about him smelled wrong, like rubbing alcohol mixed with
[17:55] Speaker 1: damp newsprint. I forced my usual smile. Find everything all
[18:00] Speaker 1: right tonight? The man blinked once. Long and slow. Not everything,
[18:06] Speaker 1: he said. He placed a single item on the conveyor
[18:10] Speaker 1: A pregnancy test, the kind we keep locked behind the
[18:12] Speaker 1: glass case that's always broken. I scanned it. Item not
[18:16] Speaker 1: found in database. I scanned it again. Same message, third time. Price. 0.0
[18:25] Speaker 1: or I looked at the screen, then back at him. Huh,
[18:30] Speaker 1: must be a system glitch, I can... No, he said,
[18:34] Speaker 1: leaning in slightly. His breath fogged against the scanner. Try again.
[18:39] Speaker 1: His smile was thin and too calm. I didn't try again. Instead,
[18:44] Speaker 1: I printed a dummy receipt, bagged the test, and handed
[18:47] Speaker 1: it over. He took it gently like it was something valuable.
[18:51] Speaker 1: Guess it's my lucky night, he said, walking away without
[18:54] Speaker 1: another word. No phone, no wallet, no pockets checked. Just
[18:59] Speaker 1: out the sliding doors into the black January night. I
[19:03] Speaker 1: stood there a second too long, heart knocking at my ribs.
[19:07] Speaker 1: Then I shook it off. Just a weird customer, nothing new.
[19:10] Speaker 1: I clocked out at 12.07 a.m. Cold hit me like
[19:13] Speaker 1: a slap when I stepped outside. My caravan was the
[19:16] Speaker 1: only vehicle in the staff lot, except for a black
[19:19] Speaker 1: Ford F-150 idling near the cart corral. It's me. Windshield
[19:25] Speaker 1: was so fogged I couldn't see inside. My phone buzzed
[19:28] Speaker 1: in my coat pocket. Caleb's glucose monitor linked through the
[19:32] Speaker 1: app was flashing red. Low, 62 milligrams DL DAMM. I
[19:37] Speaker 1: picked up the pace toward the van. That's when I
[19:40] Speaker 1: heard it. Clap, pause, clap, gloved hands, slow, deliberate, behind me.
[19:47] Speaker 1: I turned, but the lot was still. The truck was
[19:51] Speaker 1: still running, exhaust twisting in the freezing air. But no movement,
[19:55] Speaker 1: no door open, no footsteps. No clapping, just me, a
[19:58] Speaker 1: parking lot camera, and the truck. I sprinted to the van,
[20:01] Speaker 1: yanked open the door, and jammed the key into the ignition.
[20:05] Speaker 1: It coughed once, then caught. The dashboard lights flickered on,
[20:09] Speaker 1: My phone buzzed again. Caleb's level. 58 me roared DL.
[20:14] Speaker 1: Hang on, buddy. I muttered, shifting into reverse. As I
[20:19] Speaker 1: backed out, I glanced at the truck again. Still idling.
[20:23] Speaker 1: Still fogged. But this time I noticed the back door
[20:26] Speaker 1: was slightly ajar. Not enough to register as open. Just
[20:30] Speaker 1: a sliver. No. Driver. No movement. I didn't wait around
[20:35] Speaker 1: to figure out more. I peeled out of the lot
[20:38] Speaker 1: and headed across town. Tires crunching over packed snow, Caleb's
[20:42] Speaker 1: monitor pinging at me every block. I made it home
[20:45] Speaker 1: in ten minutes, practically flew into the house. He was
[20:50] Speaker 1: curled up in a blanket on the couch, half asleep,
[20:52] Speaker 1: cheeks pale. I got the juice box into him fast,
[20:55] Speaker 1: then the glucose tabs. His eyes opened slowly. Hi, Dad.
[21:01] Speaker 1: I almost cried. That night after he fell asleep again,
[21:05] Speaker 1: I sat at the kitchen table with the heat turned
[21:07] Speaker 1: way up, still shivering. I kept hearing the clapping. Not real.
[21:13] Speaker 1: I know. But I couldn't shake it. Next shift. The
[21:19] Speaker 1: first thing I did was ask. About the pregnancy test.
[21:23] Speaker 1: No one had logged one through the system. Inventory check
[21:27] Speaker 1: came up short by one, but no transaction matched. I
[21:30] Speaker 1: asked the overnight manager to check the tapes from the register.
[21:34] Speaker 1: He pulled them up. There I was. Tired. Scanning. The
[21:39] Speaker 1: Man didn't show up on the footage, I blinked, rewatched.
[21:42] Speaker 1: The belt moves. My hands scan the item. The screen
[21:46] Speaker 1: glitches briefly. But there's no one on the other side
[21:49] Speaker 1: of the lane. Didn't you say it was self-checkout that
[21:52] Speaker 1: was acting up? The manager asked. You were working the floor, right? No,
[21:58] Speaker 1: I said, throat dry. I was at register 8, right there.
[22:03] Speaker 1: He narrowed his eyes. You look exhausted, Jamie. Maybe take
[22:07] Speaker 1: a day. I left early that night. Two days later,
[22:11] Speaker 1: a friend from Returns texted me a photo from the
[22:13] Speaker 1: security office. A screenshot from the outside lot cameras. Black
[22:18] Speaker 1: Ford F-150 clearly visible. The same one. The timestamp showed
[22:23] Speaker 1: it had followed three different employees home in the past week.
[22:26] Speaker 1: Parked outside their buildings, sometimes for hours. Then vanished. The
[22:31] Speaker 1: license plate wasn't registered in Saskatchewan. I filed for a
[22:34] Speaker 1: location transfer the next morning. Stonebridge Walmart. Less traffic. closer
[22:39] Speaker 1: to Caleb's school. I told HR it was about work-life balance.
[22:45] Speaker 1: They didn't ask questions, but I still think about that night.
[22:49] Speaker 1: Sometimes a customer walks up at 1159 PM with a
[22:52] Speaker 1: quiet smile and a single item and I freeze. I
[22:57] Speaker 1: check their coat, their hands. I look at the item twice.
[23:00] Speaker 1: I make sure it rings up because if it doesn't,
[23:02] Speaker 1: if the screen glitches or the total reads 0.00, I
[23:06] Speaker 1: void the sale. I call the manager. And if they say,
[23:10] Speaker 1: guess it's my lucky night? Don't say a word. I
[23:14] Speaker 1: just watch the doors and I listen. For clapping. Because
[23:17] Speaker 1: the worst part? That black F-150 hasn't shown up again.
[23:22] Speaker 1: But I know it will. I used to measure time
[23:29] Speaker 1: by tides. Now I count pallets and pay stubs. After
[23:33] Speaker 1: Dad went down with the blue crest, everything stopped moving.
[23:37] Speaker 1: My hands. My sleep. The damned clock. We buried an
[23:40] Speaker 1: empty casket. No body. Just his old compass and a photo.
[23:45] Speaker 1: Of us on the trawler. Back when I thought being
[23:48] Speaker 1: a fisherman meant something more than dying cold. When the
[23:51] Speaker 1: insurance hit a snag, I took what I could. Overnight
[23:54] Speaker 1: stock at the Kenmount Walmart. Not exactly the family legacy,
[23:58] Speaker 1: but it paid enough to keep the lights on. My
[24:01] Speaker 1: wife picked up double shifts at the ER. And my
[24:04] Speaker 1: son Jack stopped talking. Can't blame him. I wasn't much
[24:08] Speaker 1: use between the grief and graveyard hours. We passed each
[24:12] Speaker 1: other like ships in fog. It was March 12th. Freezing rain,
[24:17] Speaker 1: the kind that rattles the roof and turns windshields into
[24:20] Speaker 1: glass graves. I was restocking motor oil in aisle 16,
[24:25] Speaker 1: just trying to keep my mind off. Things when the
[24:27] Speaker 1: intercom sputtered. Cashier needed at register 7. No one else
[24:31] Speaker 1: was scheduled on tills that hour. Just me and a
[24:34] Speaker 1: quiet floor. I wiped my hands on my jeans and
[24:37] Speaker 1: made my way over. She was waiting when I got there.
[24:40] Speaker 1: Hood up, rainwater dripping onto the rubber mat. She wore
[24:44] Speaker 1: a yellow slicker, looked just like the ones from Petty Harbor,
[24:48] Speaker 1: and heavy. Rubber boots caked in something dark and fibrous. Kelp, maybe.
[24:53] Speaker 1: Her face was pale, lips purpled from cold, and her
[24:57] Speaker 1: hair clung to her cheeks like wet rope. She placed
[25:00] Speaker 1: two items on the belt, a rusted flashlight and a
[25:03] Speaker 1: pouch of chewing tobacco. Dad's, brand the one they stopped
[25:08] Speaker 1: making five years ago. Find everything all right tonight? I asked,
[25:13] Speaker 1: forcing a smile. She didn't say much, just nodded. Her
[25:17] Speaker 1: hands looked wrong, pruned, like she'd been soaking too long
[25:22] Speaker 1: in seawater. She passed me a soggy 20. The bill
[25:26] Speaker 1: smelled of diesel and salt. Not that faint beach smell. Open,
[25:32] Speaker 1: C-sharp and old. I scanned the barcode on the tobacco pouch.
[25:36] Speaker 1: The register beeped, I bagged the items, handed her change.
[25:39] Speaker 1: Her hand brushed mine, ice cold, wet like she'd just
[25:43] Speaker 1: surfaced from a shipwreck. She took the bag and walked
[25:46] Speaker 1: straight out into the storm. I stood there a beat
[25:49] Speaker 1: longer than I should have, heart stuttering like a bad
[25:52] Speaker 1: outboard motor. Finally turned, to check the transaction log. Nothing.
[25:58] Speaker 1: No sale recorded. The bagging area? Empty. No pouch. No flashlight.
[26:05] Speaker 1: Just faint smears of water on the counter. I checked
[26:08] Speaker 1: the cameras. I needed to make sense of it even
[26:11] Speaker 1: if it meant finding out I was just tired and
[26:13] Speaker 1: losing it. The footage showed me. Alone. Scanning empty air.
[26:19] Speaker 1: Talking to no one. The blood drained from my face.
[26:23] Speaker 1: That's when I noticed the tracks. Wet boot prints. Leading
[26:27] Speaker 1: from register 7 to the back of the store. I
[26:31] Speaker 1: followed them through aisle 20. Past gardening to aisle 22.
[26:34] Speaker 1: Fishing supplies. The scent of brine hung in the air,
[26:38] Speaker 1: thick and sharp. It made my chest tighten. The boot
[26:42] Speaker 1: prints stopped at the employees-only door that led to the
[26:45] Speaker 1: loading dock. The door was ajar. I had locked it
[26:49] Speaker 1: at midnight. I always lock it at midnight. But there
[26:53] Speaker 1: it was, swinging slightly in the wind. Rain lashing. At
[26:58] Speaker 1: the concrete. Something about that door made my bones ache.
[27:03] Speaker 1: like dad was standing on the other side staring in.
[27:07] Speaker 1: I sat in the break room, fingers wrapped tight around
[27:10] Speaker 1: a coffee cup. The vending machine's brew tasted like burnt cardboard,
[27:14] Speaker 1: but I needed the warmth. Still shaking, couldn't stop thinking
[27:18] Speaker 1: about the tobacco. My old man never went a day
[27:21] Speaker 1: without that brand, Reefman's Plug Chew. He used to stash
[27:25] Speaker 1: it under his pillow on the blue crest. Said it
[27:28] Speaker 1: kept the sea out of his teeth. Stubborn old bastard.
[27:32] Speaker 1: On a hunch, I pulled out my phone and searched
[27:35] Speaker 1: the name. Not many results anymore. One link stood out.
[27:40] Speaker 1: A shipping manifest dated March 2019. Last shipment of Reefmans
[27:44] Speaker 1: lost at sea with MV Blue Crest. Twelve aboard. No survivors.
[27:49] Speaker 1: Captain Jacob Daw. Dad? I stared at the screen, breath
[27:55] Speaker 1: stuck in my throat. We'd heard the story a hundred times.
[27:59] Speaker 1: Rogue wave, black box silence. Flares that never lit. but
[28:04] Speaker 1: I'd never read it on paper. Never saw his name attached.
[28:08] Speaker 1: Like that. Captain Jacob Daw. I took a sip of
[28:12] Speaker 1: coffee and gagged. It was salty. I spat it into
[28:16] Speaker 1: the trash and sniffed the cup. Still steaming, still brown,
[28:20] Speaker 1: but my tongue swore it was seawater. The lights above
[28:23] Speaker 1: flickered once, then settled. I should have left then. Clocked out.
[28:28] Speaker 1: Called a cab. But something kept me grounded in that
[28:31] Speaker 1: break room like an anchor. Something old. Heavy. Familiar. I
[28:36] Speaker 1: couldn't tell you why, but I checked my locker. Dad's
[28:39] Speaker 1: raincoat was inside. I hadn't brought it with me. My
[28:42] Speaker 1: wife packed it away last spring. Said it made the
[28:45] Speaker 1: house smell like diesel. But there it was. Dry. Folded. Clean.
[28:50] Speaker 1: Touched the sleeve. And it was wet. Next shift, I
[28:54] Speaker 1: told myself it had just been stress. Lack of sleep.
[28:58] Speaker 1: A dream, maybe. But I brought dad's raincoat with me anyway.
[29:03] Speaker 1: Hung it on the hook by the time clock. Couldn't
[29:05] Speaker 1: explain why. It just felt right. Like a gesture. Like respect.
[29:11] Speaker 1: Around 2.30 a.m., the intercom crackled again. Cashier needed at
[29:16] Speaker 1: Register 7. I knew what was coming. Still, my legs
[29:21] Speaker 1: moved like they didn't belong to me. When I got there,
[29:24] Speaker 1: she was already waiting. Same woman. Same slicker. But now
[29:28] Speaker 1: it was torn at the shoulders. Her hair was darker,
[29:31] Speaker 1: knotted with seaweed. Her skin looked grayer, not bruised, waterlogged.
[29:37] Speaker 1: She placed one item on the belt. A brass ship's compass.
[29:41] Speaker 1: I didn't need to see the back to know what
[29:43] Speaker 1: it said. J.D. Trust the stars when the sky turns black.
[29:48] Speaker 1: Dad's words. His compass. The one we buried with the
[29:52] Speaker 1: empty casket. I didn't scan it. Didn't need to. The
[29:57] Speaker 1: register lit up anyway. printed a single receipt in watery
[30:01] Speaker 1: blue ink, paid in full MV Blue Crest. Then the
[30:06] Speaker 1: screen went black. She looked up at me, eyes clouded
[30:11] Speaker 1: like seawater through glass, and for the first time she smiled.
[30:16] Speaker 1: A small soft thing, not quite peace, but close. Then
[30:22] Speaker 1: she turned and walked into the storm. I didn't try
[30:25] Speaker 1: to stop her. The morning crew found the dock door,
[30:29] Speaker 1: open again, freezing rain still blowing in. No damage, no theft,
[30:35] Speaker 1: just footprints that ended at the edge of the shipping bay.
[30:38] Speaker 1: My supervisor asked why I clocked out at 2.47 a.m.
[30:43] Speaker 1: I hadn't, I worked till 7, but the system said otherwise.
[30:47] Speaker 1: They checked the security footage again. Same story, just me,
[30:52] Speaker 1: moving packages, talking to thin air. At home, Jack finally
[30:57] Speaker 1: broke his silence. Said he had a dream about Grandpa.
[31:01] Speaker 1: He told me to tell you you're working too hard.
[31:04] Speaker 1: Said you still owe him a coffee. I didn't cry.
[31:08] Speaker 1: Not really. But I sat in the hallway for a
[31:11] Speaker 1: long time, raincoat still in my hands. I keep it
[31:14] Speaker 1: by the time clock now. Every shift just hangs there.
[31:18] Speaker 1: I never wear it, but I check it every night.
[31:21] Speaker 1: Sometimes the sleeves are dry. Sometimes they're damp. And when
[31:24] Speaker 1: the wind's just right, I swear I hear gulls crying
[31:27] Speaker 1: over Kenmount Road. I was never much for routine, but
[31:35] Speaker 1: lately the only thing holding me together was the rhythm
[31:37] Speaker 1: of late-night Woolies runs. Most nights I couldn't sleep anyway.
[31:41] Speaker 1: My mind buzzed with client revisions and invoices that still
[31:45] Speaker 1: hadn't cleared. Rent was overdue. My laptop's fan had started
[31:50] Speaker 1: making this whirring death rattle, and Kayla, my last semi-steady client,
[31:55] Speaker 1: was threatening to pull the plug if I didn't deliver
[31:57] Speaker 1: by Friday. It was a humid Thursday night near midnight,
[32:02] Speaker 1: and I told myself, I just needed caffeine and maybe
[32:05] Speaker 1: something crunchy. My flat in Yarraville had no air con,
[32:09] Speaker 1: and even with the window open, the heat clung to
[32:11] Speaker 1: the walls like grease. So I drove out to the
[32:14] Speaker 1: 24-hour Woolies in Footscray. Barely anyone around. The lights inside
[32:19] Speaker 1: hummed like they were straining to stay awake. I grabbed
[32:22] Speaker 1: a basket and walked the aisles like a zombie. Energy drinks,
[32:26] Speaker 1: instant noodles, frozen hash browns. Nothing remotely healthy, but who cared?
[32:31] Speaker 1: I hit self-checkout. scanned my things and bagged them with
[32:34] Speaker 1: one hand while unlocking my phone with the other deadlines,
[32:38] Speaker 1: always deadlines. The parking lot was mostly empty. The asphalt
[32:42] Speaker 1: still breathing heat from the day. My old Holden Commodore
[32:46] Speaker 1: sat crooked near the exit convenient, but the space felt
[32:50] Speaker 1: too quiet. That's when I saw it, a black Toyota
[32:54] Speaker 1: Hilux idling three spaces down. I noticed it because the
[32:57] Speaker 1: headlights were off, but the engine was running. The windows
[33:01] Speaker 1: were dark. Couldn't. See inside. I tried to brush it off.
[33:06] Speaker 1: Probably a security guard or someone waiting on a shift change. Still,
[33:10] Speaker 1: my hands moved quicker than usual as I loaded my bags.
[33:14] Speaker 1: Skin prickled at the back of my neck. I shut
[33:17] Speaker 1: the door fast. Locked it. Started the engine. The Hilux's
[33:21] Speaker 1: headlights blinked. On and I swear, I swear, that headrest tilted.
[33:26] Speaker 1: Like it was watching me leave. I pulled out of
[33:29] Speaker 1: the lot too fast. The wheels scraped the curb and
[33:32] Speaker 1: I muttered something under my breath. My gut was clenched. Irrational.
[33:37] Speaker 1: That's what I told myself. I'd just been working too much,
[33:41] Speaker 1: not sleeping enough. Maybe I was freaking myself out. Then
[33:45] Speaker 1: I looked in the mirror. The Hilux was following me.
[33:49] Speaker 1: No turn signals. Just shadowing my every move. I took
[33:53] Speaker 1: a right onto Geelong Road. So did they. I sped up.
[33:57] Speaker 1: They matched it. I dipped into a narrow residential street,
[34:01] Speaker 1: hoping to lose them in a maze of parked cars
[34:04] Speaker 1: and one-way signs, still behind me. Lights off, engine steady.
[34:09] Speaker 1: My mouth went dry. I fumbled for my phone in
[34:12] Speaker 1: my pocket, dropped it on the passenger seat. My hands
[34:16] Speaker 1: were slick with sweat as I finally swiped and dialed.
[34:20] Speaker 1: Triple zero. A tired-sounding woman answered. Emergency, what's your location?
[34:28] Speaker 1: I stammered through it. I'm being followed. Black Toyota Hilux.
[34:31] Speaker 1: I think the plate was... Bravo Echo something seven. It's
[34:35] Speaker 1: too dark. Are you in immediate danger? The Hilux revved.
[34:40] Speaker 1: Came closer. Yes, I... I think so. I'm trying to
[34:45] Speaker 1: lose them. I swerved into a servo. Tires squealing as
[34:50] Speaker 1: I pulled up to the pump. Left the engine running.
[34:53] Speaker 1: The Hilux passed. Then slowed. Hung. At the exit, like
[34:59] Speaker 1: it was watching me from the edge of the lot,
[35:01] Speaker 1: the operator stayed on the line, asked me to stay
[35:04] Speaker 1: in a public place. I told her I was close
[35:07] Speaker 1: to home. Didn't mention my chest felt like it had
[35:10] Speaker 1: a belt wrapped around it. When I finally pulled into
[35:13] Speaker 1: the tiny lot outside my flat, the Hilux was gone.
[35:17] Speaker 1: But I didn't feel safe. I just felt like the
[35:19] Speaker 1: clock had started ticking. I triple-locked the front door. Closed
[35:24] Speaker 1: the blinds and checked every window like I was living
[35:27] Speaker 1: inside a checklist for paranoia. My flat was small. A
[35:31] Speaker 1: one-bedroom unit tucked behind a bakery that always smelled burnt
[35:34] Speaker 1: after midnight. I turned on every light. My laptop blinked
[35:38] Speaker 1: at me from the couch. Unread messages. Revision notes. Rent reminders.
[35:44] Speaker 1: But I couldn't focus. My thoughts were static looping back
[35:48] Speaker 1: to the black Hilux and those damn tinted windows. I
[35:52] Speaker 1: told myself it was nothing. That I was just spiraling.
[35:55] Speaker 1: Everyone gets freaked out sometimes, especially when they're this burnt out, right?
[35:59] Speaker 1: Then I heard it. A click. I froze. Outside, a
[36:04] Speaker 1: soft car door sound. Not loud, not slamming. More like
[36:10] Speaker 1: someone being careful. I went to the blinds, peeked between
[36:15] Speaker 1: the slats. Nothing. Just the flickering street lamp and the
[36:19] Speaker 1: silhouette of the bakery across the road. I stared for
[36:23] Speaker 1: too long. My eyes played tricks. Maybe something moved behind
[36:28] Speaker 1: that dumpster. Or maybe my brain was melting. I pulled
[36:33] Speaker 1: the blinds down, paced the room, took a shower with
[36:36] Speaker 1: the curtain half open, ate my noodles standing up, fork shaking.
[36:40] Speaker 1: By 4 a.m. I passed out on the couch with
[36:42] Speaker 1: my phone clutched in my hand. No dreams, just darkness.
[36:47] Speaker 1: When I woke, the sky outside was pale blue. I
[36:51] Speaker 1: blinked hard, trying to orient myself. Then I saw it through.
[36:55] Speaker 1: The window, parked on the opposite curb in perfect alignment
[36:58] Speaker 1: with my door, was the black Toyota Hilux. I didn't breathe.
[37:04] Speaker 1: I didn't blink. The Hilux just sat there, engine off,
[37:06] Speaker 1: lights off, as if it had always been there. I
[37:10] Speaker 1: rushed to the door, fumbled the locks, yanked it open,
[37:14] Speaker 1: and stepped barefoot into the street. No one in the
[37:17] Speaker 1: driver's seat, just empty glass staring. Back. But on my windshield,
[37:23] Speaker 1: tucked neatly under the wiper, was a sticky note. A
[37:27] Speaker 1: yellow square. I pulled it off like it might burn me.
[37:32] Speaker 1: It read, See you soon. Blocked letters. No signature. No smudges.
[37:38] Speaker 1: Just casual. Like a dentist's appointment. Reminder. My breath caught.
[37:43] Speaker 1: I checked the car again. Still empty. Then I checked
[37:46] Speaker 1: every parked car. Nothing. Nobody. I ran back inside, heart
[37:52] Speaker 1: slamming into my ribs. Paced the room, notes still in
[37:55] Speaker 1: my fist. My first instinct was denial. Maybe someone thought
[38:00] Speaker 1: it was a joke. Maybe I was being dramatic. But
[38:03] Speaker 1: the truth. Wouldn't let go. This wasn't random. They followed
[38:08] Speaker 1: me from Woolies. Knew where I lived. Watched me all night.
[38:13] Speaker 1: I threw everything I could into a backpack. Laptop. Charger.
[38:17] Speaker 1: Two shirts. Toothbrush. Left a voicemail for Kayla. Family emergency.
[38:24] Speaker 1: Need to go. Sorry about the delay. Then I was
[38:27] Speaker 1: out the door. Didn't bother with the blinds. Didn't lock
[38:31] Speaker 1: the windows. I just drove. I didn't know where. But
[38:35] Speaker 1: it felt safer than here. Until I hit Somerville Road.
[38:41] Speaker 1: That's when I saw the Hilux in my rear view.
[38:44] Speaker 1: Sliding into traffic like it never left. At first I
[38:48] Speaker 1: didn't believe it. I blinked, swerved a little, checked again.
[38:52] Speaker 1: Same Hilux. Black paint. No plates on the front. Just
[38:57] Speaker 1: far enough back to pretend it wasn't following. Just close
[39:00] Speaker 1: enough I could still see its shadow. Kept driving. Past Seddon.
[39:06] Speaker 1: Into West Footscray. Took corners too fast, hoping to lose it.
[39:11] Speaker 1: Didn't work. I stopped at lights longer than I should have.
[39:15] Speaker 1: Turned into streets I didn't recognize. Every time it followed.
[39:19] Speaker 1: Not aggressive. Just constant. It was like they wanted me
[39:23] Speaker 1: to know they were there. Like they were training me.
[39:27] Speaker 1: I called the police again. Explained everything. without a full
[39:31] Speaker 1: plate number they couldn't do anything call back if they
[39:34] Speaker 1: exit the vehicle or make contact what would that even
[39:38] Speaker 1: look like them knocking on my window slipping into the
[39:42] Speaker 1: passenger seat while I blinked I kept moving it's been
[39:46] Speaker 1: hours since I stopped once for fuel Pretended to call someone.
[39:51] Speaker 1: Made a show of checking the tires. The Hilux idled
[39:54] Speaker 1: across the lot watching. I don't know what they want.
[39:57] Speaker 1: I don't even know who they are. All I know
[39:59] Speaker 1: is they're not in a hurry. And they're not going away.
[40:03] Speaker 1: They want me afraid. They want me exhausted. They want
[40:07] Speaker 1: me wondering when the next note will show up. Maybe
[40:11] Speaker 1: on my pillow. Maybe inside my fridge. Maybe I'll wake
[40:16] Speaker 1: up and they'll be parked right in my room. All
[40:18] Speaker 1: I can do now is keep driving. Eyes on the mirror.
[40:22] Speaker 1: Waiting for the next sticky note. Waiting for the next
[40:26] Speaker 1: see you shortly. I didn't take the job because I
[40:33] Speaker 1: wanted to. Nobody wants to stock shelves at 3 a.m.
[40:36] Speaker 1: in a Walmart with a busted AC unit and a
[40:39] Speaker 1: supervisor who thinks yelling is a leadership style. I needed
[40:42] Speaker 1: the paycheck. That was it. Dropped out of community college.
[40:46] Speaker 1: Last year when tuition went up and my car broke
[40:48] Speaker 1: down in the same month. Parents aren't around. No backup plan.
[40:53] Speaker 1: Just me, a creaky studio apartment that smells like burnt
[40:57] Speaker 1: plastic and rent due every first of the month. The
[41:01] Speaker 1: night shift at the Walmart near South Mountain was supposed
[41:04] Speaker 1: to be quiet. Boring. Stack the paper towels, rotate the
[41:08] Speaker 1: ramen cups, ignore the flickering lights. But lately things started
[41:11] Speaker 1: to feel... off. The store always had a weird stillness
[41:16] Speaker 1: around 3 a.m., like even time was holding its breath.
[41:20] Speaker 1: But this was different. It started a few nights back.
[41:24] Speaker 1: I'd be in the middle of shelving detergent or lining,
[41:27] Speaker 1: up cheap plastic storage bins and hear something. Metal scraping.
[41:31] Speaker 1: Always faint. Always from the same direction. Aisle 13. Home goods.
[41:37] Speaker 1: I chalked it up to a loose cart. Maybe some
[41:40] Speaker 1: new guy being sloppy. But tonight the sound wasn't faint.
[41:44] Speaker 1: I was knee-deep in a box of fans already sweating
[41:47] Speaker 1: through my vest when I heard it again. Screech. Like
[41:50] Speaker 1: a rusted gate tearing open. Closer. Louder. A wet edge
[41:55] Speaker 1: to it like nails dragged across a bathroom mirror. I
[41:58] Speaker 1: wiped my forehead. Marcus? I called. That you? Nothing. Just
[42:03] Speaker 1: another screech. This time from aisle 13. I grabbed my box,
[42:09] Speaker 1: cutter and moved slow. Every aisle light flickering overhead like
[42:13] Speaker 1: it was laughing at me. The sound was wrong, deep
[42:16] Speaker 1: and high at the same time, like it couldn't decide
[42:18] Speaker 1: if it was human or machine. Then I turned the corner.
[42:22] Speaker 1: And there it was. A shopping cart, rolling toward me.
[42:26] Speaker 1: Completely empty. There was no breeze. No slope in the floor.
[42:31] Speaker 1: That cart should have been still. But it moved with purpose,
[42:34] Speaker 1: like something inside it was crawling unseen. I backed up.
[42:39] Speaker 1: My fingers clutched the box cutter too tight, knuckles white.
[42:42] Speaker 1: The cart creaked to a stop. One front wheel tilted
[42:45] Speaker 1: inward like it was watching me. Then it happened. The
[42:49] Speaker 1: screeching intensified like the cart was crying. No, not just crying. Screaming. Distorted. Metallic.
[42:59] Speaker 1: But there was a pitch to it that sounded almost
[43:00] Speaker 1: human like someone trapped inside an echo. My walkie on
[43:04] Speaker 1: my belt crackled. Yo, Derek, you good? Marcus's voice, casual
[43:09] Speaker 1: like always. I pressed the button, voice dry. Aisle 13.
[43:14] Speaker 1: There's a... there's a cart. It's... The cart lunged forward.
[43:19] Speaker 1: I fell back, crashing into a display of storage bins.
[43:22] Speaker 1: Plastic clattered around me, lids flying like frisbees. My hand
[43:26] Speaker 1: hit something sharp. Probably cracked plastic, but I didn't feel
[43:29] Speaker 1: the pain. The screeching became unbearable, like a drill grinding
[43:33] Speaker 1: into bone. I didn't wait. I bolted. Didn't care about cleanup.
[43:39] Speaker 1: Didn't care what Marcus would say. I sprinted past aisles
[43:42] Speaker 1: of back-to-school supplies and half-stocked shelves of peanut butter jars.
[43:47] Speaker 1: My feet pounded against the linoleum like they were trying
[43:49] Speaker 1: to warn me with each step. The cart followed. Not rolling. Sliding.
[43:55] Speaker 1: Like its wheels didn't matter anymore. Reached the break room
[43:59] Speaker 1: and slammed the door shut behind me. Silence. No more screeching.
[44:05] Speaker 1: Just my own panting and the dull hum of the
[44:07] Speaker 1: vending machine. Marcus and Sandra looked up from the table.
[44:10] Speaker 1: both eating cold pizza like it was any other night.
[44:14] Speaker 1: Sandra raised an eyebrow. Dude, you look like you saw
[44:18] Speaker 1: a ghost. I didn't respond. I just peeked through the
[44:21] Speaker 1: break room's narrow window. The cart was parked right outside
[44:25] Speaker 1: the door. On its seat was a crumpled blue Walmart vest.
[44:29] Speaker 1: At first I thought it was someone messing with me.
[44:32] Speaker 1: Had to be. Someone pulling a prank, dragging an old
[44:36] Speaker 1: vest from lost and found and tossing it in the
[44:38] Speaker 1: cart while I wasn't looking. except that didn't explain how
[44:42] Speaker 1: it moved. Or the sound. Or the way I'd heard
[44:45] Speaker 1: it long before I'd even turned into the aisle. I
[44:49] Speaker 1: opened the break room door slowly. Marcus chuckled behind me.
[44:53] Speaker 1: You serious right now, bro? The hallway beyond was empty,
[44:58] Speaker 1: except for the cart. No footprints. No dragging marks. Just
[45:03] Speaker 1: that vest sitting there, folded like it had been placed
[45:05] Speaker 1: with care. I stepped closer. It wasn't just any vest,
[45:10] Speaker 1: It had my name tag on it. Derek. Not a copy.
[45:14] Speaker 1: Not a printout. My tag. The little crack in the
[45:18] Speaker 1: top left corner. The faded sticker I'd put on the back.
[45:22] Speaker 1: And the collar. Stained. Not red-red, but a dark brown.
[45:27] Speaker 1: Like something dried there long ago and nobody bothered to
[45:30] Speaker 1: wash it out. I touched it. Cold, damp. Like it
[45:34] Speaker 1: had just come out of a freezer. I dropped it
[45:37] Speaker 1: and stepped back. nearly tripping over my own feet. Marcus
[45:41] Speaker 1: joined me in the hallway, saw the vest, and rolled
[45:44] Speaker 1: his eyes, probably from the extras pile. Chill, man. But
[45:50] Speaker 1: his voice wavered. Just a bit. Sandra didn't even come look.
[45:54] Speaker 1: She stayed in the break room, scrolling on her phone
[45:57] Speaker 1: like nothing could touch her if she ignored it hard enough.
[46:00] Speaker 1: I didn't go back to stalking. I sat in the
[46:03] Speaker 1: maintenance closet for 30 minutes, light off, trying to slow
[46:06] Speaker 1: my breathing. Something had changed. This wasn't just bad luck
[46:12] Speaker 1: or heat exhaustion. Something inside this Walmart had seen me.
[46:17] Speaker 1: And now it knew my name. I told the manager, Joe,
[46:22] Speaker 1: about what happened. He gave me the kind of look
[46:25] Speaker 1: you save for drunk customers and weirdos who try to
[46:28] Speaker 1: steal pregnancy tests. You probably nodded off and dreamt it.
[46:31] Speaker 1: That heat back in aisle 13 can cook your brain
[46:34] Speaker 1: if you're not careful, he said, flipping through his clipboard
[46:37] Speaker 1: like I wasn't even there. I didn't fall asleep, I said.
[46:41] Speaker 1: Joe sighed. There's nothing back there, Derek. No carts. No screaming.
[46:47] Speaker 1: Just bad lighting and your overactive imagination. I wanted to argue,
[46:52] Speaker 1: but I didn't. What could I say? The haunted shopping
[46:56] Speaker 1: cart screamed at me and gave me my own vest
[46:58] Speaker 1: like a threat. I went back to work around 4.15.
[47:03] Speaker 1: Kept to the front. Aisles near the cash registers. Anywhere
[47:06] Speaker 1: with motion sensors and functioning lights. Every ten minutes I
[47:10] Speaker 1: checked the break room window. The cart was gone. So
[47:14] Speaker 1: was the vest. Maybe Joe was right. Maybe I was
[47:18] Speaker 1: losing it. But that night, as we wrapped up the shift,
[47:21] Speaker 1: Sandra stopped. Me on my way out. You didn't put
[47:25] Speaker 1: that vest there, right? She asked quietly, eyes scanning the dark.
[47:28] Speaker 1: I shook my head. She nodded slowly. I believe you.
[47:33] Speaker 1: She said. Then she walked away, fast. I didn't quit.
[47:38] Speaker 1: I needed the job. Rent doesn't care if you're haunted.
[47:41] Speaker 1: Groceries don't either. But I stopped taking shifts that ended
[47:44] Speaker 1: past 2 a.m. I avoided aisle 13 completely. Still, every
[47:50] Speaker 1: few nights, I swear I hear it. The screeching. Sometimes
[47:55] Speaker 1: from outside my apartment window. Sometimes from the Walmart parking
[47:59] Speaker 1: lot when I pull in early. Always faint. Always metal
[48:02] Speaker 1: on metal. Last week I found a cart outside my door.
[48:06] Speaker 1: It was empty. but folded neatly in the seat was
[48:09] Speaker 1: my backup vest. No name tag this time, just a
[48:12] Speaker 1: note tucked inside the collar. It read, Stock never ends,
[48:17] Speaker 1: and underneath that, C. You next shift, I don't clock
[48:20] Speaker 1: in anymore, but I still hear the wheels rolling waiting.
[48:27] Speaker 1: They say red deer's where you go when you're not
[48:29] Speaker 1: aiming for the stars, but can't bear to fall all
[48:32] Speaker 1: the way to the ground either. My name's Mitch Ellis.
[48:36] Speaker 1: I'm 31 years old and I stock shelves at the
[48:38] Speaker 1: Walmart just off Gasoline Alley. It's not a career. Hell,
[48:43] Speaker 1: it's not even a job you admit to at parties,
[48:45] Speaker 1: but it's what I've got left. After I blew out
[48:47] Speaker 1: my back falling off a rig near Peace River, I
[48:50] Speaker 1: got tossed a partial disability claim and a recommendation for
[48:53] Speaker 1: light duty work. No drilling, no lifting over 30 pounds,
[48:57] Speaker 1: and no more oil field checks. My ex, Clara, says
[49:01] Speaker 1: I'll see my son again when I'm stable. Her word,
[49:04] Speaker 1: not mine. Stability to her means a steady job, a
[49:09] Speaker 1: working car, and more than $ 400 a month in support,
[49:12] Speaker 1: so I pull overnight stocking soup cans and dog food,
[49:15] Speaker 1: trying to save up enough to maybe rent a place
[49:17] Speaker 1: with windows that close right. It was November 14th, first
[49:22] Speaker 1: snowfall of the year, cold enough to make your snot
[49:25] Speaker 1: freeze before you hit the parking lot. The store was
[49:28] Speaker 1: half dead, like always. Most folks in Red Deer don't
[49:31] Speaker 1: shop past 9pm unless their shift workers are tweaking. I
[49:35] Speaker 1: was halfway through facing aisle 7 when I noticed him,
[49:38] Speaker 1: just standing there near the hot food case. Torn Carhartt jacket.
[49:43] Speaker 1: Greasy toque. Guy looked like... He'd crawled out of a snowbank.
[49:47] Speaker 1: He licked the glass like a damn dog. Bloodshot eyes,
[49:51] Speaker 1: pupils wide like saucers. His left hand was wrapped in gauze,
[49:55] Speaker 1: brown-stained and oozing something yellow. I radioed Derek. Yo, we
[50:00] Speaker 1: got a live one in grocery. Derek didn't even glance
[50:04] Speaker 1: up from breaking down a skid. As long as he pays,
[50:07] Speaker 1: management don't care. I wish they had. At 10.53 p.m.,
[50:12] Speaker 1: the scream came from Derry. It wasn't one of those,
[50:15] Speaker 1: I dropped a milk jug, kind of Yelps. It was raw, sharp,
[50:20] Speaker 1: like someone got stabbed. I dropped the box of Campbell's
[50:24] Speaker 1: and ran. My boots slipped a little on the freshly
[50:27] Speaker 1: waxed floor. I turned the corner by frozen goods, and
[50:30] Speaker 1: that's when I saw it. Janice, our greeter, 68. Sweet
[50:35] Speaker 1: as pie, always called me Han. was on her knees,
[50:38] Speaker 1: cradling her forearm. Blood soaked through her light blue Walmart vest.
[50:42] Speaker 1: Her eyes were wild, scared. He bit me. She screamed,
[50:46] Speaker 1: tears cutting down her face. The man from grocery, same jacket,
[50:51] Speaker 1: same glass-licking freak, was crouched low, like an animal, hands pressed,
[50:56] Speaker 1: flat to the linoleum. His jaw twitched, teeth bared. Blood, Janice's,
[51:02] Speaker 1: I assumed, ringed his mouth. He turned to me, his
[51:05] Speaker 1: eyes locked on mine. And in that moment, I swear
[51:08] Speaker 1: to God, I knew that wasn't meth. That was something else.
[51:12] Speaker 1: He charged. I stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of
[51:16] Speaker 1: egg cartons. I fumbled for the radio on my hip
[51:19] Speaker 1: and hissed, code white, dairy section, code white. No answer.
[51:25] Speaker 1: I dragged Janice to the nearest door, the staff bathroom,
[51:29] Speaker 1: locked her in and jammed a mop handle through the
[51:31] Speaker 1: metal handles. She pounded once, weakly, then stopped. I told
[51:36] Speaker 1: myself it was shock. She needed to rest. We'd get help. Then,
[51:41] Speaker 1: my radio crackled. Assistant Manager. Code white to front end. Static.
[51:48] Speaker 1: Then came the sound of shattering glass. Electronics. Followed by
[51:51] Speaker 1: Derek's voice. Breathless. Scared. There's more of them. Then a gurgle.
[51:57] Speaker 1: Then a click. Silence. I clutched my chest, trying to breathe.
[52:03] Speaker 1: My heart pounded like I was back on the rig.
[52:06] Speaker 1: This wasn't a robbery. This was something else entirely. I
[52:10] Speaker 1: ran for housewares. I needed a weapon. Anything. My boots
[52:15] Speaker 1: echoed on the tile. Every sound suddenly too loud, too close.
[52:20] Speaker 1: I skidded into the kitchen aisle and ripped a butcher
[52:22] Speaker 1: knife from its packaging. The edge was dull, cheap. But
[52:27] Speaker 1: it was steel, and that was enough. The radio was dead.
[52:32] Speaker 1: The store, which had always felt too bright, now seemed
[52:35] Speaker 1: sickly and wrong. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting everything in
[52:40] Speaker 1: yellowish haze. One of the self-checkout screens was shattered. A
[52:45] Speaker 1: customer cart lay tipped over by seasonal, full of Halloween
[52:48] Speaker 1: clearance and slush-drenched footprints. I saw someone stumble down boys' apparel.
[52:53] Speaker 1: Not Derek. Not anyone I knew. The way they moved
[52:57] Speaker 1: was off, jerky, like they weren't used to walking. I
[53:01] Speaker 1: ducked behind a display of faux Christmas trees heart-hammering. What
[53:04] Speaker 1: the hell was happening? I pulled out my phone. 3% battery.
[53:09] Speaker 1: No service. I sent Clara a text anyway. If I
[53:13] Speaker 1: don't MSG by 6am, my life insurance is in the
[53:16] Speaker 1: blue folder. Scene. 11.02pm. No reply. I checked my pocket.
[53:23] Speaker 1: Still had the garden center keys. Only door in the
[53:25] Speaker 1: place that didn't set off the alarm sensors. Could be
[53:28] Speaker 1: my way out. I made for receiving. That's when I
[53:32] Speaker 1: saw Derek. Or... What used to be Derek. He was
[53:38] Speaker 1: face down near the pallet jack, throat torn open. His
[53:41] Speaker 1: hoodie was soaked in blood. One arm twitched like it
[53:45] Speaker 1: still hadn't accepted the truth. I dry heaved. Then I
[53:49] Speaker 1: heard the dragging sound. I turned. A figure rounded the
[53:54] Speaker 1: corner by bulk foods. Same bandaged hand. Same jacket. Carhartt.
[54:01] Speaker 1: I ran. I sprinted through pets. past toppled kibble bags
[54:05] Speaker 1: and a shattered fish tank still leaking onto the tile.
[54:08] Speaker 1: My legs ached, and the knife slipped in my sweaty grip.
[54:13] Speaker 1: Near pharmacy, I nearly collided with one of them. Could
[54:16] Speaker 1: have been a customer, maybe. Hard to tell now. Teeth gnashing,
[54:21] Speaker 1: skin mottled. They didn't speak, just lunged. I ducked into
[54:26] Speaker 1: the vision center and locked the door behind me. They
[54:29] Speaker 1: slammed against the glass, again and again, but it held.
[54:34] Speaker 1: For now. I waited. Until the pounding stopped, then counted
[54:38] Speaker 1: to sixty. My breath fogged up the lenses in the
[54:41] Speaker 1: display rack. I looked down and realized I was still
[54:44] Speaker 1: holding onto the damn knife like it was the only
[54:46] Speaker 1: thing keeping me tethered to reality. I moved fast. Slipped
[54:51] Speaker 1: out the side hallway toward garden center. The doors were chained,
[54:55] Speaker 1: but the manager kept the keys. In a little lockbox
[54:58] Speaker 1: in the break room. I'd grabbed them when Janice got attacked.
[55:02] Speaker 1: I shoved the key into the padlock. click the chain
[55:06] Speaker 1: fell away outside the air hit me like a punch
[55:10] Speaker 1: to the lungs minus 15 easy the first snow had
[55:14] Speaker 1: turned the lot into a sheet of ice i didn't
[55:17] Speaker 1: care i stumbled into the dark breath burning my throat
[55:23] Speaker 1: no one followed at least not that i saw i
[55:27] Speaker 1: didn't go home i drove straight to the denny's by
[55:30] Speaker 1: the highway and sat in the corner booth until sunrise
[55:33] Speaker 1: hands shaking Knife still in my jacket. I tried calling Clara.
[55:38] Speaker 1: Straight to voicemail. That was the last night I worked
[55:41] Speaker 1: a shift at that Walmart. The last night I thought
[55:44] Speaker 1: things couldn't get worse. Two months passed. The news said
[55:48] Speaker 1: it was a violent, drug-induced incident. Some new street. Blend
[55:53] Speaker 1: out of Vancouver. Authorities denied everything. RCMP locked the place
[55:57] Speaker 1: down for 72 hours. No charges laid. No real answers.
[56:02] Speaker 1: Janice died. complications from an animal bite. That's what the
[56:07] Speaker 1: obituary said. My disability got cut after I missed a
[56:10] Speaker 1: reassessment appointment. I tried to explain. Told the caseworker I
[56:15] Speaker 1: was involved in a workplace trauma. She said I needed
[56:18] Speaker 1: to reschedule within 14 days or reapply. I stopped. Trying.
[56:24] Speaker 1: I picked up what gigs I could. Moved in with
[56:27] Speaker 1: a buddy who let me sleep on his basement couch
[56:29] Speaker 1: in exchange for keeping the heat down. Some nights... I
[56:33] Speaker 1: thought I dreamt the whole thing. Then, one Thursday in January,
[56:37] Speaker 1: I walked into a different Walmart across town. Just needed
[56:41] Speaker 1: gloves and something cheap to eat. The lights buzzed. Kids
[56:45] Speaker 1: ran circles around the toy aisle. For a moment, it
[56:48] Speaker 1: all felt normal again. Until I saw him. Torn Carhartt jacket.
[56:53] Speaker 1: Dirty gauze. Same yellow stain. He turned slow. Like he
[56:58] Speaker 1: already knew I was watching. Same eyes. Same hunger. I
[57:03] Speaker 1: left my cart, didn't even grab my wallet. I walked
[57:07] Speaker 1: straight out into the snow, and I didn't look back.
[57:10] Speaker 1: Not once. I never thought I'd be standing in a
[57:17] Speaker 1: freezing Walmart in Winnipeg, Manitoba, at nearly 3 a.m., stocking
[57:21] Speaker 1: shelves for minimum wage just to keep the lights on
[57:24] Speaker 1: in my apartment. But here I am. My name's Travis Whelan,
[57:29] Speaker 1: 38 years old, and six months. Ago, my life flipped
[57:32] Speaker 1: upside down. Lena, my wife, packed up and left me.
[57:37] Speaker 1: Not just anyone, but her high school sweetheart, Derek. That
[57:41] Speaker 1: guy moved to Vancouver years ago. Or so I thought.
[57:45] Speaker 1: Turns out, he never left. They're both hiding out somewhere
[57:48] Speaker 1: I don't know, but I've started to find signs. See,
[57:51] Speaker 1: I'm working nights at this Walmart on Regent Avenue, trying
[57:54] Speaker 1: to pay off court-ordered alimony. I can't drink anymore, not
[57:58] Speaker 1: since I almost lost it all. I still wrestle with
[58:01] Speaker 1: the memories. The cold here matches my mood, always biting,
[58:05] Speaker 1: always unforgiving. It was supposed to be just another slow night.
[58:09] Speaker 1: I was stocking pet food when Raj, the new kid, whispered, Dude,
[58:13] Speaker 1: we got rats again. I laughed, but then I heard it,
[58:16] Speaker 1: scratching from the overhead storage racks. Not rats. Something bigger.
[58:22] Speaker 1: I flashed my light upward and caught a glimpse of
[58:24] Speaker 1: a red-winged work boot, the exact kind Derek always wore,
[58:27] Speaker 1: disappearing into the dark. I felt my chest tighten. I
[58:32] Speaker 1: wasn't crazy. This was no coincidence. I'm not sure if
[58:36] Speaker 1: it was desperation, denial, or some kind of weird hope
[58:39] Speaker 1: that made me watch. Closer. But that night, something inside
[58:42] Speaker 1: me shifted. Whatever was hiding here wasn't just a stray
[58:45] Speaker 1: rat or a homeless guy. It was Derek. And if
[58:49] Speaker 1: Derek was back, then Lena wasn't far behind. Over the
[58:54] Speaker 1: next week, things got weirder. I kept catching glimpses and
[58:58] Speaker 1: odd signs. Half-eaten sandwiches left. In the break room fridge,
[59:02] Speaker 1: even though I'm vegan and never touch those, the smell
[59:05] Speaker 1: of Lena's perfume would drift near the family washroom around
[59:08] Speaker 1: 3 a.m. it in my gut. They were lurking here,
[59:12] Speaker 1: in the store I worked at every night. I brought
[59:15] Speaker 1: it up to the assistant manager, who just rolled her eyes. Travis,
[59:20] Speaker 1: you need to take your meds. You're imagining things. That
[59:24] Speaker 1: stung more than I wanted to admit, but the weird
[59:27] Speaker 1: stuff didn't stop. One night, I found Derek Was Here
[59:31] Speaker 1: carved crudely into the stockroom toilet stall. I ran my
[59:34] Speaker 1: fingers over the rough letters, heart pounding. It was like
[59:37] Speaker 1: a twisted taunt. I kept my eyes open and my
[59:40] Speaker 1: guard up. I didn't want anyone else to know what
[59:43] Speaker 1: I suspected. People don't like to believe crazy stories, especially
[59:48] Speaker 1: when you've got a past with booze and anger issues,
[59:51] Speaker 1: but I had to prove it to myself. I rigged
[59:54] Speaker 1: a game camera in the seasonal section, hoping to catch
[59:57] Speaker 1: whatever or whoever was sneaking around when i reviewed the
[1:00:02] Speaker 1: footage i couldn't believe my eyes at 4 12 a.m
[1:00:06] Speaker 1: derrick crawled out from inside a bin full of halloween
[1:00:08] Speaker 1: decorations and then lena showed up they kissed by the
[1:00:13] Speaker 1: tire display like nothing had happened the betrayal hit harder
[1:00:16] Speaker 1: than the cold winter wind outside when i confronted lena
[1:00:21] Speaker 1: later that day her message was cold almost rehearsed we
[1:00:24] Speaker 1: needed a place to stay you're never home anyway Her
[1:00:28] Speaker 1: words cut deeper than any knife. I'd been working nights
[1:00:32] Speaker 1: trying to pay alimony, trying to stay sober. And she
[1:00:35] Speaker 1: was out here sneaking around in my workplace with Derek
[1:00:38] Speaker 1: like it was some little secret game. I felt the
[1:00:41] Speaker 1: weight of every lonely night, every missed phone call, every
[1:00:44] Speaker 1: shattered promise. But the spark inside me wasn't out yet.
[1:00:49] Speaker 1: I decided then, if they thought they could hide, they
[1:00:52] Speaker 1: were wrong. If the store was their refuge, I was
[1:00:55] Speaker 1: going to make it their prison. The plan was simple
[1:00:58] Speaker 1: but risky. I waited until I knew Lena was at
[1:01:02] Speaker 1: her book club night, a lie I'd learned to spot
[1:01:04] Speaker 1: long ago. That night, I cut the power to the store.
[1:01:09] Speaker 1: The hum of fluorescent lights died. Emergency exit alarms remained silent.
[1:01:14] Speaker 1: I'd locked them all from the outside earlier. The store
[1:01:17] Speaker 1: was mine. I called 911, my voice steady but urgent.
[1:01:23] Speaker 1: There's a shoplifter with a knife in aisle 12. The mic?
[1:01:26] Speaker 1: Dispatcher didn't hesitate. Minutes later, police arrived and dragged Derek out,
[1:01:31] Speaker 1: still clutching a Walmart uniform he'd stolen. His attempt to
[1:01:35] Speaker 1: blend in and hide. I watched them take him away
[1:01:38] Speaker 1: and whispered under my breath. Seasonal storage. It's 50% off,
[1:01:43] Speaker 1: just like Lena. It was petty, but it was mine.
[1:01:47] Speaker 1: My final psychological victory. Derek got charged with trespassing and theft.
[1:01:52] Speaker 1: Lena lost custody of our schnauzer, our only real family left.
[1:01:56] Speaker 1: I transferred to the Walmart in Thompson. The cold was
[1:02:00] Speaker 1: different there, but it felt like a fresh start. Sometimes
[1:02:04] Speaker 1: when I'm stocking shelves late at night, I hear that
[1:02:06] Speaker 1: familiar scratching above me, the sound that started it all.
[1:02:11] Speaker 1: I smile quietly because now I know whatever ghosts we carry,
[1:02:16] Speaker 1: they don't have to break us. I'm still here, still fighting.
[1:02:23] Speaker 1: People think teachers get summers off and full benefits. That's
[1:02:27] Speaker 1: the kind of thing you believe until your little sister
[1:02:29] Speaker 1: gets leukemia and the insurance company starts talking policy limitations.
[1:02:33] Speaker 1: So here I am. Mark Henderson, grade three teacher by day,
[1:02:38] Speaker 1: Walmart stalker by night. Nobody at St. Dominic's knows I
[1:02:42] Speaker 1: work the graveyard shift on Memorial Avenue. I keep it
[1:02:45] Speaker 1: that way. Pride, I guess. It was the first snowfall
[1:02:49] Speaker 1: of the season. That fine, quiet flurry that never seems
[1:02:53] Speaker 1: to hit the ground. I clocked in at 11.42 p.m.,
[1:02:57] Speaker 1: grabbed a flat cart, and started working through housewares. The
[1:03:01] Speaker 1: fluorescent lights buzzed overhead louder than usual. The only sound
[1:03:05] Speaker 1: other than my sneakers squeaking on polished floors. By 1.13 a.m.,
[1:03:10] Speaker 1: I was pushing paper towel packs into position when the
[1:03:13] Speaker 1: PA system clicked on. Cleanup needed in. Static crackle. Please respond.
[1:03:20] Speaker 1: No one ever says where. Just a voice. Distorted and mechanical.
[1:03:26] Speaker 1: I paused. My phone was in my apron pocket, screen blank.
[1:03:31] Speaker 1: No new texts from the hospital. No news was good news, right?
[1:03:35] Speaker 1: I called out, half expecting Maria from grocery to answer.
[1:03:39] Speaker 1: She didn't. No one did. The aisles felt too empty
[1:03:43] Speaker 1: for a 24-hour store. No background chatter. No forklifts beeping.
[1:03:48] Speaker 1: No carts rolling. Just me and the low, humming lights.
[1:03:53] Speaker 1: Then I heard it. a barcode scanner beeping over and over.
[1:03:58] Speaker 1: Someone was at the registers. Register 12 was lit in flickers.
[1:04:02] Speaker 1: The old bulb above it had been dying for months,
[1:04:05] Speaker 1: but no one bothered replacing it. A man stood there
[1:04:08] Speaker 1: scanning a cracked clock radio over and over. The kind
[1:04:11] Speaker 1: you see in waiting rooms or dentist's offices. Cheap plastic.
[1:04:16] Speaker 1: Dead display. He wore an old Walmart vest, faded blue
[1:04:20] Speaker 1: threadbare at the seams. The name tag read, Jerry, electronics.
[1:04:26] Speaker 1: But that department had shut down three years ago. Hey,
[1:04:29] Speaker 1: I said, trying to sound normal. You work nights too?
[1:04:34] Speaker 1: He didn't look up. Just kept scanning. The scanner beeped
[1:04:38] Speaker 1: then rejected the item. Again and again. You're new on nights.
[1:04:43] Speaker 1: He finally muttered. His voice was dry. Hollow like it
[1:04:47] Speaker 1: hadn't been used in a long time. His hands were wrinkled.
[1:04:51] Speaker 1: Pruned like they'd been soaking in water for days. My
[1:04:54] Speaker 1: skin crawled. There was something off. Just temporary, I said.
[1:04:59] Speaker 1: You still in electronics? That's when he looked at me.
[1:05:03] Speaker 1: His eyes didn't reflect light the way they should. They
[1:05:06] Speaker 1: reflected red, like the exit signs overhead had bled into them.
[1:05:11] Speaker 1: I worked the midnight shift, he said softly. The real
[1:05:15] Speaker 1: midnight shift. The scanner fell from his hand and clattered
[1:05:18] Speaker 1: to the floor, then a loud crash echoed from seasonal.
[1:05:22] Speaker 1: Something metal. Maybe plastic, tumbling in a way that sounded deliberate.
[1:05:28] Speaker 1: Like it was testing the silence. Testing me. Jerry's head
[1:05:32] Speaker 1: jerked toward the sound, his voice sharpened. It knows you're
[1:05:36] Speaker 1: here now. You need to... That's when the lights went out.
[1:05:41] Speaker 1: The power died in a blink. No buzzing lights, no
[1:05:44] Speaker 1: radio hum, nothing. Just blackness. Well, almost. Almost. The emergency
[1:05:52] Speaker 1: exit signs still glowed a faint, sickly red. Their glow
[1:05:55] Speaker 1: bled along the tile floors, casting long shadows in the aisles.
[1:06:00] Speaker 1: I could see them stretching, twitching like something alive. Then
[1:06:04] Speaker 1: came movement from seasonal. A crunch. Another. Methodical. Jerry? I whispered.
[1:06:13] Speaker 1: But he was gone. I backed up toward stationary when
[1:06:16] Speaker 1: I saw them. Wet footprints, bare feet, dripping and fresh
[1:06:20] Speaker 1: appearing one by one, like something invisible was walking straight
[1:06:24] Speaker 1: toward me. My breath caught in my throat. I turned
[1:06:27] Speaker 1: and ran. Through household, past pharmacy. Every aisle felt longer
[1:06:33] Speaker 1: than it should have been. I passed the toy section
[1:06:37] Speaker 1: and froze. A giggle echoed from the dolls. Soft. Childlike. Wrong. Wrong.
[1:06:46] Speaker 1: Then came a voice. Marky, help me. It was her. Emily.
[1:06:53] Speaker 1: My sister's voice weak from chemo. I hadn't heard her
[1:06:56] Speaker 1: say my name like that in weeks. I knew it
[1:06:59] Speaker 1: wasn't real, but I still stopped. Hangers fell behind me
[1:07:02] Speaker 1: with a clatter, as if yanked off racks by something angry.
[1:07:07] Speaker 1: I sprinted, dodging displays and mannequins until I reached the
[1:07:10] Speaker 1: fire exit, slammed my shoulder into it. The door groaned,
[1:07:14] Speaker 1: then burst open. Alarms blared into the frozen night. I
[1:07:19] Speaker 1: didn't stop running until I got to my Civic. The
[1:07:22] Speaker 1: frost on the windows had turned the inside into a freezer.
[1:07:26] Speaker 1: My hands shook as I jammed the key in the ignition. Click. Nothing.
[1:07:30] Speaker 1: Second try. Click. Come on, I muttered. Come on, please.
[1:07:36] Speaker 1: Third try. Engine roared to life. Relief hit so hard
[1:07:41] Speaker 1: my eyes blurred. As I pulled out of the lot,
[1:07:44] Speaker 1: I looked in the rearview. Jerry was there, standing in
[1:07:48] Speaker 1: the doorway of the store vest fluttering in the wind.
[1:07:51] Speaker 1: His head slowly shook, and just beside him, bare fingers
[1:07:55] Speaker 1: curled around the doorframe before slipping back into the dark.
[1:08:00] Speaker 1: I didn't go home. I drove to the hospital and
[1:08:04] Speaker 1: sat in the parking lot until dawn, just watching the snowfall.
[1:08:09] Speaker 1: The next morning I had a voicemail from Walmart H.R., Mr. Henderson,
[1:08:13] Speaker 1: this is a formal notice regarding your shift abandonment on
[1:08:15] Speaker 1: November 1st. I deleted it before it finished. I never
[1:08:20] Speaker 1: went back. I found other ways to pay for Emily's treatments,
[1:08:24] Speaker 1: tutoring rich kids freelance curriculum work, even started selling hand-drawn
[1:08:28] Speaker 1: classroom posters on Etsy. Not glamorous, but it was honest. Real. Still,
[1:08:34] Speaker 1: I haven't walked into another Walmart since. But every now
[1:08:38] Speaker 1: and then I pass one on the road. Late at night.
[1:08:41] Speaker 1: the parking lot half empty, the windows glowing under those
[1:08:45] Speaker 1: tall sodium lamps. And I wonder, do they all have
[1:08:49] Speaker 1: a Jerry? Do they all have something that watches from seasonal?
[1:08:53] Speaker 1: Do they all work the real midnight shift? Some nights,
[1:08:57] Speaker 1: when I'm up late grading papers, I still hear... hear
[1:09:00] Speaker 1: that voice. That low giggle. Marky. Help me. I close
[1:09:06] Speaker 1: the window, check the locks, turn on every light, and
[1:09:08] Speaker 1: remind myself I made it out, but not everyone does.
[1:09:15] Speaker 1: I was 17 and already done with high school, or
[1:09:17] Speaker 1: at least with showing up. Dropped out last spring after
[1:09:20] Speaker 1: the cops found my mom nodding off in the driver's seat,
[1:09:23] Speaker 1: meth smell thick enough to choke a horse. Now I'm
[1:09:27] Speaker 1: working the overnight, shift at the Walmart on Rosedale Highway
[1:09:30] Speaker 1: in Bakersfield, my way of keeping us afloat. If I
[1:09:33] Speaker 1: don't bring home some cash, the landlord comes knocking, and
[1:09:36] Speaker 1: my mom sinks even deeper. I've got two friends at
[1:09:39] Speaker 1: the store who get it. Tyler, 19, and on probation,
[1:09:44] Speaker 1: always half-joking about his bad luck streak. and Maria, barely 16,
[1:09:49] Speaker 1: sending money home to her family in Mexico. We're a
[1:09:52] Speaker 1: ragtag crew trying to survive the night, stocking shelves under
[1:09:56] Speaker 1: the fluorescent hum while the rest of the world sleeps.
[1:09:59] Speaker 1: It was just after two in the morning when Tyler's
[1:10:01] Speaker 1: radio crackled. Yo, who took my fucking Slim Jims? He grumbled.
[1:10:08] Speaker 1: We laughed it off. Food fights, pranks, and theft were
[1:10:11] Speaker 1: the normal soundtrack of Night Shift. Then Maria found her
[1:10:15] Speaker 1: lunchbox emptied. The Tupperware was licked clean, like someone had
[1:10:19] Speaker 1: savored every last crumb. That was when the fun ended. Security.
[1:10:27] Speaker 1: Footage showed a shadow darting through housewares at 1.43am. Too
[1:10:31] Speaker 1: fast to be human. Nobody wanted to say it out loud,
[1:10:33] Speaker 1: but we knew something was wrong. This wasn't just some
[1:10:36] Speaker 1: petty thief. Something was moving through our store when no
[1:10:40] Speaker 1: one was watching. Something that didn't belong. By three in
[1:10:44] Speaker 1: the morning, the situation was... getting out of hand. Three
[1:10:48] Speaker 1: sleeping bags vanished from camping, gone without a trace. The
[1:10:52] Speaker 1: rotisserie chicken in the break room, supposed to be mine
[1:10:55] Speaker 1: for lunch, disappeared. Then wet footprints appeared near the garden center.
[1:11:01] Speaker 1: But inside the store, not outside, the assistant manager, a
[1:11:05] Speaker 1: tired woman who'd seen too many bad nights, shrugged it off.
[1:11:09] Speaker 1: Just finish your shift. It's probably homeless guys. But none
[1:11:13] Speaker 1: of us believed her. The footprints were too strange. and
[1:11:16] Speaker 1: the missing stuff wasn't random. We all felt watched, like
[1:11:21] Speaker 1: eyes were tracking us from somewhere just out of sight.
[1:11:24] Speaker 1: Maria's face was tight with worry. I saw her checking
[1:11:27] Speaker 1: the security cameras more than once, hoping for a glimpse
[1:11:30] Speaker 1: of whoever was stealing from us. Tyler kept his cool,
[1:11:33] Speaker 1: but I could tell even he was rattled. We started
[1:11:36] Speaker 1: to joke about a ghost or some crazy homeless guy
[1:11:39] Speaker 1: living in the store's crawl spaces. But the jokes didn't
[1:11:42] Speaker 1: hide the fear. One night, while stocking toys... I heard
[1:11:46] Speaker 1: giggling from the infant. Section. I followed it and found
[1:11:50] Speaker 1: something that stopped me cold. Under a crib display tucked
[1:11:53] Speaker 1: away in the shadows was a nest. Not a bird's nest,
[1:11:56] Speaker 1: but a stash of stolen items. Candy wrappers, employee belongings,
[1:12:01] Speaker 1: things that went missing over the last few nights. Photos
[1:12:05] Speaker 1: of us taped to the wall like some sick scrapbook.
[1:12:09] Speaker 1: There were fresh scratch marks on the drywall leading up
[1:12:11] Speaker 1: toward the ceiling tiles. I looked up. And that's when
[1:12:15] Speaker 1: the fear hit me full force. The ceiling tiles. White. Flimsy.
[1:12:22] Speaker 1: Nothing special had been disturbed. One shifted slightly, just enough
[1:12:26] Speaker 1: for something to hide behind. I reached for a photo
[1:12:29] Speaker 1: taped to the wall, my hands trembling. Suddenly, a tile
[1:12:33] Speaker 1: above me shifted again. Drip. Warm liquid splashed on my neck.
[1:12:40] Speaker 1: I jerked my head back and caught it. Yellow. Eyes
[1:12:44] Speaker 1: blinking from the darkness. long, dirty fingers curled around the edge.
[1:12:48] Speaker 1: I ran. No way I was sticking around for whatever
[1:12:50] Speaker 1: that was. The next day, word got out. Police found
[1:12:55] Speaker 1: a makeshift apartment hidden above sporting goods, a squat filled
[1:12:59] Speaker 1: with stolen stuff, trash, and old food wrappers. News reports
[1:13:03] Speaker 1: called it a mentally ill squatter, but none of us
[1:13:06] Speaker 1: knew what to believe. Corporate didn't care. They just wanted
[1:13:09] Speaker 1: the story buried in the store back to normal. That night,
[1:13:13] Speaker 1: when I went back for my shift, I found my
[1:13:14] Speaker 1: missing socks in the nest. Someone, or something, had been
[1:13:18] Speaker 1: watching me, collecting my stuff like trophies. I couldn't take
[1:13:23] Speaker 1: it anymore. I quit the next day, walking away from
[1:13:27] Speaker 1: the only job I'd had since dropping out. But the
[1:13:31] Speaker 1: memory stuck with me. Sometimes, when I shop late at
[1:13:35] Speaker 1: night in other stores, I look up at the ceiling tiles.
[1:13:38] Speaker 1: White squares, plain and unassuming. wonder what's behind them i
[1:13:43] Speaker 1: wonder if those yellow eyes are watching me waiting i
[1:13:47] Speaker 1: don't believe in ghosts but i do believe in fear
[1:13:50] Speaker 1: and fear is real that walmart will always have its
[1:13:53] Speaker 1: secrets and i'm glad i'm not the one stuck underneath
[1:13:57] Speaker 1: them anymore

Shows are listed from Apple Podcasts' charts and directory, and Podcast Index where it is used. Every show and episode belongs to its publisher and plays from the publisher's own feed; this site hosts none of them.