True Short Horror Story: The Countdown Man

The first time I spotted the Countdown Man was on the bus to school when I was in 7th grade. I’d never seen an adult on my bus before, much less one dressed in a black suit, but no one else said anything, so I figured he belonged there.

Then, as we drove around the neighborhood and picked up more kids, he counted down from 10. He spoke only in numbers, never another word. Nine: Billy Cunningham. Eight, seven, six: the Paulson kids. Five: Danny Wu. Four, three, two, one: the Smiths and Kerns.

And then Audrey Blake walked into the bus and dropped dead.

The Countdown Man gave me a sad smile as he straightened his coat and walked down the aisle, stepping gingerly over Audrey’s body and down the bus steps.

Later, they’d tell us Audrey had a heart condition, totally undiagnosed since birth. But I knew the truth. It could have been anyone. The next person to set foot in that bus was going to die.

I saw him again a few times as the years passed.

Once in a club the night I turned 21. I was going shots when I spotted him at the bar, watching the door and counting down. It was such a busy night, that the whole thing took seconds. First, a screaming group of girls poured in for a bachelorette party.

Then a couple came in, holding hands. The guy must have been half a step in front of the girl, because he was the one that dropped dead. After that, she was the one screaming while everyone else went silent.

People died on airplanes, NBA games, school picnics.

Once, it even happened on an elevator. The doors opened, and I saw him there. He smiled weakly at me, and then a pregnant mother entered and he said two, one. I stayed there, frozen in place as a man pushed past me and promptly fell to the ground writhing, foam pouring from his mouth.

After that, I didn’t see the man for a few years. I started to wonder if I’d even seen him. And then came my son Evan’s seventh birthday.

We held the thing at one of those family fun centers with arcade games, mini golf, and go-kart races. It was meant to be a surprise, so Evan and my wife were last to arrive. Everyone from his first grade class was there, already playing and screaming their heads off.

I was so busy trying to get snacks set out that I almost didn’t notice him until it was too late. The Countdown Man was sitting at one of the picnic tables stonily watching the door.

“Three, two, one,,” he said as trio of teenagers entered the arcade through the open double doors..

That’s when I saw my wife and Evan walking to entrance. My heart nearly stopped as I sprinted for the door, pushing the teenagers out of my way as I went barrelling forward.

“Stop,” I was shouting. “Stop!”

But Evan only got more excited as he saw me. He started running for the door, running for daddy. Despite how far out of shape I’ve gotten, I dug down deep and sprinted faster than I ever had before.

I collided with Evan right on the threshold, tackling him to the ground.

He coughed, and I looked down at him, brushing the hair out of his face.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Talk to me.”

“What’s wrong, daddy?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

That’s when I heard the scream.

I looked over my shoulder to see my mother leaning over my dad near the far entrance near the back of the building. She was calling his name and looking frantically around the arcade, calling for help.

Of course, I already knew it was too late.

The Countdown Man looked sadly at my father and then walked over to me. For a second, he met my eyes, and then he put a hand on my shoulder. His touch felt like ice.

His eyes were trembling, and I could tell he wanted to tell me something, that he was desperate, even. But all he could say were numbers, orderly and deadly.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I know it’s not your fault.”

Then the man pulled his hand away and straightened his coat, walking sadly away. As he did, Evan watched him go.

“Daddy,” he asked. “Who was that man?”

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