Snap Terror

2. The Aquarium

He wasn't sure if the store was closed. His desperate rapping on the door solicited no response, but there were bright fluorescent lights illuminating the supermarket—and his suit was sopping wet from the torrential rain. Cursing, he opened the door and folded his umbrella, running one hand through his mess of floppy brown hair. He shivered and snuggled closer into his blazer.

Suddenly, a head popped out of the dairy aisle, holding a goldfish in a plastic bag. It was a man, and he had a crazed smile on his face. His hair seemed to jump off his head, and his eyebrows looked like they were penciled in thickly. The customer stumbled backward quickly and gasped involuntarily.

The patron—for that was who he must of been, since he was wearing a uniform and there were no other workers in the store—walked toward the cash register, his smile quickly changing into an irritated scowl. "You shouldn't be here," he said, clearly angry.

"Yes, I know. No one answered the door, but the lights were on, and . . . . Well, it was cold outside, and I have a huge presentation today, so I thought I could just stay here until I was dry," the man said.

"No; you shouldn't be here. I'm waiting for someone else."

"Waiting? This is a grocery store."

"Yes, I think I'm wholly aware of that fact. Now leave."

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry to be an inconvenience." The man started toward the door.

"Wait!" the owner cried. "Where are your ancestors from?"

The man thought it was an odd question, but decided there was no harm in answering it honestly. "Ireland."

The man's expression morphed once more into a smile. "Well," he said, a cheerful look on his face, "in that case, come on in. I've got some tea in the storage—it's expired, but it's hot."

"That sounds . . . okay right now."

The man nodded, and headed off to the back of the store.

***

"So, tell me about yourself," the patron—Arnold, as the man had recently learned—said.

"Well, I'm 23, and I work in data science at that big building three miles."

Arnold snickered. "That sounds awfully fascinating."

"Yeah, yeah, you snicker. But the next time you can't find a web page, you'll wish you took data science."

Arnold nodded, a grin on his face. "You know, it's nice to meet a kind soul every once in a while, nowadays."

The man raised his eyebrows, confused. "Didn't you say you were meeting someone just now?"

Arnold shook his head. "You must have heard incorrectly. Of course not. No. I never meet anyone nowadays. Too crowded outside. I just stay inside, and hope people come in—people like you."

The man nodded shakily, and gulped down his last bit of tea. "Ugh. This tea truly is awful."

"Isn't it? I don't know why I buy it." Arnold laughed—a big, booming laugh. And suddenly, all of the man's apprehensions, apprehensions, and thoughts slipped away. He wanted to stay there forever, on that rickety couch with the artificial shine of the LED lights on his face.

His eyelids started to close, drowsy from the warm tea. "Now," Arnold laughed. "I'm not that boring, am I?"

"Huh?" the man ventured drowsily.

"C'mon, I want to show you something," Arnold said, shaking the man awake.

The man rose out of his half-asleep state, groaning. "Five more minutes."

"I'm not your mother, boy! C'mon, they'll fall asleep soon."

The man looked at Arnold quizzically. "Who?"

"What?"

"Who? Who'll fall asleep soon?"

"You'll see."

"Dang it, Arnold! You seem great, but I hate people who are cryptic all the time."

Arnold laughed. "Me too. It's just . . . it's kind of weird. And I don't want to ruin the surprise."

The man shrugged. "Okay. Let's go. My presentation's in half an hour, and I don't want to be late."

"Of course. Now, follow me." Arnold started walking towards a small door in the back of the room that was labeled as an exit.

"We're going outside?"

Arnold shook his head and opened the door, revealing rows and rows of fish bowls filled with goldfish, koi, and guppies. The man gasped. The room was gargantuan, holding what must have been more than a hundred fish, each in their own individual bowl, all nibbling on pieces of fish food. The man paused at every bowl, his nose pressed against the glass. Arnold swatted him. "You'll scare them!"

"Wha—excus—so you like fish, huh?" the man asked uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Arnold said distractedly. "Did you know that I was a biologist for seven years?"

"What? No, I didn't!" the man said. "That's crazy, Arnold!"

"Oh, yeah. But I didn't like it. Too much monotony. I like this job much better. But," Arnold paused as he opened another door at the end of the room, "it introduced me to one of my favorite pastimes. . . "

The man gasped as he saw what was inside. All around the walls were pictures of Leonardo da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man" covered in notes, markers, and post-its. The room was almost completely dark, save for a sliver of light coming from a hole in the ceiling. And, if by fate, the light was angled directly on the epicenter of the room—what seemed to be an aquarium.

". . . aquariums." Arnold finished.

The man didn't answer. He just stared, shellshocked, at the aquarium—unable to put into words his feelings.

Because the aquarium didn' t hold fish. In the water, a dozen dead bodies floated in the water, turning it blood-red. A thick stench emanated them, causing the man to cough uncontrollably. The man's eyes stung, and his hands shook. "What . . . what is this?"

Arnold turned around to face him, a devilish grin on his face. "My aquarium. It houses my pets. You wouldn't believe the discoveries I've made from these 12! They're Irish, all of them—I like consistency. I've revealed intricacies about the brain that no one else has. I've researched the heart hands-on—everyone learns better that way, don't you think?—and yet, my research has been dismissed by my colleagues."

"Wh-why?"

"Why, for fun, of course!"

"Y-you're sick! I'm getting out of here!" The man started to run toward the room behind him. He jiggled the doorknob. He gasped quickly, tears streaming down his face. It was locked.

"Oh, but you can't," Arnold said, shaking his head. "I need you. I was going to use someone else, but you'll do just fine. If I repeat my experiment on how much pressure the heart can endure one more time, I'm sure I'll get published in Scientific American!"

"No! N-no! What? You can't do this!"

"Oh," Arnold said, smiling. "But I have to. The world deserves to know."

And with those chilling words, he brought down a syringe filled with a clear liquid on the man's bicep.

"Sweet dreams," Arnold said, smiling, "and welcome to the aquarium."