The Other Mitchell, Part 1

Gordon let out a groan as the hot water washed over him. He’d taken a heavy tackle during practice, but he’d returned it two fold, not difficult for a guy his size.

He thought about the shit load of homework that was waiting for him. That nerdy guy he normally passes it off to had given him the slip–little fucker.

As the hot water soothed the ache in Gordon’s shoulder he thought about home, his dad was on the earlies so he’d have to keep out of his way. He had a real nasty temper after working the early shift, even though he was just as big as his dad he’d still beat Gordon for lamest reasons.

The lights flicked off and on. “Black! Get your ass in gear I want to lock up,” coach shouted.

“Well you can just fucking wait,” Gordon muttered under his breath as he started to wash his hair. As he worked up a lather his nail caught a nub of skin–the fuck? He felt it again, and picked at it; part of it came off–it looked like a scab. He touched the spot on the back of his neck, something hard was there now. Slowly he worked his finger around it, and felt it move; he gently pulled at it and then groaned as he fell to the floor unconscious.

---

The fog in my head started to lift, and I gasped taking in a lung full of water.

Kneeling I coughed and cleared the water. I blinked; my vision was partially obscured by something covering my face. Reaching up I pulled at whatever it was, with a squelch it released its hold on my face and fell from my hand, and with a slap it fell to my chest.

I sat holding my knees in a pool of water; shivering. It was dark, and I had no idea where I was, but slowly my thoughts collected and I recognised the showers at school. Suddenly I was aware of something heavy hanging around my neck, it had a thick mop of hair with an opening in the back, and it seemed to be attached to my shoulders. I pulled at it, and a lot of water drained from an opening.

Rubbing at my hands and forearms to get warm, I noticed something wasn’t right, they were covered in dark hairs; but mine should be fair? I glanced at my shoulder. “Fuck! Where’s my tat!” I growled. The curling concentric rings of ink that should cover my pec, shoulder and bicep where missing–completely.

There was a feeling of tightness around my neck as I started to dry. I pulled at the fleshy thing around my neck and it gave way with a slurp, and I caught sight of my ink. I pulled harder and whatever was covering me pulled loose, it was like a second skin. Slowly I worked it down my shoulders and pulled my arm from the sleeve. I rubbed the ink on my shoulder and arm and smiled as I flexed my bicep.

With a groan I pulled my other shoulder and arm free, it felt like I’d been released. I slowly got to my feet, wobbling a little. I took a deep breath and looked at whatever it was around my waist. It looked like a flesh coloured wetsuit--a hairy one. Gingerly I started to wriggle and ease myself out of the lower part of the suit. Finally I kicked its remaining grasp from my foot--I was free.

I picked it up from something that resembled its shoulders holding it at arm’s length--it wasn’t a wetsuit--but there was something very human about it. The flat square pecs; completely opposite to my thick heavy ones. The dark trail that traced its way down to a thick dark bush of hair--I shuddered. Dropping a shoulder I grabbed the hair that topped the suit and pulled at it. A face appeared, long and stretched but still recognisable. “Fucking bastard,” I growled. “Fucking Gordon Black!”

Dropping it to the floor I trudged out of the showers dragging it behind me by an arm. I tugged open the door of my usual locker, it was empty. I looked around, a single kit bag remained on a bench--Blacks.

I picked through its contents, I didn’t recognise any of it. I pulled out a towel and sniffed it, my nose wrinkled--it smelt of Black, and reluctantly I started to dry myself off.

“You in there Black?” the coach shouted as he walked into the locker room.

Startled I held the towel up to my waist kicking the suit under the bench. “Uh, no just me coach,” I called back.

He looked me up and down. “Mitchell? What are you doing in here; I thought I saw you leave already.”

“No coach, still here.”

“Well get your shit together and get out of here, I want to lockup,” he said as he walked out of the locker room.

I went through Black’s kit bag again and pulled out some clothes; boxers, cargo shorts, t-shirt, hoodie and trainers. I pulled at the suit and rolled it up; with a grunt I pushed it into Black’s kit bag and threw it over my shoulder.

As I left the locker room coach called me over from his office. “Mitchell, you did well in the wrestling practice yesterday I’m going to put you forward for the team’s co captaincy for the year ahead.”

I looked at him blankly. “Wrestling practice? Yesterday was Sunday, there’s no practice on Sundays,” I retorted.

“Have you taken a bump to the head Mitchell? Today is Friday, practice was yesterday--Thursday,” he replied.

I rested a hand on the kitbag. “Uh, yeah,” I replied. Confused I left the gym glancing at the notice board at the door. Looking over next week’s schedule my heart sunk, I wasn't missing just a couple of days the date at the top told me I'd lost two weeks. What had happened? What else had I done while trapped within the suit? Had no-one missed me while I was under that thing?, I thought to myself.

---

My whole body felt heavy and listless as I made my way to the parking lot. I smiled, my pickup--big, black and mean was waiting for me in its usual spot. But then I froze, as a heavy built guy with a thick shaggy haircut wearing shorts and a t-shirt confidently walked over to my pickup. He ran a hand lightly along the bodywork and I swallowed hard, he had a tattoo--concentric rings looped around his bicep.

Immediately I sprinted across the lot, and threw the kitbag over the five foot hedge that ringed the lot. With a single leap I vaulted the shrub and crouched on the grass on the other side. Gingerly I poked my head over the top to get a view of my pickup and the interloper. He had his back to me, and as he scratched his head I could see the tattoos were the same as mine; I rubbed my bicep through Black's hoodie.

It was surreal; like watching myself, his build and mannerisms were identical to my own. I was so engrossed that I didn't even hear a person come up behind me until they prodded me with something hard. I spun on the spot and looked up; it was Danny Russo, the lacrosse goalie prodding me with his stick.

"What are you doing down there Mitchell? Playing hide and seek?" he sneered.

I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to the ground. "Get down you idiot, and shut the fuck up!" I growled.

"Mitchell, I should tell you I only kiss on the first date," he said with a grin.

I raised my middle finger to him. "Nip it Danny. Look at that, over there," I said pointing across the lot.

"What? Yeah it's your pickup what's the problem?"

Grabbing his shirt I pulled him to one side and pointed again. "Not the pickup--HIM!"

Danny looked at the guy, who had turned to face us. Slowly he looked between me and the guy. "Fuck, I didn't know you had a twin," he murmured.

"I don't you fucking idiot!" I retorted.

We both watched as he got a mobile from his pocket and put it to his ear, a couple of seconds later the phone in the hoodie I was wearing started to ring.

"Fuck! Fuck!" I said under my breath as I fumbled through the pockets and switched off the phone. I looked over the hedge again and the guy was looking in our direction craning his neck. I ducked down again pulling Russo with me, my heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst.

It was quiet for a moment, and then I heard the familiar growl of my pickup starting up. Scrambling to my feet I was just in time to see it pull out of the lot. "Shit!"

I walked slowly to one of the benches that lined the footpath and sat down resting my head in my hands. Danny joined me a couple of moments later. "What was that about Sean?" He asked in a low voice.

"No fucking idea, I just woke up in the gym showers wearing a human suit thing."

"A what?" Danny replied, his voice was sharp. I unzipped the kitbag and pushed it across. He looked inside and pulled at the face. "This is Gordon Black isn't it?"

I nodded. "Don't even ask me where it came from, the last thing I remember is being at a party two weeks ago," I replied.

His eyes narrowed. "You remember nothing?" He pauses for a moment and smiles.

"I need to figure out who that guy is," I mumbled.

"Sure, I can help."

I rubbed a knuckle in my forehead. "Think! What would I be doing now," I said under my breath.

"You'd be at the coffee shop getting a snack," Danny replies.

I looked at him and blinked. "That's right, but how would..." I shook my head. Patting my pockets I found some keys. "Black's car, let’s get down there. You going to follow?"

"Erm, I need a lift my brothers borrowed my car."

I rolled my eyes, Danny was a good kid just a little simple sometimes. After a while I found Black's car and we both made our way to the coffee shop, as expected my own pickup was parked against the wall near the shop.

Pulling the hood over my head, I followed Danny into the shop keeping my head down. I shivered hearing my own voice laughing with MY friends from one of the tables. I found a quiet spot where we could see the others without being spotted while Danny got some drinks.

He sat opposite and pushed a mug towards me. "Hazelnut latte, right?"

I frowned at him. "Yeah right," I replied and I suddenly felt a chill.

We sat sipping coffee as I watched, my gut twisted as my double laughed with my friends again. He was good, very good he could have been me so easily, no-one appeared to see any fault in his performance. I ground my teeth as I thought of this stranger living my life being with my friends and family--my mom was so vulnerable since the death of my father.

One by one, my friends left the shop. I watched as he got up to leave with the last of them, but then Danny got up as well. "I'll keep him busy," he whispered to me.

He walked over and sat down at the table, my double bumped the fist of my friend as he left and sat with Danny. I watched as Danny leaned over and said something to the other Mitchell. I swear his eyes flicked over to where I was sitting for a split second before he nodded slowly.

I watched them carefully trying to see any faults in my doubles actions but there was nothing, for a while I was starting to doubt whether he was a fake at all and perhaps it was me that was the double.

Danny finished his coffee and got up; my double threw my pickup keys in the air and caught them as they walked out the shop. I quickly followed them.

Turning the corner I could see my double was standing next to my pickup talking with Danny. Quickly I sprinted and launched myself at the person, there was a heavy thud as I made contact and we both fell to the ground. He let out a groan as I rolled him over and I pinned him to the ground with my whole weight. I was expecting him to struggle but he just looked up at me with shock on his face.

Time seemed to hang for a moment, and then he started to struggle. We were of course equally matched, but for the moment I wasn't going to give my upper hand away. He started to yell, and I covered his mouth. Danny looked around nervously as my double shook free of my grip and started to shout again. "Shut the FUCK UP!" I growled and without thinking I hit him square in the face, his head bounced off the concrete and he went limp.

"Fuck! You killed him," Danny yelled.

I felt his neck. "He's fine; he'll just have a headache when he wakes up."

Rolling him over I checked through the familiar mop of hair at the base of his neck. I glanced over at Danny who was craning his neck to see. "There!" I said with some satisfaction and pulled at a nub of skin. Underneath was the same hard fixing, I pulled at it and an opening appeared in the back of my doubles head. I tugged at the opening far enough to reveal the occupants black hair; I rolled the double over and tugged a couple of more times. A familiar slurping sound resonated through the fake Mitchell as the head came away, I looked at the unconscious face in front of me and then at Danny with shock and surprise.

Part 2: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1973960-The-Other-Mitchell-Part-2