The riddle of the numbers.

I left for home with way too much on my mind. So many pieces of the puzzle, yet so little time to put them all together. Surely my unseen nemesis was having fun leaving behind these extremely cryptic clues for me to gather only to sink further into his trap.

This guy knows what he’s doing. I don’t. That’s the problem here.

Then I spotted the mall just up ahead. I needed a place to stop and think this whole thing over anyway, so I pulled into the parking lot and found a parking spot in the shade. A perfect place for my pondering.

Once parked, I opened the windows to let in the cool morning breeze and then pulled out my notepad and thumbed through the clues collected so far. I had just begun my analytical process when suddenly a small bag landed on the windshield. I quickly looked around for the perpetrator but there was no one nearby. I retrieved the bag and, sensing it safe, untied the knot that held it closed. Reaching inside, I pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it.

Great, more numbers.

Just four of them this time.

1 1 2 8.

What could this mean?

Something in my mind clicked, and suddenly, it all began to make sense.

All those numbers.

The Pattern.

So that’s what he’s trying to tell me.

Finally, I was able to decipher the message and it grew more frightening by the minute.

I’m too late.

Then the sky grew dark, very dark as if the sun had just set.

It’s happening.

I looked at my watch. It was 9:50 in the morning.

It’s happening.

I’m too late.

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