Joining in - 1. The Tale

Kevin O'Dowd got a shock when he arrived at the office one Monday morning. Opening the door to his shared workspace, a puke-green, mummified head sprang out in front of him, its lipless grimace making his stomach lurch.

“Fucking hell!” He took a couple of steps back.

The latex and plastic monstrosity retracted to the side wall, almost as if it had heard him. It remained there, bouncing ever so slightly, waiting for its next victim.

“Morning, Kev.” Kevin's assistant, Julia, looked up from the papers she was sorting. “That bloody thing nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“So why haven't you taken it down?”

Kevin wasn't remotely a morning person, often dispensing with the niceties of office greetings until such time he had a couple of mugs of coffee inside him.

Julia giggled. “I can't do that. Come on, Kev, you know it's the Halloween tradition here. Start of October, everyone's fair game for the full month.”

“Hnh!” Kevin dropped his bag down beside his desk. “Why do we all have to put up with this infantile behaviour for the next four weeks? Why can't it be just those who want to join in? That plastic abomination is the stuff of nightmares.”

“Oh, it's probably Benji's new pride and joy. Don't think I've seen it before, and it's hardly something you'd forget in a hurry.”

Kevin took his coat off and hung it carefully on the coat stand. “I object to Benjamin Usher being given a jester's carte blanche. The rest of us have to work for a living.”

Away from his line of sight, his assistant rolled her eyes. “Well, look at it this way – the head won't give you such a shock after today.”

Kevin sat at his desk, going through his inevitable routine of making minute adjustments to the seat, even though no-one else dared sit in it.

Then he cleaned the computer keyboard with an alcohol wipe. “That's not the point and you know it.”

His assistant knew better than to argue. The subject was closed for the present.

Kevin put his glasses on and got what he needed out of the bag, his resentment bubbling along underneath all the while. Why did nobody have the guts to confront Benji Usher? It wasn't as if he was a model worker the rest of the year. Lazy, full of false bonhomie, Usher had the knack of getting on with everyone who mattered. So when the Halloween nonsense had become a week, then two weeks, expanding with a slow, inexorable determination, management hadn't given a fuck. Good for staff morale, or some such bollocks. The rest of them had to work their socks off for the month, covering for Usher even more than usual, while he arsed around with fake blood, cobwebs, and slime.

Turning his computer on, Kevin recalled the previous year's antics. For a whole month, he came in to a skeleton sitting at his desk. Not any old bunch of plastic bones, of course. The skull sported Kevin's distinctive moustache, and where its backside would have been, there was a small hand-written sign saying 'Fuck me! I'm queer.' Kevin flushed red with anger as he reached for his vacuum flask of coffee – he didn't trust the water in the office. The grossly offensive sign was only there for the first day, but it was enough. It was seen by everyone in the office. His repeated complaints to HR and his line manager were met with indifference, and he found himself being sent on a team building course soon after. As if he were the instigator, not the victim.

Something caught his eye. Kevin looked directly at his computer and nearly vomited. Blood and gore were apparently flowing down the screen, over the keyboard and into his cup of coffee. A sudden stink of offal with the metallic tinge of fresh blood made his gorge rise. A gurgling, strangled cry was just escaping from his mouth when it all disappeared, stopped, as if someone had pressed a button somewhere. Fucking Usher! He obviously knew someone in their IT department. Someone with experience in digital special effects.

“Did you see that?” Kevin turned to his assistant.

“Hmm?” Julia peered owlishly over her glasses. “Sorry, adding up figures. What?”

“Doesn't matter.” Kevin swung back in his chair and typed up yet another complaint.

A week or more passed, and Kevin was almost oblivious to the head's daily welcome. It was still grotesque, but the heart-stopping shock factor was long gone. The irritation wasn't though. Kevin contemplated a visit to his quack to get his blood pressure checked. The results would make for alarming reading, he had no doubt, and they would look good when attached to his next email of complaint.

It was a morning when his mind was pre-occupied with some figures that didn't add up as they should. Everything was focussed inwards as he opened the office door. The head's sudden appearance made him stop in his tracks, heart pounding almost as much as on the first day. Something was different. Kevin stared at the abomination for the few seconds it hung there in front of him. It was smirking. There was no other word for it. The leathery silicone skin surrounding the rictus of a mouth was stretched into a smirk. The sharpened, discoloured plastic teeth showed even more. It made his own skin crawl.

As usual, Julia was already hard at work. Kevin wondered whether she'd noticed.

“I see sodding Usher's been round again. Not content with leaving his handiwork as it is.”

Julia finished off some figures. “Sorry?”

“That bastard head's been altered. Didn't you see when you came in?”

“Nope. Too busy on my phone. But it wouldn't have been Benji anyway.”

“Oh?” This was news to Kevin.

“Yeah. I hear on the grapevine he's on enforced leave.”

Kevin's heart leapt with joy. “Good. So it's not just been me complaining then.”

“No. Dunno what he's been up to. Doubtless we'll hear in time.”

Then a question flashed up in Kevin's head. If Usher wasn't around, who'd created the smirk? Kevin shrugged. It was the least of worries – if he didn't get the accounts to balance, it would be his own head on a spike.

Towards the end of the same week, Kevin approached the office door with caution. As his hand reached for his swipe card, he stopped still. The week had got steadily weirder after the smirk. Nothing particularly shocking or bizarre, but it all added up to something deeply unsettling. First off, the office smelt, and this was despite the usually ferocious air-conditioning. It had started as the faint hint of a curious aroma – the sort of thing that stopped him from concentrating. Then it had steadily increased in pungency. He'd spent most of yesterday with a headache. As a smell, it was difficult to describe. An intense mustiness, as if a long-sealed room had been opened. One which contained leather-bound volumes and certain, unnameable chemicals.

Julia had affected not to notice it because of her sinuses. Kevin shook his head. Then, also on the previous day, he'd come in to find handprints all over his desk, the monitor, his chair. Everywhere. At first, he assumed they were transfers until a bright red one had been tacky when touched. He thought of children's washable paint, but the subtle gradations of colour from bright crimson through to a reddish mid-brown made that unlikely. No other part of the office was affected.

His assistant had laughed it off, before going to get him a bucket. Kevin cursed mildly as he stood in front of the door. Why him? Why was he being picked on? Whatever the handprints were, hot water and washing up liquid removed them without too much scrubbing. Again, if it wasn't Usher, who the hell was it? Kevin briefly considered putting something out onto the staff intranet, asking for similar instances, but quickly decided it was more trouble than it was worth.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside to the usual greeting. The head had changed again. It now sported a grin. Not a smirk. A wide open, evil grin, rejoicing in something unknown, dark, nefarious. Kevin shivered. As he walked away, he sensed eyes boring into his back. He swung round, nerves on edge, and caught sight of the head and a pair of brown eyes watching him, amused. Kevin blinked furiously and looked again. The empty eyesockets stared blankly back at him, contrasting oddly with the manic grin. That hadn't gone. Kevin gulped. So, was that the head, or him? Maybe he'd better prioritise the visit to the quack. The office was empty. It was Julia's day off, and the other occupants were at some meeting or other. Kevin did his best to keep to his morning routine before settling down to his work.

Sometime after six the same day, Kevin sat back in his seat, massaging a stiff neck. It had been another difficult day, wrestling with figures which seemed constantly to escape his grasp. The Halloween horror was to blame. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the wretched thing, it was there, grinning at the back of his head. Every time he turned round, he had a feeling of just missing the same amused, brown-eyed gaze. An attempt earlier in the month to remove the abomination from the wall had been a singular failure. Nothing he did made the slightest impression. So here he was, sharing the office with it.

A look at his weather app showed heavy rain. Having no umbrella or waterproof, Kevin resigned himself to getting soaked well before he reached the station. Until that is, he recalled Julia saying there was small brolly-graveyard in the cleaners' cupboard behind the photocopier. Something was better than nothing. He hurried to the other end of the room and squeezed past the copier. The musty smell was even stronger in that part of the office. He hadn't heard anyone grumbling though.

Kevin shrugged to himself as he pulled the door open. Complaining to Facilities was a mug's game. The light from the office only illuminated the immediate area of the doorway, not venturing further inside. Kevin wasn't bothered. There was no point in searching for the light switch – he would just grab the first brolly that came to hand. Any longer and he would miss the last commuter service.

Awkwardly, Kevin leant over the cleaning equipment, an arm groping to the side in the darkness. His hand grabbed at some material. Long, narrow, stiff and with a woven texture, it unwound at his touch. Whatever he'd found wasn't fabric for any brolly he'd ever used. He let it go and eased himself slightly further in. The door swung to behind him, limiting the light even more. The dense darkness obscured everything. Despite the noise of the air conditioning outside, the atmosphere in the cupboard hung heavy, still. Timeless. Kevin shivered.

Swearing at himself for being a susceptible idiot, he lunged into the further reaches, searching for the fabled umbrellas. Then something gripped his questing hand tight. Terrified, Kevin tried to wrench it back. Fleshless fingers encircled his wrist like a vice, pulling, dragging him inexorably into the blackness. Kevin yelled and flailed his free arm at his unseen assailant. That too was captured by a leathered, bony hand, its strength beyond his imagining. Now screaming, Kevin tried to fight back. It was pointless. There was no escape. The mummy had him in its tomb.

Julia sat in a local eatery, taking her time over an early morning cup of coffee. She was watching the world go by when a friend appeared.

“Hi, Julia. This is late for you, isn't it?” The man sat down opposite her.

“Oh, hi, Bilal. There's no rush. My boss is away, and without him, there's not a lot to do.”

“That's Kevin? I thought he never took holidays?” Her friend turned to the counter. “Usual, please, mate.”

Julia giggled. “He doesn't. Nobody in the office knows what's happened to him. He does complain a lot. Maybe he's on some sort of administrative leave?” She shrugged and finished her cup of coffee. “It's been just over a week now. Nobody's come looking for him, so I assume someone knows what's happening. Kevin doesn't like people from work phoning him at home. If he's not back by the end of the week, I'll raise it with the group manager.”

She stood up and put her coat on. “Anyway, I'd better get going. See you, Bilal. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Julia hurried along the street. Even with Kevin away, she was late. She missed Kevin, despite his morning glums and strange quirks. Mind preoccupied, Julia marched into the office to be brought up short.

A shriek of “Kevin!” escaped her lips before she fell onto the floor in a dead faint.

The Halloween head had changed again. There, bouncing gently on the extendable arm, complete with moustache and carefully parted hair, was the mummified head of an eyeless, grinning Kevin.

Only now had he joined in.