Doppleganger-The Conclusion
It was really quite strange looking at one’s self when you weren’t staring in the mirror, and while Dele had no idea where his mirror image had come from, he was sure it meant him no good. But as to why it was here, and what was truly going on, he had no idea. Yet the feeling that this thing before him wasn’t really human began growing in his mind. “I’m not sure I can tell you what’s going on, dear,” Dele replied, as he moved towards his wife, “but that person behind you isn’t really me, and I think he’s dangerous.”
“What’s he talking about?” the doppelganger asked. “Who is this impostor?”
Ife was definitely confused, but that didn’t rob her of her intelligence. She changed her position, so that she could have the two men in her line of sight. They were identical to the letter, although one was bruised and bloody, and the other was well-groomed. She turned to her husband. “Where’s your car? You left home with it, didn’t you?”
“I did, and it lies in a gully, currently smashed beyond repair, which occurred when I was almost killed by two things that attacked me on the road. I think we’re up against a supernatural force here….”
“Sounds like pure rubbish,” the clean Dele commented. “I suggest you leave this place, whoever you are.”
“Doppelganger,” Ife muttered in surprised recognition. Bothe men seemed not to get her, so she repeated herself. “When I was little,” the young woman continued, “my uncle used to scare me with tales of a powerful bogey called the doppelganger. Someone with great envy towards another person would make a sacrifice to the doppelganger, and it would come in the form of the target person, and attempt to take over such a person’s life, often beginning by killing the person, though this isn’t often the case. So one of you is the real Dele, and the other would be a doppelganger.”
“How do we deal with doppelgangers, then?” the impostor asked. He was smart, though Dele. By asking such a question, the doppelganger would make it appear that he was the real deal.
“My uncle mentioned that to get rid of a doppelganger, someone else must be able to distinguish the real from the fake, and point out the actual person. When this happens, the fake fades away.”
“What if the actual person is mistaken as the doppelganger?” the real Dele asked.
“Then the real person fades away, and the doppelganger takes over his life. And then everything begins to go wrong for those connected to the doppelganger. The stories never ended well….”
“Well, I’m the real Dele. Look carefully at me, dear,” the impostor said. “You can tell it’s really me.”
“That won’t work,” Ife said. “If there is a doppelganger here, it is exactly identical to the person it targets.”
“Well that thing, or at least, its associates, tried to kill me, so I think that qualifies me as the real Dele,” the software engineer stated.
“Or you appear to be battered, so that your incredible story can be more believable, since you couldn’t get to me to kill me, right?” the doppelganger asked.
As Dele prepared to retort, Ife held up her hand. “I think I will be able to tell the difference between you two by your handwriting. My husband’s handwriting is quite unique.” She turned to the impostor. “You must have pens and papers in that bag. My husband always carries lots of pens.” He triumphantly opened the bag and produced five pens. “Throw one to him,” Ife said. “I don’t want either of you to come close enough to touch each other, or someone may kill the other, and it may be the wrong person who dies. Papers won’t be needed. You can write my name on your palms.”
“Wise idea,” the doppelganger replied, tossing Dele a pen. The real Dele, for his part began to be worried. His palms were dirty and rough from the accident, and these things were likely to distort his writing. “Wait,” he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. My palms are dirty and the pen may not write properly on dusty surfaces.”
“Excuses,” replied the doppelganger. “Let’s take the test.”
“Actually, there’ll be no need for that,” Ife said. “I know who my husband is.” So saying, she turned and ran to the injured and battered man, and threw her arms around him. Dele was surprised, but overjoyed at the same time. “But how did you know?” he asked, while the doppelganger shouted in horror and begged her not to do such a thing.
“You’re left-handed,” she said to Dele. ”I know, but I write with my right hand. My parents saw to that when I was little,” he replied. “Yes,” Ife intoned. “One thing my uncle said about doppelgangers is that they have minute but spottable behavioral differences from their originals. I neglected to mention this, because I didn’t want anyone to be on guard.”
“Doesn’t explain how you could tell I was left-handed,” Dele said.
“That thing,” Ife replied, pointing at the doppelganger who still looked horrified, “put his right hand into the bag to get the pens. He threw one of them at you with his right hand, which you caught with your left, before transferring it to your right hand.”
“Well,” the doppelganger said with a smile, “it appears I’ve been found out. Good for the both of you.” It chuckled as its form began to darken and turn to smoke. “Seems like there’s someone I’ll be having a long chat with….” And it was gone.
“Long chat with whom?” Dele asked, still holding his wife tightly.
“I heard that a doppelganger who failed its mission would eventually turn on its summoner,” Ife responded, “but that’s currently not my concern. Come, love, we need to get you looked at….”
To be continued...
Thanks for coming!
That little boy,