diverts her glance from William Truly and Dr. Ryan who beckon her explanation, looking to and from one another, completely puzzled.
Marks quickly tends to the broken glass at Tony’s feet, sweeping it with the bottom of his boot to a distant corner of the kitchen. He eyes Tony suspiciously, who stands momentarily debilitated, the outside ring of his iris beginning to glow emerald green. “Aw, no, Sarge,” Marks pleads. “Not this again.” He braces himself against the wall behind him.
Aubrey stands, preparing her defenses in case she needs to counter Tony’s evolution. Dr. Godfrey maintains a safe distance, his mouth agape, marveling at this new incarnation.
“Close your eyes,” Emily barks applying a potholder to his hand, the only thing she could find in the bachelor’s kitchen. His breathing sporadic, his eyes once confident and sure settle on hers, now afflicted and appealing. His trepidation resonates with Emily as she remembers her own fear with her early transformations. She softens her demeanor, holding the potholder snugly against his lacerations. “Close your eyes,” her tone gently coercive. “Trust me.” He obeys as if compelled by some deep-seated affinity to do so. William Truly and Dr. Ryan cautiously make their way beside Dr. Godfrey, intrigued and ultimately bewildered.
Emily studies him, consciously slowing her breathing rate, gaining control of her sympathetic nervous system. The rise and fall of Tony’s chest now matches hers, slow and governed. The intense ringing inside his head eases as his heartbeat decelerates, returning to a calm, gentle ga-gung…ga-gung…ga-gung.
“Aubrey,” Emily calls serenely, her voice prompting Tony to open his eyes, the emerald green ring encasing his handsome hazels grows faint. “Check the bathroom for some gauze…bandaging of some sort.”
“Dr. Godfrey?” Dr. Ryan awaits an explanation.
“He’s O-positive. He said the blood clotted…on his hand…when in contact with hers,” Dr. Godfrey reasons aloud. “How can this be? Did I miss something?” he questions his own research, realizing Tony’s very existence challenges the core of his hypothesis.
Aubrey knocks timidly on the bathroom door, yielding no answer from Gina as the shower continues to run. Knock! Knock! Knock! she beats forcefully, turning the handle to no avail at the repressive lock. “Crap,” she mutters suspiciously. Still no answer. “Oh, Lancelot.” Marks dashes to her aid, causing an onslaught of curious glances to follow him.
“Dammit Gina,” Emily spews, maintaining her pressure to Tony’s hand.
Aubrey steps back, gesturing toward the door. Marks does not hesitate, planting his shoulder firmly into the weakest portion of the upright wooden rectangle. The lock breaks loose, flinging the door back against the bathroom wall. Aubrey charges in, whipping the shower curtain back, validating her hunch. The curtain from the open window in the corner blows softly with the cool night breeze.
“Aubrey?” Dr. Ryan beckons, her tone expectant.
“Well, she’s gone,” Aubrey answers flippantly, trekking up the hallway.
“What do you want to do?” William Truly asks, preparing to deliver per Dr. Ryan’s request.
“She can’t be too far away,” she reasons, grabbing her jacket from the sofa.
“None of this would be happening if you had your facts straight to begin with, Mother,” Emily spouts.
“She’s going after Lon,” Aubrey says.
“How can this be?” Dr. Godfrey questions, still contemplating Tony and his Vigilare capabilities, refusing to believe his meticulous research could have a glitch.
“Bring the car around,” Dr. Ryan orders, throwing the keys to William Truly. “What do you mean, she’s going after Lon?” she quizzes Aubrey, confused. “Lon? Her dead husband? Why would she be after him?”
“Here Sarge,” Marks throws a lump of gauze at Tony retrieved from his bathroom medicine cabinet.
“Is that who she thought she saw? In the
Marks quickly tends to the broken glass at Tony’s feet, sweeping it with the bottom of his boot to a distant corner of the kitchen. He eyes Tony suspiciously, who stands momentarily debilitated, the outside ring of his iris beginning to glow emerald green. “Aw, no, Sarge,” Marks pleads. “Not this again.” He braces himself against the wall behind him.
Aubrey stands, preparing her defenses in case she needs to counter Tony’s evolution. Dr. Godfrey maintains a safe distance, his mouth agape, marveling at this new incarnation.
“Close your eyes,” Emily barks applying a potholder to his hand, the only thing she could find in the bachelor’s kitchen. His breathing sporadic, his eyes once confident and sure settle on hers, now afflicted and appealing. His trepidation resonates with Emily as she remembers her own fear with her early transformations. She softens her demeanor, holding the potholder snugly against his lacerations. “Close your eyes,” her tone gently coercive. “Trust me.” He obeys as if compelled by some deep-seated affinity to do so. William Truly and Dr. Ryan cautiously make their way beside Dr. Godfrey, intrigued and ultimately bewildered.
Emily studies him, consciously slowing her breathing rate, gaining control of her sympathetic nervous system. The rise and fall of Tony’s chest now matches hers, slow and governed. The intense ringing inside his head eases as his heartbeat decelerates, returning to a calm, gentle ga-gung…ga-gung…ga-gung.
“Aubrey,” Emily calls serenely, her voice prompting Tony to open his eyes, the emerald green ring encasing his handsome hazels grows faint. “Check the bathroom for some gauze…bandaging of some sort.”
“Dr. Godfrey?” Dr. Ryan awaits an explanation.
“He’s O-positive. He said the blood clotted…on his hand…when in contact with hers,” Dr. Godfrey reasons aloud. “How can this be? Did I miss something?” he questions his own research, realizing Tony’s very existence challenges the core of his hypothesis.
Aubrey knocks timidly on the bathroom door, yielding no answer from Gina as the shower continues to run. Knock! Knock! Knock! she beats forcefully, turning the handle to no avail at the repressive lock. “Crap,” she mutters suspiciously. Still no answer. “Oh, Lancelot.” Marks dashes to her aid, causing an onslaught of curious glances to follow him.
“Dammit Gina,” Emily spews, maintaining her pressure to Tony’s hand.
Aubrey steps back, gesturing toward the door. Marks does not hesitate, planting his shoulder firmly into the weakest portion of the upright wooden rectangle. The lock breaks loose, flinging the door back against the bathroom wall. Aubrey charges in, whipping the shower curtain back, validating her hunch. The curtain from the open window in the corner blows softly with the cool night breeze.
“Aubrey?” Dr. Ryan beckons, her tone expectant.
“Well, she’s gone,” Aubrey answers flippantly, trekking up the hallway.
“What do you want to do?” William Truly asks, preparing to deliver per Dr. Ryan’s request.
“She can’t be too far away,” she reasons, grabbing her jacket from the sofa.
“None of this would be happening if you had your facts straight to begin with, Mother,” Emily spouts.
“She’s going after Lon,” Aubrey says.
“How can this be?” Dr. Godfrey questions, still contemplating Tony and his Vigilare capabilities, refusing to believe his meticulous research could have a glitch.
“Bring the car around,” Dr. Ryan orders, throwing the keys to William Truly. “What do you mean, she’s going after Lon?” she quizzes Aubrey, confused. “Lon? Her dead husband? Why would she be after him?”
“Here Sarge,” Marks throws a lump of gauze at Tony retrieved from his bathroom medicine cabinet.
“Is that who she thought she saw? In the
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