fall—and the twig-things, who stubbornly lurked in my thoughts along with the troll. The soda and the breakfast bar gave me enough energy to confront my email and run what would hopefully be my last round of tests before we called it a product and shipped it.
And with Jude’s aid, I slogged through the morning. I couldn’t have done it without her. Every time I finished a test and logged the result in the bug-tracking database, I promptly forgot what I’d done. Teammates showed up at our door, but I registered them only as faces and voices just outside a veil of weariness around me. Jude intercepted anyone who came to talk to us and shooed them off so I could have relative peace and quiet. She kept the soda coming and by the time the reminder for our 11am status meeting fired off on my computer, a caffeine buzz hummed along my nerves. It was no substitute for sleep, but for now, it kept me awake and more or less alert.
Jude never once remarked on my eyes. Neither did James, our boss, who drew me aside just before the meeting and solicitously murmured that he’d heard I’d had a rough night and morning, and was I all right? I assured him I was. Inwardly, though, the apparent invisibility of the transformation in my features was starting to spook me more than the troll or the things in the hedge.
I ducked into a ladies’ room before the meeting started, just to verify if a second mirror would show me what I’d seen at home. It did. My eyes remained an eerie, undeniable yellow.
So why couldn’t anyone else see it?
You can see ’em. See ’em with your shinin’ eyes
…
Christopher’s voice again, echoing through my mind.
Luckily the meeting required nothing of me but my presence, for I couldn’t have uttered an intelligent word if my job had depended on it. No one else’s words made sense within my jumbled thoughts either. Everyone around me seemed insubstantial, like wraiths of people going about their workdays, as if some power on another plane of reality had pulled them all off this one and left only their echoes behind.
Or maybe it had pulled me instead, I thought uneasily, and Christopher as well.
The instant the meeting ended I stopped in the kitchen where Jude had gotten my first aid supplies and the steady supply of soft drinks. Only part of the room was the actual kitchen. Shelves of office supplies, a copier, a fax machine, and a phone took up the rest. I aimed for the phone, and nervously punched in the number for the University of Washington Medical Center. I don’t know what drove me more: worry over Christopher’s condition, or the mounting need to find out the cause of the strangeness that had infected my existence. Neither was satisfied, for the hospital operator informed me that they’d released Christopher MacSimidh from care that morning.
Disappointment and dismay shot through me as I hung up. Both of them vanished, though, the moment I caught sight of two pairs of faintly glowing red eyes in the cramped, shadowed space beneath one of the vending machines.
With a hoarse whimper, I threw myself to my hands and knees before the big boxy snack dispenser, choking on my own relief and panic when I found nothing beneath it but dust and somebody’s forgotten quarter.
I’d wondered last night if I’d started hallucinating, looking into my bathroom mirror. I wondered that again now. Had I imagined my eyes changing color? Something lurking under the vending machine? The hedge creatures? The troll?
Surely I hadn’t imagined Christopher?
Was I losing it?
“Ken?” Jude’s voice and her hand on my shoulder sent me shooting upright with a yelp. In turn she jumped back a step and blinked up at me as she asked, “You okay, chica?”
Hoping I didn’t look as paranoid as I felt, I babbled, “Yeah, I, um… quarter. I dropped a quarter.” I stooped and snatched up the coin I’d spotted, trying to look casual.
Jude didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. She just grinned and waved me
And with Jude’s aid, I slogged through the morning. I couldn’t have done it without her. Every time I finished a test and logged the result in the bug-tracking database, I promptly forgot what I’d done. Teammates showed up at our door, but I registered them only as faces and voices just outside a veil of weariness around me. Jude intercepted anyone who came to talk to us and shooed them off so I could have relative peace and quiet. She kept the soda coming and by the time the reminder for our 11am status meeting fired off on my computer, a caffeine buzz hummed along my nerves. It was no substitute for sleep, but for now, it kept me awake and more or less alert.
Jude never once remarked on my eyes. Neither did James, our boss, who drew me aside just before the meeting and solicitously murmured that he’d heard I’d had a rough night and morning, and was I all right? I assured him I was. Inwardly, though, the apparent invisibility of the transformation in my features was starting to spook me more than the troll or the things in the hedge.
I ducked into a ladies’ room before the meeting started, just to verify if a second mirror would show me what I’d seen at home. It did. My eyes remained an eerie, undeniable yellow.
So why couldn’t anyone else see it?
You can see ’em. See ’em with your shinin’ eyes
…
Christopher’s voice again, echoing through my mind.
Luckily the meeting required nothing of me but my presence, for I couldn’t have uttered an intelligent word if my job had depended on it. No one else’s words made sense within my jumbled thoughts either. Everyone around me seemed insubstantial, like wraiths of people going about their workdays, as if some power on another plane of reality had pulled them all off this one and left only their echoes behind.
Or maybe it had pulled me instead, I thought uneasily, and Christopher as well.
The instant the meeting ended I stopped in the kitchen where Jude had gotten my first aid supplies and the steady supply of soft drinks. Only part of the room was the actual kitchen. Shelves of office supplies, a copier, a fax machine, and a phone took up the rest. I aimed for the phone, and nervously punched in the number for the University of Washington Medical Center. I don’t know what drove me more: worry over Christopher’s condition, or the mounting need to find out the cause of the strangeness that had infected my existence. Neither was satisfied, for the hospital operator informed me that they’d released Christopher MacSimidh from care that morning.
Disappointment and dismay shot through me as I hung up. Both of them vanished, though, the moment I caught sight of two pairs of faintly glowing red eyes in the cramped, shadowed space beneath one of the vending machines.
With a hoarse whimper, I threw myself to my hands and knees before the big boxy snack dispenser, choking on my own relief and panic when I found nothing beneath it but dust and somebody’s forgotten quarter.
I’d wondered last night if I’d started hallucinating, looking into my bathroom mirror. I wondered that again now. Had I imagined my eyes changing color? Something lurking under the vending machine? The hedge creatures? The troll?
Surely I hadn’t imagined Christopher?
Was I losing it?
“Ken?” Jude’s voice and her hand on my shoulder sent me shooting upright with a yelp. In turn she jumped back a step and blinked up at me as she asked, “You okay, chica?”
Hoping I didn’t look as paranoid as I felt, I babbled, “Yeah, I, um… quarter. I dropped a quarter.” I stooped and snatched up the coin I’d spotted, trying to look casual.
Jude didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. She just grinned and waved me
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