“4am, past the witching hour on the way to morning. Sent coffee symbols to some, wish we could meet up for one but we’re at different ends of the earth for all intents and purposes. This will have to do. Typed far enough down that it’s safe to highlight the title without the system imitating the font. The world is my oyster; writing is good to go. How about that – the system preferred the semicolon there to the comma. Sure. This time.
I’d like my sleeve to stop catching the end of the placemat. Kind of annoying when I type. So many things have happened.” Miggz sat back and stared out over the living room at the still-dark hallway. She’d checked the mailbox yesterday and found one last Social Security check which she considered a sign from the woman, the already dead woman, as a thank-you for stopping fraud and keeping her alive. “Rest in peace, hmmph. Here I thought that stuff you see in the movies is all imagination. Don’t tell me others have had the same thing happen… only they’ve got the money to ‘immortalize’ it on the silver screen. Immortal… aren’t you already immortal when you’re dead… how does that work? Doesn’t strike me it should negate itself. Not negative-negative. It’d be negative to die, minus the body then positive immortality is nothing because now nothing exists or is it exist somewhere else? Too intense, anyway, getting back to getting back… how do you go back and undo that or is it considered fair warning to those who’d try? Seemed a good idea to me…”
She noticed lights flashing and walked to the balcony doors. Below on the street a police car had pulled behind someone but the person didn’t look like s/he, whomever / whatever, was moving. The policeman shone his flashlight in the car window then knocked but still nothing. He radioed something in and tried the door. Locked. “That’s a deep sleeper.” She remembered what happened to a shop owner when she was a kid, her folks talked about it, lots of people talked about it in subdued tones because it was so tragic, who’d just opened a store and one evening driving home pulled over to rest being suddenly so sleepy and he died just like that. He was found on the side of the road. No one knew what could have caused it. “How could anyone know what had happened. There were no cell phones he’d be on, not in those days. OMG, was his wife with him! He had to pull over because he was tired and she couldn’t wake him. How terrible. This person now? I wonder… wouldn’t that be awful to happen again.” Something caught her eye. “There’s something… a shadow next to the cop. Is that a shadow? Can’t be, I can see it… not clearly. I’m not getting glasses. C’mon eyes, work! No one else got out of the car. What is that?” Foreboding surged through Miggz out of nowhere. “I’ve stopped stealing dead people’s social security… well, I only did it once, I learned… is it moving… toward me…?”
Where is this going? Good question because down the street Astrid and Natalie are frozen… not exactly frozen but statues trying to figure out how to escape before Agon gets back and now we know the solution is flawed, not what they’re thinking to escape not that each knows the other is thinking anything – they can’t speak because of the solution, the stuff that he used. Who knew this street was so interesting. I mean, you never know what’s going on behind closed doors, or in backyards for that matter.
Thought I saw something standing in the hallway. Oh, man…
She began to hear rattling in the background. A strong wind kicked up and was blowing the lights on the balcony causing a rattle – tap, tap, clack. There were voices. The people downstairs were still awake as if they were partying. Now music. “Whatever that shadow is near the cop car maybe it’ll check them out.
Why is it so cold…?”