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Cyrus's eyes. He couldn't help wondering why the world was suddenly so vivid. So vibrant. He should have been frightened by all that was going on. Or at the very least depressed. Yet he felt disgustingly chipper and it irritated him. |
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"What do you think's going on?" Kyna asked. |
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"I feel like someone or something is breathing down our necks. I can almost smell them." |
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"What an odd thing to say." |
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"Babe, if I knew that, I'd know I wasn't just being paranoid. That's the worst part. Wondering if I'm crazy or if stuff like this happens out West every day. I keep thinking the government or the chamber of commerce or . . . I don't know, maybe the CIA is keeping it a secret from the rest of the world. It's like somebody, some . . . power is pissed at us. But I've never been out this way before, and as far as I know, I haven't done anything to get anybody mad enough to send these things after us." |
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"The things last night. That wolf." |
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"The wolf? Come on! Now you are being paranoid. That was just bad luck." |
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"Maybe. But the other night too. Outside the pavilion in Calgary." |
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"Those muggers? You think somebody sent them?" |
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"Somebody sent something." Cyrus took a deep breath and let it out a little at a time. "Kyna, I didn't exactly tell you everything that happened after I sent you back to call the cops." |
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He spent the next ten minutes giving her the edited version of his confrontation with the zombie. Her expression started out somewhere between curiosity and concern, but quickly changed to skepticism when he got to the part about the dead man with his moldy suit and unnatural strength. It took fifteen minutes of fast talking, but by the time he finished, Kyna wasn't laughing anymore. |
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