Super Karma by Anders Flagstad

Author:Anders Flagstad
Language: eng
Format: epub

101

Peering between his fingers, (he was still holding his head in his hands), as his computer did its clicking, chittering thing, Dare watched his screen S L O W L Y come back to life, flickering and flashing and sparking fireworks on his workstation display.

C’mon! Get your behind moving, you clockwork piece of crap!

His machine stuttered to a stop, flashed its bluescreen at him (again), went black for 5 long seconds, started another glacially-quick reboot attempt.

Shit!

Dare really, really needed to get to work. All of a sudden, it seemed important. It was like, well, he felt someone behind him, watching him. Over his shoulder. A lidless, unblinking, fiery eye examining the back of his head.

Three guesses who that might be.

While he waited, hands beginning to shake, trying to look busy, Dare examined Sat’s texts more closely. He pawed and slid his fingers across his cell, but he couldn’t concentrate. Dare also found himself looking up a lot. He looked up and over at the closed and louvered windows of Madame S’s abode every 30 seconds or so, which yes, was clearly turning into an obsession with him, and which no, was entirely reasonable, since she (Mrs. S) had NOT even commented yet on his being so late into work today.

She hadn’t said a word.

Not word one.

That was sinister. Right? And cruel. Cruel and unusual punishment for his egregious tardiness. OK. Fine, Mrs. S. Do your worst. Dare just wished she would do whatever the hell it was she was going to do. Get it over with. Smash him into a colorful Dare-stain on the garish linoleum. Trash him and kick him to the curb and throw him under the bus and do whatever else she wanted to do with him, he just wanted it in the past. He just wanted it over. Shit. Over and done with. Shit. Was that so much to ask? Shit.

What was that phrase about waiting for a shoe to drop? The shoe Dare was waiting for was made out of cement, it was a boot, and it weighed like 300 pounds. Mrs. S. was going to fit it onto one of his feet and then drop him into the Pacific out past Catalina, where he’d be walking with the fishes tonight. In his new shoe. Yeah, Dare felt a sort of staticky, anxious mess pulsing though his nervous system. The office had an electric calm about it, the air was still and heavy, as if a tornado were spinning up someplace, maybe way up there in one of the corners by the ceiling up there, it was up there, but no one had noticed it yet. The air was thick. Something was coming. Something twisted.

You know, it kind of made it hard to breathe.

It sure wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

Being tornado infested. Or tornado-haunted.

Dare hated himself for doing it, but he looked over his shoulder again, at HER office windows and he even glanced up in the corners by the ceiling to see if something wicked was wafting its way towards his unprotected shoulder blades.

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