David Policar 1998
When Daniel fell asleep Wednesday - Thursday morning, really - he felt nothing more unusual than the bleary eyes, aches, and mild nausea of yet another late night. He woke up with a pounding chest, trembling, and the terrified feeling of being watched.
His shades were raised, and the winter sun revealed his dorm room empty and unchanged - textbooks spread around his futon, dirty clothes piled against the far wall, laptop open, charge telltale flashing. The room was too small to hide a watcher, except out the window or in the closet... and not even his books fit in the closet anymore. He heard no sounds except the bass beat of his own pulse.
Must have been some dream, he thought shakily. The room was too hot, as always; even under a single light blanket he woke slick with sweat. Outside the sky was a pale blue, the sun just clearing the top of the medical center across the street. Nothing there, he noted absently, then laughed at himself for the thought. Of course there was nothing there, unless some Media Lab types were ogling him from their offices... and as far as he was concerned, they were welcome to the view. But he found himself closing the shades nonetheless, and his laughter sounded unconvincing even to him.
He sighed and shook his head, wrapping a towel hastily around his waist as he walked out into the hall. See?, he challenged his still-pounding heart - Empty. What did you expect? His only respose was a sudden chill that ran up his arms and down his spine as he entered the hall bathroom. Somehow he felt he'd lost the point.
As he lathered off the night's sweat, Daniel forced himself to review his day's plans. He hadn't checked his alarm, but it had been set for 9:40 and hadn't gone off yet. He might have an extra hour to grab some breakfast and check his mail before his morning class.
***
His haunting hadn't faded with time, and two days of classwork and lab work had suffered for it. Somehow he'd made it through the week... but even a frenzied Friday night hopping the fraternity parties on Beacon hadn't dulled the edge. If anything it had worsened, and walking through deserted Boston streets at 3 AM hadn't helped matters any. By the time he reached his lounge sofa, he was experiencing a peculiar - and dangerous - combination of physical exhaustion, mental befuddlement and nervous energy. When a skulking figure began appearing and disappearing at the edges of his vision, he finally snapped.
"You know something, spook? I don't have time for this." He was surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth, even more surprised at their matter-of-fact tone. "If I'm not going crazy, I don't care who the hell you are or what you want from me - so if you're out there, show yourself, or leave me the hell alone."
When nothing happened, Daniel wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. A moot question, as it turned out - both incipient emotions were replaced by a familiar fear when he noticed the figure leaning against a glowing blue staff in a previously deserted corner of the lounge.
Daniel froze. Time passed. The figure in the corner - a naked boy, no more than fourteen - seemed to slouch against his staff.
After a time, fear gave way to incredulity. This was his nightmare nemesis? The boy looked more like a Disney cartoon - short blond hair, huge green eyes staring at nothing in particular, and over it all an aura of innocence Daniel had never seen before, even in children. There was nothing threatening about this child, Daniel realized, except perhaps to his reputation should anyone wander into the lounge.
"Um... hi." Not the most stellar of conversational gambits, but how does one start a casual chat with one's adolescent stalker?
***
"Tell me again what I'm doing here?"
Daniel didn't ask out loud so much as think loudly - the alternative would have been foolish given the circumstances. While no listeners were visible, several offices were still lit; the last thing he needed was the attention of some late-night worker in need of human company. Besides, he knew what Spook's response would be, so it didn't matter... and he didn't really want to know if his shadow had heard the question.
Getting into the office had been no problem, since the security guard had conveniently dropped his cardkey on rounds. Daniel had left the card where he found it; the guard would certainly keep his indiscretion to himself, so the record would just show an unscheduled but unremarkable spot check. Perfect - even if they found traces of him, Rathmullen Industries would figure an inside job, industrial espionage or something like that. They'd check employee records, look for stolen files or unauthorized computer use, whatever they look for in those cases - with a little luck (he chuckled silently) they'd never even look for whatever signs he might accidentally leave. Not, he reminded himself, that they would recognize anything they did find.
In fact, the whole business was too easy - the hardest part was navigating by touch, guesswork, and a sketchily memorized map through the darkened office, past the row of cubicles on his left, turning left when a faint humming indicated a kitchen refrigerator, and towards a dimly lit window.