Giant Solidarity G/T

Chapter XV. Work Project

Early the next morning, I awoke with a start and gasped out loud, wrenching my eyelids open. According to the green digits on the digital clock it was 5am. My wakeful yell stirred the two tiny ladies snoozing on my chest. Two meek-sounding, shocked yells stimulated my consciousness more. Gulping in deep breaths, it took me a moment to reorient to reality. That's right. Reagan asked if they could both sleep on my pajama shirt. It was like a humungous comforter at their size. Alma was too exhausted last night to return to the temporary human infirmary. Hers and Rey's tiny intimate romp wore her out.

         Rubbing her eyes, Rey blinked up at my large visage. "What's wrong Vic? What happened babe?" As her eyes open, she looked momentarily shocked to see me so big. But she adjusted as her memory switched on. My rising and falling chest bobbed her up and down alongside Alma. When I didn't answer she twisted my nipple gently with both hands. "Babe, what happened? Your heart's pounding like crazy and your lungs sound like a tornado..."

         "N-nothing, it's nothing," I stammered out, as my heartrate and breathing restored to baseline. "Sorry to wake you two." I patted Alma's reddish hair, platonically and kissed the top of Reagan's little blonde head. Her cranium felt like a garbanzo bean between my lips and I pulled back too soon. "Still half asleep. Everybody lay back down." Gently, I drew the thin bedsheet over the two of them. I left my left hand resting over my heart. Ten seconds later, they were both breathing heavily, and Reagan used the back of my hand as a pillow.

For half an hour, I watched them snooze peacefully. I carried on like a creepy sleep voyeur until the first glimmers of sunlight shone through the drapery. I'd lied about waking up for no reason. But I think Alma and Rey knew that. Truth was that a terrifying nightmare jostled me out of my slumber. I had looked forward to a night full of pleasant, soothing dreams. Not a horror from the lowest trenches of my subconscious. In my dream, I had been in our apartment and devoured a sandwich with a lot of trimmings. I figured Rey must have made it. I wolfed it down hungrily. When I pulled my lips away, I was sickened to see a pair of Reagan's pink socks between the bread crust and cheese. A yell and plead for help rang in my ears, as she rolled down my throat, into my cavernous gut. I was unable to stop swallowing and she just kept falling. I screamed myself awake. Already the morbid imagery receded into blackness, thank goodness. Intellectually I knew the dream was ludicrous now. Why would Rey or any tiny willingly go into a sandwich? Even so, the memory kept me awake until 6:30am, when I was able to doze back off for half an hour.

         Tuesday morning after sunrise, Rey remained at her miniature size. There was no cause for alarm, as she assured me. It had only been fourteen hours since the chip was activated. Twenty-two was the cap as she reported. While Harley and I went to work, little Rey opted to help care for the relocated tinies in the spare bedrooms. After all, the main reason she signed up for this was for medical and sociological exploration. She might as well get her fill, since her shrunken state lingered. At accurate size, she could perform accurate closeup exams, firsthand on humans, without need for a microscope or tweezers. Confident in her and the Giant volunteers, Harley and I chowed down on a couple breakfast sandwiches and carpooled to Hitherto. No sense in wasting gas between our two vehicles.

         Before he touched his car's gearshift, I held up a hand for him to wait. "Check for stowaways first," I encouraged, pointing at my lunchbox between my feet. Crystal now had all the more reason to sneak along to work. Harley agreed and searched his lunchbox and workbag, as did I. Determining our bags were entirely Spitfire-free, our day at the magazine could begin.

         Harley and another music columnist were collaborating on an article, so he had a meeting first thing. Arriving at my cubicle, I was puzzled to see a thick beige folder sitting in front of my computer. Without sitting, or setting down my bag, I flipped through the file. As I scanned the contents, my eyes widened. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had to look over the pages twice. I narrowed my eyes, looking toward the Senior Copywriter's office down the hall.