UnEarthing Toroid

Part 4

In a wealthy neighborhood in the woods of northern Washington, on a rainy day when the trees were shrouded in mist, Declan Sang sat at the desk in his bedroom, the lights off and his thick curtains drawn tightly shut. He was hunched over a bundle of metal and wires, squinting at it in the very dim glow from the lights on his computer, tinkering on it with a screwdriver. He blinked his bleary honey-colored eyes and pushed his hair away from his forehead, sitting back as he examined his current project. 

It was coming along nicely, but he wasn't sure what to do with it at this point. Maybe the dim lighting was also making it kind of hard to focus. He had been working too long with too few results. Maybe he should just quit and take a break for a while. Maybe he should do something to make him relax, and chase away this annoying prickle of frustrated claustrophobia that he felt. He didn't have time to ponder though, because at that moment, a blood-curdling scream ricocheted through the air, making him jump so hard he almost fell out of his chair. It was followed by three loud thumps on what sounded like the roof of the garage.

Declan froze. His heart jumped to his throat, beating so hard that it threatened to suffocate him. He swallowed dryly. He's here. He's here for me. It felt like the floor might open up and let him fall right through. Vertigo made him sway. 

No, no, calm down. He won't get past the security system. At that, Declan forced himself to get up from the chair. His legs were shaky, and he moved slowly, trailing one hand along the wall for support as he slunk down the stairs to the living room, going straight to the big black box installed on the wall next to the door. He flipped it open and punched in a code, then something beeped and the screen lit up to show just what he suspected: proximity alerts. Three of them.

I knew it. I knew it. I knew he followed me home. Of course he knows where we live. But Declan didn't call the police. He wanted to, but he didn't. It was also possible that the proximity alerts could be teenagers, or deer, or raccoons. And he would waste everyone's time, and look stupid, and probably get in trouble, if it wasn't the intruder he was thinking of. So instead, he picked up a baseball bat that he had leaned casually against the door. With a deep breath that only managed to make him more nervous than ever, he walked over to the garage door and opened it a crack.

Nothing. Well, Declan didn't see anything. It was quiet. The water of their pool lapped peacefully at the edges. But that didn't mean anything. Last time he had followed Declan home, he hadn't made a sound. And this was exactly where Declan had seen him then too.

"Hello?" Declan called, advancing a step. He clenched the bat harshly in his left hand. If it was deer, maybe they would run at the sound of his voice, and he wouldn't have to go all the way outside. The rustling continued. It got louder. Heavier. This was definitely not a deer. Declan prepared to swing his bat. His feet left the concrete of the doorstep to move onto the grass, and it felt like a gesture of finality.

Then, a voice called from the bushes. A girl's voice. Declan nearly jumped out of his skin, all the breath leaving his body at once. But when he realized that it was a girl, he relaxed, his shoulders drooping. It sounded like a girl about his age, high-pitched and youthful, probably a teenager. He hadn't caught what she said, though. 

"What?" He lowered the bat, taking another step back. "Sorry if I scared you. You don't have to hide...I thought you were a robber or something." She spoke again, but this time Declan knew it wasn't fear that made him miss the words. He couldn't understand a thing she was saying. She was talking in some garbled language that he didn't get. All he knew was that it wasn't Korean or English.

The rustling in the bushes now reached a peak, the girl's voice barked something in sharp annoyance, and then she emerged through the parting leaves. The first thing that Declan saw was the copious amount of curly red hair surrounding this girl's face, obscuring almost everything from her head to her waist. It was such a bright orange that Declan's eyes were drawn right to it and nothing else. She squealed in frustration, pushing through the thorns of the bush, until she staggered forward into the freshly-mowed yard. She snapped something else angrily, grabbing fistfuls of messy hair and trying to rearrange it to something not so in-her-face. She was wearing a very short skirt and thigh-high stockings. Declan couldn't help but notice that.