Alienated

Wishing Wells and Pretty Spells

                                                                CHAPTER FOUR

                                                WISHING WELLS AND PRETTY SPELLS

        This was just peachy. 

        With a grumble in his throat, sounding more like the growl of an irritated house-dog than anything genuinely threatening, Tobias paced up and down the hall. He checked his watch. He paced again. Five steps down the hall, pivot, repeat. Check watch again. Five steps. Pivot. Repeat.  

        Fuck, how long was that meeting going to take? At this rate, he was going to be late for his next appointment, and he just had to get those plans to the boss. But if he was late, that's yet another stain to his already questionable career slate, and yet another splatter onto the hellish Goliath of mediocre accomplishments and the occasional, lucky prize-win that made up his resume. Damn, how many wrinkles did he have, being this negative? Probably wrinkles for his wrinkles, by this point. 

     Oh God, as if he needed another thing to add onto his worries, what was he going to do about Hannah's poetry reading? It's not like he promised to go, or anything . . . oh, she was a strong girl, wasn't she? She could handle it. After all, her late mother handled it when he didn't show up for the countless anniversaries, and Lord knew just how unforgivable that was, according to the piles and piles of cigarette-ash dusted Lifetime Magazine articles, cut out, pasted to the journal that he'd found hidden under their king sized bed.  

        (Not like he'd been looking, or anything.) 

        He paced again. Six steps, this time.  

        When Tobias Hammer finally heard the click of the door opening, his face lit up, wrinkles comically folding into themselves as his tufty eyebrows lifted high. "Oh, sir, sir!" he called, rushing forward and surprising the burly, red-faced man with a handful of rolled documents. 

        "The plans, sir," he breathed, nodding encouragingly as his boss gave an approving grunt, chin burying down into the valleys of his double chin. The boss patted Tobias with stubby fingers and another nod, turning to waddle off down the hall. 

       Tobias sighed, wiping away the sweat that'd begun to creep along his brow. Alright. Appointments, now, right? 

        But it changed, when the scientist turned to walk the opposite way. 

        His shoulder was caught, and his frail body was turned, to meet the gaze of a fairly attractive, trimmed, suited man. He wore sunglasses that gave him a somewhat goofily mysterious appearance, something that, for some reason, made Tobias want to break into girlish giggles. But he kept a straight face, only raising an eyebrow in silent question of what the man desired. 

        "Yes?" 

         "Do not call until you are alone." 

        He didn't quite understand the man's meaning until he felt the strict poke of cardstock into his palm, and looked down, eyes squinting at the impacted text upon the stiff paper. "ScrapeHeart Institution?" 

        When he looked back up, the man was already gone.

         That was six months ago. 

        Six months ago, he'd waited until he was alone, to make that faithful call. In the stench of warm beer and the canister of perfume that Hannah had left on the kitchen counter, he made that call, listening at the foreboding beep before the call was picked up. 

        The conversation that ensued, for some reason, he couldn't remember. All he could remember was that suddenly, the next day, he'd been accepted for a newer, higher-paying, longer hour job. 

        Tobias gave a sigh. Now wasn't the time for reminiscing. Now was the time for figuring out just what he was supposed to do about an empty report that The Man was gleaming for next week. He wanted a status report? A status report of WHAT? There was absolutely nothing that the Institute had discovered yet, extraterrestrial, or even slightly strange. This whole thing was a bust, a bogey. There wasn't any use, and he'd really, really rather be home with his daughter. 

        Another sigh came out. Tobias glanced up through the window, lips slightly quirking at the shooting star across the sky. He lived close by, Hannah was probably wishing on that same star. He closed his eyes, made a quiet want, and opened them again, only to have them widen. 

        Wait. 

        Something wasn't right. 

        It took a while of scrutinizing to figure it out, but once he did, the scientist scrambled from his desk and tumbled through the door. Now he knew what was wrong. 

        The star was getting closer. 

        Shit.