Page 8 of Cold, Cold Bones
Behind me I heard the softthupof paws.
“Human.”
“Probably.”
“Just the one?”
“Does that matter?” Not fully managing to hide my annoyance.
“Nope.”
There was a very long moment of dead air.
“Are you still there?” I asked, unsure if we’d been disconnected.
“What would you like?”
“Send transport?” Slowly.
“Could do. It’s just me here now.”
“Do you know when?”
Hearing rustling behind me, I turned.
Birdie had hopped onto the counter and overturned the box, sending the eyeball rolling free. Uninterested in the main prize, he was clawing at the toweling, scattering the Bounty with wild abandon.
“Bird! No!”
Horrified, I clicked off and rushed to lower the cat to the floor.
He sat, shot a leg, and began licking his nether regions.
I was re-gloving when Katy joined me.
“Holy shit.” She summed up the situation.
Gingerly, I collected the towels and returned them to the box. I was reaching for the eyeball when Katy yelped, “Stop!”
My hand froze.
“What’s that?” She was pointing at the eyeball’s left side, between the parts that had faced the world and the tissue that had held the orb in its socket.
I leaned sideways for a better view.
Katy was right. There was an irregularity in the eyeball’s white outer layer. A defect? A scar?
Curious, I got a lens from my kit and raised and lowered it over the anomaly. Eventually, found the correct level for focus.
Under magnification, a pattern emerged. Maybe?
“It looks like the sclera is scratched,” I said.
“Scratched how?”
“It could be lettering. If so, it’s unbelievably small.” I handed her the lens. “Maybe your superhero eyes can read it.” Unlike me, my daughter has been blessed with uncannily crisp vision. Ophthalmologists always marvel. And score her a bilateral 20/15.
“Jesus, this is teeny. Must have been done with a needle of some sort.” Pause. “They’re numbers. Three. Five. Period. Two. Six. One. Six. The last one’s a letter. N.”
