A Maze of Glass, Chapter Fifteen, Pt. 3
Nothing happened after the power surge. The bulbs all blew, the windows exploded shardly outward—but nothing else happened. The next morning, Zoe felt the Gateway open.
The Gateway only lasted for two days, so they acted quickly.
They didn’t have time to repair all the glass, of course, so they bought plywood and two-by-fours and nailed up barricades at all the broken windows. They bought panicked-people volumes of canned and frozen goods—their diet for the next nine days purely vegetarian and most produce being spoilable—and stocked up on paper goods, flashlight batteries, candles (votive and otherwise), and other essential miscellany. By the time they’d finished the various chores, shopping trips, and errands required to continue the ritual, thirty-six of the Gateway’s forty-eight hours had passed.
Sung-ho pulled into the driveway just before dinner. He drove a wood-paneled station wagon, the back compartment stuffed with briefcases and storage tubs. As he stepped out, the sunset shining off the bristles of his recently-shaved scalp, he peered up at the boarded up windows and adjusted his sunglasses. Put his hands on his khaki, utility-shorted hips.
Zoe descended the steps from the front entrance to the driveway. “I’ll cover the damages.”
“What exactly, uh…happened?”
“The shaved head looks great.”
Sung-ho had worn long locks, side-swept, and a rough goatee, once upon a time. Sometime after Gillian’s second stint in rehab, however, he’d started developing a bald spot. Never one for half-measures, Sung-ho confirmed his situation and took a razor to the whole thing. “Thanks,” he said. “But, ah, again…what happened?”
“The ritual turned out to be more dangerous than we thought.”
“Hum me the tune, Zo’.”
“I might’ve made a small mistake very early on, tracking Jill after…getting extremely drunk. I’m not sure if it impacted the ritual directly, but there’ve been other small things. And Jill’s made a few small mistakes, too.”
“Hmmm, yes, it’s clear to me now how all of my windows broke. Many small mistakes.”
Zoe continued as if the sarcasm hadn’t registered. “There’s a manifestation in the spell, some material or semi-material extrusion of Jill’s…trauma. We ran into it a few nights ago during the end of the second phase, the Proclamation, and we managed to activate all the magic anyway. But then the windows exploded.”
“And is there a particular reason somewhere in all that jazz?”
Zoe peered back at the house behind her, the numerous plywood sheets patching its dozen eyes. “I assume so, but we really don’t know.”
He arched eyebrows. “That’s a bad sign.”
Zoe cleared her throat. “Were you able to deal with the dietary bullshit?”
“I haven’t had a drink in a week, a smoke in three or four days…”
“Coffee?”
Sung-ho shrugged. “Eh.”
“It’s a rough quit.”
“Everything is.” He sighed, turned back toward the station wagon. “Come on, help me unpack. You owe me for the windows.”
Turn Back
...coming soon...
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