Ghost Shadows
“—John Wyndahm, The Day of the Triffids Wyatt drove robotically along the winding country two-lane road. It was the same one he had traveled daily for almost thirty years during his long commute to and from work. Little had changed with that particular stretch of highway during those many years save for the occasional resurfacing project, followed by the repainting of the white lines along the shoulders of the road as well as the solid double yellow lines down the center.
This was Wyatt’s... first day returning to work as a purchasing agent for a major corporation after being absent the entire previous week, suffering with a particularly nasty strain of some sort of flu bug that had apparently been making its rounds. He had started feeling poorly the previous Saturday morning and by evening he was sicker than he had been in a very long time; exploding from both ends as it were. Wyatt could imagine little that might be worse as he had sat on the toilet with a bucket on the floor in front of him just waiting for the next wave of sickness to strike, which it often did simultaneously.MoreLess
This was Wyatt’s... first day returning to work as a purchasing agent for a major corporation after being absent the entire previous week, suffering with a particularly nasty strain of some sort of flu bug that had apparently been making its rounds. He had started feeling poorly the previous Saturday morning and by evening he was sicker than he had been in a very long time; exploding from both ends as it were. Wyatt could imagine little that might be worse as he had sat on the toilet with a bucket on the floor in front of him just waiting for the next wave of sickness to strike, which it often did simultaneously.MoreLess
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