“Why do I feel like I’m being watched?” Gordon asked.
The question was meant to be rhetorical, but Bud pointed across the still water and said, “There.”
“What?” Gordon tried to follow Bud’s finger. All he saw was an old stone bridge.
“Can’t you see it?” Bud asked. “The reflection of the arches looks like a set of eyes watching us. You see it in your peripheral vision and…” He shrugged.
Gordon shook his head and got back to work. Bud was a strange one, a bit of an anomaly. Gordon smiled at himself. “Anomaly” was just the type of word Bud would use.
Bud left as Gordon continued to dig. Gordon knew what Bud was doing, so didn’t think anything of it. This was a routine they’d done a thousand times before.
The Boss would give them a bag. They didn’t ask any questions, didn’t open it and didn’t try to guess. They found a remote spot, dug a deep hole and put the bag in it. Just because the bag was about the right size and weight for a human body, well, that was just coincidence.
Gordon never knew Bud’s real name. He didn’t think anyone did. Bud seemed like any of the other guys, until he talked. He brought out these million-dollar words and talked about psychology. What did psychology have to do with their work? They were just laborers, digging holes in the woods.
Gordon stopped and wiped his brow. The hole was deep enough, but there was no Bud. Typically Bud would be back with the bag at about the time Gordon finished.
The odd feeling of being watched grew stronger. Gordon glanced around, but didn’t see anything. There was that bridge, though, and the eyes it made with the water. He picked up a rock and threw it as close to the bridge as he could. The ripples distorted the right eye, making it wink at him. He shivered. Where was Bud?
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