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Vicki awoke at three, according to the glowing red digits on the bedside clock. She wasn't sure what had awakened her--whether there had been some sound or whether in her sleep. She had reached out and Arthur wasn't there, but she became aware of the bluish glow from across the hall and realized he must be at his computer. So she rose and, because the night air was still warm with July humidity, she strolled across to the den in her nakedness.
That curious blue and purple picture was glowing on the screen. She could see it from the door, and Arthur, with his back to her, was apparently staring at it--or asleep. His head was leaning against the top of the chair's back. She circled around so she could see which it was, staring or snoozing. If it was the former, she thought she'd dance naked between him and the screen. If it was the latter, she'd holler "Sodom and Gomorrah," or some other Irish curse.
But it was neither.
For Arthur had no face.
Where it used to be, a pulpy, bleeding mass of shredded flesh and shattered bone blindly faced the computer monitor.
So Vicki neither danced nor cursed ... she merely shrieked in wordless horror.