Grigoreth?
Then:
I know you’re seeing this, the read receipts are on.
Dustin picked up the pen clipped to the board.
He shouldn't. Antagonizing a supernatural bureaucracy seemed like a terrible idea, long-term.
But terrible ideas were sort of his whole thing.
So naturally he pressed the pen to the paper:New clipboard, who dis?
A long pause.
Then:
WHO IS THIS?
This is OFFICIAL REAPER COMMUNICATION. Identify yourself IMMEDIATELY.
Dustin grinned. He couldn’t help himself.
Wouldn't you like to know,he wrote.
HOW DO YOU HAVE THIS CLIPBOARD?
WHERE IS GRIGORETH?
Dustin thought for a moment, then he wrote:I heard he quit. Something about the healthcare being terrible.
The pause this time was even longer.
This is not funny.
I think it’s hilarious.
I am going to find out who you are and there WILL be consequences.
Good luck with your quarterly review, Morrith.
He flipped the clipboard face-down before Morrith could respond.
His phone was on the nightstand. Dustin grabbed it, opened the camera, and flipped the clipboard back over and to the page with the new assignments.
He photographed all of them.
If Greg's boss wanted to treat human lives like a to-do list, fine.
Dustin was going to make it the most difficult to-do list in existence.
Greg emerged from the storage closet forty-five minutes later.
His initial plan had been to wait long enough that Dustin might leave his motel room so that Greg could sneak back in and retrieve the clipboard, but…
Dissolution set in much faster when he was separated from his clipboard.
It had started as a faint fuzziness at the edges of his vision. Then his hands had started flickering—there one moment, translucent the next. Now there was a persistent ringing in his ears and his thoughts kept scattering like startled birds.
