This series has been renamed. It was previously, “I Railed the Straight Guy in the Park.”
Kent’s arm tightened around my waist. My breath caught. I took an involuntary step backward, pulling Kent with me. Every instinct screamed at me to keep backing away as more pod lids stood open and men climbed out into the cold, fluorescent light.
Curt reached out and grabbed my arm, gripping it hard, while still staring forward, eyes wide, jaw dropping open.
All the pods were open, and several men were already out of them. Some were reorienting themselves still, others were already walking toward us, what I assumed was the only way out.
It wasn’t seeing all these men dressed from every walk of life coming out of the pods or walking toward us that made the hairs all over my body stand up, it was their eyes.
Their eyes never landed on us. They looked through us, through the walls, through everything, fixed on destinations only they could see, like they were sleepwalking.
Or hypnotized.
