The floodlights captured giant white crustaceans and glowing blue-green fish with huge eyes. They maneuvered around the submarine, investigating for food.
Tap — tap, tap. It was a miracle anyone had survived the explosion much less the descent to the ocean floor.
Fyodor took a deep breath as he stepped from the forest onto the road. He was accustomed to his nightmares invading his day. He welcomed the familiar deep hum and low vibration as he neared the factory. Once inside, the continuous clang of steel rails drowned out any other sounds echoing through his mind.
In his office, he opened his coffee carafe. An image of her in the forest flashed as he blinked. She must be a dwarf, possibly primordial. How was she managing to survive? At her size, even a red fox pup would pose a serious threat.
He would make beef stroganov to bring for her tomorrow, he decided. Turning to his wall calendar, he caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror he sometimes used to shave. What was different?
On his way to meet the floor supervisor, he felt it: Tap — tap, tap at the base of his brain had quieted.