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Leo ran into the house, heading for the medicine cabinet. Gulping down his last six pills, he stayed hidden in the bathroom until they took effect.

After a half-hour he poked his head into the hallway, sniffing. No odors. He peered around the wall into the living room. No monsters. Good, he could resume his morning workout. But two hours later he noticed shimmers in the air. And by lunchtime he could see more shadows and eyes.

The pills wore off completely that afternoon when he was riding the city bus, returning from the pharmacy. His nerves were raw. He kept his eyes downcast to avoid seeing a swarm of predators charging and snapping at the bus passengers.

When he spied a tentacle writhing into a sleeping passenger's eye socket, something inside him cracked and surrendered. We're chum, he decided. We're chum in an ocean of primordial sharks. What the hell can I do about it?

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