[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
care. He moved to the edge of the bed, his voice rising eagerly. "Because listen you were right. It's
all in my head. I'm mentally ill; I imagine all that stuff. I know they're not real. I can trick them, make
them do what I want " He snapped his fingers, then waved dismissively. "I just worked on them in my
head and I got back here. I can get better. I can stay here."
He looked up at her with wide anxious eyes, willing himself to be calm, to be well. Kathryn gazed
back at him, suddenly stood and got her purse. She pulled out a manila envelope, and handed a large
photo to Cole.
"What does this mean to you?"
It was the uncropped photo of the Latino boy in WWI, with Cole a fuzzy shadow a the edge of the
frame. Cole stared at it bleakly. His expression changed from hope to confusion to genuine fear.
"I I had a dream about about something like that," he said at last, his voice breaking.
Kathryn took the photo back, nodding grimly. "You had a bullet from World War One in your leg,
James. How did it get there?"
Cole began shaking his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. "You said I had delusions that I
created a world you said that you could explain everything."
Kathryn looked at him, white-faced. "Well, I can't. I mean, I'm trying to. I can't believe that
everything we do or say has already happened, that we can't change what's going to happen that I'm
one of the five billion people who are going to die... soon."
Cole stood, moved closer to her. His eyes were bright with tears as he opened his arms, embracing
the scuffed floor, the stained bedclothes, the leaden square of window with its slab of dull sky, Kathryn
herself.
"I want to be here," he whispered. "In this time. With you. I want to become to become a whole
person. I want this to be the present. I want the future to be unknown."
He lifted his face. She saw in it more desperation than she had ever seen before; desperation and an
almost frantic need to hope, to believe in something to believe in her. She felt her heart clench inside
her, fear like a poison spurting through her entire body. Unthinkingly she bunched her hands into fists
and looked away from him, anything to not see his face pleading with her, begging her to save him.
Her eyes fell on the telephone.
"James," she said. Like a sleepwalker she pointed at the nightstand. "Do you remember six years
ago? You had a phone number? You tried to call and "
Cole nodded slowly. "A lady answered."
"It was a wrong number in 1990," Kathryn said. She stared at the cheap plastic phone, as though
willing it to ring. "But it should be the right number now. Do you do you remember it? The
number?"
Bam! A splintering crash as the door flew open. A looming figure half fell, half lunged into the room
a tall man with long hair and cracked leathers, his wiry arms and hands covered with jailhouse tattoos.
He stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily as he looked Kathryn up and down with cold ice-
pale eyes.
"This is my territory, bitch!" he sneered, moving menacingly toward her.
Confused, Cole turned to Kathryn. "Is this real? Or is this one of my delusions?"
Shaking her head, Kathryn backed away. "This is definitely real." She looked at Wallace. "Excuse
me, I think we have a little misunderstanding here "
The biker smashed her in the face. With a moan Kathryn flew back against the wall, sliding to the
floor as the biker spun around to face Cole.
"What're you some kind of tough guy?" Grinning, the biker raised his hand. In it glinted a knife.
"You wanna be a hero? You gonna try and mess with me? Come on..."
Cole hesitated, then raised his hands placatingly. He backed around Wallace and moved to where
Railly leaned against the wall. She stared at him in dazed disbelief, gingerly touching an eye already as
bruised and swollen as spoiled fruit.
"Now that's a smart boy." The biker nodded, tracing a circle in the air with his knife. His grin faded [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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care. He moved to the edge of the bed, his voice rising eagerly. "Because listen you were right. It's
all in my head. I'm mentally ill; I imagine all that stuff. I know they're not real. I can trick them, make
them do what I want " He snapped his fingers, then waved dismissively. "I just worked on them in my
head and I got back here. I can get better. I can stay here."
He looked up at her with wide anxious eyes, willing himself to be calm, to be well. Kathryn gazed
back at him, suddenly stood and got her purse. She pulled out a manila envelope, and handed a large
photo to Cole.
"What does this mean to you?"
It was the uncropped photo of the Latino boy in WWI, with Cole a fuzzy shadow a the edge of the
frame. Cole stared at it bleakly. His expression changed from hope to confusion to genuine fear.
"I I had a dream about about something like that," he said at last, his voice breaking.
Kathryn took the photo back, nodding grimly. "You had a bullet from World War One in your leg,
James. How did it get there?"
Cole began shaking his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. "You said I had delusions that I
created a world you said that you could explain everything."
Kathryn looked at him, white-faced. "Well, I can't. I mean, I'm trying to. I can't believe that
everything we do or say has already happened, that we can't change what's going to happen that I'm
one of the five billion people who are going to die... soon."
Cole stood, moved closer to her. His eyes were bright with tears as he opened his arms, embracing
the scuffed floor, the stained bedclothes, the leaden square of window with its slab of dull sky, Kathryn
herself.
"I want to be here," he whispered. "In this time. With you. I want to become to become a whole
person. I want this to be the present. I want the future to be unknown."
He lifted his face. She saw in it more desperation than she had ever seen before; desperation and an
almost frantic need to hope, to believe in something to believe in her. She felt her heart clench inside
her, fear like a poison spurting through her entire body. Unthinkingly she bunched her hands into fists
and looked away from him, anything to not see his face pleading with her, begging her to save him.
Her eyes fell on the telephone.
"James," she said. Like a sleepwalker she pointed at the nightstand. "Do you remember six years
ago? You had a phone number? You tried to call and "
Cole nodded slowly. "A lady answered."
"It was a wrong number in 1990," Kathryn said. She stared at the cheap plastic phone, as though
willing it to ring. "But it should be the right number now. Do you do you remember it? The
number?"
Bam! A splintering crash as the door flew open. A looming figure half fell, half lunged into the room
a tall man with long hair and cracked leathers, his wiry arms and hands covered with jailhouse tattoos.
He stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily as he looked Kathryn up and down with cold ice-
pale eyes.
"This is my territory, bitch!" he sneered, moving menacingly toward her.
Confused, Cole turned to Kathryn. "Is this real? Or is this one of my delusions?"
Shaking her head, Kathryn backed away. "This is definitely real." She looked at Wallace. "Excuse
me, I think we have a little misunderstanding here "
The biker smashed her in the face. With a moan Kathryn flew back against the wall, sliding to the
floor as the biker spun around to face Cole.
"What're you some kind of tough guy?" Grinning, the biker raised his hand. In it glinted a knife.
"You wanna be a hero? You gonna try and mess with me? Come on..."
Cole hesitated, then raised his hands placatingly. He backed around Wallace and moved to where
Railly leaned against the wall. She stared at him in dazed disbelief, gingerly touching an eye already as
bruised and swollen as spoiled fruit.
"Now that's a smart boy." The biker nodded, tracing a circle in the air with his knife. His grin faded [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]