A Kiss Before the Apocalypse Read Online Free Page A

in his gaze.
    “Have you seen Robert?” the man asked, his voice like the rustling of dry leaves. “He was supposed to take me home.”
    An aura of despair radiated from him in waves, nearly pushing Remy back with its strength.
    “I have to get home. Who’s gonna take care of the house? Have you seen Robert?” the poor soul repeated, already forgetting that he had asked that same question only seconds before. “He was supposed to take me home.”
    Remy gently touched the old man’s shoulder and looked deeply into his aged eyes. “Robert will be here soon, Phil. Why don’t you go see Joan, and ask her to make you a cup of tea?”
    Phil smiled, his rheumy eyes slowly blinking away confusion. “Tea would certainly hit the spot.” He licked his dry lips. “Why didn’t I think of that? Must be getting old.” He winked at Remy and continued on his way down the hall, a new strength suddenly in his step.
    Remy watched his progress. He had spent many an afternoon talking with Phil about what the old timer called the good old days. Although his presence seemed to have a calming effect on these tortured souls ravaged by age, it still pained him to see the effects the years had on those to whom he had grown so close.
    It was never more obvious than when he saw his Madeline.
    Remy stepped into the doorway of the room that tried hard to be homey but never quite overcame that institutional air, and spotted the woman he loved. She seemed so small and frail, sitting in a lounge chair in front of the big-screen television. There was an ache inside him, and he wondered why he had ever wished to be flesh and blood. It was a question he asked himself with every visit to Cresthaven.
    Madeline hadn’t noticed his arrival, and he watched her for a few seconds as she struggled to stay awake. Her eyes would flutter and close, her head slowly nodding until her chin touched her chest. Then she would come awake with a start, and the futile battle to remain conscious would begin all over again.
    Remy moved farther into the room. It was set up to resemble a living room; a couple of couches and chairs— both recliners and rockers—covered in vinyl made to imitate leather. Soft lamp lighting and framed Monet prints from the Museum of Fine Arts gift shop down the street completed the attempt at coziness. The TV sat on top of a large, dark, pressed-wood cabinet, a VCR on the shelf beneath, its clock perpetually blinking twelve a.m. The local news was just wrapping up the weather— cooler, with a chance of rain by the end of the week.
    He knelt beside his wife’s chair as she drifted deeper into sleep, and touched her arm lovingly. Madeline lifted her head to look at him, her eyes dull, momentarily void of recognition.
    “How are you ever going to keep up with current events if you’re dozing?” he asked her and smiled, before leaning in to kiss her cheek.
    The life was suddenly there, the dullness in her gaze burned away by the familiar mischievous twinkle. She smiled, reaching up to touch his face with an aged hand.
    “Caught me,” she said softly. “Now you’ll make me go to bed first again.”
    It had been their nighttime custom; whoever fell asleep first while relaxing in front of the television had to warm the bed, while the other took out the dog, turned off the lights, and locked the doors. Madeline had been the champion bed warmer.
    “How’re you feeling today, hon? You look better.”
    She grinned and batted her eyes, patting the collar of her bright red sweatshirt. She knew he was lying. She had always been able to read his expressions. But she played along anyway, then changed the subject.
    “You’re late. Joan said you were caught in traffic. Was there an accident?” She started to stand.
    Remy took her arm, helping her up. “No accident. Just the usual stuff. I was on a case longer than I anticipated. ” He guided her around the chair and toward the doorway.
    “Anything interesting?” she asked, pausing, peering