AfterAge Read Online Free Page B

the justice in his death. She'd cleaned up the mess and locked the hall permanently from the inside; perhaps the mars ghost would be trapped there, too.
    A quick examination now showed her the entrances were unscathed, and she finally felt safe enough to return to the auditorium and use the Port-o-Potty. As she changed from one heavy cotton jumpsuit to another, an ache spread through her stomach and she flinched. She'd have to go to the library soon and read up on ulcers; the mirror showed the same clear blue eyes and curly black hair spilling down her shoulders, but the growing pain in her gut mocked her healthy appearance.
    Deb pocketed her keys and let herself out the Michigan Avenue doors, testing them to make sure the latches caught. A year ago she would've never guessed locks would be such an important part of her life. Standing on steps leading down to an empty world in the morning was nearly as frightening as the coming of each dusk. She had worked in the Art Institute since graduating from college and had seen it overrun with employees and visitors—maybe that was why she had chosen to live here; good memories, the images of a thousand people and times captured on canvas, in photographs, bronze, and marble. Outside, nothing moved for as far as she could see: no people, no cars—not even a single squirrel, once so common along the boulevard and in Grant Park. Only the birds remained; safe in their ability to fly, God alone knew where they roosted. She wondered longingly if the animals in the rural areas had fared better.
    If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still remember mornings at her parents' house not so long ago, still hear her little sister Janet calling her to Get out of bed, Mama's got breakfast on the table! Dad's laughter booming out of the kitchen at some wisecrack made by seventeen-year-old Mark. And Mom . . .
    The familiar loneliness settled heavily around her, amplified in silence broken only by the occasional twittering of an unseen sparrow. She hoped the sparrows and pigeons would become more plentiful as spring progressed, but for now most probably still huddled high atop the skyscrapers. A few more weeks and maybe the silence wouldn't be so damned . . .
    loud .

6

    REVELATION 3:2
    Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain.

    ~ * ~

    "What's he doing?"
    The man, his white hair the only testimony of age, shrugged as they looked to the sidewalk from a window high in Water Tower Place. He could think of no logical response as the teenager pressed one cheek against the window in an effort to see better.
    "Should I go down?" C.J.'s eyes, usually so hard and suspicious in his unlined face, brightened with the prospect of contact with someone new. Although he smiled to himself, Buddy McDole's expression remained outwardly bland as he watched the thin man below struggle with a small stretcher on which he had obviously tied a vampire. Even from here McDole could see the plastic-like covering ripple as the sleeping creature instinctively tried to escape the sunlight. But the man had done his task well; the vampire wasn't going anywhere—at least not until tonight.
    The guy was limping badly and McDole's first impulse was to send someone down to help. They'd certainly seen him enough—many times before the sentries had alerted McDole to the knocking at the main doors this morning. It had been a point in his favor that the stranger hadn't broken in, and if it weren't for one nagging question, McDole might have indeed sent C.J. to greet him—probably scaring the shit out of him in the process.
    But . . .
    What the hell was he doing with a vampire?

7

    REVELATION 3:10 I will keep thee from the hour
    of them that dwell upon the earth.

    ~ * ~

    "Up and at 'em, Beau," Louise told the little dog. "Time to move out." Beauregard's ears perked, though the cataract-filmed eyes never wavered. She scratched the tiny graying head, wondering how much he really heard.
    This morning's hotel was