Apocalypse Drift Read Online Free
moved to his chin, stroking his clean-shaven jawbone while lost in thought. Wu had anticipated his team leader would thank him as usual, and immediately exit the office. This had been the daily routine since the inception of the project almost four years ago. Not today. His superior appeared to be surprised by the report, and was mentally exploring its implications.
After a few moments, Yangdong’s eyes narrowed, focusing harshly on Wu. “You are absolutely certain of this report, Analyst Wu?”
“Yes comrade, there is no doubt.”
Houston, Texas
January 12, 2017
Wyatt pulled into the driveway without even realizing he was home. He’d been so focused on the financial reports streaming on the radio; he couldn’t recall navigating the last few blocks. He parked in front of a suburban residence that had been the family’s home for more than 14 years. The car’s engine idled while he listened to the last of the broadcast.
Even when the announcer began his rant about the Rockets’ latest trade for an overpriced power forward, Wyatt didn’t move. His mind was completely occupied, digesting what he had just heard. Today’s grim inflation reports catapulted the stock market into a steep nosedive this morning. A lot of people had been momentarily crippled by the news. Gold was going nuts, and three major banks announced an increase in their prime interest rates. Other financial institutions were expected to follow.
Wyatt rubbed his eyes using his thumb and index finger. He turned off the car and leaned back in the seat, a deep sigh escaping. The timing of this couldn’t be worse , he grunted.
He stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door in a single, robotic motion. A year ago, he would have slammed it shut with gusto, but not anymore. Wave after wave of bad news, bad luck, and bad decisions had taken the fight out of him - he simply didn’t have the energy anymore. Besides, the old jalopy probably didn’t have a lot of door slamming left in it.
He initially turned for the mailbox, but then reconsidered. The postman never delivered good news anymore, and after the report on the radio, Wyatt didn’t have the heart. He knew the box would contain a dozen or so letters from bill collectors demanding their money, threatening late fees, and reminding him how badly his credit would be affected if he didn’t call them soon. That final threat always provided a little comic relief. There’s nothing anyone could do to make my credit score any worse. Why do they even bother with that crap?
Opting instead for the front door, Wyatt’s path crossed the high grass and weeds in the yard. The overgrowth reminded him of the need to check on the lawnmower. It wouldn’t start last Sunday, and he needed to tinker with it. Cutting my own grass is just a sign of the times , he told himself. A year ago, a yard crew groomed the lawn, shrubs, and edging. They weren’t expensive in the grand scheme of things, but when the decision came down to paying the yard guys or buying groceries - eating won handily. On loan from a friend, the secondhand lawnmower had kept the neighborhood association and their nasty, reprimanding letters at bay. Those notices always included the mandatory threat of a fine if he didn’t comply with the association’s idea of a neat and tidy lawn. He hesitated at the front stoop, remembering an even better reason to mow – they were having another garage sale this Saturday.
Wyatt stuck his key in the door’s lock and entered the house. Warm air hit his face, eliciting a grimace at the thought of having to reopen all of the windows. They didn’t run the air conditioner any more – cool air being another victim of his financial position. At least the late winter weather in Houston was bearable today, a paltry 70 degrees outside. Wyatt didn’t know what they were going to do in a few months when things became seriously hot and humid in the Bayou city. The heat in southeast Texas had been known to
After a few moments, Yangdong’s eyes narrowed, focusing harshly on Wu. “You are absolutely certain of this report, Analyst Wu?”
“Yes comrade, there is no doubt.”
Houston, Texas
January 12, 2017
Wyatt pulled into the driveway without even realizing he was home. He’d been so focused on the financial reports streaming on the radio; he couldn’t recall navigating the last few blocks. He parked in front of a suburban residence that had been the family’s home for more than 14 years. The car’s engine idled while he listened to the last of the broadcast.
Even when the announcer began his rant about the Rockets’ latest trade for an overpriced power forward, Wyatt didn’t move. His mind was completely occupied, digesting what he had just heard. Today’s grim inflation reports catapulted the stock market into a steep nosedive this morning. A lot of people had been momentarily crippled by the news. Gold was going nuts, and three major banks announced an increase in their prime interest rates. Other financial institutions were expected to follow.
Wyatt rubbed his eyes using his thumb and index finger. He turned off the car and leaned back in the seat, a deep sigh escaping. The timing of this couldn’t be worse , he grunted.
He stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door in a single, robotic motion. A year ago, he would have slammed it shut with gusto, but not anymore. Wave after wave of bad news, bad luck, and bad decisions had taken the fight out of him - he simply didn’t have the energy anymore. Besides, the old jalopy probably didn’t have a lot of door slamming left in it.
He initially turned for the mailbox, but then reconsidered. The postman never delivered good news anymore, and after the report on the radio, Wyatt didn’t have the heart. He knew the box would contain a dozen or so letters from bill collectors demanding their money, threatening late fees, and reminding him how badly his credit would be affected if he didn’t call them soon. That final threat always provided a little comic relief. There’s nothing anyone could do to make my credit score any worse. Why do they even bother with that crap?
Opting instead for the front door, Wyatt’s path crossed the high grass and weeds in the yard. The overgrowth reminded him of the need to check on the lawnmower. It wouldn’t start last Sunday, and he needed to tinker with it. Cutting my own grass is just a sign of the times , he told himself. A year ago, a yard crew groomed the lawn, shrubs, and edging. They weren’t expensive in the grand scheme of things, but when the decision came down to paying the yard guys or buying groceries - eating won handily. On loan from a friend, the secondhand lawnmower had kept the neighborhood association and their nasty, reprimanding letters at bay. Those notices always included the mandatory threat of a fine if he didn’t comply with the association’s idea of a neat and tidy lawn. He hesitated at the front stoop, remembering an even better reason to mow – they were having another garage sale this Saturday.
Wyatt stuck his key in the door’s lock and entered the house. Warm air hit his face, eliciting a grimace at the thought of having to reopen all of the windows. They didn’t run the air conditioner any more – cool air being another victim of his financial position. At least the late winter weather in Houston was bearable today, a paltry 70 degrees outside. Wyatt didn’t know what they were going to do in a few months when things became seriously hot and humid in the Bayou city. The heat in southeast Texas had been known to
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