Ashes of Foreverland Read Online Free Page B

right, moderate caffeine and sugar, lower your stress.”
    â€œMy lifestyle never bothered me.”
    â€œSpicy food never used to bother me.” He’d used that line before. Something told her he had this talk with a lot of his patients. He scribbled on the iPad. “I’m writing a prescription for anxiety. Take it for a month. It’ll help you sleep, calm you down. Let’s see how it goes. Come back in a month.”
    She nodded, but that was a white lie. “Just so we’re clear, all the tests were normal?”
    â€œCorrect.”
    â€œI need an answer for the auto-engage, Doctor. I didn’t do it.” The doctor shook his head. “Can you at least recognize that I have a history of seizures and that there is a possibility of auto-engagement?”
    â€œIt’s already in my report.”
    â€œAnd would you also include that there is a chance that biofeedback would not necessarily tell you it was auto-engagement that occurred, that a subconscious thought beyond my awareness could be responsible?”
    â€œThat’s a small chance, Alex.”
    â€œStill a chance.”
    He sighed. She was gearing up for a lawsuit. “I can do that, if you promise me something. Slow your life down. Biomites don’t make you invincible.”
    He looked at his wristwatch, a round antique with two hands and a second hand ticking across the numbers. Strange choice for a man steeped in technology.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.”
    He left before she could ask about the wristwatch.
    â€”—————————————
    T he waiting room was empty.
    She didn’t hesitate leaving the office, the receptionist busy texting or posting photos of quitting time. The hinges on the glass door squealed at a pitch that could shatter diamonds. It was unnerving and unacceptable and that would go in her tersely worded letter to Dr. Mallard, along with her reservations to continue as a patient.
    The elevator doors were open and waiting. She punched the button and texted her husband, watching the traffic lights and endless line of brake lights.
    Her toe caught something.
    It was the National Geographic from the waiting room, the one the kid was reading. The corners were bent; creases cut across the tropical island and reflective waters. She picked it up as the elevator opened on the ground floor and rolled it into a tight cylinder.
    Fifteen minutes passed. A produce truck had sideswiped a taxi and nothing was moving. The buildings’ shadows grew longer and brake lights brighter. Cars honked; people shouted. An ambulance threaded its way down the street.
    An hour elapsed.
    Alex walked down the street and found the white Camry in the intersection of Forty-Sixth and Ninth. Traffic was slow enough that she climbed into the passenger seat, tossed her stuff on the floor and kissed Samuel on the cheek. Just as she was turning around, before she had a chance to look into the backseat—
    Two headlights blinded her.
    The driver’s door collapsed beneath the bumper of a delivery truck, crushing Samuel’s head.
    Glass rained down.
    Blackness enveloped her. Horns bled into angry shouts and the tinkle of glass. She spun in the darkness like a stuffed animal tumbling in a clothes drier...over and over and over—
    â€œOh!” Alex snapped her eyes open.
    â€œYou all right?” Samuel’s voice was distant, almost like he wasn’t there. “What’s wrong? Alessandra, what’s wrong?”
    The car was fine.
    There was no broken glass. No blood.
    Not even a truck.
    She climbed out of the car. Traffic angled to get around her, drivers raising their hands or giving her the finger. She stumbled against the car and looked up at the tall buildings, the sky bruised and crumpled. Anxiety lit her chest with dazzling tendrils. At the very same moment, lightning flashed across the sky.
    Later she would remember looking at her