Bestial Read Online Free

against the rocky cliffs and flat expanses of wet, shiny sand, stirring a thin, silvery mist. It was a bright, sparklingly clear Friday in July and the morning neared its end.
    In the passenger seat, Karen Moffett smoked a Winston and occasionally flicked ashes out of the three-inch opening in the window. She had been annoyed with car manufacturers ever since they’d stopped installing ash trays in cars. She took a drag and exhaled smoke as she waited for the driver to respond to the explanation she’d just given.
    “So let me get this straight,” Gavin Keoph said as he drove. “Essentially, we’re, uh... traveling back in time to the seventies. Is that it?”
    “I haven’t been to this place myself, but yeah, that’s pretty much the case.”
    Gavin eyed the cigarette between the first two fingers of her right hand.
    “From what I’ve learned,” she went on, “the Esalen Institute has perfectly preserved the philosophies and pop psychology of the seventies in a hermetically sealed environment. Sort of like stepping back in time to Marin County, circa 1973.”
    Karen noticed that his eyes glanced at the road, but spent most of their time on her cigarette.
    “Can I have a drag off that?” he said.
    “Didn’t you bring your own?”
    “I’m trying to quit.”
    She laughed as she handed him the half-smoked cigarette. Gavin pulled on the cigarette and his eyes closed briefly with pleasure as he inhaled while Karen watched. As he exhaled the smoke slowly with a sigh, his eyes opened only halfway to watch the road, and his body slumped in the seat, suddenly relaxed, soothed.
    “Careful,” Karen said. “You enjoy that any more and you’re going to need a cigarette afterwards , if you know what I mean.”
    Gavin chuckled as he handed the cigarette back to her.
    “How long has it been since your last smoke?” she said.
    “Oh... “ He looked at his watch. “About nine hours.”
    “They have pills for that now, you know.”
    “I don’t believe in pills.”
    “You may not believe in them, Keoph, but they do exist.” At Karen’s feet was an Aquafina bottle with some dead cigarette butts floating in a few inches of water. She took another drag, then picked up the bottle, removed the cap, and dropped the remainder of the cigarette into it. She replaced the cap and put the bottle back down by her feet.
    “We’ve known each other for a couple years now, and you’re still calling me Keoph,” he said, smiling. “I hate that.”
    “You do? Why haven’t you ever said so?”
    “I have. At least twice.”
    “You have? Oh. Well, what do I call you?”
    “How about my first name? Gavin.”
    “All right, Gavin it is. Sometimes I get distracted and don’t hear things. Sorry I didn’t hear you.”
    “So, what is Martin Burgess doing at the Esalen Institute?”
    Karen laughed. “You’ve known him awhile now, and you have to ask?”
    “You know him better than I do. You’ve spent more time with him because he’s got a house down in Los Angeles. Which is why I suppose he always calls you with assignments and never me.”
    “Yes, but you know his... leanings , so to speak. Esalen is right up his alley. He’s attending a week-long seminar on remote viewing.”
    “Remote viewing?”
    “It’s a form of ESP. Allegedly, those with an aptitude for it can develop it with time and practice, hone it. Like... I don’t know... crocheting, or playing the accordion. It’s the ability to gather information about a person or place or event that’s outside the physical perception of the viewer. For example, using remote viewing, you might track the movements of a person who’s on the other side of the country.”
    Gavin frowned. “With my mind?”
    She nodded. “The CIA has done all kinds of research into it in the past, and for all we know, they may have used it. They still may be using it.”
    “What’s Burgess want with it?”
    “He writes horror novels. It’s grist for his mill.”
    “So, he’s at