Cry For Tomorrow Read Online Free

dog lay quiet at my side, her sharp eyes watching.
    We didn’t have long to wait before the intruders appeared, flowing out of the shadows like living ghosts until a dozen or more of the people the bikers had referred to as freaks were wandering about in the small patch of green. I was aware of them, of course. They roamed the ruins of the inner city just like the dwellers I associated with. Like most, I did my best to avoid making any direct contact with these poor, mind-warped people so lost in their own internal world of pain and misery.
    After the disaster, there had been changes in the children born to those of the survivors who had received the higher doses of radiation or chemical contact. Sometimes the mutations were obvious, like extra fingers and toes or a third eye, but more insidious were the changes within their minds. Many appeared normal until they reached puberty. That was when the affected child would begin to see things that weren’t there or hear voices and, unlike the schizophrenics known before the world had changed, these mind-damaged souls were often telekinetic as well, sometimes able to cause things to burst into flames or even fly through the air at the slightest provocation.
    Unsure what to expect from this collection of lost souls and nervous about the large number of them, I flicked open the face of the modified watch I was wearing on my left wrist and fingered the panic button for a moment as I considered whether I was in any real danger.
    In what was left of the dim sunset light, I continued to watch, fascinated as more of the freaks emerged from the shadows, their graceful movements almost a dance. As if to defy the darkness of their lives, each man, woman and child was dressed in brightly colored garments that flowed softly about their bodies. It wasn’t long before it became obvious that there must be some purpose to this gathering, for they each carried an offering of wood for the bonfire that had suddenly leaped to life in the center of the park.
    Off to my right, there was a stirring in the darkness of the abandoned storefront and a larger group slid from the shadows, this time carrying an assortment of musical instruments and ushering a gaggle of bobbing children before them. Leaving the children to fend for themselves, the musicians gathered together in the shadow of the tall buildings, and as the sun set behind the dark silhouettes of the buildings around them, the notes of music began to rise.
    The panic button completely forgotten, I listened, mesmerized, as what was just a confused medley of noise began to blend, becoming a melody that was at once so alien and yet so very familiar. No longer frightened, I pulled the dog to me and leaned back, listening and watching—always watching.
    As the melody took form and became music worthy of dancers, those who did not hold an instrument began to move together, pairing off, man and woman, or beautifully slender man or woman to another of his or her kind. Each moving as if lovers in the dusky light, they began to dance ‘round the bonfire, spinning and twirling, touching and twining. Even the children held hands or danced alone, each as graceful as their elders.
    Drawn by the strains of music, the inevitable phantoms arrived, flowing from the cracks between the boarded windows of the surrounding buildings or rising from the ground itself they slithered and glided between the dancers. As the music grew, weaving its spell and entrancing all, the dancers began to spin away from the fire, until only one trio remained, a man and woman wearing garments of some soft, flowing fabric that glowed in shades of deepest electric blue and a phantom of extreme grace and beauty with long sweeping fins and antennae, flashing in iridescent shades of pink and blue.
    Swaying and spinning, they undulated against each other, spiraling away, each move so graceful it was as if they floated upon the wind. And, as if called from its slumber, the wind now rose,