Phoenix Read Online Free Page A

and
dialed yet another number.
    "Why don’t you give it up? You’ve called like
eight people already, and it doesn’t sound like any of them have
been helpful."
    "That’s what you think. If you’d listen with
your head half as much as your ears, you’d know what’s going
on."
    Brad snorted but didn’t reply.
    "Izzy! Hey!" Mort sounded surprised someone
had answered the phone. "Thank God you answ— yeah, he’s here.
What?"
    Brad glanced over his shoulder and the corner
of his mouth curled.
    "So you’ve been hav— okay, but wh— right."
Mort mimed choking someone. "Yes." More listening. "That’s what he
said. How lo— oh." Mort locked eyes on Brad. "I’ll make sure he
does. Thanks, Izzy." Then he hung up.
    Brad turned from the window and asked,
"Well?"
    Mort sighed and fell to the couch. "So I got
some good news and I got some bad news."
    "Hit me."
    Mort crossed his short legs at the ankles and
folded his hands over his belly. "The other precogs are having the
same kinds of dreams, and the viewers are saying that it’s already
begun."
    "Viewers?"
    "Yeah. Remember? We’ve been over the
classifications before." Mort sighed again. "Viewers. They, well,
they view . See things in real time. Like watching TV and
flipping through the channels."
    "Uh huh. So anyway," Brad stepped closer to
the couch, "there was good news in all that? And what’s already
begun?"
    Mort shrugged. "They don’t know. When they
try to see what it is, they come up blank. Like someone has taken a
giant eraser and wiped away all the chalk. But," he stood and
walked over to Brad with his finger in the air, "they all agree on
one thing."
    "What’s that?"
    "They all agree that whatever it is,
it’s not good. It started some time ago, and it’s going to get
much, much worse."
    Brad snorted again. "No shit. I already told
you that."
    "You did, yes. The difference now is we have
confirmation. You get one person who says something, you’re likely
to dismiss it. You get two people saying it, you start to wonder."
Mort ticked the numbers off on his fingers until he ran out. "You
get three, four, a dozen, all saying the same thing?"
    Brad nodded along. "You get a very bad
feeling about this."
    "Exactly."
    Brad went back to the window. "We’re talking
end-of-the-world scenario here, aren’t we?"
    "Yes."
    "What was it this Izzy person wanted you to
make sure I did?"
    Mort took a deep breath. "She said stay alive
and stop trying to kill yourself."
    Brad’s diaphragm locked up, but instead of
reflexively denying it, he went back to staring at the Henderson’s
house. "I’ll see what I can do."
     
    * * *
     
    At Mort’s insistence, Brad spent the night.
It was late by the time they finished talking and he really hadn’t
wanted to drive home anyway. The guest room was as sterile as the
rest of the house. So much so that for a brief moment, Brad
entertained the notion of sleeping on the floor to keep from
messing up the bed sheets. Mort was a night owl; he remained in the
living room, parked in front of the TV with a computer on his
lap.
    Brad peeled off his shirt and let it drop to
the floor. Mort would shit if he saw that . Probably make me fold it before placing it neatly into the hamper . He fell into
bed, and an hour later he lay half uncovered and drenched in
sweat.
    The older Suit walked swiftly , his shoes clacked along the sidewalk . He looked straight ahead . The street was deserted . The only sound , other than his shoes , was a steady click - drag just out of view .
    Click - drag . Click - drag .
    He stopped at the intersection and looked both ways . Odd , considering there was no traffic . The Suit stepped off the curb and into a small puddle of blood , but he didn’t seem to notice . His right shoe left burgundy prints on the asphalt .
    Click - drag . Click - drag .
    "Look behind you," Brad mumbled in his sleep.
He gripped the sides of the small bed, his feet kicked and tangled
in the sheets.
    Another block down and another