Sacrifice Read Online Free Page B

hurt that he had a comfort level here, a retreat from the non-stop scumbags in the city.
    He punched the eleven digits into his phone. Yeah, it would be six a.m. in Washington state. Too bad.
    “Hello?” Marc Brady’s voice was scratchy and confused answering the phone so early.
    “Marc Brady?”
    “That’s me.”
    “It’s Paul Hampton from Sagebrook.”
    Silence. This was going to be harder than Paul had thought.
    “Hey,” Marc said. “What’s happening? Are you still out on Long Island?”
    “Still at the same address,” Paul said. “The house you and I painted the summer of ’76.”
    “No kidding. Your Mom?”
    “She passed in 2001.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Look,” Paul said. “I’m calling because I spoke to Bob. He told me about the reunion and that you aren’t going.”
    “I appreciate the invitation and the effort,” Marc said. “But that is such a bad weekend with school starting up the next week…”
    “And how did Bob sound to you?” Paul said.
    “I don’t know, a little tired.”
    “Yeah, well he’s way past tired,” Paul said. “He’s dying. Stage four lung cancer. It doesn’t work into your schedule but, well, sorry. He wants to see us all.”
    Another pause.
    “Paul, we haven’t seen each other in thirty years,” Marc said. “After graduation, we all ran like hell from home and for good reason. It took me a shitload of therapy to get my head screwed back on straight. I’ve got a good life going out here. Why should I toss all that and rush across the country?”
    “Because Bob would do it for you,” Paul said.
    Marc gave no answer.
    “You know he would,” Paul added.
    More silence. You can’t argue with the truth, Paul thought.
    “You going to give me a ride from LaGuardia?”
    “I’m warning you now, I drive like a cop,” Paul said.
    “I’ll rent a car,” Marc said. “I’ll see you at Bob’s.” He hung up.
    Paul guessed that Bob would be pretty pissed if he knew anyone else was aware of his illness. It had taken some serious badgering to get Bob to admit it to Paul.
    Paul had met Bob a few weeks ago, for the first time in over twenty years. They split a lunch pizza at Brother’s Trattoria, their old high school hangout. Bob looked like crap—drawn, ashen skin, dark circles under his eyes. He had a deep, persistent cough that was more than the usual smoker’s hack. He told Paul about the reunion idea. Paul volunteered to use his police contacts to help locate some of the harder to find former Half Dozen members. He was exceptionally proud to have delivered Jeff Block’s personal cell number. Only near the end of the conversation had Bob admitted his illness.
    So Paul had to pull the dying friend card to get Marc on board. Life’s tough. Marc needed to be here. He owed Bob. They all did.

Chapter Seven
    1980
    The night of the tower lightning strike, Ken’s parents were asleep when he snuck back into the house, which suited him fine. After midnight was no time to do a few rounds of Twenty Questions with his father. He had a pounding headache, and the nerve endings of his right foot and left hand tingled like they were coated in ants. He guessed that was the path the charge took as it went through him. The idea made him shudder.
    When he finally fell asleep, he instantly began to dream. He stood at noon by the Sagebrook millpond, a relic of the 1700s in old Sagebrook just blocks off the village green. The mill was there, but it looked newer and the road in front of it was just a narrow dirt rut. The houses that ringed the pond were gone, replaced by a forest of trees taller than he’d ever seen in Sagebrook. Children wandered around the pond. Hundreds of them. Some played with each other, some fed breadcrumbs to the ducks. They wore a mishmash of period clothing from colonial era knickers to elaborate Victorian suits to modern jeans.
    The dream had an unsurpassed clarity. Vibrant colors leapt from every surface. The sun felt warm and invigorating. The