The Dead and the Dying Read Online Free Page A

okay," Dawson says, sounding as if he's given up pressing me for answers, at least for now.
    "I'm fine, I tell him again, before turning and hurrying away. I swear to God, if one more person asks me if I'm going to attend Sam Gazade's execution, I'll scream. I understand that most people, even within the force, have this morbid fascination with the guy, but I wish they'd accept that for me, the case is long over. I've got more important things to do than stand around watching as Gazade dies. I've moved on, even if the city hasn't. I caught the guy; twelve years later, I don't feel the need to do a victory dance while he's being pumped full of lethal drugs. Let him die alone, without the attention he always craved.

Dr. Alice Huston
     
    "You ever had a weird student?" I ask, as Harry Gillespie and I sit in the cafeteria.
    "I've never had a normal one," he replies, taking another swig from his bottle of water. "There's something wrong with all of them. Eating disorders. Attention deficit issues. Paranoia. Some of them are even psychopaths. You know the ones I mean. Bunch of fucking freaks. The funny thing is, the real fuck-ups often turn out to be the most successful graduates. Captains of industry, that sort of thing. Crazy world, huh?"
    "But within that range," I say with a half-smile, "have you ever had one who's weird in a different way?"
    He frowns. "Go on."
    "I just mean..." Pausing, I realize that I need to be careful here. For one thing, I can't name any names; for another, I have to make sure I don't sound like some kind of paranoid jerk. I want to be fair, but at the same time I need to talk to someone about my concerns. Paula Clarke's essay really got to me, and while I'd like to write it off as being nothing more than some colorful rhetoric, I can't help wondering if she really believes some of the things she wrote. "There's this girl in one of my classes," I continue, "and sometimes I think she's a little... scary."
    "Scary?"
    "She concerns me."
    He pauses. "In what way?"
    "At first it was just her general attitude. She's very quiet, but in a way that seems like it might be more than just shyness. I'm the last person who'd ever judge anyone just because they don't talk too much, but this seems like a kind of insularity that borders on a disability. She's a graduate student, twenty-three years old, but she seems shut off from the world, as if she genuinely doesn't know how to comport herself. When she makes eye contact with me, which is pretty rare, she has this expression of contempt, almost as if she resents the fact that she has to listen to what I have to say. Sometimes, I feel as if she just says whatever she thinks will shut me up the fastest."
    "World's full of people like that," Harry replies. "Forget about it. Is she hot?"
    "She's dowdy," I reply. "You wouldn't like her."
    "I dunno," he says with a grin. "I could fuck some vigor into her."
    I smile, even though I feel nauseous. Harry's one of those stone-aged men who think their pathetic little jokes are funny. The only reason I spend so much time with him is that I need to keep reminding myself how dumb men can really be.
    "Fuck, I've got this girl in one of my classes. She's got the best tits ever. Not that I've seen them, of course, but she wears these low-cut tops, and it's so fucking hard not to stare." He pauses. "Sorry. I got distracted. So this difficult student of yours. Apart from being a bit of a Wednesday Addams, is there anything else wrong with her?"
    "She handed in her first essay the other day," I say, feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. "Some good work, but also some truly mind-blowing rhetoric that bordered on a call to arms. It was almost as if she was running off some kind of political pamphlet about how men and women can't interact without violence, and women have been on the short end for so long that they need to push back and overthrow their oppressors."
    "So she's a feminist?" Harry asks with a grin. I already know