The Rapture: A Sci-Fi Novel Read Online Free Page A

fair share of comments about my building ruining Riverton’s rustic aesthetic or that I think I’m better than everyone else.
    Screw them. This is 2029; they could use the lesson in modern style. I nurse the vodka, and when it settles in my stomach, I feel a familiar fire. My leg stops its incessant pounding and I close my eyes to wait for the inevitable.
    “Tired,” a familiar voice calls, and I emerge from my trance with a start.
    “Focusing,” I respond.
    “No ice?”
    “Melted away.”
    “You’re slipping, you know that.” Isaac throws his arm around my shoulder and rocks me a bit on the stool. “It’s time.” I don’t say anything, just stare at the empty glass. “Tonight’s our only shot.”
    “Lenny and Mitch are out there?”
    Isaac grins at this, nodding his head. “You don’t trust your big brother to run a tight ship?” I want to ask about everything, double check all the plans to make sure that nothing can go wrong, but that’s an impossibility, as anybody who’s lived a day in this world can tell you. Truth is, even if you put in all the work, you still might come up empty. We walk to the idling car, all alone out here on the outskirts of Riverton.
    “The first thing you need to do,” Mitch is saying as I sink into the cracked leather seat, “is buy a new car.”
    “This, my friend,” Lenny says, pulling on to the empty road and towards the faint glow of the town proper, “is a classic. She doesn’t need any replacing.”
    “So it’s a girl, Len?”
    “Yeah, and she’s got delicate feelings.”
    “You sticking this old boat in the exhaust?”
    “He does strike me as a back door kind of guy, now that you mention it,” I say, vodka taking effect.
    “The lot of you was raised by goddamn inbreds, you know that?”
    “You’re right. I trust your judgment.”
    An uncomfortable silence settles in after this, clogging the air. The car rattles on over the pitted road. I look outside at the empty Arizona landscape. The dark outline of the town grows larger. The Lucky Lady is only a few miles outside Riverton, but the ride feels like it’s in slow motion.
    I check my messages every few moments. Nothing. Maybe the video’s all in my head, the guilt of what I’ve done coming back to haunt me. I doubt it.
    Soon enough, though, Greater Riverton Bank & Trust’s sign is flickering in front of us. The interior gleams like a beacon against the starry night: all the lights are on, even with everything locked up. Lenny cuts the engine in the darkened parking lot next door. The buildings on Main Street are freestanding, so we’re still a couple hundred feet away.
    “The lights are on. Maybe they know,” Mitch says.
    “Only if you sent them an email about our plans,” Lenny says.
    “I don’t use email.”
    “It’s a joke, dumbass.” Lenny rubs his forehead and groans. “The lights are left on for the watch guy, some lazy clown who never shows.”
    “Don’t worry, Mitch, you just have to stick a couple of things to vault,” Isaac says, patting the big guy on the back.
    “Why the hell did I agree to let him take care of the explosives,” Lenny says when we exit the car, “asking for a goddamn catastrophe…” I can’t hear the rest.
    The trunk clicks open and I hand the equipment bag to Mitch. Lenny passes out black cotton masks and gloves, which we don—to look the part of thieves and, I suppose, for practical effect.
    I glance around to check for cars, my heart skipping a beat when I see a light in the distance. I want to say something, but my throat catches and nothing will come out, and right when I think I might collapse I recognize the neon glow as little more than the omnipresent buzz of the El Dorado’s sign, colors congealing into a bright, massless ball.
    This happens every damn time, and the feeling sucks enough to remember it. But that doesn’t stop it from happening. I shake my head like a dog after an unwanted bath.
    The bank gleams before us, a desert