American Gods Read Online Free PDF Page A

it’s a threat.
    â€œWork for me. There may be a little risk, of course, but if you survive you can have whatever your heart desires. You could be the next king of America. Now,” said the man, “who else is going to pay you that well? Hmm?”
    â€œWho are you?” asked Shadow.
    â€œAh, yes. The age of information—young lady, could you pour me another glass of Jack Daniel’s? Easy on the ice—not, of course, that there has ever been any other kind of age. Information and knowledge: two currencies that have never gone out of style.”
    â€œI said, who are you?”
    â€œLet’s see. Well, seeing that today certainly is my day—why don’t you call me Wednesday? Mister Wednesday. Although given the weather, it might as well be Thursday, eh?”
    â€œWhat’s your real name?”
    â€œWork for me long enough and well enough,” said the man in the pale suit, “and I may even tell you that. There. Job offer. Think about it. No one expects you to say yes immediately, not knowing whether you’re leaping into a piranha tank or a pit of bears. Take your time.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Shadow. “I don’t like you. I don’t want to work with you.”
    â€œLike I say,” said the man, without opening his eyes, “don’t rush into it. Take your time.”
    The plane landed with a bump, and a few passengers got off. Shadow looked out of the window: it was a little airport in the middle of nowhere, and there were still two little airports to go before Eagle Point. Shadow transferred his glance to the man in the pale suit—Mr. Wednesday? He seemed to be asleep.
    Impulsively, Shadow stood up, grabbed his bag, and stepped off the plane, down the steps onto the slick, wet tarmac, walking at an even pace toward the lights of the terminal. A light rain spattered his face.
    Before he went inside the airport building, he stopped, and turned, and watched. No one else got off the plane. The ground crew rolled the steps away, the door was closed, and it took off. Shadow walked inside and he rented what turned out, when he got to the parking lot, to be a small red Toyota.
    Shadow unfolded the map they’d given him. He spread it out on the passenger’s seat. Eagle Point was about 250 miles away.
    The storms had passed, if they had come this far. It was cold and clear. Clouds scudded in front of the moon, and for a moment Shadow could not be certain whether it was the clouds or the moon that were moving.
    He drove north for an hour and a half.
    It was getting late. He was hungry, and when he realized how hungry he really was, he pulled off at the next exit and drove into the town of Nottamun (pop. 1301). He filled the gas tank at the Amoco and asked the bored woman at the cash register where he could get something to eat.
    â€œJack’s Crocodile Bar,” she told him. “It’s west on County Road N.”
    â€œCrocodile Bar?”
    â€œYeah. Jack says they add character.” She drew him a map on the back of a mauve flyer, which advertised a chicken roast for the benefit of a young girl who needed a new kidney. “He’s got a couple of crocodiles, a snake, one a them big lizard things.”
    â€œAn iguana?”
    â€œThat’s him.”
    Through the town, over a bridge, on for a couple of miles, and he stopped at a low, rectangular building with an illuminated Pabst sign.
    The parking lot was half empty.
    Inside the air was thick with smoke and “Walking After Midnight” was playing on the jukebox. Shadow looked around for the crocodiles, but could not see them. He wondered if the woman in the gas station had been pulling his leg.
    â€œWhat’ll it be?” asked the bartender.
    â€œHouse beer, and a hamburger with all the trimmings. Fries.”
    â€œBowl of chili to start? Best chili in the state.”
    â€œSounds