Amy Maxwell's 6th Sense Read Online Free PDF Page A

wind whips around our bodies quite dramatically, sending chills up and down my spine. Feels like your sixth sense is tingling again, Amy. Maybe you should just get back in the car and forget about this little vacation.
    We watch in earnest as the old man hobbles onto the tram platform and stands in the opposite corner. He reaches into the front pocket of his coat and feels around with his fingers. He mumbles to himself as he searches the entire pocket and come up empty handed. He sticks his hand in the other pocket and feels around in that one for a while. Finally, he extracts a packet of some sort and pulls it close to his chest. Flicking it open, he pulls out...a cigarette . He sticks it in his mouth and cups his long gnarled fingers around his face to shield it from the wind. After extracting a cigarette lighter from his other pocket, he attempts to light the cigarette several times before he is successful.
    He shuffles around in a circle and bends his elbows, leaning his back against the railing. Staring me right in the eye, he takes a long drag of the cigarette before blowing perfect smoke rings in my direction. His eyes are twinkling, daring me to challenge him on his apparent cigarette break.
    I look away and allow him to puff on the cigarette for a moment or two. Then, I agitatedly glance at my imaginary watch on my wrist. As he leisurely inhales and exhales on his cancer stick, my kids stare at him in disbelief. I’m not sure if they’re more shocked he’s smoking so openly, or that he can actually move without the help of a puppeteer. He reminds me of one of the old guys in the balcony of The Muppet Show. At least the kids are quiet and not trying to see who can spit the farthest off the platform.
    Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the cankerous old man drops the butt to the ground and stamps it out with the tip of his cane. He then limps as slowly as humanly possible toward the tram car doors.
    We wait with baited breath as he climbs on and stands in the open doorway. “Well, whatcha waiting for? An engraved invitation?”
    Growling, I take a step forward, quite possibly to kick the cane out from underneath the guy, when Roger gently places his hand on my arm.
    “Amy,” he says firmly. This is his “principal” voice. He knows I’m fired up, and may say or do something I will regret, further holding up our trip to the airport terminal.
    “Fine,” I mumble, stepping onto the tram car and offering the man a fake smile.
    He smiles back and then says, “Howdy folks! Welcome! Where ya all headed?” He grins at me in a way that I know he’s screwing with me.
    “Terminal five,” I mutter as slump down into the seat. I lean my head against the back of the seat, ignoring the fact that Colt is crawling on the floor and Evan is licking his palms for some un-Godly reason. I need a vacation from my vacation already, and we haven’t even gotten into the airport.
     
     
     
     
    ~Three~
 
    “Mrs. Maxwell! How lovely to see you!” The airline attendant at the ticket booth beams at me with her sparkly white teeth. For a second, I do a double-take, thinking that she is the lady from the Orbit gum commercial.
    “Um, you too,” I manage to stammer, even though I have never seen this woman before in my life. I hand her my passport. Her teeth twinkle again as she flips it open, giving it a cursory glance.
    Evan is jumping up and down behind me for absolutely no reason at all. He steps on Colt’s foot and Colt retaliates by punching him in the shoulder.
    “Ouch!” my youngest child moans, scowling at his brother.
    “That’s what you get for stepping on my foot,” Colt informs him. Evan kicks Colt square in the shin. Evan screams bloody murder, causing half the airport to cover their ears.
    Mortified, I glance around for Roger’s assistance. I find him parked in a chair with his head tilted back, mouth wide open. Sleeping. Of course.
    “I trust you’ve had an exhausting day thus far,” the