Ashes of the Fall Read Online Free PDF

khaki pants and collared button-downs. Deep in the back corner, I find a cardboard box of old clothes. Dumping it out in the middle of the hallway, I tear through it like a dog digging a hole. I toss a stack of polos aside, embroidered with the Circle’s insignia on the breast pocket and the words “Gifted Minds” stitched in neat cursive beneath.
    At the bottom, my throat catches, and I slow down.
    A plain black hoodie. One I recognize—because he used to wear it every day, oversized as hell. Enough to drown in, our mother used to say, affectionately. I think he was hiding in it, uncomfortable with being so smart, trying to hide in plain sight.
    When he left, he was about fourteen, so it’s not quite as big as I remember. But it isn’t a snug fit, either, as I try it out over my own shirt. In the same box is a pair of sunglasses with reflective shades. That’ll do.
    I take a quick shower, put my hair askew so it looks like I haven’t slept right for a couple days. There’s nothing I can do about the color, so I’m gonna have to hide it. I try to remember Matt’s facial expressions. He used to look down a lot, had difficulty making eye contact. Confident, but gun-shy around other people. Almost the opposite of who I was.
    Hopefully that behavior held over the past fifteen years. Otherwise I’m gonna die, and it probably isn’t gonna be too pretty.
    I slip into a pair of his khakis and one of those awful button-downs, pull the sweatshirt on—hoodie up, hanging down to my eyebrows in order to completely cover my hair—and put the shades on. I tighten the drawstring a little, so my face is barely visible. Then I take a deep breath and adopt a slightly nervous gait—the kind of a man with supreme confidence in his own abilities, but no confidence in the world to recognize them.
    I open the front door and stare at the floor.
    “Uh, sorry about that earlier,” I say, kind of mumbling, unsure whether these two guys know Matt, “I’m just nervous about the appointment.”
    The bearded guy raises an eyebrow, clearly confused about the apology from someone lower on the totem pole. “That’s okay, Mr. Stokes. I’m Committee Agent Sten. This is Committee Agent Bogden.” He nods at the other guy, who’s completely bald and looks mean as hell. Not a trace of hair on his head or face other than his eyebrows. A scar above his eyebrow and dead eyes.
    I breathe a little easier knowing that these two don’t know my brother.
    Bogden says, “We’ll be your guard to the appointment.” He pauses. “We should take lead, sir. There have been reports of unrest in New Manhattan in reaction to the disaster in the West. A disgrace for it to happen on Anniversary Day. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
    I start walking towards the elevator in a stilted shuffle. The carpet has a lot more burrs in it than I remember. “I saw. The news. Terrible.”
    “Takes care of a problem for the Circle,” Bogden says, his voice hard. “Better Mother Nature kills those rebels in the Lost Plains than us having to do it, right?”
    “Sure,” I say. I glance at Sten, who isn’t as much of a jackass as his companion. He might be about thirty-five. His blue eyes scan the hallway, on constant lookout for threats.
    We pass the door where the nervous woman ran away from me.
    “Sir,” Sten says, glancing behind to appraise my appearance, “forgive me if this is too forward.”
    “We’re all friends here,” I say, with a nervous laugh, “ask away.”
    Sten cracks a mirthless smile. “If you’re meeting with Chancellor Tanner, your method of dress seems…odd. Is everything okay?”
    I quickly resume my staring contest with the floor. This time, though, it’s not an act, because my brain is screaming shit . I’m about to meet the guy in charge of this entire cesspool of a nation.
    It’s one thing to bilk some get-rich-quick idiot after a couple beers. Or tell a girl you love her so she gets off your back—or on her back, if