Blood Trail Read Online Free PDF Page B

I heard even the cops couldn’t stand to look at him. One cop threw up.”
    I ran for the john. After I came out, Rose asked me, “You sick?”
    â€œNot anymore.”
    She came over and kind of smoothed my forehead with her big beefy hand. Her hand felt hot like a toaster, I was so sweaty cold. She said, “You need to go home?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œYou want to go home?”
    I shook my head again.
    â€œYou’d rather be here?”
    I nodded. Anything was better than hanging around the house.
    â€œOkay, then get back to work.”
    The guy across the room was saying, “I guess they’re going to have a closed casket funeral service, huh? Can’t have a viewing if he’s carved up like that.”
    â€œI dunno,” the shrill woman said. “Them undertakers can do wonders with wax. Give them photos, they can make it look just like him.”
    â€œNot after the coroners get done with him. They do an autopsy, they gotta take out his heart, liver, brain, everything.”
    I ran for the john again.
    By the end of the night I got done heaving, but people never got done talking. The worst was when two old women came in for subs. “Veggie on wheat, no mayonnaise,” one of them said to me, and then she said to her friend, “The way I figure, he was probably mixed up in drugs. These kids out at the high school, they’re all high on drugs all the time.”
    I was a high school kid, and I wasn’t high on drugs. I was waiting on her. I asked her, “American cheese or provolone?”
    â€œAmerican,” she told me, and she told her friend, “They do drugs and then they kill things with knives. Satanic rites.”
    Her friend said, “But wouldn’t you think the parents would’ve noticed something?”
    â€œBut all these broken homes, and then the parents both work, that’s the thing. Money, money, money, and the kids raise themselves.”
    The second woman nodded hard. “They all smoke dope these days, all the time. They’re not interested in improving themselves. No work ethic—”
    â€œAnd what can I get for you, ma’am?” I asked her.
    â€œSeafood salad on white with oil and vinegar, lots of lettuce and tomato, no mayo, no cheese. And put a little salt on it. And just a dash of that there Old Bay seasoning.” She went on talking with the first one. “What I mean, it’s a shame he died, but I bet that boy’s room is full of drugs. No work and all play, parties and drugs, the way they act, they deserve to get killed.”
    I was so tired I didn’t even know how I felt anymore, but I guess some sort of noise choked itself out of my throat. Both women stared at me, and one of them said, “What’s the matter with you, young man?”
    I whispered, “Is that for here or to go?”
    I don’t really believe in ghosts or angels or the afterlife or any of that, but when I finally lay down in my bed, I would have sworn I heard Aaron calling me. Like he was right outside the front door, and he was yelling, “Jeremy! BOOGER! Let me in!” He was real upset, I could tell by his voice, but I was so tired I couldn’t move. I hurt all over with wanting to help him, but at the same time I was scared of him because he was dead, which made him, like, a different person. Like I didn’t know him anymore. Like he had to be full of hate, like he might hurt me. Yet he was still Aaron, my buddy, and I wanted to go to him, and at the same time I wanted to run away, and I wanted to cry, and I couldn’t do any of it. All I could do was lie there like lead while he yelled, “Booger! You were supposed to call me, man! Why didn’t you call when I told you to?” Way pissed off. But really, I think it was me pissed off at me. I mean, I know it was all in my head. Maybe I was so worn out I was hallucinating. Maybe I was already asleep, dreaming.
    But at the