Chain Letter Read Online Free PDF Page A

where
     they had buried the body.
    Joan laughed. “And here I was getting so bored with these last few weeks of school!
     It looks like they’re going to be wild.” She added, “Hey, I’ve got to go. Let’s talk
     tomorrow at lunch. And let’s get together some other time, huh?”
    “Sure.” Lust was not at the forefront of his mind. Whoever had said danger was an
     aphrodisiac had said so in safe surroundings.
    They exchanged good-byes, and Tony turned back to his companions. Kipp was meticulously
     shredding his copy of the chain letter. Neil was massaging his right leg just beneath
     the knee. He had injured the leg in P. E. a couple of months back and was supposed
     to have arthroscopic surgery on the cartilagesometime soon. Neil was having a lot of health problems. He had recently been diagnosed
     as diabetic. He had to inject himself with insulin daily and had to monitor his diet
     religiously. He said it was a hassle but no big deal.
    “When are you going to get that joint worked on?” Tony asked.
    Neil quickly withdrew his hand from the sore area. “My mom and I are still trying
     to put together the doctor’s fee. We’re almost there.”
    Neil’s father had died when Neil was three, and his mother had never remarried. She
     worked two waitress jobs—lunches at a Denny’s Coffee Shop, dinners at a Hilton restaurant—and
     Neil put in long hours at a twenty-four-hour gas station. They barely seemed to get
     by. Tony had a couple of grand in the bank, but knew it would be useless offering
     it to Neil, who could be unreasonably proud at rimes.
    “The way your body’s falling apart, pretty soon we’re going to be measuring you for
     a box,” Kipp said good-naturedly, though Tony would have preferred if he had kept
     his mouth shut. Kipp’s sense of humor did not always run the right side of good taste.
     Sometimes he sounded like . . .
    Like someone who could write a weird letter?
    Tony knew he had better stop such thoughts before they could get started. If he didn’t,
     he’d never get to sleep tonight.
    “Ain’t that the truth,” Neil agreed, not offended. “I’ve had so much bad luck lately . . . ”
     His eyes strayed to the remainsof the letter. “. . . I sometimes wonder if someone ain’t put a hex on me.”
    The opposite of hardheaded Kipp, Neil was superstitious. Kipp often teased him about
     it, and he had the bad sense to do it now.
    “A ghost, maybe, in a tan sports coat?”
    “Kipp, for God’s sake!” Tony said, disgusted. The man had been wearing a tan coat.
    “It’s possible, I think,” Neil said softly, his eyes dark. “Not the type of ghost
     you’re talking about, but another kind, I mean.”
    Kipp giggled. “What do you mean?”
    “Hey, let’s drop this, OK? It’s dumb and it doesn’t help us.” Tony stood and went
     to the window. The football game had ended and the kids had disappeared. The street
     was quiet. Soon his parents would come home. He wanted the guys gone before they arrived.
     It was getting dark.
    “I mean, none of us is a doctor,” Neil continued as though he had not heard him. “You
     read online how someone’s heart stops, their breathing stops, and then, a few hours
     later, they’re up and walking around. It happens quite a lot, I understand. And sometimes
     these people talk about the strange things they saw and the strange places they went
     to while they were dead. Usually, it sounds nice and beautiful. But this one man I
     read about who tried to commit suicide talked about a place that sounded like hell.
     It made me sick reading about it. But what I wanted to say was that these people who
     die and come backsometimes develop powers. Some can heal, while others can read minds and transmit
     thoughts. It’s supposed to depend on how they died, whether they were scared or not.”
    Could there be a death worse than premature burial? Tony asked himself. Edgar Allan Poe had spent a lifetime obsessed with the idea,
     and he