Crash (Visions (Simon Pulse)) Read Online Free PDF Page B

retail shops on that street or not. I can picture their sign and logo no problem—that part’s etched into my brain. But the other details . . . I just don’t know. I watch it to the end, and then turn off the TV and sit in the dark and think.
    All I know is what I’ve been avoiding all along. These visions, or scenes, or whatever they are, are getting more and more frequent, and showing up in more places all the time. Obviously Sawyer isn’t in a body bag. So either that means I’m insane, or it means this hasn’t happened yet. I am seeing the future, and the only reason I can think of for why this is happening is that I’m supposed to do something about it. The vision is badgering me, trying to get my attention.
    I guess I’m supposed to warn them, those nine people, even though I don’t know who eight of them are, and get them out of there. All by myself.
    Either that or I’m the biggest nutcase in the history of this family.
    •       •       •
    After a while I get my notepad and a pencil and I turn the TV back on. I don’t have to go looking for the scene now—it’s right there. I pause it at the wide shot where I have the best view of the whole building, searching for any street signs or other landmarks. I argue with myself. Truthfully, I don’t even know if this place is in Melrose Park, or in Chicago, or even in the United States. But instinctively, I know where it has to be if there’s going to be a dead Sawyer Angotti in a body bag outside.
    I sketch the back of the building—what’s left of it, anyway. Then I shove the sketch in my pocket, turn off the TV, grab my coat, and head downstairs. I pause before opening the door and look out the window.
    The pizza delivery car is gone. I debate—if I go inside the restaurant, I’ll have to wait tables. I look at the meatball truck and there’s no question—I can’t be seen in that tonight, lurking around. I call Trey’s cell.
    “What’s up?” he says.
    “Where are you?”
    “On the way back. You feeling okay?”
    “Yeah, fine—just needed some air. Can I do deliveries?”
    He’s quiet for a second, and I know he’s trying to figure out why I’m asking. “Is this, like, your ‘getting back on the horse’ moment?” He’s not joking. I almost got robbed—and who knows what else—last time I delivered. And even thoughit was a really weird situation and crime is normally not that bad here, I haven’t wanted to do deliveries since then.
    “Yeah, I guess it is.”
    “Okay,” he says. I can tell he’s not sure.
    “I’ll be fine. It was just a fluke. I need to do this to prepare for the Super Bowl tomorrow, ’cause I’m helping you. I just decided.”
    He hesitates. “Just make sure you do what I told you if anything happens.”
    “I will, I promise.” I smile. He told me to kick ’em in the meatballs. “You’re the best.”
    “I know,” he says. “Now, go check the next order and make sure it’s a good neighborhood—I’m pulling into the alley now.”
    “Got it.” I hang up and go into the restaurant. I see the delivery bag on the warming shelf by the door, check the address to make sure I know where it is, and without anybody noticing me, I grab it and meet Trey at the car.
    He gives me a weird look. “Is it in a good neighborhood?” he asks.
    “Yeah,” I say, showing him the ticket. “I’ll be safe.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m not lying. “I have my phone and my keys.” I show him how I stick the keys between my fingers so I can punch and gore somebody’s eyes out. “And my meatball kicker,” I add, wiggling my boot. I am seriously prepared.
    He seems satisfied. “And Mom and Dad are good with this?”
    I open my mouth to say yes, but I can’t lie to him, so I just close it again.
    He shakes his head at me and sighs. “Just go. Pizza’s getting cold.”
    “Thank you.” I hop in the car as he turns to go inside.
    “If anything happens to you, they’ll blame