Dark Debts Read Online Free PDF Page B

out of trouble.) He remembered the title because the rest of them had given Ethan a hard time about it, had made all sorts of insinuations about Ethan’s sexual preferences. (Tallen, home during one of his brief bouts with freedom, had said, “Go steal a car, Ethan. You’d love reform school.”) What a joke. There had never been a shred of real doubt about any of them, as far as that went. Even Cam was a raging heterosexual.
    Why the hell couldn’t he get his mind off his family today? Most of the time he didn’t think about them at all. He stuck militantly to the safe subjects: what should he eat, what should he read, where was he working tomorrow? Lately, more and more of the other stuff was slipping through the cracks. Was he getting careless? Or was it somehow safer now? He couldn’t figure why it would be.
    The dream was coming more often, too. He used to have it about three times a year. He’d already had it twice this month. He couldn’t remember when it had started. Was it after Ethan died? Or his father? Or Tallen? Hard to remember; he got the funerals mixed up. Not something he felt great about, but it was the truth.
    Whenever it had started, he’d been having the dream for years. Some things about it varied, others remained doggedly consistent. It was always dark. He was always walking down some lonesome stretch of two-lane. Desolate. The sky more purple than black. Angry mountains in the distance. The whole scene always looked like one of those gloomy landscapes Tallen used to paint. Jack would walk along, not knowing where he was headed or why, and suddenly he’d come upon some colossal, gruesome accident. There were always red lights flashing everywhere. Sometimes he would see dozens of cars piled on top of each other, smashed and twisted, shards of glass and metal covering the ground like confetti. Other times, there would be no cars. Just the bodies. Bodies lying everywhere. Horrible-looking bodies—bloody, with limbs broken or missing, some of them decapitated. And no one seemed to be helping them. He’d walk through the carnage, recognizing people from his past—old friends, teachers, distant relatives. At the end of the line, he’d always find them—Ethan, Tallen, his father, and later, his mother. All badly mangled, reaching out for him, calling him, as if he could do something. He’d stare at them, and more than fear or horror or anything like that, the strongest feeling he’d have was always his wonder that he wasn’t with them. Cam was never with them, either, but that made sense. Cam had never been with them.
    Even after it had become familiar, the dream would cling to him for days, like a filmy coat of something old and sour. He was sure the dream was symbolic as hell, and that it recurred because he didn’t know what it meant. Sooner or later, his subconscious would get the message that he didn’t give a crap what it meant and would leave him the hell alone.
    T he coffee shop was not terribly crowded. He sat at the counter, where he was least likely to draw attention to himself.
    â€œI knew you were gonna be here today.” Sherry, the new waitress, was already pouring him a cup of coffee. She was an energetic redhead in her midtwenties. Pretty, in a JCPenney sort of way, but she talked too damned much.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe I’m psychic.” She fished her guest-check pad out of her apron pocket. “Let’s see if I can guess. Two eggs, scrambled, bacon, wheat toast.”
    â€œOver easy, sausage, Sunbeam. Don’t hang out your shingle just yet.”
    â€œYou did that to be ornery.”
    â€œAnd a side of grits.”
    â€œI knew that.”
    She left to take the order to the kitchen. Jack watched her go, almost smiling to himself. She had only been working there for a couple of months. He guessed she was new in town. It was the only possible explanation for the