Dead Roots (The Analyst) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to the clerk. “Well?” he said expectantly, returning to his companion.
    “That is possible. I won't lie to you,” Keda said simply. Tom was not satisfied. This was quickly becoming more trouble than it was worth.
    “So because you took that pill, Aki could come out and take this whole plane down?”
    “I said it was possible, not that it was probable.”
    “We have to turn around.”
    “No, we don't.”
    “We can't risk—”
    “I am already on the plane, Mr. Bell.”
    “Fuck your phobia. You're risking lives.”
    “Is it peoples' lives you are worried about, or your own?”
    “ What. ”
    “Sit down and relax, Tom,” Keda said with a sigh. They made it to their seats. Keda slipped into his like a liquid and put on his seat belt. Tom was still staring Keda down, a hand resting on the seat back in front of him as he glared. Keda looked up at him.
    “Sit down, Tom,” Keda repeated.
    “Tell me why I should sit down on this plane with you.”
    “I will be awake the entire flight, reading, Tom. Aki will not escape. We will have a pleasant flight, and by tomorrow you will be free of me. Can you trust me for twelve hours?”
    “Right now I don't know if I can trust you for twelve seconds.”
    “Sit down, Tom.”
    Keda drew his new book from his bag and stashed the satchel under the seat in front of him. He relaxed into his own seat, and the conversation was over.
    For all his bluster, Tom really had no choice. He had to be here—but he didn't have to like it.
    As the plane rumbled and he felt himself sink back into his seat, for the umpteenth time that day Tom would have killed for a smoke.
     
    ********
     
    Tommy awoke around three in the morning, like usual. He was thirsty, so he thought he'd go get a glass of water.
    He climbed out of bed, pulling up the hem of his pajama pants and stepping over his discarded t-shirt. By the light of the street lamp peeking through his room's venetian blinds, he looked over at the small TV set in front of his bed, excitedly remembering the game console hooked up to it. It was three A.M. on Saturday. He could get in an hour or two of playing and then go back to bed. Nobody would know the difference.
    The door to his room creaked loudly. He left it open as he crept out into the hallway, careful not to make too much noise on the old hardwood floor. Once he got downstairs, however, it was all carpet. A loud pop sound startled him, but he quickly calmed down. Just the house settling.
    In the kitchen, he felt around in the dark. He turned on the tap over the sink and waited to feel the cool water overflow onto his hands. When it finally happened, he gasped, dropping the glass into the sink with a loud CLUNK. He stepped back from the counter top. It wasn't the water on his hands that had surprised him—it was the water on his feet.
    He pressed his foot into the tile. Water surrounded the soles of his feet now. He wasn't sure what he had done, but he needed to get back to his room, and fast. Between the noise in the sink, and the rising water now flowing from under the kitchen counter, his possibility of not being blamed for this was growing increasingly slim. To make things worse, as he grabbed his glass of water and hurried out of the kitchen, the tile floor felt almost spongy underneath him. Something was really wrong in here, and it sure wasn't going to be his fault.
    Mopsie started barking from the living room. Tommy hushed her as loudly as he could without making the situation worse. It wasn't helping. He crawled over the couch and put his arms around the Husky, putting one hand around her muzzle. She growled through it, looking up the stairs to the second floor.
    “Be quiet,” Tommy said soothingly. “Be quiet or we're gonna get in trouble…”
    Mopsie quieted down to a low growl, one which threatened to erupt back into a bark at any moment. Tommy held her mouth shut. She shifted her head around in annoyance and gave a small bark. Tommy had to get back upstairs before