Dream Chasers (Dystopian Scifi Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

same leather jacket
on from yesterday, and the only thing different about him was his collar, which
was down.
    ‘What the hell are you doing
here?’ Peter asked, wondering if he’d travelled all the way from his side of
shithole city.
    With a monstrous grin, he
pulled a lone cigarette from the inside of his jacket, his hand shaking a
little. ‘Why you look so supiiized , friend?’ His shaky hand found his
mouth and dived back into his jacket, and a toy the shape of a shark, his
favorite lighter, appeared.
    A lack of people on the street
told Peter it had to be early morning. The rain had stopped, but water still
dripped from roofs as if it hadn’t. Peter stuck his head out and looked around.
A gray fog lingered above. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever been here in the
morning.’
    He inhaled the cigarette and
kept the smoke trapped in his cheeks. He kissed at Peter, waited a few seconds,
and blew the smoke past his face. ‘That because we work all year, work like
rabbits on hamsta wheel. You viting your friend Ohko inside?’
    Peter made way. ‘I don’t see
why not. Come in.’
    Ohko sucked his cigarette
before walking in. The door clicked shut and Peter folded his arms. Before he
could say anything, his friend jumped around, extending his arms to the sides,
smiling a clownish grin.
    ‘Did you miss me?’ Ohko asked.
    Peter bit the side of his mouth
and walked past, bumping into his friend’s shoulder. ‘Not really. I still don’t
get why you—’
    ‘Oh, don’t be so wrangry. You
not morning person. I get it. Ohko gets it.’ He glided his hand over his
slicked hair and made his way to the cooler. He snapped the lid open and pulled
a bottle of milk. While screwing the cap, he pointed one finger at the windows.
‘Me like very much. I have a few of those back home, but mine is of naked women
dancing on a pole, not a beach. You gay?’ He cocked his head back and downed
the bottle. He wiped his lips, leaving a line of white on his cheek. ‘I hate
milk.’
    Peter remembered what his
friend had said last night, something about wanting to go somewhere. There he
was thinking it was all a joke, that his friend couldn’t have been serious.
‘Ohko, don’t tell me you were serious last night.’
    He rested the milk bottle
against his side and gazed at Peter. ‘Of course I’m serious. You think I was
joking when I said—’
    ‘I already told you I’m seeing
my mother today. And why’s your hand shaking like that?’
    ‘Need a cut down on my bad
habits.’ He rummaged his leather jacket and pulled out a cell, spilling two
packets of white powder by accident. ‘Speak of devil’s momma.’ He quickly
snatched the packets and stored it away.
    ‘You need to cool it on the drugs,’
Peter said. There was no point in saying that, really. When it came to his
friend, it was like telling a bird to stop flying. But a part of him felt
obligated, as a friend, to let him know of the dangers.
    ‘Drugs are Lower City’s milk,
Peter. You must know this by now. Anyway. Where I was.’ He played piano on his
cell. ‘Get dressed. We leaving soon.’
    He was not leaving this room
with his friend, and that was a fact. Anger made him bite his lips. ‘Okay,
you’re starting to annoy me. First of all, I don’t even know where you want to
go. Second, I don’t really care because I’ve got other plans for the day.’ Peter
turned around and adjusted the mattress covers as if that was the place where he
had slept for the night. With his back to his friend, he waited for a response,
and the response came flying onto the mattress – Ohko’s cell upside down.
    ‘Take look, friend. Got nice
little pic for you.’
    Peter stopped adjusting the
covers and stared at the cell. Curiosity reached for it. At first he didn’t
know what he was looking at, a dark room with something inside. There was light
streaming from closed shutters. A lot of dust. More shadow than light. And then
his eyes registered the silhouette of … of … no, he