Glimpses: The Best Short Stories of Rick Hautala Read Online Free PDF Page B

crash drew his attention, but Cindy wheeled around quickly and scooped him into her arms, shielding him with her body so he wouldn't see as his father pushed the door open and staggered out into the afternoon sunshine. Over Ryan’s shoulder, Cindy watched in horror as Pete took a few staggering steps forward and then spun around in a lazy half-circle and then dropped dead on the sidewalk.
    …..
    The dull brown wash of afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows took forever to shift across the floor as Petey drifted down the empty hallway. The floorboards slid like slick oil beneath his feet. He tensed as he waited to hear the harsh clang of the school bell, signaling that—as always—he was late for class.
    Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled at his best friend, Ray Makki, who was tagging along a few paces behind him. In a slow, sludgy voice whose echo never seemed to stop, Petey said, "Come on, Ray! We've gotta hurry up, or Old Lady Doyle will nail our butts."
    Ray chuckled softly.
    "Heck, Petey, she'll nail our butts no matter what we do."
    Ray's dark, dead-looking eyes were like windows that were no longer able to reflect light. His gaze shifted over to Mr. Clain, the janitor, who was standing by one of the open classroom doors. Mr. Clain gripped his mop and scowled deeply as the boys approached. From behind, Ray grabbed Petey's shirt sleeve and gave it a quick tug.
    "Hey, come on! Wait up! Don't leave me behind."
    Petey drew to a halt, glancing over his shoulder at his best friend. The corridor glowed with an eerie golden iridescence that made it look like it stretched out forever in both directions.
    "Don't worry," Petey said with a soft laugh that echoed hollowly in the hallway. "You know I'll always wait up for you."
    "That's 'cause we're best friends, right?"
    Petey nodded, his head moving slowly up and down as though on a spring.
    Then they started walking down the hallway again, side by side.
    They glided past the motionless janitor and continued on down the hallway to where Mrs. Doyle stood waiting for them in front of her open classroom door. Her flabby arms were folded across her chest, and her pale face was set in a deep scowl as she watched them coldly, shifting her eyes without blinking or moving her head.
    Petey stared at her and wondered if he and Ray would ever make it to her classroom on time, but he didn't care now that he and Ray had made it past Mr. Clain. He cringed inside, feeling the cold glare of the janitor's gaze drilling into the back of his head; but when he turned around and looked, the janitor was no longer there.
    "Yeah," Petey said, his voice no more than a hollow whisper that rustled like dust in the amber-lit, empty hall.
    "We're best friends ... forever...."
     

Every Mother’s Son
    I was there at the beginning—or at least the beginning of the small part of it that happened at the hospital where I work. What happened there was happening—is still happening—all around the country and the world, for all I know. There have even been reports of several instances in China but, naturally, these have been officially denied. The first physical hint of it that we got here in the United States was when that baby was born in a hospital in Oklahoma City. The baby—a boy—entered the world with everything just the way it was supposed to be except for one small detail.
    He didn’t have any fingerprints or footprints.
    When did it really begin? Who can say? If you listen to the pop-philosophers on the television talk show circuit, it started the day ... the cosmic instant the scales shifted.
    Shifted from what to what?
    Well, just hang on a bit, and I’ll tell you. First, I want to tell you a bit about myself. Not that it really matters, but ... well, if something does happen, I want all of this to be on record.
    My name is Judy Morrow, and I’m a nurse at Southern Maine Osteo., in Portland, Maine. I got my nursing degree from B.U. Medical School some years ago. Wanting to get away