Life Among The Dead (Book 2): A Castle Made of Sand Read Online Free PDF Page A

loved
baking.”
    No shit , Dustin gives a grunt
of approval, having learned long ago saying the wrong thing to the
wrong person could cost him dearly.
    Dustin turns the music down so they can talk,
but his passenger sits in contemplative silence. So Dustin tries
for conversation. “I once thought about joining the military. Was
boot camp as bad as they say?”
    “No.” The man laughs. “It was worse. Think
about a world where everything you say and do is wrong…”
    Sounds like my life .
    “…where you wear tee-shirts and tighty
whities with your name stenciled into them. All must be folded in
the most anal manner possible and stored in a tiny locker. Lord
help you if it ain’t perfect. Hard as it was, I always look back at
it and laugh, thinking that it was the best mistake I’ve ever
made.”
    The man pauses and chuckles when the youth
stops at a stop sign. “What are you doing? You’re not going to get
pulled over.”
    “I forgot.” Dustin feels embarrassed as he
pulls onto Park Boulevard.
    “It looks quiet.”
    The vehicle brakes hard and every warning
light illuminates on the dash.
    “Gas! Gas! Step on the gas!”
    Dustin tries but is too late, and the car
dies. Turning the key doesn’t revive the Altima. It doesn’t even
make a sound.
    “Don’t bother,” the solider says sadly. “Your
alternator is shot. We’ll be hoofing it from here.”
    The kid gathers his things from the back
while the soldier investigates what caused the sudden stop--a
Kevlar helmet lying in the road. The ‘brain bucket,’ as his
compatriots call it, was left by a fellow soldier. There’s no
nametape on it to tell who its owner may have been. The solider is
about to offer it to his companion, but can see he is already
overburdened by enough. A bag is slung over one arm and a guitar on
the other. “That stuff will just slow you down.”
    Dustin ignores the warning, not about to
leave his things behind. The two begin the trek through the
park.

 
4
     
    “Farnsworth! Farnsworth!”
    Kelly can hear Randy scream from upstairs.
She has allowed the man to pack up his possessions while she
watches the people gathering just outside the gates of her
property. It's a large estate for a single person yet far below
what she can afford. She always expected to have children with the
man she married. Of course, this was her intention before meeting
the guy she ultimately wed, because he is no one to have kids
with.
    “Where the devil is Farnsworth?” Randy storms
into the foyer.
    “I sent everyone away,” she tells him
absently.
    “Why didn’t you just tell me that over the
intercom? I’ve been yelling for fifteen minutes.”
    “Power’s out… And it was funny.”
    “Are they still out there?” he asks her,
heading to a different window to look for himself.
    The mob of gawkers all turn to something on
the street that catches their collective attention. Slowly they
proceed like a swarm around Kelly’s neighbors. She’s never met the
family but has waved to them when coming or going. The opening of
their gate had prompted the movement, when they tried to leave
their home in a convertible but failed.
    As far as Kelly knows, the people are of no
public interest, so the paparazzi shouldn’t be as fervent as this.
The journalists are getting more than snapshots and sound bites,
they are taking actual bites. Though her neighbors are strapped
into their seats by their safety belts, the mob tears at them and
fight each other over their flailing limbs. Kelly has to look
away.
    “I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Randy
says, unable to take his eyes off of the carnage. “Is someone
making a movie?”
    Kelly is unable to talk. She feels sick to
her stomach and has to sit down. She feels bad for the family, and
wishes she had done more than just exchange courteous waves in
passing. And she wishes she could do something now to help them,
but she’s too scared.
    Tires screech to a halt outside. Kelly is
curious but can’t bear