London Harmony: The Pike Read Online Free PDF Page B

on the ground and fastened the little keeper plate over the slot.
    I grinned again and held the driver out to him.
    He rolled his eyes and said, “Nobody likes a smartass.” With a thud, he dropped the door down.  He took the driver and mussed up my short, pixie cut hair like he always did and said, “Thanks, you're a godsend kid.”
    He typed the code on the manual access panel beside the door and it started to rise smoothly.  I watched it then turned to Vernon with a satisfied smile.  God damn it!  I hated it when he did that!  He was gone, nowhere to be seen, and his tools were gone too.  One day I was going to learn how he did that.
    I wheezed out my hoarse chuckle that sounds more like a loud, shaky exhale to most people, shook my head, then headed back to Gerty.
    I pumped the gas pedal a few times and turned her over.  You had to coax her, like she needed a running start to get going, like getting a child to eat their vegetables.  The engine turned over slowly then gained speed until the motor finally caught.  I gave her a few seconds to catch her breath to smooth out the choppiness of her engine and get up to speed, then ground her into gear.
    One day I was going to adjust the clutch linkage before I stripped the gears.  I grinned, I have been saying that for a couple years now.  I never seem to have the time to tinker now since I started at the art school.
    I try to fill most of my down time getting to know my Leigh better, it is my new awesome hobby.  I thought back to the first time I saw her while I drove over to the worker's cabin where she waited by the door.
    In my freshman year, I had attended a party near the Academy.  Well, party is sort of a misnomer.  It was more like a kegger.  It seemed that everything in college was a kegger.  I'm not really comfortable around groups of people.
    A lot of people just stare at the scars on my neck.  I got them when I was three.  Mom was tending her flower beds at the side of the house when a dog jumped our fence and attacked our dog, Sir Wiggles.
    I tried to stop the other dog and got caught in the middle.  The stray almost ripped my throat out before Wiggles was able to chase him out of the yard.  I was terrified.  It was the first time I realized I might die like Grandma had.  I tried screaming as I held my hands to my bloodied throat, but nothing came out.
    I know it all happened so quick, in only a few seconds.  Mom had run to my side and carried me inside as I cried.  She could make it better right?  The ambulance and fire department came and brought me to the hospital.
    I had to go through three separate surgeries to repair the damage to my neck, but my vocal cords were irreparably damaged.  I would never be able to speak again.
    I cried when the police came to the hospital to tell us that the stray had been located and put down.  I know it hurt me bad, but it was still a dog and I loved dogs.  They didn't have to kill it.  Mom explained to me that dogs who bite and injure people have to be put down, they aren't safe.  I still don't agree with that today.
    Mom and I went to classes to learn American Sign Language so that I could speak with her.  By the time I went to the special school the councilors had recommended for me until I could learn to read and write to communicate better, I just thought I had a normal life.  Even if the kids in the neighborhood called me dummy since I couldn't speak like them.
    It was a school for the deaf, even though there was nothing wrong with my hearing.  I made tons of great friends there and was sad when I went to junior high and mom put me in a regular public school with a little portable computer that had a God awful speech synthesizer on it.
    By the time I graduated high school, I had made a new batch of good friends, many of which had learned at least some sign language so that I didn't have to use my speech synthesizer as much around them.
    Technology by then was so much better and I just used