One-Eyed Jack Read Online Free PDF

would
tell me where, I was pretty sure.
    That didn’t tell me what I
should do about
it. I didn’t really know what was going on. I knew Jack had met a
thin woman who comforted him, and that he came home missing a
finger, but had the woman cut it off? If that doctor was right, had
she bitten it
off? Or was there more to it? There might be any number of things I
didn’t know yet.
    I watched and listened for awhile
longer, as Jack’s parents questioned him, as the police questioned
them, but I didn’t learn anything useful. Jack wasn’t talking; he
never mentioned the woman in the white dress, but just kept
insisting he didn’t know what had happened to him, how he had lost
his finger. He did say it was an accident, but nothing more; when
asked how he knew it was an accident, he shut up
completely.
    The dream dragged on for what seemed
like hours, going nowhere so far as I could tell, but that wasn’t
unusual for my visions, or psychic experiences, or whatever you
want to call them. I sometimes think my mysterious powers, whatever
they are, could use a good editor.
    Finally, though, it was
over.
    No, Jack didn’t go home. He didn’t
talk. No one solved any mysteries. I just woke up.
    And when I awoke I lay there in bed,
staring at the stained ceiling.
    I was at that difficult
point where I had to decide what to do. If I tracked Jack down
while I was awake, what would I do? What could I say to him? I
couldn’t put his finger back. I couldn’t make him talk to his
parents or the doctors. I couldn’t talk to them; they’d think I was crazy.
I wouldn’t have any idea how to go about finding the thin woman. I
didn’t know enough to be useful.
    If I waited, I might dream
more, and learn more – but something terrible might happen. I had
no idea what that might be, but something might. Something had
caused a strong enough psychic disturbance to send me these dreams.
It might just be having a finger gnawed off, but it might be
something far worse. I didn’t know.
    That something was chewing off a kid’s
finger was really, really not a good thing, as it probably meant
that there was a creature out there with a taste for human flesh
and the ability to take it. There was no telling where that might
go.
    And whatever was going to
happen, it presumably involved me somehow – maybe not directly,
but somehow .
    If I waited, I might find out more of
what was going on, but I also might be too late to stop whatever it
was from becoming an outright nightmare.
    If I went now, if I found Jack and
talked to him, I wouldn’t dream about him anymore – but I might
never find out what had happened to his finger.
    I didn’t think that was enough. I
needed to know more.
    I wasn’t going to get back to sleep
and dream anything more that morning, I could tell that, so with a
sigh I got out of bed.
    I didn’t get my breakfast right away,
though. First I went to the computer and searched on “Lexington,”
“Fayette,” and “Urban.”
    That got me a nice clear answer:
Kentucky. The Wilsons lived in Lexington, in Fayette County,
Kentucky.
    I’d never been to Kentucky, and I
didn’t know anything about Lexington.
    I had an idea, though, that I was
going to learn a few things pretty soon, whether I wanted to or
not.
    And I thought that maybe it was time I
paid a visit to the Bluegrass State.
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    I could get a flight out of Baltimore
for $353. National or Dulles would be $500-plus. Amtrak didn’t go
to Lexington, and I hate long-distance buses even more than I hate
flying.
    Renting a car and driving wasn’t
totally out of the question, but flying would be faster.
    But there was the question of what I
would do when I got there. Wilson was a common name, and I didn’t
know the parents’ first names, so finding the right family might
take awhile, and when I found them, what would I say? “Hi, I’ve
been dreaming about your son, and I think his finger was bitten off
by a mysterious woman in white, who might