Preta's Realm Read Online Free PDF

center, slated to open this coming. . . . ”
    ***
    Drew stared at the ceiling, listening to Molly’s faint noises, the soft moans she made after an orgasm. He put his hands behind his head while sliding them underneath the pillow into the cool sheets.
    He was tired from the day, exhausted from the sex, but somehow anticipating the arrival of the conversation. Drew threw the blankets to the side and swung his legs off the edge of the bed as if greeting the day. He strutted through the dark bedroom and down the stairs, carefully avoiding racecars and building blocks left by the kids. The couch beckoned under the glow of the laptop screen, which cast a bluish haze across the room. He put his legs up on the couch and waited. It did not take long before he was rewarded with what he came for.
    “Better?”
    Drew shook his head, knocking locks of hair from his eyes. He pushed them away and smelled Molly on his hands. “She can be so ungrateful sometimes.”
    “As was Eve in the Garden,” said the voice. Although Drew had become accustomed to the gravely, wavering sound, he had to strain to understand each word. It took great effort, which often left him too tired to return to bed and scrambling for an excuse to tell Molly as to why he hadn’t.
    “I saw the news.” Drew waited, but the voice did not reply to the statement.
    “What did you see?” it finally asked.
    “The woman found in the river.” Again, no reply. Drew felt the lull of sleep and fought to continue the conversation. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked.
    “It was us,” came the reply.
    Drew felt the air leave his lungs and ran a hand across his face, feeling the burn of the blood under his skin. “I’m not capable of that. I’m no murderer.”
    “We have all been killed,” came the reply. “We have all been killers.”
    “Will you tell me who you are?” Drew asked.
    “I will tell you a story. Close your eyes.”
    Drew did as instructed and his body dropped into a deep, still sleep.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
    Drew winced. The voice came from everywhere as it narrated the dream sequence. He recognized the fact that he was asleep and yet was powerless to wake from it.
    “Landed at night. The cicadas drowned the noise of our boots. Tanks settled into positions but it was the grunts, the foot soldiers like me who would take the brunt of the invasion. Before Truman ordered the H-bomb, most generals believed we needed to take each island, one at a time. No matter what the history books say, that was never gonna happen. They wanted the gooks fried and it didn’t make any difference how much American blood was spilled to do it.
    “I reached for a smoke off my helmet, ducked low in the trench to light it so I wouldn’t be the target of a sniper. You wouldn’t think that tiny pinpoint of light would make a difference, but those fucking jungles got dark as hell. The flash of a lighter might cost ya yer life. The worst part of war is the waitin’. Had orders to sit in the trenches until daylight. Once the sun came up we’d be marched through the jungle to take out the one or two Jap outposts that still had ammunition. Believe me when I say that the Vietnam vets were not the first to deal with the jungle rot.
    “At daybreak we marched inland. If ya turned around to face the beach you’d thought a hula girl would come running out with a coconut drink in her hand. I was never able to relax on any beach after serving in the Pacific. That shit ruined it for the rest of my life. Couldn’t enjoy the sound of the surf, the salty breeze, or the bronze skin of fine skirts. I remember staring at the ammo strap of the grunt in front of me. Jessup was his name, some hick from Alabama. He had the broadest shoulders I had ever seen and I thought if I stayed tucked behind ’em, I’d be fine.
    “I wanted nothing more than to git home to my girl. She’d been waiting for me for three years. Ain’t like it is today, when the whores be