Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny Read Online Free PDF Page A

for
assistance, maybe bring a few servys down to check me out. I had
enough strength and sense to convince him I was fine. I stood up,
barely able to keep from swaying. He watched me get in the car. I
waved him off.
    “I’m fine,” I said. “Training caught up to
me. I didn’t hydrate enough, that’s all.”
    He waited, until I said, “No, seriously. I’m
fine.” I left with a glance back to make sure.
    What the hell was that all about? A vision
only a few days after that last one? And during the daytime with a
full-body numb out? The details were so vivid. I felt
transported to another space and time, like I was standing on a
sandy beach. I should’ve reported it, but that was sure to screw up
the whole evening. I’d do it when I got back. They could lock me up
in the infirmary if they wanted. Just not before
tonight.
    “Are you ready?” The car spoke in a calm,
feminine voice.
    I took the wheel. “I’ll drive.”
    “Very well. It is currently 60-degrees in
Charleston, South Carolina. The wormhole transport is cleared for
entry. After exiting, you are approximately thirty-four minutes
from your destination. Please obey the laws and drive
carefully.”
    An image of the boulder-field materialized on
the dashboard. I eased the car over the slick floor and through the
apparition of the cave wall into the field. The face of Garrison
Mountain went up several hundred feet behind me, like a wall of
resistance that the world needed to respect. It was the first thing
tourists saw when they approached. It let them know we were big and
strong. That they were safe.
    I crossed the field and entered the dense
trees on the other side to the swirling mass of the wormhole. I
left Garrison Mountain behind. But the vision of the beach came
along.
     
    Cars were parked along side the road leading
to the high school. Dozens of shuttles picked people up and carted
them to the tagghet stadium. I continued down the road, people
staring.
    “There’s no parking up there, dumbass,”
someone shouted.
    Shuttle drivers directed me to turn around
but I eased down the road until I reached the turnabout that looped
in front of the massive high school steps leading to the front
doors. I gave the car instructions to park somewhere far away; I’d
call for it when I was ready. She said, “Certainly.”
    No one stared at me once I was out of the
car. It wasn’t like they couldn’t see me. I wasn’t invisible. It
was a simple mind trick, that’s all. I convinced people that the
space I occupied was not interesting. They saw me. They just didn’t
care.
    The car waited while I stared at my
reflection in the window. My hair, still white, was long again, but
not like a few years back. I’d gotten in the habit of pushing it
straight back over my head, but it didn’t stay there long, much
like Mother’s behind-the-ear habit. Most of all, I noticed what
Chute called the serious look. My eyes were piercing; my jaw
muscles flexed and my lips were a thin line.
    “Smile a little,” Chute would say, and
squeeze my cheeks.
    So I practiced in the driver side window. It
looked like something from school pictures. Third grade. I tried
again and it just got worse. “Go,” I said, waving the car off.
    I’ll wing it.
     
    I followed the crowd toward the tagghet
stadium, one of the most expensive venues ever constructed at a
high school, all funded by the Paladin Nation as an apology for the
duplicates’ deadly assault a few years earlier. The team went
undefeated in the inaugural season, became nationally ranked, and
had South Carolina’s MVP . A girl with red hair.
    The extravagant entrance was crowded. Little
kids dipped their hands in the rectangular pond and high school
teachers handed out brochures about the evening’s events. A fox
mascot tickled kids with oversized cushy hands.
    The concession stand was inside the main gate
selling popcorn and drinks and souvenirs to a packed crowd. Three
girls passed by with green and tan shirts, 33 – 0