Spirit Breaker Read Online Free PDF Page B

all across the world when he was a teen. Every year seemed to bring a new city in a different country. Exploring a new place on his deck was a rite of passage, a way of making his ever changing surroundings feel like home. Shooting down the winding road of the industrial wasteland on his board brought it all back. For a brief moment he was able to forget the real reason why he was here.
    Fifteen minutes later, Talon reached his destination. The East End skate park lay tucked under a bridge, cars and trucks rattling by overhead. He descended a rusty staircase and walked along a chainlink fence. Before him the whole East End spread out. The place looked trashed, the skate rink scrawled with graffiti. Skaters abounded, sporting tats, piercings, and a ton of attitude. Talon’s skin prickled with a palpable aura of danger.  
    A skater shot up a bowl nearby and finished off with a 360-degree kickflip. The wheels snapped against the cement. His appearance was ragged and dirty, oozing a predatory quality. Borderline gutter punk.
    Talon approached some of the other skaters lounging around the bowls. It was an older, more hardened crowd. He offered one of the dudes a cigarette and struck up a conversation. Soon he steered their chat toward the Reaper. His spiel was simple. He’d seen the stories on the news and wanted in. Unfortunately, the line of questioning proved to be a dead end. The kid eyed him blankly when the subject came up, almost as if he was addressing him in a foreign language, and then their chat was over.  
    Talon continued to search for someone who might be more talkative if properly motivated. He secretly hoped that his questions might draw out a member of the copycat gang. If someone began following him or tried to start something, they’d be in for a surprise. Maybe he was being too cocky, but after dealing with Al Queda, a group of skater rats didn’t faze him. He wanted the bad guys to know he was looking for them. The question was who would blink first. After a few more failed attempts and some suspicious stares here and there, he found someone who was willing to help out. For a price.
    “You sure you’re ready to be part of this?” Carl, a twenty-something shredder with long greasy hair, said.
    “I spent four years risking my life for Uncle Sam and for what? To come home to a country where a bunch of pussy-assed, over-privileged hipster assholes have all the power?”
    “Seek out the Lightwalker. He’ll know if you’re ready.”  
    “The Lightwalker?”
    “That’s what people call him,” Carl said. “I dunno, man, maybe if I had a couple more smokes I could remember why.”
    Talon regarded the kid with growing curiosity. The punk flashed him a knowing grin. He might be a drop-out druggie, but what he lacked in school smarts he made up for in animal cunning. He knew he possessed information that Talon wanted and was ready to negotiate. Talon offered him a whole pack of cigarettes and his lighter. As soon as the skater pocketed the spoils, he resumed his explanation.
    “Lightwalker walked into the light,” he elaborated, revealing a row of yellow, nicotine-stained teeth.
    Talon still stared at the skater with incomprehension.  
    “He wiped out, hit his head. Died on the spot. Walked down the tunnel and into the light,” Carl continued. “But they managed to bring him back. That’s why he skates without fear now. Skates like he doesn’t care about living or dying.”
    Talon didn’t quite know what to make of this. Was the punk telling the truth?
    “Lightwalker saw the light and now speaks to the dead,” Carl said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
    Talon blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “Like that kid in The Sixth Sense . He can see ghosts. Speaks with dead people. You don’t want to fuck with the dude is what I’m saying.”  
    Talon decided to risk it and said, “How do I find him?”
    “Maybe he’ll find you.” The punk shot him a grin. Talon felt his patience