The Awakening Read Online Free PDF Page B

the water splashed over rocky shallows and lay slow
and quiet in deep places.
    Parker unloaded the fishing gear and piled it on the
open tailgate. He opened the lid on a huge and rusty tackle box, and then dug
around in the bottom before producing a clear plastic box. It contained a half
dozen fishing flies, and he proudly held them out for Derek’s inspection.
    “Here you go, son. Made these myself. Ain’t nothing
with fins safe from you if you’re using these, guaranteed. It ain’t fair to the
fish, but what the hell. Pick out whatever meets your fancy, and let’s get down
to some serious fishing. We’ve already lost most of the day, with Ann dragging
you off like that.”
    Derek grinned. “She’s a nice girl.”
    “Not when she interferes with fishing. Come on.”
    Derek selected one of the flies and tied it on his
line. The two of them waded out to the middle of the river, moving from rock to
rock, separating as they got the feel of the water. Derek did some experimental
casting for a few minutes, reeling in slowly.
    He heard a shout and turned. Parker’s line was
dancing and the old man was working it, reeling it in and playing it out. The
trout broke through the water, twisting and Parker whistled. “You see that? Got
me a good one.”
    “Looks like it to me. I think I’ll try a little
farther up.”
    “Okay. Give a holler if you hook one bigger than
this. I’ll be glad to cut your line for you.”
    Derek wave and waded out of the water. He stayed
close to the edge of the bank, working his way upriver fifty yards or so before
finding what he was looking for; a place where the water formed a gentle pool
crowding the bank. A pine tree angled slightly out over the river for shade.
    He sat with his back against the trunk of the tree,
casting into the slow moving water and letting his line move with the current.
His eyes wandered toward the mountains, and as he studied them he had the same
sensation he had had earlier with Ann. It was the sense of vague recognition,
like some subconscious memory. He frowned, trying to drag whatever it was out
where he could examine it, but it was too much like some dim, elusive dream;
thinking about it only seemed to drive it away. He began to feel uneasy with
the mountains about him, and the quiet… it was too quiet, he realized. He
should be hearing the sound of birds and insects. He’d been still and quiet for
long enough. The only sound was that of the river.
    Damn! The peaceful mood had evaporated. He
sighed, stood up, and suddenly found himself scrambling in the damp grass as
the edge of the bank gave way. For a moment he thought he would be able to pull
himself up, but more of the bank crumbled away and he splashed back first in
the water.
    Derek twisted until he could get his feet under him
and stand up. The water came up to the middle of his chest; the edge of the
bank was as high as his head. He sighed. He would have to wade downstream a
short distance to where the bank was lower before he would be able to pull
himself out. He reeled in his line and tossed the rod onto the bank so that he
could get it later.
    He waded about thirty feet before finding a place
where the bank dipped low enough for easy climbing. It was treacherous; the
constantly moving water had eroded away the soil under the bank in many places.
Roots hung in the water like long, gnarled fingers. He was already in the act
of pulling himself up when he noticed something under the edge of the bank, something
that made a cold, black stone drop in his stomach.
    That something was a body.
    Derek slipped back into the water, hanging onto the
roots with one hand and reaching for the small body with the other. It was
pitifully light; he pushed it onto the bank easily. He pulled himself up beside
the body and rolled it over. It was the boy he had seen at the store.
    Oh, god! “Parker! Come here, hurry!” Derek
yelled, hoping the old man could hear him over the noise of the river. The
boy’s clothes were