The Dark Knight (Apocalypse Weird 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought,
testing it out to see if it could hold inside his head.  “Forget it and let the
dice fly,” he whispered.
    The words felt odd in his mind.  Familiar, and yet, out of
place.
    Let the dice fly.
    He walked forward out of the dark and found the other
survivors sitting on folding chairs around the glowing coals of the barbecue. 
Ritter was finishing the story of how they’d all survived inside the Green
Front Technology Headquarters for more than a week.  He left out none of the
suicides or poorly planned escape attempts that ended in the deaths of others.  
    He did leave out a certain briefcase which was now stored
under the queen-sized bed of the townhome he’d decided to occupy up near the
main entrance and the front gate.  Frank called it “the Gatehouse” because the
townhome sat next to the entrance.
    Frank got up and pulled some chicken skewers off the grill,
set them on a plate and handed them to Holiday without a word.  Holiday looked
at Ash who smiled only politely, then turned away to her glass of wine and
someone else.  Then he sat down.
    “So what’s your story?” asked Dante.
    Holiday looked up from his skewer.  He’d been hungrier than
he thought.  He hadn’t drank.  The bottle was still waiting on the front steps
of his townhome.  He hadn’t eaten much either.  Now Frank’s chicken skewers,
yellow with spices and smelling of charred onion made his mouth water.
    “I mean,” continued Dante.  “How’d you come to be out that
way and run into Ritter?”  It wasn’t hard to notice the way the big black man
spat out Ritter’s name.
    “Just was,” said Holiday after a long silence.  Then he
shoved a thick piece of tasty chicken into his mouth and began to chew.  No one
probed any further and dinner, or them watching Holiday finish the last of the
chicken, resumed.  Someone got up to refill everyone’s glass and Holiday
noticed they didn’t offer any to him.
    So Frank’s talked to them, thought Holiday as he chewed the
last of the tasty chicken.  Telling them he’s a drunk.  A risk and incapable of
being relied upon.  Incapable of being trusted.
    “How we gonna fill in them gaps between the buildings,
Frank?” asked Dante.
    Frank sighed.  “I don’t know just yet.  But something’ll
occur to me.”
    “Better be soon,” mumbled Dante.  “Cause ain’t no use all
this other stuff if them things can just walk on in here.”
    Dinner finished shortly after that and everyone drifted off
into the night, heading back toward their new townhomes.
    Holiday heard Ritter ask, “Walk you home, Candy?” in the
darkness that surrounded the still-glowing barbecue.
    “Candace and no, thank you,” she replied.  The monotone “thank
you” emphasized the obvious flatness of her rejection.
    “Whatever, girlfriend,” said Ritter and they were all gone,
even Ash who’d left to check on Skully.
    Frank was organizing the last of the trash.
    “Thanks for the chicken, Frank.”
    He turned to face Holiday, smiling.  “Sure thing, buddy.  No
problem.”
    There was an awkward moment.  As though something more
should come next.  “I thought...,” began Holiday, stumbling.  “I thought I was
persona non grata.”
    “Not at all, buddy.  I’ll still feed ya.  You can live
here.  It’s your house.  You can even try to help out like you have been.” 
Frank paused and stuffed some paper plates into a trash bag.  Then then he
turned and looked straight at Holiday.  “But I’ll never trust you.  And, in
case you’re wondering, I’ve told everyone else not to trust you.  Just so you
know.  It’s safer that way.  For us.”
    “Just so I know,” repeated Holiday after a short silence.
    “Yeah.  Just so you know, buddy.  And soon, it’s just a
matter of time really, trust me, you’ll blow it again and then they’ll see I
was right about you.  Matter of time, kid.”
    Holiday remained silent, then, “That’s important to you,
isn’t it Frank?  Being