The Harbinger Break Read Online Free PDF Page A

person, maybe the best person at GenDec. Like, the boys in gangs wore either blue, black, or red jumpsuits. Anyone not in gangs wore gray, or something bland, something to fit in and not be noticed.
       "And Pat?"
       "He wore bright yellow. He really wanted to be the best. Like, best grades in the classes, teachers’ favorite. He wasn't liked much by the gangs, but he was smart, and knew how to avoid trouble. Well I mean, that was before–well… I'll get there."
       Summers nodded, and Sam continued.
       "So Claire seemed to be getting a little frustrated by then. She wanted Pat not just to leave, but to leave defeated and embarrassed. So she spat in his food."
       "She spat?"
       "It was nasty. Like dripped from her lips. I was grossed out, and I'm telling you, I s-sincerely lost a lot of my attraction towards her."
       "I thought you had a girlfriend."
       Sam stopped. "Yeah, I mean, um–I don't know. Anyway Pat–it was weird. He was committed. If he was grossed out he didn't let it show. So he picked up a fork full of the mess, and put it to his lips. Half the lunch room was staring, shocked and disgusted. Claire looked guilty, and just before that stuff reached his mouth, she told him to stop. I'm telling you, groans and sighs erupted everywhere. Until then, I'm telling you, I hadn't realized that no one nearby had spoken a word.
       "So Claire glanced around, embarrassed, and in a fit of what you might call decency, she gave Pat her sandwich and then she stood up and left the lunch room. The whole thing was really something else."
       Summers scribbled in his notebook. "What happened after that?"
       "Well, Pat followed her around a lot. He sat with her during lunch, and rarely spoke to me. She got him to start making poor decisions, which eventually led to his death. There is no doubt in my mind that if he hadn't met her, he would've been released with me–clean and clear."
       Summers nodded and closed his notebook. "Thank you, Mr Higgins. You've been helpful."
       "C-call me Sam."
       Summers nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. Sam reddened.
       "Why are you asking me all this anyway, agent?" Sam asked.
       Summers looked absentmindedly at his watch. "We needed a clearer picture of who we're dealing with."
       " 'Dealing with' ?"
       Summers locked eyes with Sam. "Mr Higgins, Pat Shane is alive."
       Sam sat still, apparently wondering if the agent was joking. Summers held a stern face, but Sam laughed anyway. After a moment passed and the agent hadn't joined in Sam stopped abruptly.
       "Y-you're serious."
       "Yes."
       "O-okay… But I don't get it. Why'd you come talk to me, of all people? We weren't really that close–I mean, how did he even survive?"
       Summers stood and Sam followed, walking to the front door.
       "Mr Higgins, we have Pat Shane in custody right now, and he's going to plead guilty to murder in the first degree. You've been very helpful, but I should let you know, the reason I knew to come find you was that Pat Shane has been sleep talking, and from what we can decipher–you would have been his next target."
     
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       A few days later Sam Higgins opened the front door of his house, exhausted from a long day at Quality Heart Insurance. He was an Insurance Claim Rep, and he spent his days behind a desk in the office taking phone calls regarding claims.
       He'd started at the company about six months after he'd left GenDec, after a quick week-long insurance adjuster course. The job attracted men and women of a similar passive demeanor–asocial, quiet, happy to live the easy, non-complicated life, with an inherent disinclination for excitement.
       His routine kept him happy and comfortable. Arrive at seven-thirty five times a week, leave at six o'clock, pick up fast-food on the way home, settle onto his couch and turn on the television. At first he relished weekends, but after six years weekends just became an