The Other Brother Read Online Free PDF Page A

limbs.
    Something wet seeped into his eyes. Too warm to be rain. Blood? His blood? Where was it coming from? He was numb, couldn't feel any of his injuries, couldn't so much as flex a finger.
    The wetness suddenly faded. He felt himself drawn ... out. As if he'd slipped outside of his flesh, like a snake shedding its skin. He moved away from the vehicle, floated away from the rain-torn day, and drifted into a nebulous realm of shadows.
    Where am I?
    Somewhere ahead, the fog cleared. A doorway of brilliant white light shone in the distance.
    There really is a light on the Other Side.
    He didn't want to die, but the white light seemed to exert a gravitational hold on him. It pulled him toward it.
    I'm not ready to die, please.
    Before the light absorbed him, a hulking, faceless hu manoid form, as bright as lightning, emerged from the doorway. It pushed him away.
    He was catapulted backward, like an astronaut marooned in outer space.
    The shimmering portal closed.
    Darkness enveloped him. Deep, complete.

Chapter 3
I- -- - rbriel 1 awoke.
    He blinked. The world was blurry; soft, warm light surrounded him. He smelled antiseptic odors, heard shoes squeaking against floors somewhere in the distance. Was he in a hospital?
    As his eyes slowly focused, he saw that he was correct. He lay on his back in a bed, covered with crisp sheets. He wore a patient's gown, and a plastic I.D. bracelet on his wrist read GRADY MEMORIAL HOSPITAL.
    Funny, he was a "Grady Baby," had been born at this very institution. Right now he felt so disoriented he might have just been birthed again.
    He tried to sit up, and a hatchet of pain cleaved across his skull. He lay back on the pillows, cautiously touched his head. A thick bandage encircled his temple.
    The left side of his rib cage ached, too. As he drew breaths, a sharp pain poked between his ribs, as if a dagger had been jabbed into his flesh.
    What had happened?
    The last thing he remembered was driving in the rain on I-285, swerving to avoid an eighteen-wheeler, the truck smacking his Navigator and sending him flying toward the guardrail ... and then his memory lapsed into darkness.
    But it was easy to put the pieces together: he had survived the accident, and paramedics had brought him here.
    He flexed his fingers, arms, and legs. His tendons were sore, and his muscles ached. But he didn't wear a cast, and felt no broken bones. He had only the assorted pains and a throbbing headache.
    He was lucky. He could have been dead.
    Although he'd awakened feeling as though his head were stuffed with down feathers, now his senses suddenly seemed heightened: colors were more vivid, noises were louder, scents were more intense. A bitter, medicinal flavor lay on his tongue; it was so sharp that he nearly gagged.
    He looked around. The door was partly open; the bed on the other side of the room was vacant. A beige jacket lay folded on the upholstered chair next to his bed, along with an Octavia Butler paperback.
    Dana's stuff. She must have stepped out of the room. He turned to the window and saw the night-shrouded Atlanta skyline beyond, lights twinkling in the skyscrapers.
    How long had he been unconscious? The bedside digital clock read nine-forty, but he wasn't sure how much time had elapsed while he'd been unconscious. It could've been several hours. Or days. Even months.
    Panic rose in his chest. He had to talk to someone. The call button for the nurse dangled beside his bed. He reached for it and then pulled back.
    He felt something strange. A cool, tingling sensation on his hands. As if he were running his palms across a blanket laden with static electricity.
    He raised his hands to his face. They were the same long, slender fingers he'd always had, his palms were unmarked, and his hands were steady, not trembling.
    Still, his fingers tingled. It was a pleasant feeling. He felt-and it was weird to think this-but he felt powerful. As if magic resided in his hands.
    He rubbed his palms together.
    The prickly