The Other Eight Read Online Free PDF Page B

bulbs simply vanished,
flickering out of existence one by one. John sniffed and looked
around in the now almost completely darkened room.
    “I suppose I may have missed one or two, come
to think of it.”
    #
    At a bland gray counter between two drab blue
cubicle walls in a DMV just outside Chicago, a white-collar drone
was tapping away at a keyboard. A cardboard sign labeled him
Preston Logan. He had not-quite-orderly blond hair, day old
stubble, and a face completely devoid of expression. So far the day
had been comprised of a steady stream of irritated people trudging
in a slow-moving line, waiting entirely too long to engage in some
manner of vehicle-related bureaucracy.
    “Face the camera. Wait for the flash. Don’t
smile,” he stated lifelessly.
    Most days he would make it from nine to five
without saying anything but those three sentences. To be fair, all
three were rather unnecessary. By now most people knew how a camera
worked, and no one who has stood in line for more than forty
minutes has ever had to be told not to smile. Pictures were
snapped, licenses were renewed, and the line shuffled forward. When
a digital tune broke through the monotony, Preston tugged a
smartphone from his pocket, swiped to answer, and crammed it
between his ear and shoulder without skipping a beat.
    “Yeah, Mom? Face the camera. Wait for the
flash. Don’t smile.”
    “Are you near a computer?” asked the woman on
the other end.
    “It is the twenty-first century. I’m always
near a computer. I’m near five computers. What’s up?”
    “I have a website I want you to go to.
There’s a video,” she said. Her voice was almost giddy.
    “Yeah, I can’t do a video, Mom. I’m busy
serving the public. Wait for the flash, please. ”
    “This is important, Preston.”
    He sighed. “Keith. Man the fort. I’m taking a
cigarette break.”
    “When did you start smoking?”
    “I didn’t, but they don’t give you
humor-your-mother breaks. Give me two seconds.”
    He climbed out of the seat, leaving his
crucial service to be done by his trusted second in command, who
may or may not have been aware of what he was supposed to be
covering. Preston then navigated a few twisting aisles until he
reached the break room, which was magnificently appointed with all
of the best conveniences the prior decade could offer, including
folding chairs, a now useless rabbit-ear TV, and a vending machine
that paid out about as often as a slot machine. He pulled his
backpack out from where he’d stashed it, slipped out a tablet, and
woke it up.
    “Where to, Mom? And this better not be
another cat video.”
    “I e-mailed it.”
    He tapped and swiped until he found the
message, then let it load. It was a newscast covering the superhero
recruitment. As it became clear what the story was about, and the
ramifications of it, his posture drooped and his expression
hardened.
    “I don’t know, Mom…”
    “Preston, you know your dad would not have
rested until you tried out.”
    “Considering what happened to Dad, I’d like
to think he would have changed his mind about that.”
    “I think we both know that’s not the
case.”
    “I really don’t think—”
    “I’m not asking you to make the decision
right now.”
    “Yeah, but this is pretty—”
    “Just think about it.”
    He sighed heavily. “Okay. Good-bye, Mom.”
    He hung up the phone. For a few moments he
stared at the screen of icons against the default phone wallpaper
he’d never bothered to change. One icon was garnished with a little
red number 1, indicating he had a saved voice mail message.
    “I should delete that,” he muttered. “I
certainly shouldn’t listen to it again.”
    His fingers ignored the infallible logic and
tapped the icon.
    “Yeah, Preston. This is Gina. I know what you
saw, and… look, I just wanted someone exciting for once. You’re a
nice guy, but you never take a risk. Sorry about everything.
So… bye.”
    He sighed again. An older man came to the
door, a