The Seventh Seal Read Online Free PDF Page A

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pot on the stove while William washed his hands and face with the warm water. 
Even though the electricity to the neighborhood had been shut off, the natural
gas continued to flow to the hot-water heater and stove.  The homey scent of
the soup relaxed John, bringing him back to childhood days of his mother in the
kitchen, cooking the family meal.  The men ate their soup in silence, enjoying
the warmth in darkness.  Two vehicles sped past the house on Winston, neither
pausing to search. 
    “Logically, what could it be?”
    “My guess is a dirty bomb or maybe a terrorist threat, shit
like that.”
    William pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his
pocket.  A deflated menthol parted his lips and he huddled in the corner to
prevent the lighter’s flash from giving up their location.  William inhaled and
pushed the minty smoke back into the room, leaning against the wall with a
satisfied groan.
    “Smoke?”
    John held out his hand and William tossed him the pack.
    “I’ve neglected my addiction,” said John.
    John masked the light of his cigarette and closed his eyes. 
The nicotine brought a wave of normalcy and comfort.
    “What if we’ve been invaded?  What if the troops aren’t US
soldiers?”
    “I guess it’s possible.  I haven’t gotten close enough to
one of those bastards to tell.  How do you pay the rent?” William seemed
curious.
    The question snapped John from the surreal back into
reality.
    “I’m a web designer.  I build websites.”
    “Yeah, I know what a web designer does, asshole.”  William
shot John a look of derision hidden by the dark room.
    “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
    “Right.  You assumed I’m a thug that wouldn’t know what a
web designer does.  You probably think I’m a mechanic or somethin’, right?”
    “I don’t know.  What do you do?”
    “I’m a mechanic.”
    William’s wisecrack released a torrent of pent-up emotion in
John.  He wiped the tears from his eyes as he rolled around on the living-room
floor.  William hitched and giggled like a little boy.
    “I wish I knew what happened to my wife,” John said.
    William snuffed his cigarette against the wall.
    “That’s the toughest part for me.  I’ve got family in
Pittsburgh and Columbus.  I’ve got friends and shit in Lyndhurst and University
Heights.  I don’t even know where to begin.”
    “We should sleep,” said John.
    “I’ll take first watch.  Go ahead, and I’ll wake you up in a
few hours.”
    “Okay.”
    John climbed the steps and went to the room he had the
previous night.  He shrugged at the notion that it was now “his room”.  The
smoke fired his synapses, as did the conversation with William.  John flopped
on the mattress, searching in vain for a comfortable position.  John set the
pistol on the floor.  He stared at the barrel, reached for the grip, and then
thought better of a loaded gun in his bed.  All kinds of possibilities, even
impossibilities, raced through John’s mind at lightning speed.  He still could
not formulate a theory.  No warning, no sirens, no panic.  Based on William’s
account, the city simply winked from existence, and the soldiers moved through
to tag houses.  John wanted to sleep.  He also wanted to figure out this
horror.  His restless mind permitted neither, so he headed downstairs.
    “I can’t sleep,” he said to William.
    “What do you want me to do about it?  Rub your head and tell
you stories?”
    “I thought you might want to sleep first.”
    “No, I don’t.  I’m keeping watch.  I’ll come up in a few
hours when I get tired.”
    John turned and went back upstairs.  The adrenaline from
earlier in the evening wore off and his mind tired of the relentless pursuit of
the situation.  He tumbled into the bed and fell asleep.
    ***
    A single, sharp crack shook the house, followed by a dozen
more.  The shouts of men filled the streets.  John opened his eyes and could
not remember where he was or what he was