The War Game Read Online Free PDF

back at the bath and beauty camp. He took my picture. I looked like such a small, meek little mouse, I made him delete it. He refused. And then its batteries died. Beep beep beep. Dead.
                  I don't know why, I guess you could call it a fetish, but I have a thing for arms. I loved short-sleeved T-shirts, where you could see just a hint of muscle. Of course, they absolutely had to come with a nice-looking head as well and he fulfilled that requirement.
                  I needed a name to go with his face. Well, I guess that was an acceptable reason to go talk to him.
     
    ~~~
     
                  I found a place out of the burning, red sun. I lay down inside the duck pond. No water in its pool, no ducks either. But it still had its awning and shade was a hot commodity around there. Not many places around that gave off shade. Once someone found a nice spot, they tended to sit there the whole day unless bothered with some task from Micah.
                  I could remember pieces, more like a mosaic than a puzzle, though. I remembered a stuffed bear that I slept with at night. I remembered the wallpaper in my bedroom. I remembered when girl scouts used to sell cookies and not ammunition. I remembered when there were just fifty states. I could remember my moms’ voices and the stories they would read to me. I remembered riding in a car and paisley wallpaper. I almost remembered what money smelled like but not what it looked like. I knew there were presidents on it and a triangle with an eye but I couldn’t tell you which guy was on which bill. My mom had a collection of the paper bills when I was young. She showed me it once and then hid it, since paper money wasn’t used anymore in most areas. She didn’t want me to play with it and rip it up.
                  I remembered my little fishing game. It had a miniature magnetized fishing pole you’d use to pull out the fish that would spin around and open their mouths. I got so good I could pull out two fish at the same time. But usually one of the little fish would fall back into the pond. Safe. For now.
                  It ran on batteries. There’s nothing like a fresh pack of batteries. Sometimes with my talking dolls, I’d pretend I was a surgeon or a doctor or whatever and I would resuscitate my dolls back to life with the aid of a battery.
                  A few odd men were eating some ketchup sandwiches under the shade of a tree, near the octopus that welcomed visitors into the park many years ago until it was bought and then abandoned.
                  Micah was still working hard on repairing the door on a passenger cart as I walked by.
                  “They built those gates to keep people who wanted to get in out. Now they use them to keep us in,” he took a huge bite of his sandwich. After swallowing, with a dollop of ketchup in the corner of his mouth, he started again, “This park was the best thing ever when I was your age. I know you probably don’t care to hear any of my old stories.”
                  “Sure I do,” I lied.
                  “In elementary school, I was a patrol. We would wear bright orange belts and carry stop signs. We helped the younger kids cross the street. We did that every day, before and after school. I loved it. I loved having a bit of responsibility, plus we all got a free bus ride and ticket to the park. It was one of my happier times in my childhood.”
                  He tightened a bolt in one of the carts.
                  “Now, they’ve taken this away from me too!”
                  He threw the hammer; it dinged off a cart, leaving a noticeable dent.
                  Micah finished his sandwich and took a swig of water from an emptied ketchup bottle. At least I assumed it was rid of ketchup. Though Micah seemed like the type of guy who