Whole Pieces Read Online Free PDF Page A

sucked into the whorl. Spinning, as if in one of those amusement park rides where you’re whipped and turned in crazy, sickening circles, narrowly avoiding a collision with others by mere seconds when it whips you in another direction, Hawk skidded toward a woman in a blue chador holding a baby girl in one arm and another girl by the hand as they stood over a hole. Hawk tilted so that he could see down into the thirty-foot hole where the boy’s body lay.
    Then yanked and jerked, he spun and flung into another direction.
    Then, as if someone hit a fast-forward button, the scene whipped into frenetic violence. Fields of blood. Raging fires . . . hundreds. A nuclear detonation. Screaming. Crying. Allies became enemies. Countries divided. Millions massacred. Body-strewn military bases and villages. Wailing women digging through bodies and finding . . .
    What was that woman holding? As the object took shape, his stomach churned and protested. An arm. A bodyless arm!
    I’m going to be sick.
    What was happening?
    Like bait on a fishing line, he was jerked back and then flung into the whorl once more.
    No. No, stop!
    Howling. Shrieking. In the howling, he heard his name with a vengeful roar. “Haythaaaam! You fool! I’ll find you. . . .” A menacing blackness hunkered within the vowels and consonants. Though he would’ve vowed that was Constant speaking, Hawk sensed the ominous claws of Death tracking too.
    Without warning, the fires smoothed into one field of red, mingling with the blood and tears.
    No, no more. Stop!
    How had such chaos erupted? Insane, lunacy . . . as if the entire world had lost restraint.
    The boy . . . killing the boy.
    Ludicrous! Killing one boy who killed a half-dozen Green Berets couldn’t cause that. None of them were that important. Yeah, important enough to stop the kid. But not enough to unleash what appeared to be an apocalypse.
    The gray sky darkened. Terror gripped Hawk. He didn’t want to see any more. Why was this happening? How?
    The watch . . .
    He reached for it.
    A hollow popping severed the void that had devoured him.
    â€œHey!” A weight slammed into his chest. Stratham’s livid eyes glared down at him. “Shut up or you’ll get us killed.”
    Back pressed against the ground, Hawk stared up at his friend. “Wha . . . ?”
    â€œMovement. I got movement,” Mack announced.
    Stratham shoved off him. “Report.”
    As he watched the leader scuttle back into position, Hawk pulled himself off the ground. A curse sailed through the black night.
    â€œIt’s a kid,” Stratham spat.
    â€œHeaded right toward us.”
    â€œKill him,” Hawk said, breathless and void of conviction. Two seconds ago—or was it minutes? hours?—his conviction sat like cement on his chest. “Kill him,” he said, urging himself to be more forceful. To remember why he’d come.
    But the images . . .
    How exactly had that happened? Had Constant really screamed into time? Was Death with him? The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Why hadn’t Constant come for him sooner? Or stopped him?
    The watch.
    â€œNo way, man. I’m not killing no kid.”
    â€œWe have to,” Hawk said. They had to kill him. Didn’t they? Isn’t that why he came back? The bloody holocaust faded to the background as the memory of rifle volleys at six funerals cracked his resolve.
    â€œShoot him,” Hawk reiterated, but the words sounded weak even to him. What if . . . what if all that stuff he’d seen—was it even real?—had direct correlations to this gangly boy hiking up the hill?
    Hawk had missed the opportunity to take him out and take the blame. Should’ve just fired and dealt with the consequences. Might end up at Leavenworth for killing an innocent civilian. Nobody would’ve known the original time strain justified his actions.