Windigo Soul Read Online Free PDF

You’re moving in with me and John. I know you can’t afford a penny more in rent so there’s no choice in the matter.”
    Peg opened her mouth but closed it again. She nodded and gave Sara a little smile. “I  know you’ve always offered, but I didn’t want to be a bother. I never got the impression John was very open to the idea.”
    “Nonsense, he’ll be happy to have you.” Sara walked back over to the kitchen counter and picked up the bottle of booze. “What do you say we finish this thing off?”
    “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Chapter 5
     
     
    The room was empty except for the cot he was lying on and a chair in the corner. A light fixture directly above him filled the room with a harsh fluorescent brightness that hurt his eyes and head. He blinked a few times, frowning at his surroundings, looking at everything and understanding nothing.
    Hank slowly sat up and looked down at the hospital gown he was still wearing. Despite the headache and his tongue tasting like a dirty sock, he was very much alive and well. His eyes fell to his arm and the small bruise at the injection site.
    There must have been some sort of mistake. What went wrong? Did he get some sort of last minute pardon? Maybe they resuscitated him at the last second. But for what? Nobody had ever been pardoned. Except for a rumored handful of nameless elite politicians and party members, nobody ever made it past sixty years old.
    Before Hank could think of any more plausible explanations, the door suddenly opened and a man entered. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Morning, sunshine,” he practically shouted. “Mind if I take a seat?”
    He wore a plain khaki work shirt with matching pants over his shorter than average frame. He sat in the chair, the bright light reflecting off his shiny bald head as he settled in. He let out an exaggerated groan and sat back.
    He was the oldest man Hank had ever laid eyes on. “How…”
    “Ah! Hold it right there,” the man interrupted. “I know exactly what you’re about to ask me. You want to know how old I am, right?”
    Hank nodded.
    The man let out a loud hacking laugh that transformed into an uncontrollable cough. He finally composed himself and wiped his eyes. “You know, there hasn’t been one young fella like yourself who didn’t ask me that very same question. First words out yer mouth, every time.”
    He got up from the chair with some effort and held out his bony right hand. “Sam Mazanghetti is the name. Most folks ‘round here just call me Maz for short. And you’re Henry, right?”
    Hank shook his hand. “Most folks call me Hank, Brother.”
    “You can cool it with that brother business, Hank. We’re pretty casual in here. Leave it to the folks out in the real world for that kind of fancy talk.” Maz laughed at his own joke in the same hacking manner and sat back down in the chair. “Now. To answer your question, I’m eighty-three years old. Twenty-three years ago I sat right there just like you and some other crazy old coot came in to talk to me. Just like I’m doing now.”
    Hank closed his eyes and shook his head, instantly regretting it as the room spun. “I don’t understand. I’m supposed to be dead, aren’t I? Where am I?” His eyes widened. “I am still alive, right?”
    Maz chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Very much alive, my friend. It’s not too bad in here, but it sure as hell ain’t heaven.” Another hacking laugh before his face grew somber. “Now just bear with me, Hank. It’s my job to bring you up to speed, and that’s what I aim to do.”
    Maz pulled out a small device that looked like a remote control from the pocket of his shirt along with a pair of thick glasses. He studied the device before finally pressing the button he was searching for. A flat panel display slowly lowered from the ceiling on the other side of the room.
    “They’ve got this video they want you to watch.” Maz glanced at the monitor.