Zero II Read Online Free PDF Page A

bright sun, Alan caught a reflection
of himself, tall and slender. Money could only improve so much. Past the luxurious
clothes and haircut, Alan shook his head at his reflection.
                Sure,
you have money and a place now but something is still missing. Apparently super
speed doesn’t come with any muscle tone. You’re still that skinny kid that
couldn’t stick up for himself. We need to fix that.

10
Present Day
                Why
are you even stressing over that? She was clearly crazy. Angels? Like flying
angels with wings, really?
                Alan
shook his head and made an internal decision to stop thinking about the strange
conversation that night. However, as he rode the smooth elevator to the top of
the high rise, his hand fell inside his jacket pocket. His fingers made contact
with the phone Danielle left him. The lights to passing floors beeped by and
with every second Alan could feel anxiety build. “One look won’t hurt,” Alan
said to himself.
                The
phone was slender and compact. It was one of the newest models available on the
market. Alan remembered seeing an advertisement for it just the other day. The commercial
with the girl and the family with the pet smiling and laughing as they opened
apps for music and videos.
                The
phone lit up under Alan’s touch. A plain white background with an icon marked
“Messages” that jumped up and down on the screen. Alan swiped his thumb over
the icon and a single message read, “Danielle”with a number that
followed after.
                Alan’s
thumb bent toward the number more out of instinct than will. The only thing
that stopped his thumb’s progress was the soft halt of the elevator and a
dinging sound as the elevator doors slid open.
                Alan
stuffed the phone back into his pocket and shook the idea that he should call
the number out of his head. When he raised his eyes to look down the hall to
his penthouse door, he stopped in his tracks.
                He
always left his door closed. Always. Living on the run at an early age and
having to look over his shoulder on a daily basis instilled the habit of
locking up after himself.
                His
door was cracked open. Alan made his way down the hall. He could hear music
coming from his penthouse.
                Carmina
Burana: O Fortuna played in the background. Alan only recognized the song
because he owned it. It was music that inspired him and one of the few things along
with reading and exercise that helped when his depression was at its worst.
    The idea to run or report the break in
to the police crossed his mind but only for the briefest of moments. Any
contact with the police would be bad. There were too many questions that could
arise. Although he was assured that his purchased identities were solid, by the
less than upstanding citizen he bought them from, he didn’t want to test the
theory.
    Alan wrapped his peacoat tighter
around him and prepared himself to take off at a sprint in a moment’s notice.
    Alan’s hand made contact with his
thick wooden door. It swung open without a sound. He wasn’t sure what to
expect, nothing happened. His penthouse looked normal. Everything was in place.
No signs of break in, no items strewn across the floor or broken.
    Smells of cooked meat and the sounds
of someone busy in the kitchen made Alan’s heart rate accelerate. Alan left the
door wide open in case he needed to bolt down the hall. He quietly tiptoed
through his family room, past his makeshift exercise and weight room and into
the kitchen.
    Adrenaline pumped to every inch of his
body. Alan’s mouth was dry as he turned a corner and was met with the sight of
a slender man with his back toward him. Whoever he was, he was busy at work. A
towel draped over one shoulder, he was hunched over the stove.
    “If I was going to hurt you, would I
be cooking you dinner?