AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance, to dream, ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come—”
The door shakes with pounding. An ax bites into the wood, scaring the shit out of me, but Library Girl keeps her lips pressed to the mike:
“… who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death—
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns—puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?”
The door bursts open with a sick splintering sound, and Ruth stumbles in. She takes one look at me there with Library Girl and her lower lip starts to quiver. “Cameron. You are so hurting my happiness right now.”
Daniel’s right behind her, brandishing a torch. He speaks into his bracelet. “Roger one-niner, we have a situation in the radio room.”
“Roger one-niner? Isn’t that airplane code?” I ask.
His lips go tight. “It makes me happy to say it.”
A commando squad, all wide shoulders and, holy crap, honest-to-God guns this time, arrives on the scene. They grab Library Girl, who tries to hold on to the microphone. The commando picks up the mammoth anthology and brings it down hard three times on her hands, making her scream in pain till she’s forced to let go.
“What are you doing?” I shout, running toward them.
Daniel grabs a gun from the commando’s holster, points it at me. “Happiness. By any means necessary.”
He lifts the gun by the nose and brings the butt down hard on my head, and the room slips away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
In Which Some People’s Happiness Gets Its Butt Kicked and Gonzo and I Make Our Escape
Blacking out isn’t so bad, really. All in all, it’s a lot more pleasant than, say, celebrating a family birthday at a medieval theme restaurant or pretending you care about your GPA. Unconscious, I float out into a black universe where stars are winking electric Christmas candles, past the Buddha Cow raising one hoof in a Zen salute. It’s like I’m on some cool ride, chugging past automated exhibits: Mom and Dad are sitting in the hospital cafeteria, not talking over cups of lukewarm coffee. They look like shit, like a couple of toothpaste tubes that have been grabbed in the middle one too many times till whatever’s left is too hard to get out. Raina walks through the doors. She doesn’t look like shit. She looks fresh and alive and full of promise. Dad sees her and stands up, gives a little smile. Mom watches him like he’s a stranger she’s seeing for the first time. Raina hands Dad some papers and says “I’m sorry” and “If there’s anything I can do,” and Dad answers, “You’re doing so much already, Raina.” In the way she blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear, in the way Dad pays attention to that one small gesture, Mom’s face changes. She knows.
The ride loops around. To my right, the roadrunner keeps pace with me. It zips into a cave, and when it comes out, it’s the Wizard of Reckoning, the fire giants burning a giant black hole into the sky behind him. He reaches out, but the ride drops, making my stomach tingle. It creeps up the invisible mechanical hill toward a brightly lit room, where Glory’s taking the empty bag off the IV pole. “Just need to switch you out, honey.” She hooks the new fat pouch on the pole. The ride slows till I’m even with her. Her face is like one of those carved totems I saw once in a book about Easter Island—dark, beautiful, forever.
She strokes my cheek, and I swear I can feel the warmth of her skin. Her big brown eyes look into mine. “Cameron, child, are you awake in there?”
“I said, are you awake?”
My aching eyes open to see Daniel sitting across from me in a chair with his arms crossed. He looks like his happiness is more than hurt; it’s pissed and coming out swinging. I’m tied to my chair and Library Girl is nowhere to be seen. At least the gun’s gone. The bright lights of the Snackateria are little needles of pain slipping into my head.
“Yo! Cameron.”
“Yeah,” I croak. “Where’s Library Girl?”
“Who?” Ruth asks.
“Never mind,” I say. “Where’s Gonzo?”
