After Dark by James Leck, Yasemine Uçar, Marie Bartholomew, Danielle Mulhall Read Free Book Online Page A

said.
    â€œContaminated?” I asked, running my tongue along my teeth. “Mom, you didn’t tell me that.”
    â€œIt’s not contaminated,” Mom said, coming to a stop sign at the end of Elm Street. “There was something wonky with the water pressure, so I called the plumber, and he’s coming this afternoon. The pipes are pretty old, and until he figures it out, we’ll have to avoid having showers. We probably shouldn’t drink or brush our teeth with it either. I’ll buy some bottled water today.”
    â€œI already brushed my teeth,” I said, and tried to roll down the window in the back, but it wouldn’t open.
    â€œMom, undo the child-lock. I need to spit.”
    â€œRelax,” Mom said, taking a right off Elm Street and starting down Oak Avenue. “It’s nothing to worry about. Plus, we’ll be there in a minute.”
    â€œContaminated is a worry, Mom. Let me roll down the window. I need to spit.”
    â€œI’m not driving into town with you spitting out the window, Charlie.”
    By now, houses were appearing on our left and right. They were big old country houses with front porches, huge lawns and white picket fences.
    â€œPlease, I think I’m dying back here.”
    â€œDidn’t you say there was toilet water mixed up with the sink water, Mom?” Lilith asked.
    â€œDo you want me to throw up?” I said, turning to Lilith. “Because I’ll throw up all over you if that’s what you want.”
    â€œThat’s not true, Charlie,” Mom said.
    â€œIn episode nine of Vampyre Hunter , I ended up in a town where all the residents had been changed into zombies because of contaminated drinking water,” Johnny chimed in. “I got to use a crossbow in that episode. It was totally rad.”
    â€œOpen the window!” I cried.
    â€œWe’re almost there,” Mom snapped, as we reached a three-way intersection at the bottom of Oak Avenue. Across the street, directly in front of us, was a garage.
    â€œThere she is,” Johnny said, pointing at a black and red motorcycle that looked like it could probably go about a thousand miles an hour. “I guess they haven’t had a chance to fix it,” he mumbled.
    â€œI really need to spit,” I said, as we made a right onto Church Street, which was obviously the main drag in Rolling Hills, judging by the number of people who were already milling around. “I need to purge!”
    â€œWe’re almost there,” Mom said.
    â€œWhere is there?” I asked.
    â€œHere,” she said, and pulled up to the curb next to a restaurant called Romero’s.
    I threw open the door, jumped out and started spitting like crazy all over the sidewalk.
    Saturday, 8:32 a.m.
    Romero’s was housed in the same type of brick-front, two-story building that lined both sides of Church Street. Sure, there were little differences: the awning at Romero’s had white and green stripes and the one next door had yellow and red stripes, and some of the places didn’t have awnings at all, but by and large, Church Street consisted of the same neat and tidy building repeated again and again.
    â€œIt hasn’t changed a bit since I was a kid,” Mom said, getting out of the truck.
    Church Street was about five blocks long, and at the end was a red brick church, with a tall white steeple jutting, like a giant needle, straight into the sky. Black iron lampposts arced over the street, and the occasional maple tree stood here and there. The sidewalks looked clean enough to eat off of. Well, they were clean enough to eat off of until I spat all over them.
    Mom stopped admiring the view and turned to me. “Charlie, this isn’t the kind of town where you just spit all over the sidewalk.”
    â€œI’ll make sure to do it in the road the next time I brush my teeth with toilet water.”
    â€œLet’s just get something to eat,”