Alcatraz by Brandon Sanderson Read Free Book Online Page A

Smedry’s voice called. He appeared around the corner, holding an open briefcase smeared with ketchup. ‘Your sand-burger is ready. Aren’t you hungry?’
    The man with the gun spun around, weapon still raised. ‘Don’t move!’ he yelled nervously. ‘Stay right there!’
    ‘Hmm?’ Grandpa Smedry asked, still walking.
    ‘ Grandpa !’ I screamed as the caseworker pulled the trigger.
    The gun went off.
    There was a loud crack, and a chunk of siding blew off the building right in front of Grandpa Smedry. The old man continued to walk along, smiling to himself, looking completely relaxed.
    The caseworker fired again, then again. Both times, the bullets hit the wall right in front of Grandpa Smedry.
    Now, a true hero would have tackled the man who was shooting his grandfather, or done something else equally heroic. I am not a true hero. I stood frozen with shock.
    ‘Here now,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘What’s going on?’
    Looking desperate, the caseworker pointed his gun back at me and pulled the trigger. The consequences, of course, were immediate.
    The clip dropped out of the bottom of the gun.
    The top of the weapon fell off.
    The gun’s trigger popped free, propelled by a broken spring.
    The screws fell out of the gun’s sides, dropping to the pavement.
    The caseworker widened his eyes in disbelief, watching as the last part of the handle fell to pieces in his hand. In a final moment of indignity, the dying gun belched up a bit of metal – an unfired bullet – which spun in the air a few times before clicking down to the ground.
    The man stared at the pieces of his weapon.
    Grandpa Smedry paused beside me. ‘I think you broke it,’ he whispered to me.
    The caseworker turned and scrambled away. Grandpa Smedry watched him go, a sly smile on his lips.
    ‘What did you do?’ I asked.
    ‘Me?’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘No, you’re the one who did that! At a distance, even! I’ve rarely seen a Talent work with such power. Though it’s a shame to ruin a good antique weapon like that.’
    ‘I . . .’ I looked at the gun pieces, my heart thumping. ‘It couldn’t have been me. I’ve never done anything like that before.’
    ‘Have you never been threatened by a weapon before today?’ Grandpa Smedry asked.
    ‘Well, no.’
    Grandpa Smedry nodded. ‘Panic instinct. Your Talent protects you – even at a distance – when threatened. It’s a good thing that he attacked with such a primitive weapon; Talents are much more powerful against them. Honestly, you’d think the Librarians would know not to send someone with a gun against a Smedry of the true line. They obviously underestimate you.’
    ‘What am I doing here?’ I whispered. ‘They’re going to kill me.’
    ‘Nonsense, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘You’re a Smedry. We’re made of tougher stuff than the Librarians give us credit for. Ruling the Hushlands for so long has made them sloppy.’
    I stood quietly. Then I looked up. ‘We’re really going to go into the library? The place where these guys come from? Isn’t that kind of . . . stupid?’
    ‘Yes,’ Grandpa Smedry said, speaking – for once – with a quiet solemnity. ‘You can stay back, if you wish. I know how this must all seem to you. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Strange. But you must understand me when I say our task is vital . We’ve made a terrible mistake – I’ve made a terrible mistake – by letting those sands get into the wrong hands. I’m going to make it right, before thousands upon thousands of people suffer.’
    ‘But . . . isn’t there anyone else who could do this?’
    Grandpa Smedry shook his head. ‘Those sands will be forged into Lenses before the day is out. Our only chance – the world’s only chance – is to get them before that happens.’
    I nodded slowly. ‘Then I’m going,’ I said. ‘You can’t leave me behind.’
    ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Grandpa Smedry said. Then he glanced up at the wall where I had broken it. ‘You do that?’
    I