Demon's Door by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online

– then all of our tomorrows have every chance of being so much more rewarding.’
    â€˜Sure,’ said Leon. ‘So long as we don’t step off of the curb and get hit by a four-one-three bus.’
    Jim stared at him. ‘A four-one-three bus? Why a four-one-three bus?’
    Leon pulled a face. ‘How should I know? It’s the only bus in LA I’ve ever ridden on.’
    â€˜Oh, really?’ said Jim. He couldn’t help thinking about that packer at Ralph’s saying, ‘ stepped off the curb – right in front of a four-one-three bus – driver stood on the brakes but he didn’t have a hope in hell .’
    He stared at Leon for a long, long moment, but Leon simply looked confused. He obviously had no idea of the significance of what he had said, and why it had made Jim react so sharply.
    Jim turned back to Maria’s desk. ‘How about you, Maria? What would you like tomorrow to bring you?’
    Maria raised her eyes. She had a round face with heavy black eyebrows that joined in the middle and a spread-out nose. ‘I do not know, sir. I cannot tell you.’
    â€˜You must have some idea. How about winning the lottery? How about getting married?’
    â€˜You believe that this all Latino girls ever think about? Winning the lottery and getting married?’
    â€˜Hey, of course not. Only kidding. But surely you have some dream, don’t you?’
    â€˜I dream only to be left alone, that is all.’
    It was then that Jim saw the dark crimson bruises on her wrists – bruises that looked as if somebody had gripped her tight and twisted her arm. She had a bruise on her cheek, too, which she had covered up with foundation.
    â€˜OK,’ he said. ‘That’s as good a dream as any other. Tamara – how about you?’
    â€˜You know what I want tomorrow to bring me, Mr Rook. An offer from KTLA. Anchorwoman for the nightly news.’
    â€˜Sure. But what about you ? What about the way you feel about yourself?’
    â€˜I feel fine. Tomorrow I will feel fine.’
    â€˜Fine? Is that all?’
    Tamara frowned at him. Her eyes flicked from side to side as if she were trying to focus on something inside of her head – something that unsettled her. ‘I feel fine,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t want to think about tomorrow. The bathroom. The bath’s overflowing. There’s too much red.’
    â€˜Tamara?’ said Jim. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜What do you mean about the bathroom?’
    â€˜What?’ She didn’t seem to understand what she had said.
    Jim stood up straight and looked around the classroom. Outside, the sun was shining and the girls from Mrs Daumier’s art class were still drawing. Yet he was aware of a strange feeling of dislocation inside Special Class Two, as if none of his students were sure what they were doing here. It was the same feeling that Jim had experienced after a bus crash, on a tour of Italy. Nobody had been hurt, and yet afterward everybody had milled around by the side of the highway, bewildered.
    â€˜Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you about tomorrow,’ he said, returning to his desk. ‘You all seem to have enough problems dealing with today.’
    â€˜Hey, I know what I want tomorrow to bring me!’ T.D. volunteered. ‘An Uzi, so I can scare the living crap out of my mom’s latest boyfriend!’
    â€˜Yes, well,’ Jim told him. ‘When I say that you all seem to have enough problems dealing with today, that’s a prime example.’
    During the midday break, Jim drove Tibbles home. As he was lifting the cat basket out of the back seat of his car, Mrs LaFarge appeared at the top of the steps, carrying a huge bouquet of white lilies.
    â€˜Well, well!’ she said, and she sounded more than a little disapproving. ‘Bought yourself a new cat already, Jim? And Tibbles not even cold in his