Flame by John Lutz Read Free Book Online

sand and shooting silver shafts of light off the incoming waves. Made the room seem all the dimmer and cooler. A middle-aged guy in loud striped trunks was walking at an angle toward the beach. Two striding young girls in string bikinis crossed his path and he sucked in his stomach and held it until they were past. A lot of effort for nothing; it was obvious the girls were busy talking and hadn’t noticed him anyway. A short woman with lank wet hair, leading a sand-caked four- or five-year-old girl up from the beach, trudged toward the motel. A tired-looking man carrying a wad of white towels, and what appeared to be an inflated life-size plastic alligator under his arm, followed a few steps behind. The woman had on floppy rubber thongs, and her heels kicked up roostertails of sand; the man stayed well back and to the side to avoid them. She and the girl were both smiling and talking to each other. Family. Carver wondered what it would be like to have family around him every day. They veered slightly about fifty feet from his room. He heard the rumble of a sliding door. Then the woman’s laughter as they entered the room next door. The faint sound of the little girl bitching about something and tramping around. The father’s deep and reprimanding voice as he controlled his temper. A minute later the shower burst on and hissed and gurgled in the bathroom that shared a wall with Carver’s. The woman’s voice, and the little girl’s. Laughing. Sand being washed off. Family.
    Carver hefted his suitcase onto the bed and opened it. Got out pants and shirts and arranged them loosely in the closet so the wrinkles would hang out. Then he carried his shaving kit into the bathroom and set it on the washbasin. He left socks, underwear, and miscellaneous in the suitcase. Since he didn’t know how long he’d be staying, there was no point in unpacking; it was, after all, only a drive of a few hours north on Highway 1 back to Del Moray.
    He closed the suitcase and fastened the clasps, then placed it on the floor alongside the dark wood dresser. Sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. Home. At least for a while.
    Leaving his cane leaning on the bed, he used furniture and the wall for support and limped over and pulled the cord that drew the heavy drapes closed. Sound from outside was muted and the room became almost dark.
    He made his way back to the bed and stretched out on it on his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. Listened to the noises of the family next door. Missed his daughter. Missed his son, who’d been dead a little over a year now. Lump-in-the-throat time. He tried to push aside his emotions, but it wasn’t easy. Wasn’t entirely possible. Ever.
    The mattress was softer than he would have liked, but it didn’t prevent him from finally dozing off.
    When he awoke the room was completely dark and seemed cooler. He could hear the surf smashing away at the beach, over and over, ticking away eternity. The swells building size and momentum offshore and roaring in with freight-train speed to spend themselves in spreading white foam on the sand. There were unintelligible voices outside. Laughter. People walking nearby? More likely it was sound carried up from the moonlit beach by the ocean breeze. A distant gull, or perhaps a woman, screeched with a wild kind of joy and then was silent.
    Carver glanced at his watch’s luminous green dial. Nine forty-five. It wasn’t like him to sleep at all during the day, much less almost six hours. His eyes felt grainy and there was a sour taste in his mouth. His tongue was coated and seemed swollen; he was sure he’d have difficulty if called upon to speak. No matter, he’d have nothing to say anyway; his mind was sluggish and didn’t want to engage gears.
    He swiveled his body, shoving his stiff leg with both arms as if it were a completely lifeless appendage, and managed to sit up on the sagging edge of the too-soft mattress. There was a slight ache in the small of his