Godless by Pete Hautman Read Free Book Online

wasn’t me.”
    â€œWho was it?”
    â€œI was channeling the Ten-legged One.”
    â€œOh.” I laugh. At least, I
think
he’s making a joke. “Maybe we should change your title to First Speaker.”
    â€œWas it scary?”
    â€œIt didn’t seem to scare the High Priestess.”
    â€œI don’t think
she’s
scared of
anything
.”
    I look up at the tower. “You think she’d be scared to climb the tower?”
    â€œWho knows?”
    We stand with our heads tipped back, looking up.
    Shin says, “Have you figured it out?”
    I glare at the spiral stairway and shake my head. “He says he flew. Maybe he did.”

    The small, boxy houses on Ensign Avenue all look exactly the same. Except for the address numbers. The number I’m looking for is 1803.
    There are a lot of streets with small, boxy, identical houses in St. Andrew Valley. According to my dad, they were all built just after World War II, cheap and fast, because the soldiers coming home needed places to live. I suppose most of the original owners are dead by now, or really old. Anyway, that was a long time ago.
    Number 1803 is at the end of the block. I press the doorbell and wait. A few seconds later Henry Stagg opens the door. He is wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts.
    â€œHey, is that Jay-boy?”
    â€œHi, Henry.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” He peers past me. “Where’s your shadow?”
    â€œYou mean Shin?”
    â€œSchinner, yeah.”
    â€œHe’s busy.”
    â€œOh. You want to come in?”
    â€œSure.” I follow him into the house. As soon as I enter I know why he’s walking around in his underwear—the house has no air-conditioning. “You the only one here?”
    â€œMy sister and my folks are all at work.” He opens the refrigerator. “You want a Coke or something?”
    This is the friendliest I’ve ever seen Henry. He seems almost normal.
    â€œCoke would be great.”
    He hands me a cold can and we pop them open.
    â€œSo what’s up?” he asks.
    â€œNot much. What about you?”
    â€œI was just sitting around reading.”
    â€œYou?”
    He looks hurt. “What, you don’t think I can read?”
    â€œYou just don’t seem the bookish type. What are you reading?”
    â€œ
Lord of the Rings
. Again.”
    â€œYou ever read any of his other books?”
    â€œJust
The Hobbit
. I don’t read much fantasy. I like scifi better.”
    I listen to him name his favorites—Larry Niven, Vernor Vinge, Robert Heinlein—and am more amazed with each writer he names. Do I know this guy? What ever happened to Henry Stagg, the illiterate psychotic fiend?
    We go to his room, which is very neat and organized—another surprise. He shows me his collection of sci-fi novels. He must have a couple hundred of them, all arranged in alphabetical order in a big metal bookshelf. Turns out we’ve read a lot of the same books and I realize, jealously, that Henry Stagg has read more books than I have. Unless you count comic books.
    We sit on the floor in front of his oscillating fan and talk sci-fi, and I am thinking how strange this is that Ishould be sitting peacefully with Henry Stagg in his bedroom when only a week or so ago he punched me in the face for no reason whatsoever. I don’t even mind how hot it is. The psycho-barbarian turns out to have a brain after all.
    Eventually, I get around to the reason I came by.
    â€œTell me something,” I say. “Seriously. How did you get up on the water tower?”
    â€œI told you.”
    â€œI mean really.”
    Henry gives me a measuring look. “Why do you want to know?”
    â€œI want to go up.”
    â€œAnd get caught by Kramer?”
    â€œI’d go up at night.”
    â€œOkay, suppose I take you up. Are you going to tell me what you and Schinner and Danny are up to?”
    â€œUp