Orphans of Wonderland by Greg F. Gifune Read Free Book Online Page A

backyard. A set of wind chimes hanging off the back of the house swayed into motion, their ethereal song dancing through the darkness.
    â€œIt’s not only a totally different situation,” Joel finally said. “I’m a totally different person now.”
    â€œJust tread carefully, my man. If you feel a sense of duty to look into this for your friend or his kid or whatever, I get it—I do—but it’s not worth losing what you have. It’s not worth losing Taylor. It’s not worth losing you . No matter what happens, you remember that. Then get back here safe and sound. And don’t be gone longer than your vacation. I don’t want to have to fire your sorry ass, but I will because I’m an insufferable douche. Besides, we’ve got work to do, dinners to have, poker games to play, you hear me?”
    â€œWith your softly melodic voice it’s virtually impossible not to.”
    â€œSide-splitting. Anyway, if you need anything—”
    â€œYou’ll be the first one I call. And seriously, thanks.”
    Billy clamped a beefy hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You know Taylor still expects me to talk you out of this, right?”
    â€œI’m sure she’s hoping.”
    â€œLie and tell her I did my best, okay?”
    â€œSure.” Joel felt himself smile. “There’s a good chance she’ll corner you before the night’s over, though, probably try to get you to take another run at me.”
    â€œI’ll be ready. I’m not afraid of her.” Billy took another hard drag on his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stepped on it. “Actually, yes I am.”
    â€œCome on,” Joel said, cocking his head toward the house. “We better get back in there before she thinks we’re out here scheming.”
    â€œYeah, I don’t want her drinking the rest of my wine.”
    â€œTrust me, that wine could not possibly be in less danger.”
    â€œHey, what’s sexier than a big ole gallon box of three-dollar wine?”
    â€œLiterally every other thing in the universe.”
    Laughing, they returned to the house, and much as Joel tried to convince himself to enjoy the evening—as he knew it would be the last time he’d have the opportunity to do so for some time—he realized he was simply whistling past a graveyard. For now, he’d escape the night for the warmth, safety and clarifying light of their home.
    But the darkness was rising, and soon, he’d be walking right into it.

Chapter Six
    In the quiet house he’d called home for so long, memories crashed like waves, reminding him that the life he’d built and worked so hard to obtain had saved him, cleansed him from the madness and the wolves that even then crouched drooling just outside his door, biding their time until more flesh could be ripped from bone. The slaughter, that’s what they lived for, the thrill of the hunt and the joy of the kill. For Joel, existence was far more complicated.
    Survival was only the beginning.
    All those years before, sitting in the Mello’s home, he watches as her parents—a devastated middle-aged couple—huddle together in the limited light of their small apartment. On the television a VHS tape plays. In broken English, Cindy’s father explains he had it transferred from film not long before her death. It shows a little girl, his little girl, the little girl their daughter Cindy used to be.
    â€œThis was our first summer after we left Portugal,” he explains, the words catching in his throat as his bloodshot eyes fill with tears. “You have to see, you—you have to see who my little girl was. My…my baby…”
    Joel nods, frozen in place in the corner of the room.
    A little girl runs along wet beach sand in her bare feet, a small plastic bucket in one hand. All pigtails and big brown eyes, Cindy joins her father at the sand castle they’re building