The Heavens Rise by Christopher Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

some terrible family secret to this black journo? Or were they just afraid of their son in general? Too afraid to pull that fork out of his hand and slap some manners across the back of his head?
    “I guess I should be more specific,” Marshall said, but he was staring down at the table. Marissa thought, The way he’s working on that tablecloth, I’d bet he’d be just as happy doing that to his own leg. Or mine. A strange thought, but the guy was plenty strange. “If you were confronted with a snake, would you be able to determine whether or not it was venomous?”
    “That depends,” Marissa said.
    “On what?”
    “I grew up here. So I know the snakes in this area. But if you dropped me in Texas, I’m not sure I’d be of much use on that front.”
    “I think it’s important . . . in life , I mean, to be able to tell the difference between a snake that can actually kill you and a snake that just scares you. Don’t you agree?”
    “Well, maybe . . . but what if you’re not afraid of snakes at all?”
    “Are you not afraid of snakes, Marissa?”
    In a low voice, Donald Ferriot said, “What’s this about, Marshall?”
    The kid was barely eighteen years old and talking to Marissa like she was his kindergarten teacher.
    “Now, don’t lie just for the sake of argument,” he chided her. “That wouldn’t be very polite, now, would it?”
    “To be honest, Marshall, I’m more afraid of the snakes I might meet every day.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “The snakes I might be forced to have dinner with, for instance.”
    The silence around the table was as stilted and pained as it had been after Heidi Ferriot fired the first shot. Marissa was about to say something to lighten the mood but Marshall was suddenly staring straight past her head with such wide-eyed intensity that her words left her. One of the costumed waiters, or possibly one of the jugglers or mimes, had caught the kid’s eye. Caught both of his eyes in one tense fist was more like it. The longer Marissa stared at him, the more it became clear that Marshall Ferriot had gone entirely still, so still it felt as if the air pressure around them shifted suddenly. As if Marshall had been rendered so rigid and devoid of life, the air itself was literally avoiding him.
    “What’s the matter?” Donald Ferriot asked his son. “Are you getting sick again?”
    In response, Marshall got to his feet and started walking toward thenearest plate-glass window. He picked up an empty metal folding chair a bartender had been resting his feet on a few minutes earlier. The chair had heavy cushions on the back and seat, so when he lifted it in both hands, the seat’s weight forced it to fold automatically.
    “Oh shit,” Marissa whispered. She was convinced the kid was about to do something truly, truly stupid, probably in some kind of sick retaliation for Marissa’s crack about snakes. When Marshall was still several paces from the plate-glass window, he swung the chair back over one shoulder as if it were as light and slender as a baseball bat.
    He’ll just try to make a commotion , Marissa thought. He’ll hurl the chair at the window to get the entire room’s attention and then—
    The first crash got everyone’s attention all right. But Marshall didn’t stop there. He slammed the chair into the glass again and again and again, with a ferocity and determination that kept everyone glued to their chairs. The room was a sea of frightened expressions and napkins brought to mouths. Around the fourth strike, the kid had managed to punch several large holes in the plate glass, and the cracks radiating out from each one looked poised to bring the entire window apart.
    Then Marshall tossed the chair to one side and took several steps backward. He had backed up almost to the nearest table when a terrible realization of what he was about to do swept the room. There were several small screams. Then Marissa was on her feet.
    If she’d thrown herself at