The Last Story by Christopher Pike Read Free Book Online Page A

my head again.

    "I can understand these things when I'm with you here. But I know I will forget them when I return to my body."

    The yogi nodded. "It is true we have met here many times lately. But each time you remember a

    little more. Don't worry—the time of decision comes soon."

    I raised my head and took his hand. He did not seem to mind. His touch was gentle. "Will I decide wisely?" I asked.

    He picked out another rose from a nearby vase and tapped me lightly on the head with the petals.

    Then he chuckled. "I hope so."

    The comment did not reassure me. "Do I have a problem with my head? I feel sometimes like there's something inside me—" I couldn't continue.

    "Are you afraid that it could kill you?"

    I nodded, feeling a wet drop run down my cheek.

    Another first. Dream tears. "Is it true?" I asked.

    He was thoughtful. "Come see me soon. We will see what can be done."

    I kissed his hand. "Thank you. Please let me recognize you for who you are."

    He touched his flower near my ear. "The rose is soft. The fragrance is gentle. You can only feel my presence, my being between my words. Remember, Shari, when we meet, to listen inside. Keep the voice of the other at a distance."

    My head snapped up. "Who is the other?"

    My question put an end to the audience. Suddenly I was flying over the city, high above it. The moon blazed, yet my ghostly form cast no shadow on the ground. The yogi's last remark had left me in doubt. I had no clear course. Yet I was lying to myself. He had told me what I had needed to know.

    I just didn't want to listen. But if a Master couldn't help me, who could? I thought of my brother, my oldest guide, and in the blink of an eye I was with him.

    He slept on his back in his bedroom, Jo wrapped in his arms. They were naked but covered with a sheet, and I had to smile as I looked down on them.

    Jimmy, I knew, was intensely private. Let him carry on his affair without my intruding. I felt no desire to touch him, to probe his dreams. As I turned to leave, Jo suddenly stirred and sat up

    "Hello," she whispered.

    "Jo." I sat beside her. She didn't seem to feel me, but sitting still, she strained to hear—what? Me? I didn't know. Leaning over, I whispered in her ear,

    "I love you, old friend. I know I never tell you that but I do."

    Maybe she heard me. A smile crossed her face.

    "Shari," she said softly.

    I sat back and also smiled. "Yes."

    Then, in another blink of an eye, I was sitting on the bed in my old room. To my surprise, my mother was sleeping in my bed, or trying to. Clutching a childhood doll of mine, she cried quietly. Close by, on my bedstand, I saw a copy of Remember Me. My hand flew to my mouth.

    "Oh God," I muttered. What had I done?

    Quickly I sat down beside my mother and stroked her hair. Her tears began to subside and not long after that her breathing relaxed and she fell asleep. I drew my hands far back. I did not want to

    probe her dreams, not after she had just finished the story of my death.

    "What am I doing tonight?" I said aloud. "What am I looking for?"

    I must have thought of him then, although I didn't do so on purpose. There was no movement through time and space. I was in my bedroom, then I was in Roger's bedroom. His place was opulent, more like an expensive hotel suite than personal quarters. He lay sleeping on his side, in his underwear.

    Cast in the rays of moonlight, his near-naked physique was exquisite. A young David cut from Michelangelo's marble. My hands were on him before I knew what I was doing. I gripped his head, his heart.

    Was he dreaming of me?

    Then I was inside his dreams, in the realm of make-believe where he wandered during the dark hours. The setting was vast—the third arm of a galaxy known as the Milky Way. A thousand billion stars burned cold in the endless firmament. Green and blue planets shone overhead. Meteor-scarred moons revolved nearby. And into all of this moved the spaceships, long, sleek purple ones closing in