The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man by W. Bruce Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

it Bob the Bear? No, I’d heard it speaking here, last night. (I was careful to mentally regard the voice as an “it,” believing that calling it a “he” would somehow make it worse.)
    Whatever was happening, though, I knew I had to play it cool. If I screamed in surprise every time I heard it, I’d wind up in the loony bin.
    I fished around in the refrigerator for something edible and came up with the meat loaf Becky had given me a few nights before, still wrapped in foil. I cut a piece, squirted on some ketchup, poured myself a cup of instant coffee, and sat down for breakfast.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding,” my voice said.
    Sticking with my game plan, I didn’t gasp and jerk around to see who’d spoken. “You hear that, Jake?” I asked calmly. Jake didn’t even seem to hear me . He lay motionless, not even coming over to check out the meat loaf.
    â€œYou can’t eat like that for breakfast, you’ll clog your arteries,” the voice admonished.
    â€œSo I’ve developed a split personality and it’s become a nutritionist,” I announced out loud.
    â€œNo, I’m not,” it answered defensively.
    â€œSo you’re what, a boxing manager?”
    â€œNo, I mean I’m not a split anything, I am my own person.”
    â€œYeah? Where are you, then?”
    There was a pause. “ I’m not sure. ”
    â€œWell, you sure as heck aren’t here. Unless … you’re not an eight-foot rabbit, are you?”
    â€œI’m not Harvey. My name is Alan Lottner.”
    â€œAlan Lottner.” I cut another slice of cold meat loaf. Play it cool, play it cool. “Uh-huh. Well, what can I do for you, Alan?”
    â€œI’m … I’m not sure what is going on.”
    â€œWell, I think I have a pretty good idea. I’ve been living alone for a long time now so my brain has furnished me with a friend to play with. An invisible friend who will soon start telling me it’s okay to set fires.”
    There was a silence. I stopped eating and cocked my head. Maybe all I had to do was identify the problem and the neurosis would simply go away. Self-administered psychotherapy.
    â€œI admit this is weird,” the voice stated slowly, “but somehow I am inside of you. When you look around, I can see what you see.”
    â€œGreat, I am a man trapped in a man’s body.”
    Alan Lottner chuckled: I actually heard him laughing in my ear. The sound unnerved me—whatever was going on inside my head, it couldn’t be good that I could hear laughter.
    â€œI don’t know how I got here,” he confided after a moment.
    â€œWell, as soon as you figure it out you can leave the same way.” I was pretty pleased with how cool I was playing this—maybe he would leave.
    â€œAt first I thought it was a dream. It’s like that, because even though I can see and hear and even feel everything, I don’t have any control over my body.”
    â€œWhose body?”
    â€œOkay, your body … but where’s my body? What’s happening to me?”
    â€œSorry to have to tell you this, but I think the real concern is what’s happening to me, ” I corrected. “I’m having a conversation with a voice inside my head. Clearly, the stress of living life in the fast lane in Kalkaska is getting to me.” I finished my meat loaf and tossed the aluminum foil at the trash can. It bounced off the rim and joined the pile of missed shots cluttering the floor.
    â€œAre you going to pick that up?”
    â€œNo, it’s how I keep score,” I answered. The silence I received in reply had a huffy quality to it. Great, my voice had no sense of humor. “So Alan, why don’t you go out and do some work while I stay home and watch a little basketball?”
    â€œI … look, is your name Ruddy?”
    â€œRuddy McCann.”
    â€œI thought so, though