The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable by J.B. Garner Read Free Book Online Page B

the muscle exertion and the impact alone, I should be feeling more sprains, have more bruises.  Where I had the protection of the leathers, sure, scratches and scabs from the shrapnel would make sense, but, especially on my unprotected face, there should have been some serious lacerations and punctures.  The cast on my arm was far too light for a serious fracture, which was what I was sure I should have.
    Maybe in the heat of the moment everything seemed worse than it did.  I could have simply been fooling myself.  It’s not like I wasn’t under excessive amounts of stress at the time.  Just as likely, I could have wound up excessively lucky.  It’s not like I had been able to examine my injuries before I passed out.  No matter how well I know my own body, it doesn’t take the place of proper observation.
    I shuffled into the living room, trying to both accept my good fortune and be suspicious of it at the same time.  Everything was as it should be, just as I had left it before going to the graveyard, with only a few exceptions:  my keys were on the kitchen counter, not on the key hook as they should be, there were a few dirt and grass spots in the carpet that made a vague trail to the bedroom, and there was a brand-new motorcycle helmet sitting next to the keys.  On the top of it was a Post-It note, filled with instantly recognizable handwriting.
     
    Irene: Please forgive me for what happened today.  I had no intention of causing you pain or discomfort.  I can see that, logically, I must give you time to adjust to the new reality we all find ourselves in.  I am sure that, once everything settles, you will see that what I did was necessary and will be better for the world as a whole than the course we were embarked on.  I hope that when that time comes we can forge a new relationship built with the trust you desire.
     
    I have always worked all my life to be in control.  Not controlling of other people per se, but in control of myself.  It was in the interest of that control that I clamped down on the raging anger in me.
    How insulting was it for the guy who had been manipulating and lying to me for a year to go on about how, if I only stood back and accepted everything, it would turn out he was right and then we’d simply get back together, all the better for it?  What was that about the trust I desire?  What relationship can be built on anything other than trust?
    My hands clenched into fists, knuckles white as a ghost, and I counted backwards not from ten but from a hundred this time.  After a few minutes of counting, I could feel my body relax as I wrangled control away from my raging emotions.  If I let my anger go unchecked, I was being manipulated by him as surely as when he was lying to my face.  He would be the one being the genesis of my actions, not me.
    Angry or not, the one thing I was sure on was that I wasn’t going to sit back and accept this.  Even if the rest of the world was ready to let the Whiteout rewire their brains, I wasn’t going to give in.  A surge of strange thoughts tried to crowd into my brain, but I would not allow it.  For whatever reason, I still knew the truth and I wasn’t going to let my world be dictated by lies.
    It may have been a pointless gesture, but I snatched the note off the helmet, tore it into as many pieces as I could and tossed the paper into the air.  I was about to spur myself into action; turn on the TV, fire up the computer, and find out what was going on so I could plan my next move; when I felt strangely faint.  Not from pain, but from the greatest feeling of hunger I ever had in my life.
    I leaned against the counter for a moment, trying to figure how I would possibly be so hungry.  It's not like I had skipped any meals today.  I had no answers.  It didn’t make any scientific sense but, for now, I gave in to my body’s needs and opened the refrigerator.
    The hunger I had overpowered every one of my usual health-conscious food