Unforgettable by P J Gilbers Read Free Book Online

Then
I asked him to stand.
    “’ Thought we’d do some
standing exercises today.”
    “ I think I need some
lemonade, how about you?” He walked into the kitchen. I
followed.
    “ Sit down.”
    He brought the pitcher to the counter
through several pivots and hops. Then he handed me two glasses. My
hand shook.
    He sat down.
    “ How’s the pain
been?”
    “ What’s wrong, Sam? You look
like you’re seeing the executioner. Where are the zombies, the
werewolves? Where are the monsters, Sam?”
    I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell
someone. More than anything, I wanted him to hold me so I could
breathe again.
    "Jack, I really hate to ask, but could
you loan a hundred dollars until payday? Car's having a little
trouble."
    He scowled and took out his wallet. It
was fat. He handed me a fistful of bills.
    "Need more, I'll call
Fritz."
    I took two fifties and thanked
him.
    "Tell me, Sam. Tell me what the hell is
going on. I can help you. I want to help you."
    “ It’s my battle,” I
whispered, my mind checking out completely. I played with a rubber
band on the counter, staring at air.
    “ What battle, what battle,
Sam?” He held my hand.
    I felt that I would crumble into dust
at any second.
    “ Sorry. Just a little
trouble from back home.”
    “ Someone is terrifying
you.”
    I shook my head.
    “ You owe someone
money.”
    No response.
    “ A jealous
boyfriend…girlfriend.”
    Nothing.
    “ A controlling
boyfriend…ex-husband.”
    Nothing.
    He thought for a long time.
    “ Someone wants to hurt
you.”
    My throat turned to iron
shavings.
    I looked away. My secret was secret no
more.
    “ Just a little family
trouble…my brother’s been arrested. Drugs. It’ll get worked
out.”
    It was the best lie I could think of.
Of course I could tell that Jack knew it was a lie.
    “ You need help, Sam. When
you’re ready to tell me about the hell you’re living in—whatever it
is--I’ve got a lot of slingshots. I can make it go
away.”
    He touched my face, lightly, sweetly. I
gave in and leaned into his hand. It felt so wonderful. I closed my
eyes.
    I did not cry. I did not fall into his
arms. I did not scream for his help.
    I trembled like a dam seconds from
bursting.
    I had to leave.
    “ Stay, Sam. Stay with
us.”
    “ Have to go.”
     
    Silverman picked up his
daughters from school since his wife was home sick with the flu. He
glanced in the rear view mirror. The same car had followed him for
two days. It was obvious his boss wanted him to spot it.
    His stomach
hurt.
    When he got home he took an
old cell phone of his and went in the garage. He called, barely
remembering the number.
    "I need a meeting with the
Mayor...yes...I'm being followed. Yeah. And they're watching my
girls...right...tonight...thanks Biggs."
     
    He walked me to the door.
    The silence was like needles scraping
my skin.
    Darkness lies but so do its victims. I
thought I was relatively safe. Now I realized I was almost
dead.
    I heard Jack talking to Fritz as he
held the door for me. “It’s time to take care of that business…call
Roger.”
    I stopped by the hardware store on the
way home and bought a nail gun and a hatchet with those nice crisp
fifties.
    “ Bring it on, bastard,” I
mumbled as I walked out the door.
    I didn’t remember driving
home.
    A man in worker’s orange overalls
picked up trash in my apartment parking lot.
    He had a desert combat hat on. His face
was covered.
    He vigorously stabbed leaves and trash
with a stick and put them in a bag.
    It didn’t make sense that he had a
camera swinging around his neck.
    But I was almost home. Safe. And that
was all I thought about.

    Wednesday
    “ Hey Abe, what’s happening?
I am so thrilled to see you smiling.”
    “ A beautiful lady coming to
see me, how can I not be smiling? Watch this, Mom and I have been
working.”
    He gritted his teeth, held his breath,
raised his left arm and then his right. They were about three
inches off the arms of his wheelchair.
    Three inches was