Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) by Sean Platt, David W. Wright Read Free Book Online Page A

was dreaming: life hadn’t been so kind in a while.
    The sky was too blue for reality, the clouds too white, and the air too sweet. The music was loud and bright but in no way grating to his ears.
    He wanted more. Here, the music made him happy and filled his son with joy. Keller planted his hand on Joshua’s shoulder and let it rest, lightly squeezing, telling himself it was okay to inhale the dream. He would wake to it missing—the sky, the clouds, the too-sweet air—but he wouldn’t leave before savoring as much of it as possible.
    “Are you enjoying the parade?”
    The boy nodded without looking up at his father. “It’s my favorite.”
    “Which part?”he asked, though he already knew because Joshua’s answer was always the same.
    “All of it.”
    “Pick one,” Keller insisted, not because he wanted to know so much as that he hoped knowing might prolong the illusion.
    “I like the drums best, but I also like the horns.”
    “Why do you like the drums?”
    “Because songs don’t sound right without them. Drums make everything better. Sometimes I like to close my eyes and see if I can hear the different kinds. You can’t do that with a regular song, but the parade always has so many.”
    “Are you doing that now?”
    “Yes.” Joshua turned and met his father’s eye, not wanting to keep his wide grin to himself.
    “How many do you hear?”
    “I think I hear seven.”
    There are six.
    Keller said nothing, just squeezed his son’s shoulders and stared at the parade, watching the band marching by.
    “There are six drummers! I was wrong.”
    His son smiled wider. As he did, the sun grew hotter and brighter. The sky turned the blue of an iris and the clouds nearly disappeared into white. Keller had been inside the dream so many times in the years since he’d lost Joshua. Now it was as if he could control the hues in his dream’s waning seconds.
    Keller smiled back at his boy . . . then everything was gone.
    The explosion was deafening wrapped in sleep’s infinity.
    The sky withered to black and clouds turned into coal.
    The sun went bright white, then started to scream.
    Keller woke in his office, tears streaking both sides of his face.
    He wasn’t surprised to wake up in his ugly world—he’d been doing so since long before he woke in City 1. He was half startled to find himself behind his desk, though, a puddle of drool soaking his cheek. He should be hugging his pillow or pressed to his wife, like he usually was upon waking—twice each night: once to piss and the other to weep.
    Keller picked up his tumbler, swallowed the scotch, and winced at the burn in his throat. He glanced at the half-empty bottle, thought about a refill of liquid sorrow, then wiped his mouth and pushed the glass toward the edge of the desk, slightly out of reach.
    It was only noon, and he was already plastered and falling asleep at his desk. He needed to get something to eat and freshen up.
    He had planted his palms to the wood, ready to push himself to standing, when there was a slight knock on the door—three raps without waiting for an answer. The door opened a crack. His wife poked her head through the wedge.
    “Hi, sweetie. Would you like to watch the replay of The Opening Rush? I’ve seen it but would love to watch it together.”
    “No, thank you.”
    He couldn’t meet her eyes, knowing his were guilty, and likely bloodshot.
    She opened the door and stepped into his office. Her eyes flitted to the open bottle, then to the empty tumbler, and finally back into his soaking wet—and likely red—eyes.
    Her pity filled him with hate.
    “How long are you going to be like this?”
    “Please. I’m busy. I don’t have time for this conversation. I have Cities to run. Evil to root out.”
    “I know that—”
    “You don’t know anything, Jacquelyn. And be grateful you don’t. Now I have work to finish before I can leave my office, and I’d appreciate it if—”
    She didn’t wait. Nodding, she said,