Read Online Apocalypse Weird: Genesis (The White Dragon Book 1) by Stefan Bolz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stefan Bolz
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their bare hands and eating it. Not San Te. He stayed kneeling even though you could see in his expression how much he wanted, how much he needed to eat something.
After the rest of the group had emptied the rice pot, they were sent home. The head monk told them that they were unworthy of becoming Shaolin monks. Only the strongest were able to enter. The monk then stood in front of San Te and bowed. He gestured at him to get up and enter the temple with him. San Te hesitated, thinking that this might be another test. But the monk helped him up and together they walked through the large oak doors and into the temple.
Other than the light of a dim streetlight outside, the warehouse lay in darkness. Jack saw a door in one of the corners. He assumed it was a door but he couldn’t tell for sure. Maybe they had enough and won’t come back . Not very likely. The pain was now everywhere. From his knees it extended into his feet and up into his back. Very slowly, the feeling in his hands and arms came back. He couldn’t move them yet. His shoulder muscles screamed in agony each time he attempted to lift his arms. The thought of getting up and running toward the door occurred to him. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. At least not in the next hour.
“Tell me,” the voice behind him said. Jack turned his head. The man sat in a light blue armchair. He was probably in his sixties. His reading glasses had slipped all the way to the tip of his nose. He was wearing a gray vest, long sleeved shirt and dark pants. Jack searched his memory for the corresponding image. He knew the man but couldn’t place him.
“Tell me again why, when your parents’ house burned down, you ran outside and left your sister in her room to die?”
The heat came up from his stomach. From there it went into his chest. He had not thought about his sister in weeks. As he lay there, looking at the man in the armchair, Jack felt the pressure in his chest just like so many times before when he spoke about the day his sister had died. Dr. Martens. That’s it. The man in the armchair was child psychologist and early trauma specialist Dr. Gerald Martens. Little Jack had begun to see him regularly when he was six years old and he went on seeing him until he was eleven.
“I was six years old,” Jack answered.
“That doesn’t matter,” the Dr. Martens thing said.
“I couldn’t have saved her. Even though I wanted to.”
“Bullshit, Jack.” The doctor thing took off its glasses — just like Dr. Martens always used to do. “You knew she was in there. All you needed to do, Jack, all you needed to do was open her door and get her out. But you didn’t. You screamed like a baby and ran downstairs.”
Jack pressed his eyelids together despite the pain that it cost him, despite the abyss he peered into.
“You are not Dr. Martens,” Jack said.
“That may be true,” it said. “But that doesn’t change the facts, Jack. The fact is, you’re a coward. Look at you. Lying there in your own piss. You are weak and I know for a fact that you know that. Don’t you, Jack?”
“No.”
“Oh come on. You don’t have to pretend with me ! I’ve known you since you were six years old.”
“No!”
“Jack, Jack, Jack.” The doctor thing shook its head in disgust. “All of us, including your parents, had thought you’d end up differently, you know. But here you are: high school dropout, no prospects, nothing to show. What you think you’ll do, Jack? You think your dad is going to get you a job in his company one day? Is that what you think?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“He won’t and if you still believe that, you’re not only naive, you’re plain stupid. I’ll tell you where you’re going to end up. In some program for drug addicts on and off the streets until you get a job at Walmart greeting people when they come in. Only you’re going to be in your fifties and it’ll be in a city where nobody knows you because you just can’t
After the rest of the group had emptied the rice pot, they were sent home. The head monk told them that they were unworthy of becoming Shaolin monks. Only the strongest were able to enter. The monk then stood in front of San Te and bowed. He gestured at him to get up and enter the temple with him. San Te hesitated, thinking that this might be another test. But the monk helped him up and together they walked through the large oak doors and into the temple.
Other than the light of a dim streetlight outside, the warehouse lay in darkness. Jack saw a door in one of the corners. He assumed it was a door but he couldn’t tell for sure. Maybe they had enough and won’t come back . Not very likely. The pain was now everywhere. From his knees it extended into his feet and up into his back. Very slowly, the feeling in his hands and arms came back. He couldn’t move them yet. His shoulder muscles screamed in agony each time he attempted to lift his arms. The thought of getting up and running toward the door occurred to him. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. At least not in the next hour.
“Tell me,” the voice behind him said. Jack turned his head. The man sat in a light blue armchair. He was probably in his sixties. His reading glasses had slipped all the way to the tip of his nose. He was wearing a gray vest, long sleeved shirt and dark pants. Jack searched his memory for the corresponding image. He knew the man but couldn’t place him.
“Tell me again why, when your parents’ house burned down, you ran outside and left your sister in her room to die?”
The heat came up from his stomach. From there it went into his chest. He had not thought about his sister in weeks. As he lay there, looking at the man in the armchair, Jack felt the pressure in his chest just like so many times before when he spoke about the day his sister had died. Dr. Martens. That’s it. The man in the armchair was child psychologist and early trauma specialist Dr. Gerald Martens. Little Jack had begun to see him regularly when he was six years old and he went on seeing him until he was eleven.
“I was six years old,” Jack answered.
“That doesn’t matter,” the Dr. Martens thing said.
“I couldn’t have saved her. Even though I wanted to.”
“Bullshit, Jack.” The doctor thing took off its glasses — just like Dr. Martens always used to do. “You knew she was in there. All you needed to do, Jack, all you needed to do was open her door and get her out. But you didn’t. You screamed like a baby and ran downstairs.”
Jack pressed his eyelids together despite the pain that it cost him, despite the abyss he peered into.
“You are not Dr. Martens,” Jack said.
“That may be true,” it said. “But that doesn’t change the facts, Jack. The fact is, you’re a coward. Look at you. Lying there in your own piss. You are weak and I know for a fact that you know that. Don’t you, Jack?”
“No.”
“Oh come on. You don’t have to pretend with me ! I’ve known you since you were six years old.”
“No!”
“Jack, Jack, Jack.” The doctor thing shook its head in disgust. “All of us, including your parents, had thought you’d end up differently, you know. But here you are: high school dropout, no prospects, nothing to show. What you think you’ll do, Jack? You think your dad is going to get you a job in his company one day? Is that what you think?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“He won’t and if you still believe that, you’re not only naive, you’re plain stupid. I’ll tell you where you’re going to end up. In some program for drug addicts on and off the streets until you get a job at Walmart greeting people when they come in. Only you’re going to be in your fifties and it’ll be in a city where nobody knows you because you just can’t
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