Read Online Ashes of Foreverland by Tony Bertauski - Free Book Online

looked around, even at the blue sky. She’d done a story once, when she first started as a journalist for The Washington Post , on paranoid schizophrenia. One of her subjects insisted there were cameras always watching, satellites that recorded everything. He described how he got this feeling when the spies were watching him, how his joints tickled and the back of his throat itched.
    She never forgot that.
    She tore the envelope open. Several glossy sheets fell on the concrete. It was from a travel agency. The fliers advertised package deals all over the world with illustrious beaches, endless sand and swaying palms on uninhabited islands.
    She flipped the pages over, admired the views and, one by one, dropped them into the recycling bin. But they seemed familiar. Where have I seen these?
    It was the last page.
    White sand was on one side of the island and cliffs on the other. The view was from above, taken from a helicopter or a drone. Maybe even a satellite .
    She’d seen this photo, seen this island.
    â€œAlex!”
    She dropped the photo. Samuel was on the back porch.
    â€œYou all right?” he asked.
    â€œYes, sure. Just...picked up the mail.”
    â€œYou want to finish the game?”
    â€œYes, of course.”
    How long had he been standing there? Was that what she felt?
    She wadded up the page and tossed it. Of course she hadn’t been there. She’d never been to a remote island in her life. She’d seen a thousand photos of beaches. She climbed the steps and noticed the red tulips in the bed Samuel had mulched.
    He stood with the door open. When she turned around, the tulips were yellow. Maybe she needed to schedule another appointment with Dr. Mallard or Dr. Johnstone. She wasn’t just hearing things.
    She was seeing them, too.

9.  Alessandra
    Upstate New York
    T he tulips’ petals had fallen.
    They rested on the mulch in various degrees of yellow, faded by sunlight and age, signaling the end of spring. Alex snipped the tulip stalks. She had plans for the backyard. A row of fruit trees against the fence and a vegetable garden in the corner.
    She entertained thoughts of moving to upstate New York or even western New Jersey, where they could purchase acreage. Samuel could still get to the city and, should she decide to write again, she could get to her agent.
    For now, she just wanted to be home.
    There was a hole in her glove and dirt was getting under her fingernail. She went to the garage and found another pair, almost new, in the bottom of a bucket, but they were too small even for her hands. They were for a child.
    Alex searched under the workbench for another pair of gloves. She noticed her briefcase stuffed inside a plastic bin. It was on top of a stack of papers, empty cups and sweaters. Samuel must’ve cleaned out her car.
    It had been months since she drove her car. In fact, she hadn’t even left their property.
    The leather smelled like work. Life was smooth now, like gliding over black ice. She hadn’t seen her briefcase since getting out of the hospital, hadn’t even thought about it. Half-written notes and unsigned contracts were mixed with traffic tickets.
    The small raincoat was at the bottom of the plastic bin. She pulled it out and something fell. It was the National Geographic , the one from the doctor’s office. She hadn’t seen it since the hospital.
    The bookmark.
    She’d forgotten about that. Her name had been written on the piece of notebook paper in green ink. It was rather shocking at the time. No one ever used her full name, not outside the family at least. Now it was gone.
    She smoothed the wrinkles on the cover. The island was small and isolated in an endless ocean. A sense of déjà vu passed through her. The issue was a few years old, which would explain the wear. She licked her fingers and flipped to the cover story.
    Places You’ll Never Want to Leave.
    The piece was dominated by photos of remote tropical