Read Online Awoken by Timothy Miller - Free Book Online

feel a little sick, but I’ll be okay.”
    Mrs. Finche nodded to the geyser spraying up from the sidewalk. “I believe we’ve got a busted water main. My goodness, just look at this mess.”
    Leaning a little to the left so he could look past Mrs. Finche, Michael caught sight of Smiley’s car turning a corner farther up the street.
    Mrs. Finche tapped the spade against her cheek, oblivious to the mud deposited in its wake. “An earthquake, do you think?”
    “Earthquake?” Michael muttered absently. Smiley had known his name.
    “I’ll bet that was an earthquake,” Mrs. Finche asserted. “All that rumblin’ underfoot near shook my carrots right up out the ground. Near gave me a coronary ta’ boot!”
    His stomach was feeling better, good enough to get home, anyway. But what then? Smiley knew about the cat. Probably about the dollmen, too. He’d seen Michael’s silver eyes and witnessed the stonesong in action.
    “An earthquake, in Flintville of all places,” Mrs. Finche gushed. She lifted the spade to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Is that Emmitt Jenkins coming out of his house? Sure, it is. Emmitt, get your carcass back in there and call the mayor! We got us an earthquake to report!”
    Michael glanced down at his feet and spied the broken syringe lying on the grass. Why try to drug him? What did Smiley want?
    A rickety old man came down from a porch two houses away. Cane in hand, he hobbled toward them with a sour look on his face. “An earthquake?” he blustered. “Have you finally gone senile, Judith? There’s nothing out here but a busted water main. I heard the pipe rupture clear in the living room.”
    Mrs. Finche glared at the old man. “You’re the one who’s daft, Jenkins. Was a quake, I tell you. Ask the Wiffles’ boy if you don’t believe me.”
    Emmitt shook his cane like an unruly snake. “You don’t think I know the difference between a water main and an earthquake? Let me tell you, I—”
    “I have to go,” blurted Michael.
    Mrs. Finche gasped and dropped her spade as he rushed past her. He didn’t stop to pick up the garden implement as he sprinted for home.
    Smiley had known his name, and that meant he probably knew where he lived. He’d only been a block from home when Smiley stopped him.
    In seconds, he was cutting across the Wiffles’ driveway and up the porch. Flinging open the door, he burst into the living room. “Mr. and Mrs. Wiffle? Is anyone here?”
    Barbara stepped out of the kitchen, a dishrag in one hand and a bottle of glass cleaner in the other. “Karl’s still at work, dear. Dear you hear that crash? Was there an accident?”
    Michael ignored the question, slumping against the door in relief. Everything was okay. Smiley and his goon hadn’t been here yet. He still had time.
    Barbara gave him a puzzled look. “Are you all right, dear?”
    Michael forced a smile. “I’m just a little winded, Mrs. Wiffle. The library was closed. So I decided to run back.”
    “In this heat?” Barbara clucked her tongue. She seemed to have already forgotten questioning Michael about the noise outside, which was fine, since he had no good answer to give her. “You’re going to end up with heatstroke if you’re not careful.”
    “Yeah, it was kind of hot today.” Michael reached behind him and quietly engaged the deadbolt. “I’m beat. I think I’ll take a nap, if that’s okay with you.”
    Barbara waved her rag at him and went back into the kitchen. “As long as you’re down here for dinner, dear.”
    “No problem.”
    The time had come to leave Flintville. Smiley was coming for him, not the Wiffles. Michael wasn’t about to let them get hurt trying to protect him.
    “That reminds me,” Barbara called after him. “I was planning on making my meatloaf tonight, but you didn’t seem to care for it much last time. Did you want me to make something else?”
    Michael stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He still had to wait until dark before he