Read Online Community by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online Page A

meetings and special discussion groups that have been organized. The first of these will be tomorrow afternoon at three pm, a symposium on today’s economic crisis, by invitation only.’
    Kingsley Vane went through a long list of community activities, and then he finally closed his folder and said, ‘Any questions? Any problems?’
    One middle-aged man with a gray buzz-cut immediately raised his hand and said, ‘My stepdaughter and me, we haven’t been getting along too good lately. She keeps talking about leaving home. I mean, what happens if
that
happens? Doesn’t she understand? How can I make her understand without scaring her any?’
    Kingsley Vane said, ‘It’s Jeff, isn’t it? Jeff Billings? And your stepdaughter’s name is Tracey, if I recall?’
    â€˜That’s right, Tracey. Should have been christened “Trouble”, if you ask me.’
    â€˜Well, don’t you worry, Jeff. Sometimes our younger residents don’t quite grasp the implications of leaving Trinity. They’re not mature enough to understand the concept of mutual support, and how important it is to all of us. But I have people at the clinic who can talk to Tracey for you and put her choices into perspective without causing her overdue anxiety. If you see me afterward, we’ll arrange something.’
    After a few more questions about mundane problems like frozen pipes and interrupted broadband connections and dogs fouling the footways, the formal part of the meeting broke up. Everybody shuffled through to a smaller room at the back of the hall, where a buffet had been laid out on a long table – chicken wraps and slices of pizza and corn chips and various dips, as well as cookies and brownies. At the far end of the room, two elderly women were serving tea and coffee and soda.
    Michael took a slice of pepperoni pizza and then looked around for the girl in the blue bobble cap. He glimpsed her at the drinks table, waiting for one of the women to make her a glass of Russian tea, and he was just about to maneuver his way through the room to talk to her when a broad-shouldered young man with a shaven head and earrings blocked his way and said, ‘Dude! What happened to you?’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Michael. ‘Auto wreck.’
    The thickset young man nodded sympathetically. ‘Came off my sickle. I was so smashed up they gave me the last rites, right there on the blacktop.’
    â€˜Well, it looks like they patched you up pretty good.’
    In spite of his shaven head and his bulky build and his earrings, the young man had a broad, friendly face, with expressive brown eyes. He was wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and a black T-shirt with a color transfer of Jesus on it, holding up one hand in blessing, and the motto
Jesus Waves
.
    â€˜Jack Barr,’ he said, holding out his hand.
    Michael shifted his walking stick to his left hand and shook hands with him. ‘Greg Merrick.’
    â€˜Kind of weird, this place, don’t you think?’ said Jack, looking around the room.
    â€˜So you’re not from round here?’
    â€˜Do I look like it? I come from Solana Beach, near San Diego.’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said Michael. ‘I don’t think this place is any weirder than any other small community I’ve ever been to.’ Not that he could specifically remember any other small community that he had ever been to, nor any of their names.
    Jack said, ‘Everybody’s pretty friendly, I guess. Especially the family I’m staying with. They treat me like their long-lost son. Well, long-lost
dog
, more like.’
    â€˜You’re staying here to recuperate? How long for, do you know? Me – they told me at least three months.’
    â€˜Yeah, me too. Hit my head when I totaled my sickle so I have some sort of contusion on the brain. Find it difficult to concentrate, know what I mean? Very short span of