Read Online Crash by Eve Silver - Free Book Online

almost tell him about what just happened with the Drau, about the Committee sending Kendra to take it out before I could really communicate with it. But my brain can’t follow that path right now. It’s already too full.
    â€œLater,” I say.
    For a second, I think he’s going to press me. Then he nods.
    I break away and pace the room.
    He rests one shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
    I sit.
    He sits beside me.
    We wait for what feels like eternity, Jackson leaning back in his chair, legs splayed, his fingers linked behind hishead, me leaning forward, forearms resting on my thighs.
    Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “What’s taking them so long to get Dad ready for transfer?”
    Jackson checks his phone. “It’s been four and a half minutes.”
    I bound to my feet. I don’t know what to do with my hands. I can’t bear to talk. I can’t bear the silence. My thoughts tangle and knot, so I pick a single thread and follow it.
    â€œWhen we went back to the game, I didn’t respawn where I should have. I should have been running toward Luka, but I wasn’t.”
    Jackson lowers his hands and sits up straighter. “You want to talk about this now?”
    â€œYes. No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
    â€œOkay,” Jackson says, leaning back again. “Let me know when you figure it out.”
    â€œYou’re being amenable.”
    â€œAmenable’s one way to describe it.”
    Seconds crawl past.
    â€œI wish a nurse would come.” I wish someone would take me to see Dad. Talk to him. Watch his chest move as he breathes. I just need proof he’s alive.
    I wish someone would come tell me that Carly’s okay. That I can see her, hug her.
    Mom always used to say, If wishes were pennies . . .
    It hits me that I’m silently pleading for Dad to be okay, for Carly to be okay. Wishing. Pleading. Begging. Like theDrau, begging for mercy. The image won’t leave me alone. Maybe this is the time to talk about it.
    â€œIt wasn’t just the weird respawn,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Something else happened. It might be important.” I look up at Jackson’s eyes, but all I see are reflections of myself in his mirrored shades.
    â€œImportant right this minute?” Jackson asks. “To the things happening right now?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen you don’t need to think about it. You don’t need to talk about anything having to do with the game. It’ll keep.” He sits forward again. “Unless you want to talk about it. Then go right ahead, if it will help.”
    My gaze slides to the TV, and I remember the creepy feeling of being watched and my suspicion that the Drau were spying on us through the screen. Is that even possible, or am I being paranoid?
    â€œI—” I choke on my words.
    It’s all too much. Thoughts bombard me and images flash behind my eyes like a strobe light: The Drau getting swallowed by the black ooze from Kendra’s weapon. The image flickers and shifts to Daddy, covered in blood, trapped in crumpled metal. Daddy, cold and white and dead. Then Carly, lying dead on the floor of the school after the Drau crossed over into the Halloween dance, blood flowering on yellow spandex. Carly, dead on the cold ground in front of the twisted remains of the Explorer.
    I wrap my arms around myself. I don’t want theseimages in my head. I shove them out but they bounce right back in.
    Jackson rises and pulls me into his arms. “What is it?” he whispers against my hair.
    â€œOveractive imagination. I keep picturing everything turning out bad, and not just here. There , too. I keep seeing possibilities, none of them good.”
    â€œThe doctor was optimistic about your dad. Focus on that. Don’t let yourself think about the game.”
    â€œThat’s just it. I’m not thinking about the game,