Read Online Dividing Earth: A Novel of Dark Fantasy by Troy Stoops - Free Book Online Page B

something’s going on,” he said, turning, his long white jacket billowing around his slacks. “It’s just settling in. Most likely, you have the flu and a hell of a hemorrhoid.”
    “Shouldn’t we draw blood, do a biopsy . . . .”
    “Slow down.” Matt’s chuckle was strained. “You know what to do,” he said, snapping the gloves.
    Robert scooted from the bench and dropped his pants. He’d had this done for the first time eight months ago. He turned, set his hands on the tissue paper, and assumed the position. Thick beads of sweat ran between his fingers. He winced when Matt began. Maybe it was the size of his meat hooks, but the man did not have a delicate touch.
    “No, pretty normal—oh.” Matt withdrew his hand.
    “What is it?”
    “Nothing,” said Matt, strolling over to the waste basket, dropping the gloves in.
    Robert bowed his head. “Tell me.”
    “I’m sending Marie in. She’ll take a vial. Can you be here in the morning?”
    Robert raised his slacks, clasped his belt. “I . . . I have a class.”
    “Get a sub. I’ll see you at seven, and don’t be late.” Then he left, called for Marie to bring a needle.
    6
    The offices of You’re Home, Inc. were located by the food court in the Simola Straight Town Center. Malls had always been her worst enemy: shoes, purses, perfume, and smart outfits exclaimed This is what you need to be complete.
    She drove around the food court’s parking, but failed to locate a space, so she settled on the lot by Sears. After parking, she moved through the huge department store with four grand in her purse. It was a gauntlet, but she made it without perusing a thing. Outside Sears, she evaded the carny barkers at the jewelry kiosks, bypassed the survey-takers with clipboards, and did not turn her head toward the entrances of the other department stores. Her breathing returned to normal once she saw the sign for You’re Home.
    Behind a counter a broad, partitioned room was flooded with fluorescent light. A black woman in dreadlocks rolled her eyes. “Hello,” she chirped. “What can I do for you?”
    “I . . .uh—” mumbled Veronica, out of breath.
    The woman rose and came to the counter. “It’s okay, sweetie, catch your wind.”
    “I need to make a payment.”
    “All right,” the woman replied, flipping the front page of the receipt book. “Will that be check or cashier’s check?”
    Veronica’s heart hammered. “I have cash.”
    “Sweetie, I can’t take cash.”
    She ran the numbers: their checking account was close to being overdrawn and a bad check was grounds for termination, but if she deposited the funds first thing in the morning, she should be alright.
    Veronica opened her purse, took out her billfold, flipped it open on her checks and began writing the date. “I’ll write you a check. Sorry, I should’ve known,” she said, laughing, tearing out the check.
    The woman took it and stepped to the computer. As soon as the account popped up there was a beep. Her eyes dashed to Veronica and back.
    She blushed. “I know it’s late. Had a death in the family.”
    “Oh,” said the woman. “You do know your property tax is overdue, correct?”
    “No. Are you sure?”
    The woman nodded.
    “How much more do I owe?”
    The woman consulted her screen. “Let’s see,” she said, hitting keys. “Twelve hundred and four dollars. And eleven cents.”
    Veronica’s stomach turned. Her mouth dropped open. She wouldn’t have enough to catch up the car payments. She thought she’d borrowed too much, but now? With the penalties and unpaid interest on three loans, plus property taxes? Smiling weakly, she started writing another check. “Just give me a moment,” she said. She tore it off and shifted her stance, hoping she wouldn’t faint.
    The woman lifted her fingers from the keys and a receipt slid out of a plastic box. She tore it off, handed it to Veronica. “Looks like you’re safe for another month,” said the woman, her eyebrow