Read Online End of the Century by Chris Roberson - Free Book Online

throw the empty bag and bottle away. The bag was no big deal, she could just wad it up in her pocket, but the bottle was cumbersome and needed to be ditched.
    She'd gone all the way through Paddington, and crossed Bayswater Road into Hyde Park. The Frommer's said she had to stop and check out the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, which as near as Alice could tell was the other half of the same park, but the walk was already taking longer than she'd expected, and she was eager to get to the London Eye and get on with her destiny, whatever it was. Maybe when she got through with her mission from God or whatever she could work in a bit of sightseeing, but in the meantime it was strictly business.
    Alice continued through Hyde Park, past people walking dogs and couples on bicycles and little kids with balloons. She crossed the street near a big memorial of some kind, an arch with a statue of a woman with wings riding a chariot pulled by four horses. Or maybe it was a man. It definitely had wings, though, which led Alice to wonder why it was riding the chariot in the first place, if it could fly. Either way, she couldn't find it on the Frommer's map, so it didn't seem to be all that important.
    She was passing Buckingham Palace and still hadn't seen a trash can anywhere. Not a single one since she'd left the store with her Pepsi and chips. Looking at the map, she realized she'd walked the better part of a mile and was still carrying the empty bottle.
    For a normal person, this would have been a minor annoyance, at worst. And even Alice, on her better days, would likely have shrugged it off as no big deal. But she was tired, hungry, hadn't bathed in two days, and was on a mission from God, and was damned if she was going to haul an empty Pepsi bottle all over creation, just because the damned British couldn't seem to put trash cans in convenient places for people who needed them.
    By the time Alice finally stopped and asked someone where the nearest trash can was, she'd worked herself into a searing white hot rage. There was a crowd around Buckingham Palace, the sort that only gathers in the States to see the president, or maybe Michael Jackson, so Alice figured one of the royal family must be at home. Or maybe Michael Jackson was visiting, instead.
    Alice went up to a guy who looked like a local. For all she knew, he could have been from Texas.
    â€œHey, where can I find a goddamned trash can?” Alice voice hissed through her clenched teeth, and she brandished the empty Pepsi bottle like a club.
    â€œA what, now?” The guy's accent put him somewhere closer to home than Texas, which was a step in the right direction.
    â€œA trash can.” Alice waved the bottle in front of his nose. “You know, for trash?”
    â€œAh, a rubbish bin?” The guy brightened. Then he shook his head. “Not many of those around, I'm afraid.”
    Alice seethed, and wondered how much damage she could do to the guy with an empty plastic bottle. Probably not much, she decided, but it might be satisfying to try. “Why. Not.”
    â€œGood question,” the guy said, blinking. “IRA, I expect. Used to put bombs in them, you see. I suppose the authorities figured it was easier just to clear the bins out altogether instead of checking them for explosives at all hours.”
    â€œThat…that's crazy !” Alice was full on yelling now. “And believe me, I know crazy!”
    The guy seemed less than amused to find himself getting yelled at by a strange American girl in the street. “Now, see here…”
    â€œNo, you see here!” Alice reached out and shoved the guy in the shoulder, causing him to step back to keep his balance. Alice was shorter, just a hair over five foot two, but she packed a punch. “I'm tired of carrying this damned thing around, and you people aren't doing anything to help. Don't you get that I've got things to do?”
    The guy's eyes narrowed for a moment,