Read Online Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bill Robinson
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Superhero, Superheroes
Ads: Link
inside the closed door, reach inside myself to squeeze the light. My pants fall down. I toss them to the side, remove the now too large shirt, and go take another shower. I have had no sleep, but I feel more relaxed and refreshed than I normally do after 10 hours.
I meet my crew for the airport shuttle and we head for home. At 35,000 feet, I wonder how long it will be before I can do this without the 757. Then a little light reminds me that I have limited time. In something less than 1,094 days, I will be dead.
Chapter 5
Grabbing the molecules with my feet, I slam them hard at an angle and tilt my body toward the open sky above. Shooting less than straight upward, the dark gold colored glass windows of the Bank of California building come angling at me at an alarming rate, exactly what I was trying to avoid. I grab a few more molecules and shove away as hard as I can. Rocketing even faster now, I clear the top of the building without making contact, missing the windows by inches, my joy lasting a whole two seconds until I hear the unmistakable sound of shattering, and turn to watch helplessly as the shards from a dozen or more huge glass panes disappear below me in the night sky, falling to earth.
"Fuck me." Three mother fucking months of practicing almost every fucking night and I still can't get it right. Even the light doesn't find me funny any more. It's frustrated beyond belief, which makes my frustration all the more mind numbing.
A million dollars in road damage in Hawaii. Shattered windows from here to Vegas to Denver on my first attempt at cross country flight that not only went to four times the speed of sound (Mach 4 for you air buffs), not only caused tens of thousands of dollars of damage, but started at least forty conspiracy buff web sites on everything from alien space ships to secret air force planes to terrorist plots. It did teach me that I am almost, but not quite, invisible on radar. Further testing suggests that I am 100 percent stealthy, it's my clothes that are not. If you can figure out what I did to test that theory, keep it to yourself.
The worst was the first time I got cocky and tried to navigate downtown LA at high speed. I came home literally covered in shit. They are supposed to put the sewer pipes inside the frakking buildings, but nooooo, someone paid off some building inspector, and the budding superhero, going too fast, breaches the wall of an older brick building, busts the pipe, and finds himself covered in God knows what. Something that three showers was not enough to clear away.
I did learn that I can get from downtown LA out into deep water in well under three minutes. Of course, that also meant I was supersonic, which meant blown out windows from the 101 through South Central, northern Orange County and a couple coastal cities. It's also the only time I have flown directly home, which still has me worried someone saw something.
West Hawaii Today confirmed not only my road damage, but that native Hawaiians are convinced that Pele was warning them of a major impending eruption from Kilauea. I've learned to run about 150 mph without causing damage, and been up to her volcano a couple of times to apologize with offerings of food (Twinkies actually, which she may not regard as food). The question is will I ever be faster on my feet than in a Ferrari? The real question is shouldn't Pele be happy with me for ripping up the white man's road? Couldn't she be helping me out with this powers thing? I do remember that she killed her husbands, so maybe I won't ask.
I'm convinced because of the view from inside the blurry that time is being affected around me. That's why I can run faster than my human brain should be able to control, and why everything looks normal and too fast all at that same time. It still makes me nauseous to travel top speed, in the air or on the ground.
I haven't saved one life, human or tree
I meet my crew for the airport shuttle and we head for home. At 35,000 feet, I wonder how long it will be before I can do this without the 757. Then a little light reminds me that I have limited time. In something less than 1,094 days, I will be dead.
Chapter 5
Grabbing the molecules with my feet, I slam them hard at an angle and tilt my body toward the open sky above. Shooting less than straight upward, the dark gold colored glass windows of the Bank of California building come angling at me at an alarming rate, exactly what I was trying to avoid. I grab a few more molecules and shove away as hard as I can. Rocketing even faster now, I clear the top of the building without making contact, missing the windows by inches, my joy lasting a whole two seconds until I hear the unmistakable sound of shattering, and turn to watch helplessly as the shards from a dozen or more huge glass panes disappear below me in the night sky, falling to earth.
"Fuck me." Three mother fucking months of practicing almost every fucking night and I still can't get it right. Even the light doesn't find me funny any more. It's frustrated beyond belief, which makes my frustration all the more mind numbing.
A million dollars in road damage in Hawaii. Shattered windows from here to Vegas to Denver on my first attempt at cross country flight that not only went to four times the speed of sound (Mach 4 for you air buffs), not only caused tens of thousands of dollars of damage, but started at least forty conspiracy buff web sites on everything from alien space ships to secret air force planes to terrorist plots. It did teach me that I am almost, but not quite, invisible on radar. Further testing suggests that I am 100 percent stealthy, it's my clothes that are not. If you can figure out what I did to test that theory, keep it to yourself.
The worst was the first time I got cocky and tried to navigate downtown LA at high speed. I came home literally covered in shit. They are supposed to put the sewer pipes inside the frakking buildings, but nooooo, someone paid off some building inspector, and the budding superhero, going too fast, breaches the wall of an older brick building, busts the pipe, and finds himself covered in God knows what. Something that three showers was not enough to clear away.
I did learn that I can get from downtown LA out into deep water in well under three minutes. Of course, that also meant I was supersonic, which meant blown out windows from the 101 through South Central, northern Orange County and a couple coastal cities. It's also the only time I have flown directly home, which still has me worried someone saw something.
West Hawaii Today confirmed not only my road damage, but that native Hawaiians are convinced that Pele was warning them of a major impending eruption from Kilauea. I've learned to run about 150 mph without causing damage, and been up to her volcano a couple of times to apologize with offerings of food (Twinkies actually, which she may not regard as food). The question is will I ever be faster on my feet than in a Ferrari? The real question is shouldn't Pele be happy with me for ripping up the white man's road? Couldn't she be helping me out with this powers thing? I do remember that she killed her husbands, so maybe I won't ask.
I'm convinced because of the view from inside the blurry that time is being affected around me. That's why I can run faster than my human brain should be able to control, and why everything looks normal and too fast all at that same time. It still makes me nauseous to travel top speed, in the air or on the ground.
I haven't saved one life, human or tree
Similar Books
