Read Online Run by Michaelbrent Collings - Free Book Online
Authors: Michaelbrent Collings
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form of Dallas Howard’s enraptured face. Obviously he had noticed the new student - Kaylie Devorough, the slip said - as well, and was equally struck by her, although for far more obvious and biological reasons than John.
A sly grin spread across John’s face. "Well, class, it seems we have a new student. And you know what we do to new students around here."
A chorus of voices rang out. "We eat them!"
One of the kids cackled like a witch while two or three others dissolved into more genuine laughter. Kaylie stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as she realized that this class was likely to be less than torturous.
John turned to face the newest addition to his class. "Well, Ms. Devorough, I’m Mr. Trent and welcome to Computer Sciences. Today we’re loading websites the students have designed."
Kaylie stuttered, "I don’t...that is...."
"You don’t know much about computers?"
She shook her head.
"That’s okay, I’m not sure I do, either. So we’ll sit you with someone who knows what he’s doing." John pretended to scan the classroom, though in fact his choice was already made. "Why don’t you sit with Mr. Howard?"
John guided Kaylie to Dallas’ desk, and the boy’s face lit up. Was this Heaven? John didn’t think so; indeed, he no longer believed there was such a place.
But, if this isn’t Heaven, John thought, then at least it can be a good place. I can try to make it better.
Dallas’ face was red, but glowing with excitement as Kaylie moved her slim frame near to him, sitting beside him and letting him explain what he was doing.
John pulled himself away from them with difficulty, trying to cast off the webs of strangeness that had cast themselves about him with the entrance of the new student. He moved into a different row, and work resumed as the class returned to their individual projects. John began his roving again, wandering up and down rows in an apparently directionless pattern that somehow took him by each student who needed his help at just the right time.
He helped the students where he could, laughed with them where he could not, and above all tried to shake loose the thought that had come into his head. The thought from that night, and from so long ago. The thought that had returned to his mind with Kaylie’s entry into the room. Someone is coming .
FAN HQ, AD 3999/AE 1999
Malachi sat in his cell. Waiting. He lay on the cot that was the only piece of furniture in the spare cell. Monks in the Dark Ages lived more ostentatiously than did he, and Malachi, though not proud of that fact, was happy to suffer for his cause.
He was nude. The darkness of the room caressed his body, touching it with the gentle feel of a lover. He savored the darkness. His eyes were rolled back in his head, as though he were trying to look at his own brain. To see why it made him think the way it did, as though visual perception of the gray mass would be able to further confirm what he already knew: genius resided in his mind. Genius and more.
Malachi was one of the elect. He had served well, and would continue to do so.
Fire flared in the darkness. The breath sighed gently from Malachi's lips as he watched the ghostly incandescence dance through the room. No heat came from it, only a dry coolness. That was what told him that the flame existed only to him.
A vision from God, it had to be.
The flame danced, and Malachi thought he could see the last bodies of the last men and women on earth as their lives extinguished.
The final face he saw dying in the fire was his own.
His hand clenched into a fist, as though tightly gripping the barrel of his gun. He remembered shooting Lucas, and replayed it in his mind: that wonderful moment when the man realized that his life would end. Lucas’ eyes trying to look in every direction at once, as though the more he could see, the less he would lose.
The moment of clarity was
A sly grin spread across John’s face. "Well, class, it seems we have a new student. And you know what we do to new students around here."
A chorus of voices rang out. "We eat them!"
One of the kids cackled like a witch while two or three others dissolved into more genuine laughter. Kaylie stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as she realized that this class was likely to be less than torturous.
John turned to face the newest addition to his class. "Well, Ms. Devorough, I’m Mr. Trent and welcome to Computer Sciences. Today we’re loading websites the students have designed."
Kaylie stuttered, "I don’t...that is...."
"You don’t know much about computers?"
She shook her head.
"That’s okay, I’m not sure I do, either. So we’ll sit you with someone who knows what he’s doing." John pretended to scan the classroom, though in fact his choice was already made. "Why don’t you sit with Mr. Howard?"
John guided Kaylie to Dallas’ desk, and the boy’s face lit up. Was this Heaven? John didn’t think so; indeed, he no longer believed there was such a place.
But, if this isn’t Heaven, John thought, then at least it can be a good place. I can try to make it better.
Dallas’ face was red, but glowing with excitement as Kaylie moved her slim frame near to him, sitting beside him and letting him explain what he was doing.
John pulled himself away from them with difficulty, trying to cast off the webs of strangeness that had cast themselves about him with the entrance of the new student. He moved into a different row, and work resumed as the class returned to their individual projects. John began his roving again, wandering up and down rows in an apparently directionless pattern that somehow took him by each student who needed his help at just the right time.
He helped the students where he could, laughed with them where he could not, and above all tried to shake loose the thought that had come into his head. The thought from that night, and from so long ago. The thought that had returned to his mind with Kaylie’s entry into the room. Someone is coming .
FAN HQ, AD 3999/AE 1999
Malachi sat in his cell. Waiting. He lay on the cot that was the only piece of furniture in the spare cell. Monks in the Dark Ages lived more ostentatiously than did he, and Malachi, though not proud of that fact, was happy to suffer for his cause.
He was nude. The darkness of the room caressed his body, touching it with the gentle feel of a lover. He savored the darkness. His eyes were rolled back in his head, as though he were trying to look at his own brain. To see why it made him think the way it did, as though visual perception of the gray mass would be able to further confirm what he already knew: genius resided in his mind. Genius and more.
Malachi was one of the elect. He had served well, and would continue to do so.
Fire flared in the darkness. The breath sighed gently from Malachi's lips as he watched the ghostly incandescence dance through the room. No heat came from it, only a dry coolness. That was what told him that the flame existed only to him.
A vision from God, it had to be.
The flame danced, and Malachi thought he could see the last bodies of the last men and women on earth as their lives extinguished.
The final face he saw dying in the fire was his own.
His hand clenched into a fist, as though tightly gripping the barrel of his gun. He remembered shooting Lucas, and replayed it in his mind: that wonderful moment when the man realized that his life would end. Lucas’ eyes trying to look in every direction at once, as though the more he could see, the less he would lose.
The moment of clarity was
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