Read Online Sleepside: The Collected Fantasies by Greg Bear - Free Book Online Page A

fading light of sunset turned his face orange and painted an orange square on the living room wall. The square had progressed above the level of the couch when the doorbell rang.
    It was Gina Hammond and a little girl he didn’t recognize. Hammond was about sixty with thinning black hair and a narrow, wizened face that always bore an irritated scowl. A cigarette was pinched between her fingers, as usual. She explained the visit between nervous stammers which embarrassed Thomas far more than they did her.
    â€œMr. Harker, this is my grand-daughter Julie.” The girl, seven or eight, looked up at him accusingly. “Julie says she’s lost four of her kittens. Th-th-that’s because she gave them to your boy to play with and he-he never brought them back. You know anything about them?”
    â€œWe don’t have any children, Mrs. Hammond.”
    â€œYou’ve got a boy named Richie,” the woman said, glaring at him as if he were a monster.
    Karen came out of the hallway and leaned against the door jamb beside Thomas. “Gina, Richie just wanders around our house a lot. He’s not ours.”
    â€œJulie says Richie lives here—he told h-h-her that—and his name is Richie Harker. What’s this all about i-i-if he isn’t your boy?”
    â€œHe took my kittens!” Julie said, a tear escaping to slide down her cheek.
    â€œIf that’s what he told you—that we’re his folks—he was fibbing,” Karen said. “He lives in town, closer to you than to us.”
    â€œHe brought the kittens to the beach!” Julie cried. “I saw him.”
    â€œHe hasn’t been here since this morning,” Thomas said. “We haven’t seen the kittens.”
    â€œHe stole ‘em!” The girl began crying in earnest.
    â€œI’ll talk to him next time I see him,” Thomas promised. “But I don’t know where he lives.”
    â€œH-h-his last name?”
    â€œDon’t know that, either.”
    Mrs. Hammond wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like the idea of little boys stealing things that don’t belong to them.”
    â€œNeither do I, Mrs. Hammond,” Karen said. “We told you we’d talk to him when we see him.”
    â€œWell,” Mrs. Hammond said. She thanked them beneath her breath and left with the blubbering Julie close behind.
    The storm hit after dinner. It was a heavy squall and the rain trounced over the roof as if the sky had feet. A leak started in the bathroom, fortunately right over the tub, and Thomas rummaged through his caulking gear, preparing for the storm’s end when he could get up on the roof and search out the leak.
    A small tool shed connected with the cabin through the garage. It had one bare light and a tiny four-paned window which stared at Thomas’s chest-level into the streaming night. As he dug out his putty knife and caulking cans, the phone rang in the kitchen and Karen answered it. Her voice came across as a murmur under the barrage of rain on the garage roof. He was putting all his supplies into a cardboard box when she stuck her head through the garage door and told him she’d be going out.
    â€œThe Thompsons have lost their power,” she said. “I’m going to take some candles to them on the beach road. I should be back in a few minutes, but they may want me to drive into town and buy some lanterns with them. If they do, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t worry about me!”
    Thomas came out of the shed clutching the box. “I could go instead.”
    â€œDon’t be silly. Give you more time to work on the sketches. I’ll be back soon. Tend the leaks.”
    Then she was out the front door and gone. He looked through the living room window at her receding lights and felt a gnaw of worry. He’d forgotten a rag to wipe the putty knife. He switched the light back on and went through the garage to the