Read Online Strange Country Day by Charles Curtis - Free Book Online

down the metal corridor for what felt like a few blocks of our suburb before we reached a door. No ear or palm this time. Dad glanced at his watch and spoke loudly. “Aardvark-seven-oh-beta-centaur.” Another circular opening appeared. “The password changes every two minutes,” he explained as we waited.
    The room in front of us lit up. I could see all kinds of machines—some looked like treadmills or the weights I used to work out with at school. There were wires everywhere connected to a bunch of computers with enormous screens; some lit up as we entered. I felt my heart start to pound a little when I saw a silver table and a tray full of syringes.
    “Welcome to your new training center for the next two weeks,” Dad explained as he walked over to a keyboard. “Let’s begin.”
    On that first Monday, he got the needles over with. He took blood and put some of it under a giant microscope. Minutes later, he showed me the results on one of the giant screens. It looked like a bunch of red cells, with silver spots scattered between the reddish dots. He focused further. Staring back at us was exactly what he’d drawn on Saturday night: a metallic sphere with a small opening in it. We sat in silence, watching the sphere move around. “There’s plenty more where that came from,” Dad said.
    Tuesday was absolutely exhausting. Dad had me on a treadmill while I was connected to hundreds of wires and tubes. At first, I just jogged, and he took readings. Nothing seemed to be happening. Dad pressed a few buttons to force me to speed up, but there was no familiar burst of energy or strength. He tried a few different strategies. Once, he put on really loud, fast rock music while I ran. Then he added videos that looked pretty normal—a dog running down a street, a woman getting into her car—but a scary image like a disfigured face would randomly pop out and scream. That made me jump for a second, but still, even while running on the treadmill, there was nothing.
    “I need just one good reading and we’ll have a better understanding of exactly what’s going on,” he said while I guzzled Gatorade during a break.
    “Why don’t you try something besides a treadmill?” I said between long gulps, still attached to the mess of wires.
    “Your break is over.”
    I said something quietly to myself about how Coach Schmick was easier on me than my dad and stepped back on what had become my greatest foe. Dad set it at a decent pace, and I kept up.
    “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re refusing to cooperate, Alex.” Dad’s voice was stern. I heard him click on the keyboard, and an Internet browser popped up on the screen in front of me with a new email window. Dad began typing.
    Sophi,
    I realized I’m too busy to date you anymore. Between my schoolwork and football, life has become too hectic. I hope you’ll understand.
    “Dad, what are you doing?”
    “I’m going to send this email to Sophi right now if you don’t start doing something.”
    The treadmill started moving faster. “What? You wouldn’t!” I yelled between gasps.
    At the top of the screen popped Sophi‘s actual email address. My heart beat faster.
    “Alex, either do what you’re told or I’m sending this.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    He typed more at the bottom: I never really liked you. And you’re not as good looking as you think.
    “Dad!!”
    “One last time: do what I want,” he said coldly. I started pulling at the wires but I couldn’t do that and stay on the treadmill at the same time. He wrote a sentence: You are a two-colored-eye freak. The cursor on the screen moved toward the “send” button as the treadmill got faster and faster.
    “NO!”
    Squeeeeeeeee
    I kept pace with the treadmill as I watched the cursor hover over the “send” button. But after a few seconds, my legs began to slow down. I heard Dad say, “Oh no!” as the treadmill threw me back. The wires snapped off me and I landed hard on my