Read Online The Devil's Dream: Book One by David Beers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Beers
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Theory had been dramatically altered, whole textbooks being rewritten
because of those eighteen weeks.
Matthew
Brand quit school after that semester. Everything that came next
rested on Dr. Watson's class. The eight years prior were a warm up,
Brand trying to figure out how to get the things in his head out into
the world. What came next, no one expected.
Chapter Ten
What had he thought
once? That life was beautiful? Had he been so young as to think
something so incredibly false? He had and he understood differently
now. He no longer looked out of a twenty-eight year old's eyes. He no
longer saw his wife and their son. No longer held any of them.
Instead he gripped the steering wheel of the paint-peeling car he'd
picked up miles down the road and looked at the beach in front of
him. People walked back and forth in front of his car, wearing almost
nothing and smiling as they did it. Adam and Eve hid from Christ when
they realized they were naked, these people rejoiced in it. He looked
at the different body shapes: thin, fat, and looking like they had
just stepped out of a fitness magazine. It had been years since he
was able to look at people like this, been able to admire the human
body.
Matthew stepped from
his stolen car and walked out onto Daytona Beach, his shoes left
behind and his toes in the sand. No one looked at him. Here, he was
just another person on vacation trying to tan his pale skin. Here, he
was just another person trying to enjoy life. There was some truth to
that, too. He did want to enjoy this, for the first time in years, to
enjoy something besides murder.
He had no towel with
him, nothing to lay across the sand, but that was okay. He had his
shirt, and he'd ball that up and put it under his head and he would
be fine.
He found a spot that
gave him a little room, but not much. Summer season at Daytona was no
joke and people packed the beach. Matthew Brand took his shirt off in
front of anyone looking, probably having seen him on the news the
night before but not realizing it. His white skin and protruding ribs
made him resemble an AIDS patient in the last few months. Only his
eyes showed something that resembled life, completely taking in
everything around him, thirsting, trying to drink in all of the
vitality. His home of ice was sinking away, allowing him to remember
what life was like before they put him in that endless cage.
Remembering what it all meant. What he had fought so fucking hard to
give his son again. These people here, greased up and smiling,
drinking booze and talking about where they would eat tonight. It was
a waste of life and at the same time was life. All of these people
could be producing, could be making the world better in some small
way, but instead they sat here fulfilling themselves. Was he any
different?
No. He was only after
his own fulfillment as well.
He sat down on the
beach before reclining all the way, feeling the hot sand beneath his
fish-scale white skin. He didn't close his eyes but stared up into
the cloudless, blue sky not wanting to miss a bit of the world. He
knew he'd burn soon, within thirty minutes of sitting under these
rays his skin would turn a bright red and within an hour he would be
in danger of sun poisoning. The Silo they kept him in had delivered
all the vitamin D he needed, but not a speck of sunlight.
Matthew wanted to
think, though. Wanted to think and feel alive once again. He'd been
thinking for the past ten years, but it had been dead thoughts. The
closest thing to being a zombie any human being would ever know. Here
though, his thoughts danced instead of crawled.
The man he wanted lived
in Daytona, the son of Don Welch. His name was Joseph Welch and
Matthew imagined he went by Joe. Twenty years ago the boy had been
five. When they murdered Hilman, Joe Welch had only started
kindergarten, probably knowing his father as a police officer but not
knowing what his father had done or how he would be given a
not-guilty verdict. The
Theory had been dramatically altered, whole textbooks being rewritten
because of those eighteen weeks.
Matthew
Brand quit school after that semester. Everything that came next
rested on Dr. Watson's class. The eight years prior were a warm up,
Brand trying to figure out how to get the things in his head out into
the world. What came next, no one expected.
Chapter Ten
What had he thought
once? That life was beautiful? Had he been so young as to think
something so incredibly false? He had and he understood differently
now. He no longer looked out of a twenty-eight year old's eyes. He no
longer saw his wife and their son. No longer held any of them.
Instead he gripped the steering wheel of the paint-peeling car he'd
picked up miles down the road and looked at the beach in front of
him. People walked back and forth in front of his car, wearing almost
nothing and smiling as they did it. Adam and Eve hid from Christ when
they realized they were naked, these people rejoiced in it. He looked
at the different body shapes: thin, fat, and looking like they had
just stepped out of a fitness magazine. It had been years since he
was able to look at people like this, been able to admire the human
body.
Matthew stepped from
his stolen car and walked out onto Daytona Beach, his shoes left
behind and his toes in the sand. No one looked at him. Here, he was
just another person on vacation trying to tan his pale skin. Here, he
was just another person trying to enjoy life. There was some truth to
that, too. He did want to enjoy this, for the first time in years, to
enjoy something besides murder.
He had no towel with
him, nothing to lay across the sand, but that was okay. He had his
shirt, and he'd ball that up and put it under his head and he would
be fine.
He found a spot that
gave him a little room, but not much. Summer season at Daytona was no
joke and people packed the beach. Matthew Brand took his shirt off in
front of anyone looking, probably having seen him on the news the
night before but not realizing it. His white skin and protruding ribs
made him resemble an AIDS patient in the last few months. Only his
eyes showed something that resembled life, completely taking in
everything around him, thirsting, trying to drink in all of the
vitality. His home of ice was sinking away, allowing him to remember
what life was like before they put him in that endless cage.
Remembering what it all meant. What he had fought so fucking hard to
give his son again. These people here, greased up and smiling,
drinking booze and talking about where they would eat tonight. It was
a waste of life and at the same time was life. All of these people
could be producing, could be making the world better in some small
way, but instead they sat here fulfilling themselves. Was he any
different?
No. He was only after
his own fulfillment as well.
He sat down on the
beach before reclining all the way, feeling the hot sand beneath his
fish-scale white skin. He didn't close his eyes but stared up into
the cloudless, blue sky not wanting to miss a bit of the world. He
knew he'd burn soon, within thirty minutes of sitting under these
rays his skin would turn a bright red and within an hour he would be
in danger of sun poisoning. The Silo they kept him in had delivered
all the vitamin D he needed, but not a speck of sunlight.
Matthew wanted to
think, though. Wanted to think and feel alive once again. He'd been
thinking for the past ten years, but it had been dead thoughts. The
closest thing to being a zombie any human being would ever know. Here
though, his thoughts danced instead of crawled.
The man he wanted lived
in Daytona, the son of Don Welch. His name was Joseph Welch and
Matthew imagined he went by Joe. Twenty years ago the boy had been
five. When they murdered Hilman, Joe Welch had only started
kindergarten, probably knowing his father as a police officer but not
knowing what his father had done or how he would be given a
not-guilty verdict. The
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