Read Online The Shimmer by David Morrell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Morrell
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Suspense fiction, Espionage, supernatural, Texas, Military Bases, Spectators
Ads: Link
coffee. I still had a long way to drive to get to San Antonio, and I wondered if I might need to stop somewhere for the night. Interstate 10 goes southeast along the Mexican border until it gets to a town called Esperanza, where the highway cuts directly east to San Antonio. I figured Esperanza might be a good place to stop." She paused. "Interesting name for a town."
"'Esperanza'?" Page had lived in the Southwest long enough to know that the word was Spanish for "hope."
Tori smiled at something in the darkness. Page waited, beginning to feel afraid. A minute later, she continued. Her voice was so calm that it was as if she were reading a bedtime story to a child.
"I looked toward the bottom of the map to find the inches-tomiles scale and figure out how much farther I needed to go. But as my eyes drifted past the names of towns, one of them caught my attention: Rostov. It must have been tucked away in my memory all these years. Amazing.
"Suddenly that night came back to me as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. I remembered that the roadside toilet had a sign on the door: 'Property of Rostov County.' I remembered coming out of the toilet and seeing what was in the darkness past the fence. I remembered how angry my father got when he didn't understand what I was talking about and threw me into the car. I could feel the tears in my eyes and how I wiped them and stared through the back window toward the darkness until I couldn't see anything out there anymore as we drove away.
"We drove so long that eventually I fell asleep in the back seat.
Even then, I dreamed about them."
"There!" someone at the fence exclaimed, pointing.
"So I finished my coffee and folded the map and got in the car," Tori said. "When I reached Esperanza, instead of stopping for the night, I kept driving, but I didn't turn east on Interstate 10 to go to San Antonio. Instead I took a county road and kept following it southeast along the border. The sun went down, but I kept driving until I got here. This observation platform didn't exist back then--there were just the toi lets. I was afraid I'd discover that my memory had tricked me, that what I'd seen that night had been only a damned fool kid's imagination, exactly as my father had insisted."
"There's another one!" someone exclaimed.
Tori smiled toward where a man pointed, and she fell silent again.
In a while, she continued, "It was late. Hardly anybody was around. I can't describe the relief I felt when I stepped out of the car and looked past that fence and saw that what I'd remembered--and what I realize now I've been dreaming about all these years--was real. I came over and sat on this bench, in the same spot where I'm sitting now and the same spot where I sat last night, and I didn't want to do anything but stay here the rest of the night and look at what I'd seen when I was ten.
"My life might have been so much different if my father had just allowed me to watch a little longer."
"Different?" Page asked. "How?"
Tori didn't answer. That sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the night air.
"Watch as long as you want," Page said.
"I will."
"I didn't come here to stop you," he tried to assure her.
"I know. Besides, you can't."
Page looked over at Costigan, who continued to lean protectively against the nearby post. He spread his hands as if to say, Are you starting to get the idea?
But Page didn't get anything, not anything at all. He was mystified.
And afraid. He worried that Tori was having some kind of breakdown.
If so, he realized, looking around silently, apparently a lot of other people were having the same breakdown.
"Tori . . ."
She continued smiling wistfully toward the darkness.
"I love you," he said. The words came out before he realized. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said them. He didn't get a reaction.
"Tori, tell me what you're seeing. Help me see it, too."
"I don't think you can," she said.
"But how do you know?"
"For the same
"'Esperanza'?" Page had lived in the Southwest long enough to know that the word was Spanish for "hope."
Tori smiled at something in the darkness. Page waited, beginning to feel afraid. A minute later, she continued. Her voice was so calm that it was as if she were reading a bedtime story to a child.
"I looked toward the bottom of the map to find the inches-tomiles scale and figure out how much farther I needed to go. But as my eyes drifted past the names of towns, one of them caught my attention: Rostov. It must have been tucked away in my memory all these years. Amazing.
"Suddenly that night came back to me as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. I remembered that the roadside toilet had a sign on the door: 'Property of Rostov County.' I remembered coming out of the toilet and seeing what was in the darkness past the fence. I remembered how angry my father got when he didn't understand what I was talking about and threw me into the car. I could feel the tears in my eyes and how I wiped them and stared through the back window toward the darkness until I couldn't see anything out there anymore as we drove away.
"We drove so long that eventually I fell asleep in the back seat.
Even then, I dreamed about them."
"There!" someone at the fence exclaimed, pointing.
"So I finished my coffee and folded the map and got in the car," Tori said. "When I reached Esperanza, instead of stopping for the night, I kept driving, but I didn't turn east on Interstate 10 to go to San Antonio. Instead I took a county road and kept following it southeast along the border. The sun went down, but I kept driving until I got here. This observation platform didn't exist back then--there were just the toi lets. I was afraid I'd discover that my memory had tricked me, that what I'd seen that night had been only a damned fool kid's imagination, exactly as my father had insisted."
"There's another one!" someone exclaimed.
Tori smiled toward where a man pointed, and she fell silent again.
In a while, she continued, "It was late. Hardly anybody was around. I can't describe the relief I felt when I stepped out of the car and looked past that fence and saw that what I'd remembered--and what I realize now I've been dreaming about all these years--was real. I came over and sat on this bench, in the same spot where I'm sitting now and the same spot where I sat last night, and I didn't want to do anything but stay here the rest of the night and look at what I'd seen when I was ten.
"My life might have been so much different if my father had just allowed me to watch a little longer."
"Different?" Page asked. "How?"
Tori didn't answer. That sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the night air.
"Watch as long as you want," Page said.
"I will."
"I didn't come here to stop you," he tried to assure her.
"I know. Besides, you can't."
Page looked over at Costigan, who continued to lean protectively against the nearby post. He spread his hands as if to say, Are you starting to get the idea?
But Page didn't get anything, not anything at all. He was mystified.
And afraid. He worried that Tori was having some kind of breakdown.
If so, he realized, looking around silently, apparently a lot of other people were having the same breakdown.
"Tori . . ."
She continued smiling wistfully toward the darkness.
"I love you," he said. The words came out before he realized. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said them. He didn't get a reaction.
"Tori, tell me what you're seeing. Help me see it, too."
"I don't think you can," she said.
"But how do you know?"
"For the same
Similar Books
