Read Online Thirst No. 1 by Christopher Pike - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Pike
Tags: Paranormal, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Other, Love & Romance, Horror & Ghost Stories, Legends; Myths; Fables
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"Maybe." I give him a quick kiss. "Or maybe I'll just fly home."
5
At Ray's house I wait in the car while he goes in to see if his father has returned, or if there is a message from him. Naturally, I am not surprised when Ray returns a couple of minutes later downcast. The cold has sobered him up, and he is worried. He climbs into the car beside me and turns the key in the ignition.
"No luck?" I ask.
"No. But I got the key to his building. We won't have to break in."
"That's a relief." While I had Ray look away, I intended just to break the lock.
We drive to the building I visited only forty-eight hours earlier. It is another cold night.
Throughout the years I have gravitated toward the warmer climates, such as my native India. Why I have chosen to come to Oregon, I am not sure. I glance over at Ray and wonder if it has something to do with him. But of course I don't believe that because I don't believe in destiny, much less in miracles. I do not believe Krishna was God, or if he was God—maybe he was God, I simply do not know for sure—then I do not believe he knew what he was doing when he created the universe. I have such contempt for the lotus-eyed one.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) Yet, after all these years, I have never been able to stop thinking about him.
Krishna. Krishna. Krishna.
Even his name haunts me.
Ray lets us into the building. Soon we are standing outside Mr. Michael Riley's office door. Ray searches for another key, finds it. We step inside. The lights are off; he could leave them off and I would still be able to find my way around. But he turns them on and heads straight into his father's office. He sits at the computer while I stand off to one side.
I survey the floor. Minute drops of blood have seeped into and dried in the cracks between the tiles. They are not noticeable to mortal eyes, but the police will find them if they search. I decide, no matter what happens, that I must return and do a more thorough cleaning. Ray boots the computer and hastily enters the secret password, thinking that I do not catch it. But I do—RAYGUN.
"Can you check what his latest entries were?" I ask.
"That's exactly what I'm doing." He looks over at me. "You know about computers, don't you?"
"Yes." I move closer so I can see the monitor. A menu flashes on the screen. The computer is equipped with a mouse. Ray chooses something called Pathlist. A list of files appears on the screen. They are dated. The number of bytes they occupy on the hard disk is also listed. A rectangular outline flashes around the file at the top.
ALISA PERNE.
Ray points to the screen. "He must be working with this person. Or else investigating her."
He reaches for the Enter button. "Let's see who this woman is."
"Wait." I put my hand on his shoulder. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That sound."
"I don't hear anything."
"I have sensitive hearing. I heard someone outside the building."
Ray pauses and listens. "It could have been an animal."
"There it is again. Didn't you hear it?"
"No."
I appear mildly anxious. "Ray. Could you please see if anyone's there?"
He thinks a moment. "Sure. No problem. Stay here. Lock the door. I'll call to you when I return." He goes to get up.
But he exits the files before he leaves, although he leaves the computer running.Interesting, I think. He was willing to sleep with me, but he doesn't trust me alone with his father's files. Smart boy.
The moment he's out the door, I lock it and hurry to the computer. I enter the password and call up the files. I can speed read like no mortal and have a photographic memory, yet I cannot read nearly as fast as a modern computer can copy. From the other night I know Mr. Riley has a box of formatted three-and-a-half-inch high-density diskettes in his desk. I remove two from the drawer and slip one into the computer. I am familiar with the word processor. I set it to copying the
"Maybe." I give him a quick kiss. "Or maybe I'll just fly home."
5
At Ray's house I wait in the car while he goes in to see if his father has returned, or if there is a message from him. Naturally, I am not surprised when Ray returns a couple of minutes later downcast. The cold has sobered him up, and he is worried. He climbs into the car beside me and turns the key in the ignition.
"No luck?" I ask.
"No. But I got the key to his building. We won't have to break in."
"That's a relief." While I had Ray look away, I intended just to break the lock.
We drive to the building I visited only forty-eight hours earlier. It is another cold night.
Throughout the years I have gravitated toward the warmer climates, such as my native India. Why I have chosen to come to Oregon, I am not sure. I glance over at Ray and wonder if it has something to do with him. But of course I don't believe that because I don't believe in destiny, much less in miracles. I do not believe Krishna was God, or if he was God—maybe he was God, I simply do not know for sure—then I do not believe he knew what he was doing when he created the universe. I have such contempt for the lotus-eyed one.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) Yet, after all these years, I have never been able to stop thinking about him.
Krishna. Krishna. Krishna.
Even his name haunts me.
Ray lets us into the building. Soon we are standing outside Mr. Michael Riley's office door. Ray searches for another key, finds it. We step inside. The lights are off; he could leave them off and I would still be able to find my way around. But he turns them on and heads straight into his father's office. He sits at the computer while I stand off to one side.
I survey the floor. Minute drops of blood have seeped into and dried in the cracks between the tiles. They are not noticeable to mortal eyes, but the police will find them if they search. I decide, no matter what happens, that I must return and do a more thorough cleaning. Ray boots the computer and hastily enters the secret password, thinking that I do not catch it. But I do—RAYGUN.
"Can you check what his latest entries were?" I ask.
"That's exactly what I'm doing." He looks over at me. "You know about computers, don't you?"
"Yes." I move closer so I can see the monitor. A menu flashes on the screen. The computer is equipped with a mouse. Ray chooses something called Pathlist. A list of files appears on the screen. They are dated. The number of bytes they occupy on the hard disk is also listed. A rectangular outline flashes around the file at the top.
ALISA PERNE.
Ray points to the screen. "He must be working with this person. Or else investigating her."
He reaches for the Enter button. "Let's see who this woman is."
"Wait." I put my hand on his shoulder. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That sound."
"I don't hear anything."
"I have sensitive hearing. I heard someone outside the building."
Ray pauses and listens. "It could have been an animal."
"There it is again. Didn't you hear it?"
"No."
I appear mildly anxious. "Ray. Could you please see if anyone's there?"
He thinks a moment. "Sure. No problem. Stay here. Lock the door. I'll call to you when I return." He goes to get up.
But he exits the files before he leaves, although he leaves the computer running.Interesting, I think. He was willing to sleep with me, but he doesn't trust me alone with his father's files. Smart boy.
The moment he's out the door, I lock it and hurry to the computer. I enter the password and call up the files. I can speed read like no mortal and have a photographic memory, yet I cannot read nearly as fast as a modern computer can copy. From the other night I know Mr. Riley has a box of formatted three-and-a-half-inch high-density diskettes in his desk. I remove two from the drawer and slip one into the computer. I am familiar with the word processor. I set it to copying the
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