The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

I lose myself in a book and there’s no stopping me. Besides, I only have one exam tomorrow, and it’s a cakewalk. What do I need to sleep for?”

He should have known. She’d always been a bookworm, except when Jamie visited and talked her into many ill-fated adventures, most of which included Coop. Afterward, she endured the inevitable, awkward lectures from disappointed parents then came back for more. She never hid her feelings. As Sammie finished cleaning him, Jamie grabbed her hand.

“Sammie, I need you to look at me.” She did, offering no hint of a smile. “Tell me the truth. I know you will because of how you feel about me. OK? Do you really think I’m making all this up? You really believe I dreamed everything while I was sleepwalking? You think I stole the gun from Ben, don’t you?”

“Come on, Jamie. You know me better than ...”

“No, Sammie. Just be honest with me.”

She set aside the blood-stained cloths and stammered for words then leaned in to Jamie. She reached out as if to hug him, then pulled her arms back, settling for a kiss on his cheek.

“I care so much about you. Gosh, for as long as I can remember. But this story … it’s beyond crazy. Think about it for a minute. This is Albion. Albion? ‘The town time forgot?’ So, you’re saying Mr. Paulus from the flour mill and Ms. Bidwell, your English teacher, tried to gun you down on Main Street? And then there’s this woman … what, Lydia? She’s talking about how you’re only going to live a few more hours, and she shows up out of thin air. How’s that possible, Jamie?”

He fought back new tears. “I’m not crazy.”

Jamie felt small. He always used to be in control when he was with Sammie because she adored him. Now, he felt her judging him, reevaluating all those years she wasted in hopes he’d make her his girlfriend. Was he so self-absorbed he couldn’t see the girl she became? Somewhere along the way, her features softened. He never really noticed how blue her eyes were, or how much her long brown hair shined.

“I’m thirsty,” he whispered.

“Dummy me. I should’ve thought of that right off. I’ll get you a glass of water. Otherwise, you’re good to go.” She started to the bathroom. “Oh, and I think you best get some clothes on before Daddy hears us. I’ve got some t-shirts and jogging shorts in the top drawer.” She pointed to the chest of drawers next to the window Jamie flung himself through.

Jamie threw on a white tank top and grey shorts with a flexible waist band. Sammie brought him a glass of water, which he drank in one long, continuous gulp. She took the glass and went for seconds.

“Oh, and here’s a ponytail tie,” she said. “You’ll feel better when you get your hair out of your face.”

“Guess you’ve thought of everything.”

She shrugged. “I just want you to feel better. That’s all.”

Jamie sat on the edge of her bed and tied up his hair. She was the only person close to him who never asked when he’d be getting a haircut. He drank a second glass of water while Sammie watched, sitting beside him. Excess driveled off his chin.

“I needed this,” he said. He handed the glass to Sammie, and they shared a cautious smile. “I do feel better,” he whispered. “Thank you, Sammie. Thank you.”

He didn’t hesitate to kiss her on the cheek. When he leaned back, Jamie stared into her eyes and felt something else. He couldn’t define it. The notion was vague and awkward, one he never sensed around her before, as if something were misplaced.

That’s when someone pounded on her door.

“Samantha, what’s going on in there? I heard voices. Samantha?”

Her father’s arrival should’ve scared him. Walter Huggins banished Jamie from this room four years ago, when he decided no boy was going to carry hormones behind closed doors with his little girl.

Jamie wasn’t frightened now because Walt would listen. Walt was older, knew the world was a cruel place, and would help.

“It’s OK, Daddy. Hold on just a second.” She grabbed Jamie by the hand. “We’re gonna figure this out, Jamie. I promise. You’re safe. You don’t have to worry about those assassins breaking in here.”

She smiled, looking every bit the angel who opened her window to him. And he was almost enamored. Almost. Jamie’s smile disappeared as soon as Sammie started for the door. What did she say? Assassins? She called them assassins?

The pain sliced through his gut with a jagged blade. His heart broke into another jog, and Jamie understood what was wrong.

Jamie grabbed the bedpost as Sammie reached for the door handle. She wouldn’t say that. Why would she call them that? She dismissed his story too easily. That’s when he noticed the suitcase next to her bed. He also realized his gun had vanished.

 

8

3:05 a.m.

M ICHAEL COOPER WAS alone in the house, and he had only himself to blame. His parents all but begged him to come with them to his cousin’s wedding. They offered numerous incentives, but Michael was having nothing of it. Privately, his father painted the long weekend as an opportunity for debauchery, starting with a Thursday night bachelor party certain to go into the wee hours.

“Listen up, Pops,” Michael explained. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I reckon it’s no different than shoving a whole chocolate cake in front of a six-year-old and saying, ‘Dig in.’ Here’s the thing. I already got my hand in that cake, if you get my speed.”

The “speed” was littered with half-truths. Yes, Michael enjoyed a fine cigar on occasion – when he found the opportunity to swipe them using Jamie as an accomplice. Moreover, a few beers had gone missing from select Albion