Executable by John Conroe EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: John Conroe
- Language: English
- Genre: Genetic Engineering Science Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Declan
Only the crunch and ping of loose gravel between the tires and the asphalt of
our parking lot announced the arrival of the big silver car; otherwise, it was
dead silent. I pulled back slightly behind the edge of the big green dumpster
that sits at the end of the building, interested to observing the unknown car
but not wanting to be busted as some creepy loser kid. ‘Cause, you know…
the truth hurts.
At first, the sun glinting on the windshield blocked all view of the occupants
but as the car, an older model Buick, rolled to a stop in the shadow of my
aunt’s restaurant, they became visible. Two females; the driver young, with
short brown hair and brown eyes, the other an older version with the same
brown hair but she had a different eye shape. A mother and daughter, I
decided, seeing enough similarities to form that opinion.
The driver stretched her neck for a moment, like she had just wrestled the
heavy car for miles. I figured she had, as the motor wasn’t running. Most
likely, she had coasted down Macomb hill, fighting through the lack of power
steering to make the winding turns. That sharp left curve in front of Macomb
cemetery a quarter mile up the hill must have been a bitch, I thought.
Her head came up and she looked around the parking lot. I jumped back
behind the dumpster, relatively certain I hadn’t been spotted but now slightly
ashamed that I was lurking there at all. Pretty sad that my most exciting
work break was taking out the garbage and spying on innocent travelers. The
day was just starting, but all I had to look forward to was a full Sunday of
dishes to wash before tackling three pages of Calc homework, then collapsing
into bed for maybe six hours before continuing my fascinating life as a high
school senior at Castlebury High.
Entering through the back of the kitchen, I dodged around the morning cook,
Chet, who was orchestrating eggs, hash browns, bacon, and sausage on the
big commercial griddle while humming along to a Dave Matthews song
playing on the radio. I was careful to avoid bumping him as he could get
verbally abusive if you interfered with his cooking rhythm, and while his
anger was short-lived and easily ignored, it was just too early to listen to any
crap.
Just outside the kitchen, floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with dishes faced a
wall of stainless steel, high-temperature dishwashing equipment and long
metal countertops covered with dirty plates, mugs, and flatware. My
kingdom.
I was halfway through offloading and stacking a rack of plates when one of
the waitresses, Emilee, pushed open the swinging doors from the dining room
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