Read 3.2 As the World Dies Untold Tales Vol. 2 for Free Online

Kissing her fingertips, she pressed them to the photo of Common she had taped to her mirror and headed out the door.
    “ ...telling you, Olympia, they are all crazy. On crack!” Her grandmother was on the phone with her best friend, Olympia Hernandez. Even though the old ladies lived within walking distance of each other, they preferred to sit in their L a -z-B oys, watching the same shows, and discussing them on the phone . It was impossible to get through on the phone to either one of them during the soaps and talk shows .
    Lenore leaned over and pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s che e k. She got a pat on the cheek and a kiss , then her grandmother kept on complaining about the whacked out people eating each other in Houston.
    “ Maybe the government put something in the water,” Lenore offered.
    Her grandmother eyed her and then immediately repeated this to Olympia. “It’s like the old crazy man on the public access is always talking about!”
    Rolling her eyes, Lenore trudged to the front door, grabbed her huge leather bag, and headed out for another day of work at Ken’s Diva Beauty Shop. As usual, she rode her bike and she rather enjoyed the briskness of the morning now that she was awake and fully clothed. The sun was just making an appearance over the hills, but her quaint little neighborhood was wide-awake and in full swing.
    Already , old Mr. Thames was out in his yard working on his spring garden. She waved to him then swung around the corner to head into the downtown of Stross, Texas. It was not much of a town . The population consisted of old people or families with hardly any young people about . Most were smart and got out of town after high school. Her dream was to save up enough money to make it back to East Texas. Back to the bayou and the good old soul of the area. She missed the ocean. She missed the crawfish. She missed her house full of relatives. But her grandmother had raised her since her m ama died and her d addy went out onto the oilrigs and she had felt obliged to come with her to this tiny forsaken town.
    She was just parking her bike when Mr. Cloy, the man who ran the hardware store next to Ken’s shop, arrived to unlock his door.
    “ Hey, Lenore. Howya doing?”
    “ Doing good, Mr. Cloy . ”
    The skinny guy with too much black hair and the bushiest mustache in the world looked grim. “See the news?”
    “‘ bout Houston?”
    “ That and all that rioting in Chicago. You know how that plane crashed yesterday?”
    “ News thought it was 9-11 all over again? Yep.”
    “ Well, rumor is that there was something bad on that plane that is making people go crazy and kill each other. Chicago is bad. Wonder if it’s Al Qaeda ? ”
    “ How does that explain Houston?” Lenore raised an eyebrow at him.
    “ Maybe they put something in the water,” Mr. Cloy offered. “I dunno. It’s got me on edge. Got me thinking that the world is going to hell fast. Damn Arabs with their Mohammad.”
    Lenore blinked at him, but didn’t bother to argue. “Well, we’re all the way out here away from everything and everybody. I don’t see any of that crazy shit happening here,” Lenore assured him.
    “ I hope so, Lenore.” Mr. Cloy shook his head. “Crazy times, Lenore. It’s the E nd T imes.”
    “ Well, if Jesus is coming back today I better do something with my hair,” she said very deadpan.
    Mr. Cloy was probably not really listening to her. “Yeah, E nd T imes. We’re seeing the last days.” He shoved the door open and entered his store .
    Lenore peered through the glass in the old wood door of the beauty shop and saw Ken busy on an early appointment’s hair. He saw her and waved her in, smiling brightly. He was attractive with the tan skin of his Mexican mother and freckles of his Scot-Irish father. His eyes were a very pretty shade of brown with glints of gold and Lenore envied his tall, slim , fit physique. She felt short and squat next to him.
    “ Good morning,