Read Dead Space: Catalyst for Free Online

live here instead,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.
    Jensi shook his head. “I have another life now,” he said. “I can’t give it up.”
    He watched Istvan’s face cloud. “Don’t you love me? I’m your brother.”
    “You are my brother,” said Jensi. “And I do love you. I’ll help you in all the ways I can. But I have a life, too.”
    Istvan’s mouth twisted in pain, as if he’d been struck. And then he turned around and went back into the bedroom, slammed the door.
    Jensi tried the handle, found it locked. “Istvan,” he said. “Don’t be like this. Let me in.”
    He waited, but there was no response. He knocked again, still no response. Parts of his mind were imagining what might be going on behind the door, imagined Istvan huddled in a corner, crying or trying with a rusty nail to slit his throat or hanging himself. He shook his head to clear it, but the thoughts kept crowding in.
    “Istvan,” he said, louder this time. “Open up!”
    But Istvan wouldn’t open. Indeed, even after minutes of knocking, he remained resolutely silent. How long Jensi had been knocking exactly he wasn’t sure. He only knew that suddenly Henry was there beside him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the door, trying to lead him away.
    “But he might be hurt,” said Jensi. “Or he might be planning to hurt himself.”
    “He’s not hurt,” said Henry. “He’s sulking. Come on, Jensi. We should leave before he gets mad.”
    *   *   *
    They made their way back through the streets, passing through the valves and into the neighborhood beyond, Jensi letting Henry lead him along. He couldn’t stop thinking about his brother. He wondered if he should have handled the situation differently. But what could he have done with Istvan? It wasn’t like he could take him home, like a pet or something. Wasn’t he already doing all he could realistically do?
    But for Istvan, whatever he did would never be enough. There would always be something more to do, something left to be done.
    “What was that?” asked Henry beside him.
    “What?” he asked listlessly, hardly bothering to look around.
    “I thought I saw something,” said Henry. “There, behind us.” He shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m jumpy.”
    They kept going, past the colony’s headquarters, and down Luna Avenue toward their neighborhood. Jensi felt like his connection to his brother was a thread stretching all the way back to his old apartment, his old neighborhood, a thread growing thinner and thinner and now in danger of snapping. They passed at last into their neighborhood.
    Before they knew it they were at Jensi’s house. The two boys stopped on the porch and just stood looking at one another.
    “Are you going to go back?” Henry finally asked.
    “I don’t know,” said Jensi.
    “You probably shouldn’t,” said Henry.
    “I know,” said Jensi. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
    Henry nodded once and then raised his hand to say good-bye. He had just stepped off the porch when Istvan appeared.
    “So this is our new home,” said Istvan. He was panting, and out of breath.
    “How did you find us?” asked Jensi.
    “I have a right to be here,” said Istvan. “It’s my home, too.” He gave a flat, dead smile. He slowly lumbered forward and onto the porch. He opened his arms and made a move as if to hug Jensi, but when his brother stayed where he was, he let his arms fall. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked.
    “Istvan, go home,” said Jensi.
    “But this is home,” said Istvan. “I’m hungry. What do we have to eat?” He reached out and opened the front door and pushed his way in.
    *   *   *
    Jensi’s foster mother was standing near the stairway, a shocked look on her face. Istvan was in the kitchen. He sounded more like a bear than a human. He was rattling pots and dumping cans, slamming cupboards, searching for something.
    “Jensi?” said his foster mother, her voice rising. “Who is