Read Project Pallid for Free Online Page B

fine.
Learned his lesson, though. I bet he’ll get out of the way quicker next time.”
    “So
what’s that mean for the shop?” Mom asked.
    “Well,
with him out, I’ll have to double up for the next few days, at least till he’s
on his feet again. Next week, I’m thinking.”
    “Well,
that doesn’t sound so bad,” Mom replied, still traumatized by the
thought of Mike’s crunching bones.
    “And
for my High … hmmmm … Okay, this is a good one. You guys are going to laugh.”
    “We
need it after that disgusting Low,” Nicole spoke up.
    “Okay,
get ready for it …… So this guy came into the shop today driving this vintage
Mercedes. Mint. Shame such a gorgeous car’s wasted on Madison.”
    “So
what about it?” I saw a tangent coming and pushed him forward.
    “Well,
the guy said he was having issues with some clanging from underneath.”
    “And?”
I prodded him to give up the dramatic pauses he liked to embed in his stories.
    “Well,
we couldn’t see anything from looking under it, so we got it up on the lift.
And wasn’t he surprised by what I pulled from the block.”
    “What
was it?” we asked in excited unison.
    “Would
you believe it …… A collar and leash!! There wasn’t anything wrong with the
guy’s car, after all …… It was someone’s dog that had the real problem!!!!” And
with that, he kicked back in his chair and roared in laughter at his disturbing
share.
    “That’s
not funny at all!” Nicole screamed out. “That’s morbid!”
    “Darryl,
that’s not funny for the dinner table,” Mom’s smile slipped from her face and
landed in her mashed potatoes. “Just think of that poor dog’s owner! They must
be sick!”
    “I’m
the one who’s going to be sick!” Nicole interrupted.
    “I
think it’s pretty funny, dad,” I jumped to save him from their playful
scolding, but I was helpless to do the same thing when he really needed me,
months later. It was already too late when the live feed interrupted the evening
news.
    I
sat alone, screaming in horror.   Tears soaked my face as the pallid swarmed on him from all directions.
And seconds later, the reporter disappeared from sight. Then the cameraman,
too. His recording crashed to the ground and fixated itself crookedly on the
front of Dad’s shop.
    I
saw nothing more, but the audio captured it all. And my tears turned to rivers
as I scoured the living room for his phone. I called my mom, who’d left us the
night before. I called Nicole, then Catee. But no one answered, and the
gruesome images of my dad were the last I saw or heard from anyone. I couldn’t
wait anymore; it was out of control. And I moved into the pantry, alone.
    I’ve
never been religious, but before my actions register, my eyes close in a
whispering prayer: “Please God. I know I don’t talk to you often, and I know I
always seem to want something when I do. But I promise, if just this one time,
you can make sure everyone’s safe—even Nicole—I promise to talk to
you every day from here on out. I promise, I’ll be a totally new person. Just
this one, last time … Just this one, last favor …… That’s all I need, God.
Please.”
    When
I’m done, I look bleary-eyed to the planks above. The silence and stillness
surrounds me in deafening, white noise.

 
    “Nicole,
why don’t you go next,” Mom moved the dinner-share forward with a final, disapproving
look at my dad—she scolded him for the dog-dragging story later on, I’m
sure.
    “Okay,
but I’ve only been on campus for a few days, and I’ve been totally busy, so I
haven’t had much time for anything but my classes and my new roommate, Meghan.”
    I
got the sense that whatever she said from there was going to be lame, so I
resumed eating and only half-listening.
    “My
High today was—
    “Low
first,” Mom interrupted.
    “OK
then, my Low today was when I showed up for my first biology class and
learned I should’ve already picked up my syllabus and books from the