Read World Walker 1: The World Walker for Free Online

ex-wife was when she died. He knew he lavished more time and affection on his dog than he ever had on another person, but Marcie just loved him whatever mood he was in, never asked him if he wanted to talk about it and never gave him that look . Even when he came home late twice a month after his regular visit to a semi-retired call girl.  
    "Don't even know if I can call her that," he said to Marcie one morning. "Can I call her a call senior?" Marcie had wisely kept her own counsel.
    The only regular human contact he had other than the prostitute was Seb - the young guy he met regularly on his morning hike. Seb liked his own company, too - wary, reserved. Bob knew a fellow loner when he met one. It had taken months for them to get beyond the nod and grunt greeting and on to a conversation of sorts. But there was something about Seb - a kind of dreaming, thoughtful quality combined with a grounded down-to-earth nature that Bob couldn't help but warm to. He often met Seb on the weekends, after the younger man had been playing with his band. It gave Bob another reason to get outdoors on the occasional days when the whisper in his head asked why he bothered getting up at all.  
    Seb had been spending weekend nights walking the mountain trails more often lately, but he'd been quieter, paler. There was obviously something on his mind, but Bob knew better than to ask. Seemed like it was what you were supposed to do these days, talk it through, talk it out, communicate, even - God help you - reach out to someone. But Bob knew the value of a friend who let you talk when you wanted to talk and didn't ask questions. Seb was just happy to walk, throw sticks for Marcie and share a few warming sips from the flask.
    Bob was a little surprised when Seb wasn't around that morning. And he was even more surprised at the figure he found walking ahead of him on the trail. She was short, slim, Asian, her hair a slow-motion explosion of black, purple and bleached white. She was wearing a denim jacket with the words 'Crushed Asians' on the back. A flicker of memory stirred in Bob and he stopped short, watching the woman as she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and peered at the screen.
    Just as he decided to call out to her, a flash of light briefly flickered over the whole scene, as if sheet lightning had suddenly decided to break all the rules of physics and start manifesting at ground level.  
    "What the f-!" yelled Meera and dropped her phone. As she bent down to find it, Bob took a step toward her.
    "Meera?" he said. The woman straightened, brushed her hair away from heavily made-up eyes and glared back at Bob.
    "Who the hell are you?" she said. Bob gave her a measured stare and took his time replying. Underneath the horror-show makeup, fright wig and up-yours attitude was just another scared kid hoping a show of bravado would keep the bad shit away.  
    "Name's Bob," he said. Meera made it obvious she was unimpressed by this information by raising an eyebrow and chewing ostentatiously.
    "I'm a friend of Seb's," he said. Meera grinned - it transformed her face and suddenly Bob understood what Seb had seen in her. She looked like a cat who had not only got the cream, but had discovered a permanent source of free cream and was about to get started on it.
    "Well, ok then," she said. "How'd you know who I am?"
    "Seb mentioned you," said Bob. Meera raised an eyebrow and Bob colored slightly.
    "Nothing, um, personal," he said. "But he told me about the band - and about the original name." He waved his hand at her jacket. She snorted.
    "Yeah, Clockwatchers turned out to be a bigger crowd puller than Crushed Asians. Who'd a thunk it, eh? Thought a name like that would have 'em lining up around the block." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Bob, her head on one side. Looks a lot like Marcie when she does that. He resisted a sudden urge to throw a stick and see if she'd fetch it.
    "Not like Seb to talk about the band," she said. "Not like Seb to