The Impossible Future: Complete set Frank Kennedy (freenovel24 .TXT) 📖

He drank from a glass of jubriska. “I see your point.”

“And if they become a nuisance, push them out an airlock.”

“Say what?”

She couldn’t stop laughing. “It was a joke. Well. Maybe.”

“No. You’re right. Screw the Bouchets. Parents, sons, the whole goddamn lot of them. I do have friends. And I’m gonna need every one of them.”

“There’s the Cooper spirit. And speaking of jokes, why don’t you tell me a few, Mr. Comedian. But not the ones you used onstage at Entilles. Do you know anything good from your first Earth?”

Michael spent so much time crafting irony for a Chancellor audience, he’d forgotten most of the best lines from his childhood.

“Anything?” He said.

“Try me.”

“OK. It’s pretty basic shit, but here goes. Knock-knock.”

Maya said nothing, as if waiting for more. Michael saw his error.

“I say knock-knock, and you say, ‘Who’s there?’”

She frowned. “And why would I say that?”

“Because it’s … never mind. We got plenty of time for jokes.” He raised his glass. She did the same. “Here’s to friends.”

They clanked their glasses. Maya added a toast.

“To those present, and to those not forgotten.”

Michael was thankful Maya joined the mission.

“To Sam. Don’t worry, babe. I’m coming.”

The saga now concludes in The Promised Few …

The Promised Few

The Impossible Future: Book Four

Frank Kennedy

c. 2020 by Frank Kennedy

All rights reserved

Exogenesis

Albion, Alabama

First Earth

5 years ago

M ICHAEL COOPER DIDN’T TAKE TO WEED like every other freshman he knew. Yeah, the high was satisfying enough, and getting away with it even better. But the taste? Just a’ight. He’d rather go for a five-finger discount of his dad’s beer and take on a nice afternoon buzz. Problem was, his No. 1 bro wasn’t having it. Jamie couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. He did, however, love a joint every day – and that was before his parents were gunned down in the master bedroom.

Michael scored enough weed to keep the two of them smoking for a few weeks, courtesy of his cousins in Starkville. Great product, they claimed. Best in Mississippi, they said. And then they offered Michael a family discount. How could he refuse?

So, Michael was ready to light up an hour after the Sheridan funeral, waiting for his best bud at their usual spot along the Alamander River. They’d met here for the first time seven years ago, when Michael stumbled upon Jamie while “cracker hunting.” A few minutes after a tense introduction, they shared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Michael never went cracker hunting again, and the two shared each other’s lives. “Thicker than thieves,” Michael’s mother often said, unaware how accurate she was. That they’d never been caught continued to stun Michael, who’d lay down good money they were due.

After this week’s events, they’d have no choice but to back off for a spell; they couldn’t skulk about in the shadows unnoticed anymore. Michael lit a joint and prepared a whole speech for Jamie on just that subject. He hoped Jamie would bite, but Michael wasn’t sure. The boy he saw at the funeral was a stranger. A cold, empty stare. Robotic handshakes and hugs. Michael didn’t understand that type of grief. He’d never been to a funeral full of white folks. On his side of town, they sent their people off with full-throated tears and laughter, a healthy round of “Praise Jesus,” and more food than a family could eat in a year. Today’s experience was so awkward, so tense, so brief that Michael wasn’t sure he’d see Jamie afterward … until he received a text.

Jamie arrived in blue jeans, tie-dyed t-shirt, and baseball cap. Michael saw it under the shadowed brim: Bags from days without sleep but eyes laser-focused, as if on a caffeine rush.  Jamie didn’t have to ask when he sat on the boulder next to Michael, who handed him the joint. He inhaled without a word.

Michael didn’t care for the silence, but he treaded carefully.

“Dude. What did Ben say when you decided to bug out of there?”

Jamie pulled another drag. “Dunno. He went for a six-pack soon as we got home. I didn’t tell him shit.”

“Why’d you guys go back there? Did folks drop off any food?”

“A couple three casseroles. I weren’t paying them any mind.”

“That’s it? Sorry, J. Figured people would be more generous, if you get my speed. After what happened.”

Jamie shrugged. “Why? We didn’t do church, and people always thought us Sheridans had a cob up our ass anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard how folks talked, and yeah, maybe your parents weren’t always the warmest, but these are good Christian people around these parts. They bury the hatchet when neighbors meet their Maker. Leastwise, they try to.”

Jamie shared his joint. “You’re funny, Coop.”

“I get it, dude. You ain’t real high on people right now, after what that asshole did. But he’s …”

“You mean the shit that took a double-barrel shotgun into my folks’ bedroom and painted the goddamn walls with their guts?”

Michael felt the eggshells crushing beneath his feet.

“Yeah, J. That guy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“Don’t matter, Coop. None of it matters.”

“Sure, it does. They were your folks. You loved them. You found them, J. I think … I just think you ought to …”

After another drag, Jamie finished the sentence.

“Talk about it. That what you think, Coop?”

“Sure. Yeah. I mean, it don’t have to be me, even though I am your best bud and we talk about everything else. But dude, nobody goes through something like that without it messing with their mind.”

Michael reached for the joint, but Jamie didn’t share.

“I got it under control, Coop.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just …” He took a drag. “Just wanna put it away. Pretend it never