Free The Calm Before (Reign and Ruin novella) by Jules Hedger Page A

she never talked about it. She only
came over and watched in exasperation as he and her uncle got high
and passed out on the couch. He had woken up more than once with
her wiping his sick off the floor.
    And sometimes
she looked at him funny. Like she knew he wasn't normal, knew that
when he left the next day he had to report back to another world
and make sure there was control over the latest dream her uncle had
conjured up. Still trembling and coming down, sweat on his brow and
eyes streaked with red. It was the only explanation why she gave
him any second looks.
    Staring at the
neon lights flicker, Marty felt his toes curl up uncomfortably
remembering the chocolate brown eyes and the searching stare they
gave him, as if she was trying to see into his mind. In those
moments Marty forgot his ticks. It was as if a steady hand was
placed gently over his trembling fingers to still their shaking.
Now, as the sun set over New York and the withdrawal began its
terrors, the shakes were inevitable. He scratched his wrist. Where
was he?
    The thought had
barely skittered across his mind before he heard a flutter behind
him, like the movement of just starched chinos. Ricky didn't notice
but Marty turned around, spotting the brightly polished shoes on
the step above. They moved off and into the drug store. Marty
waited until he heard the swish of the moving doors and the beep of
the entry alarm before standing up and following the person into
the building.
    "Marty, can you
get me another can?" Ricky called after him.
    The overheard
fluorescent lights cast everything in a dull, urine-stained shade
of yellow and the country music had switched to something a little
more RnB. Something from ten years ago that Marty had only heard
before from rifling through Steve's sparse music collection. Maggie
nearly yanked it from his hands when she had seen it. He smiled as
he remembered the lecture in music he had received on one of the
rare evenings he hadn't passed out. Cute that she thought he could
be her project, but he was hopeless and she soon learned not to
bother when he refused to spot the difference between The
Decemberists and Black Sabbath.
    He walked past
the attendant and followed the click clack of business shoes across
the laminate flooring, down aisle 5 and 6 and through a thick set
of transparent plastic flaps that separated the heated lit interior
of the drug store with the cold, gray air of the back room and
warehouse. Marty looked to his left and saw the tail end of a suit
disappear behind some cardboard boxes and followed swiftly after.
No one seemed to care that a dirty, unshaven man from off the
streets had apparently walked into the employees-only area and
Marty got all the way to the manager’s office without the alarm
being sounded. It was never going to sound, not when the man behind
the glass pane of the office settled down in his seat and waited
for Marty to follow him in. The manager knew Marty like a brother.
He'd sold him enough drugs to hold sway over him like family,
anyway. And he had an amused look in his eyes as Marty entered the
room and sat sheepishly down in the chair in front of the desk.
    “I don’t know
where you get the money for this, you know,” he said in a soft
voice. The ticking of the clock behind him was as loud as a
jackhammer to Marty’s ears. The man noticed. “You’re coming down
pretty hard, aren’t you?”
    “I’m fine,”
Marty said, ignoring the bead of sweat that inched torturously down
the side of his neck. “I just need to pick up for the others.”
    “You’re telling
me you sold your entire stash in less than 24 hours?”
    Marty took a
moment. 24 hours. Yes, he was in Palet for around a week. That made
sense. And then he cursed, because he really shouldn’t be showing
up so frequently in this world. But sometimes he forgot the time
difference. It was hard to remember when his foot was tapping so
much . . .
    “Yup, well. I
am anticipating a big party tonight so I just want