Run the Day (21 page)

BOOK: Run the Day

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"You're really going to keep it?" Swift said from behind me.

I almost jumped out of my skin, my heart was thudding in my chest like it was about to burst out of my ribs. I spun to face him.

"What the fuck is a matter with you?"

He gave me his weird little smile, and I saw that his glasses were off, white eyes strangely luminous in the dark room.

"Sorry. I was just coming to say good-bye," Swift said, filling up the doorway. "It was a hell of a day. Definitely interesting. You did good."

I frowned, dropping myself down onto the edge of my bed. I glanced at the Libro then back to Swift; he just stood there watching me with his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks? I didn't die, but I guess that's the most I could really hope for. And yeah, you're damn right I'm keeping the book. Better me than some Other."

"Be careful. So, do you want to know the truth now?" Swift asked, it sounded like a dangerously loaded question.

The truth.

It was a scary thing, and sometimes a person was much better off without the burden of it. The truth about Swift? The scholar in me, the rabid information junkie, was itching to know what his deal was. But that little voice in me that kept popping up at the oddest times all day, told me it might not be the best idea. It could open up a whole new can of worms, and as of that moment, I just couldn't deal with anything else. I craved sleep, rest, silence.

"No offense, but I've decided I just don't give a damn," I said and laid back on my bed, it felt amazing.

"Smart man. Take care of yourself, Thomas. Don't do anything stupid," Swift's voice was quiet, like he was far away. "It's hard enough being your guardian angel."

I blinked and sat up, but I was by myself. Swift was gone.

I buried myself underneath a pile of blankets and pillows, trying to barricade myself away from the rest of the world. As much as I wanted to, sleep wouldn't come. My head was too full of everything that'd happened, too full of more questions. What'd happened to Hack? Where had his power gone? What was I going to do about Rosa, and her son, and the small army of gangsters that followed them? How the hell was I going to get the electricity back on? Never mind the rest of my bills. For a time my brain swirled and rattled, beating itself up with worries. I don't know what time it was when things began to finally fade, when sleep finally came to take me away. I just remember one last thought, before I fell into the blissfully dreamless sleep of the truly exhausted.

What a fucking day.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost I'd like to thank my wife, Serena, for putting up with me while writing this and supporting me the whole way through. She's a hell of a woman.

To my Uncle Greg, who shoved me headlong into taking writing seriously by gifting me with the webpage that would become the storehouse for my collection of random writings, that would eventually turn into the very book you just read.

To Walter Shuler, for being a stand-up guy, for being far more helpful and patient than ever was necessary. He's a hell of a writer, too, and you should all do yourselves a favor and go look up his books. Now. Go. Do it.

To Bradford Joyce, the cool guy who designed and created the amazing cover that graces the book itself.

To all my friends and family, most especially my amazing parents, and everyone else who had absolutely anything to do with the whole thing, a massive thanks to each of you.

And finally, to you. Yeah, you. Thank you for taking a chance on a strange little book, and making it to the end. I hope you come back for the next one, and the one after that, and...you get it.

Thank you.

About The Author

Do you care?

Really? You do?

Matt's a peculiar guy who works too much, doesn't sleep enough, and spends most his time between those with his family and writing. The real reason he wrote this book was to let off some of the pressure in his brain from being (mostly) functionally delusional, while he wanders through life in a fantasy land in his mind.

He also has a webpage at www.thegreyspace.com where you can find an odd assortment of short stories and ramblings, check it out if you're into that kind of thing. He also spends an entirely inordinate amount of time in the Twitterverse (@greydevil13), and greatly enjoys chatting and talking nonsense with folks there.

Okay, that's all. I'm done. Promise. Really got to stop referring to myself in the third person, it's unhealthy.

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