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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

That’s what everybody at this university says all the time, so I’ll say it, too. But fuck those people and fuck me. I didn’t mean to, but I got so angry thinking about all this at the service that I walked out of my pew more forcefully than I should have. People turned, and the chaplain even had to pause because of the disturbance. At least the archaeology girl wasn’t there.

Out into the snow down the wide steps.

99

The next day, Dr. Hunt came up to me in the hallway as I walked to class. He started to make conversation. Turned out he was at the church service and he wanted to see how I was doing. He said he didn’t want to pry but that I looked upset as I was leaving the church. I tried to remember. I have this bad feeling that there might have been tears on my cheeks when I left.

I didn’t want to confide in him. What would I say, anyway. I hope I am not being willfully rude, but everybody is dead. I don’t have anything I want to talk about.

“If you ever want to talk, have a cup of coffee, here’s my phone number, ” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, and walked off quickly, flipping his card into a wastebasket.

I’ve been having this urge to make everybody afraid. I know this sounds harsh, but I’m trying to tell you the truth here, and I’m angry. I want Dr. Hunt to grind his teeth the way I do, and I want him to be afraid. I want him to walk and feel as though someone might leap from the bushes and grab him and beat his face in with a rock. On the first wack all his good white teeth would snap into shards and then on the second the lips would be forced into them and would rip and tear and the blood would be everywhere.

Can you hear yourself saying such things, speaking words you don’t mean to say? Which ones are not you, are not me, but speak for themselves before you can stop them and you have to listen.

I get so tired after I think about this, I just want to sleep for days.

That night I looked up Dr. Hunt’s number and called him and set up a time to talk with him over coffee.

100

In my dream, I see Tweety executed. I’m not sure I even have the dream, but I think I have it a lot. I wake up too quickly and can’t remember, but I think it’s what I’ve been dreaming.

I think it happens like this.