Read Online Hazardous Materials by Matthew Quinn Martin - Free Book Online

place. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed 911. “Operator, I’d like to report a dead body. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
    â€œYour location?”
    â€œLocation? I’m at—”
    The line went dead.
    And the Polybius clicked on. Plug still in Ludwig’s lifeless hand and three feet from the wall, the Polybius clicked on.

EIGHT
    J arrod was back in the rink, back in the dream. Where else would he be? The mural was there. The flames were there. But the boy was not. In his place stood a tall man. He was lanky, with jug ears and a crew cut. “You’re Shaw.”
    â€œAm I?”
    â€œWhere’s my brother?”
    â€œYou need to look closer,” the man said, turning to face the mural.
    Jarrod felt his head turning reflexively, drawn to the images by a pull that was gravitational. “You did this?”
    â€œDid I?”
    â€œThat’s your name, Shaw, down at the bottom.” Jarrod pointed to the spot where he’d remembered pulling away the signature. But it was gone. “It’s . . . it’s changed.”
    â€œIt’s always changing.”
    And it was true. The mural had changed again. The woman now fed on the satyr. Her teeth were clamped on his neck, sending freshets of blood spraying into the air. The nymphs and mermaids had been replaced with sharks and lampreys. And the children . . . the children had torn the juggler to ribbons of flesh and entrails. One child, eyes nothing but black hollows, stood guard by the juggler’s split-open rib cage, while another smiling tot kicked his severed head like a soccer ball.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause we never see the monsters until it’s too late. We never see the demons till they come for us. The man at the pool, all he saw was his desire reflected. The satyr thought only of lust and never imagined himself as prey.”
    â€œAnd the children?” Jarrod asked, eyes still glued to the mural.
    â€œChildren do as children will.”
    Jarrod wrenched himself from the image and faced the man square. “You’re a monster.”
    â€œI killed monsters.”
    â€œ You’re the monster!” Jarrod hissed. “You killed children.”
    â€œI killed demons. The children stood in the way. This is war. In every war, innocent blood is shed. Sometimes by the gallon.” The man’s eyes began to recede, fading into black pits of nothingness. “Your brother knew that.”
    A stone dropped in Jarrod’s gut. A voice wailed inside his head, a voice that faded to little more than a whisper. I made a promise.
    â€œYour brother knew what it was like to have the blood of the innocent on his hands. He knew what it meant to spill the blood of children.”
    The memory rolled over Jarrod like a locomotive. The things Simon had confessed about the raid that night in Kabul during his second tour. The way Simon’s eyes had gone hollow and black as he recounted what he’d seen, what he’d done.
    â€œYour brother was too weak to understand. Not you, Jarrod. You are special.”
    This couldn’t be happening. Shaw had been dead in his grave for twenty years when Simon was in Afghanistan. Shaw had been a murderer. Simon was . . . Simon was . . .
    â€œWhere is my brother? Why isn’t he here?”
    â€œHe was never here, Jarrod. You know that.”
    â€œYou know nothing about my brother!” Jarrod spat. “You’re nothing but a psycho, Shaw.”
    â€œShaw? You still think I’m Brian Shaw?”
    â€œWho else?”
    â€œIsn’t it clear? Don’t you see?”
    â€œSee what?”
    â€œAmazing Grace, Jarrod.” And the man who had been Brian Shaw melted into Jarrod’s own reflection. His twin reached out, clapping his hands to the sides of Jarrod’s face. And Jarrod was tumbling, falling into an abyss of twisting lines.
    IT WAS CLEAR now. The world