Desolation Read Free Page B

his mouth he would cry. He had cried a lot in his life, but he did not wish to shed tears in front of Peter. He could not say why. Perhaps now, alone in the world, he did not want to appear weak.
    â€œI chose the pictures myself,” Peter said. “I love dead trees. They’re so filled with expression. It’s as if shedding their leaves opens them up to view. What do you think? Do you like dead trees?”
    Cain glanced at one of the pictures and nodded.
    â€œForgive the scratches,” Peter continued, tapping the floor with one foot. “Vlad used to tear the tires from his wheelchair wheels just to make as much noise as he could.”
    â€œVlad?”
    â€œThe dead guy. An old Russian circus performer, so he said. Broke his back falling from the trapeze. Vicious, horrible bastard he was. Nickname.”
    Cain wanted to explore his home, but somethingkept him motionless. He was a tree waiting to be swayed by a breeze, and the breeze was his own freedom. He had not yet fully grasped it. His father was still there in the background, a shadow standing beside him, holding him still and not for a second allowing him to bend.
Pure Sight
, a voice whispered, and it was not the Voice. It must have been his father muttering in his mind, come to haunt him now that there was a home to haunt.
    But that was plain crazy.
    He’s dead and gone
, Cain thought, and behind one of the dead tree pictures he saw his own terrified reflection.
    â€œSo can I have the tour?” Cain asked.
    â€œAbsolutely! You’ll love this place, Cain, believe me. I’ve never been to Afresh, but I’ve been places similar. And not to belittle it, but . . . well, you’ll be free here. Never alone.”
    Cain frowned at that—
How does he know!?
—but followed Peter through the door on the right.
    â€œBedroom. Big, bright, great views, it even has a small balcony facing out into the back garden.”
    â€œIt’s nice,” Cain said. And then he smiled at his understatement. Nice? It was
luxurious
. The bed was a large double, white sheets and duvet already folded back. The iron bedstead was glossy black, setting off the cream of the walls and carpet. The sloping ceiling was dotted with a dozen inset lights. One entire wall was composed of glass sliding doors, leading out onto a balcony with decorative wrought-iron railings and potted plants softening its harsh lines. Fine net curtains were held back from the windows by metal hooks, affording a viewout onto the large back garden and the houses in the next street. The sun was just striking the windows, splashing the floor and already moving in toward the bed.
    â€œIt’s fantastic,” Cain said.
    Peter shrugged. “Thanks. New carpet. Vlad wore out the old one. There’s a TV in the cupboard there, remote’s on the bedside table.”
    â€œWhere’s the bathroom?”
    â€œEn suite. Let me show you.”
    The bathroom was small but perfect, containing a shower stall as well as a bath and lit, like the hallway, by a roof light.
    Peter took Cain back through the hall and into the living room. This was furnished with various pieces of new furniture, none of it exceptionally expensive but all tasteful and functional. The kitchen was open plan, separated from view by a flowering plant climbing a network of stainless-steel wires. The units were glass-fronted, displaying a whole range of cooking and eating utensils, and one cupboard contained a welcome pack of food: tea bags, biscuits, bread, sugar, rice, pasta, some jars of sauce. A door led out to the hallway. And there were more paintings, this time stark representations of animals set against muddy brown backgrounds. Nothing detailed or intricate, just a few white brush strokes revealing enough form and shape to identify. It took Cain until the third painting to realize that they were all depictions of extinct animals.
    The living space was large enough to accommodate a dining