Sky of Dust: The Last Weapon Read Free Page A

something you went around talking about.
    Two things usually happened if you started having reoccurring brain pains. You either went mad, or the government would come take you away for “rehabilitation.” Those who died were the ones who lived with it but didn’t let anyone know. I did not know exactly about all of the details, but you heard about people going mad by trying to suppress the pain or screaming until they died. Those who were taken away for “rehabilitation” were never seen again, and whenever families and friends asked how they were doing, it was always the same answer: “He is in rehabilitation and will return home once he is deemed safe.” The government claimed that it was a side effect from the biochemical weapons used against us during the war and that it could be passed on to others through contact. Sometimes, whole families disappeared.
    I reached the bottom of the stairs and bolted out the door, taking care not to slam the door and make sure it was locked. Only a person that lived at the house or a government official could unlock the door. Each person had a chip embedded in their hand that contained all their information as well as what door they passed through and at what time.
    The morning was the best we had seen for months. The sky of dust had several breaks, allowing a rare glimpse of the bright blue sky. The air was — fresh? I don't know—it seemed cleaner than normal since fresh air was something of a myth.
    “Oh my god, dude,” Casey huffed. “I should have just gone on without you. What were you doing? Telling a story? Jeez, let’s go.”
    “Oh, hey, how are you doing? How is the family? Nice weather we are having,” I spat sarcastically.
    “We would be free to enjoy the weather today if you didn’t get us in trouble again ,” he squeaked.
    I laughed because it was really hard to take him seriously with a voice like that.
    “So, what do you think we will have to do today? I mean, it is a bit odd that we have detention on a Sunday,” Casey wondered.
    “Ahh, I don’t know. As l ong as we don’t have to run, I' m game for anything,” I said.
    “I bet you are, you know, to impress Abigail with your skill of mumbling.” He grinned with a hint of challenge.
    See, we both liked Abigail from the moment that she showed up last year. I could never make it five feet from her before I felt like I was going to throw up or getting brain pains while I concentrated on not screwing up. A few weeks after she arrived, Casey had the privilege of being her partner when we had a training exercise in the mountains. I had actually drawn her name, but could not stomach the thought of being so close and doing something stupid around her that I traded slips of paper with Casey. I ended up with Peter. Casey said she did not say much and pretty much did the whole assignment on her own.
    “Please, and you think she can take your lady voice seriously?” I retorted.
    “Yeah, I do. That’s all you got against me? My voice? Ha!” he said in a shaky voice, and his face turned beet red. I knew I had struck a nerve because he did not like anyone talking about his voice.
    “There was also that time when you found that girly magazine…” I started.
    “Don’t you dare mention that again! You swor e you would never talk about it! ” He raised his fist with tears in his eyes.
    “I am kidding. Ha-ha. You are still a softy even though you look manly.” I laughed. I honestly did not want him to hit me in the arm because I would probably cry. The last time he play tapped me, my arm was bruised for a month.
    “I guess we head towards Miss Curtiss’s room then?” Casey asked.
    “Yeah, let’s go on in and get this over with,” I said lazily.
    We walked into the quiet school building, which was more like ruins than anything else. All these years and they could not even build a new school, let alone repair the ones we had? Some walls had temporary fixes. The higher tiered students got the better