The Devil's Dream: A Nightmare

The Devil's Dream: A Nightmare by David Beers Page B

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Authors: David Beers
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pillow. Both men had flights so early in the morning it would make a dairy farmer embarrassed at the time he woke up, so the two decided to stay here, work until they couldn’t any longer, and then leave from the office. Art’s phone said it was two in the morning and they would be waking up in the next thirty minutes anyway. He picked the phone up, still ringing with an unknown number, and put it to his ear.
    “Hello,” he said and then cleared his throat.
    “Art! Matthew! Did I catch you sleeping?”
    The voice sounded entirely too happy to be up this early. Art thought, haphazardly, but thought nonetheless, about what they had done with his phone. He told IT the last time Brand called and they put a tracer on it, so Art didn’t need to worry about that.
    “Was just waking. How can I help you?” Art said, sitting up on the couch.
    “Just calling to check in. Got some really good news today from one of my partners, wanted to see how things were going on your end. Splendidly, I hope?”
    Art leaned forward to look out his office door, and saw Jake sprawled on his stomach, the t-shirt forgotten to the right of his head.
    “If sleeping in my office is splendid, then yes, you would be correct. What the fuck are you calling me for?”
    “Art, you do realize I’m going to be like the closest person you have in this world over the next couple of months, right? That you’re going to die knowing me better than you know perhaps anyone else. You don’t have a wife. You see your kids and grandkids twice a year. You have your job and I think you have a little sidekick now, but that’s it. No one else. So why are you upset that I’m calling you?”
    Art stood up, stretched one arm above his head, and looked for his computer bag. “You like having a bigger dick now that you’re black?” He walked across the room for the bag, and threw a laptop inside it. He would need to wake up Jake in a few minutes.
    “To be honest, haven’t been able to use it very much. Maybe someday soon though. This Arthur Morgant character, he’s tougher than I imagined. Might have decided to dive into the other guy at The Wall had I known all the baggage this one would bring.”
    Art stopped packing.
    Use it soon? “Morgant was a rapist,” Art said.
    “Yeah, I know.” Brand sighed. “It seems that all of those tendencies cannot be simply shoved aside forever. Don’t worry though, I haven’t resorted to his more base ways yet. I’m still fighting the good fight, you know?”
    Art laughed quietly into the phone. “You’re a sick fuck. You’re going to end all life on the world and become a rapist at the same time, in the last year of your life. That’s what all your genius has led you to.”
    “Come on, don’t say it like that. It sounds so, I don’t know, depressing. I’ll give it to you though, I’m certainly not peaking in my late age, which is why my partner’s agreement today is really such good news. I don’t want this to be my Canterbury Tales, you know?”
    “Agreed. I’d hate for you to die in some hole or get caught raping some woman at a Seven-Eleven. That would take away a lot of the pleasure I plan on having at your next death. The Wall’s no more. The whole program scrapped. There’s nowhere else for that big brain of yours to hide after we put a few holes through it.”
    Matthew laughed then. “Are God fearing men supposed to be filled with so much hate?”
    “Probably not, but God made confession for a reason.”
    “That he did. Maybe that’s what you are to me, Art. Maybe you’re my confession over the next few months.”
    Art took his phone away from his face and looked at it, letting the silence stretch between the two of them. Art was going to act as a priest to this man, was going to listen to his sins, was going to try and help absolve him? He put the phone back to his ear. “I’m not sure you understand what confession is.”
    “I’m not asking for absolution. I’m not asking for anything,

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