The Devil's Dream: Waking Up (22 page)

"He's the goddamn wind," Art said and smiled. "He gave me a raise and said I was welcome to stay until there was only a skeleton sitting behind my desk. I'm going to do my best to prove him wrong."

They reached the doors and Art put Jake's bag down next to his former partner's feet. "You give me a call if you're ever in town and I'll do the same if I make it out to Texas," he said.

"For sure, man."

They both looked at each other; Art didn't know what else to say.

Jake spoke first. "Thanks for giving me a chance."

"You don't mean it. You'd much rather be the person I found in Texas than the one heading back now."

"Yeah, I would, but it's too late for that now." Jake stuck out his hand. "I have to keep going forward and I can't hate who I am now if I want to be able to do that."

Art looked at Jake’s hand for a second. That's what this ordeal ended up being for Jake, a chance for him to hate himself. He turned into someone that he hadn't known could exist and now had to live the rest of his life as that person. He wouldn't be able to go back, you can't ever go back—someone said that a long time ago, and while Art didn't know who, he believed it. You can't go back. You can only go forward, and if the kid believed that, then things wouldn't be so bad for him.

Art shook Jake’s hand. "You take care.” And then, after a second, he pulled the kid close and wrapped his arms around me. “And, goddamnit, call me if you need anything.”

T
he Singularity
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Nemesis: Book One
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I
’m writing
this author’s note a few years after I finished The Devil’s Dream. Back when I wrote this, I was so new to writing and publishing that I never thought to put down a few words after such a long story.

Looking back at this series, I miss Matthew Brand. I miss him terribly, to be honest, because Matthew Brand was me. Of course, I’m not nearly as intelligent as Brand, nor am I crazy enough to murder … but, you see, I understood him in a way that I don’t understand a lot of characters.

My mother passed when I was twenty-six and we didn’t always have the best relationship. She was an alcoholic for much of my life, until we finally broke connection. We didn’t speak for three years and then she came down with cervical cancer.

Even now, I can see her being
pissed
for me putting this in a novel, and I do feel a bit of shame about it. She was a very private woman.

She fought for seven months before she died. I spent much of that time at her house, falling in love with a sober woman that I barely knew. I still love her with every fiber of my being, though she isn’t here. I’m in love with her, to be honest. I adored her at the end.

Brand was born out of that love, because I would have done anything to keep her living.

I miss my mom and I always will. I’ll probably always miss Brand too.

DB - February, 2016