Stolen Souls

43

BILLY CRAWFORD REACHED for the light switch at the top of the stairs. The cellar stayed dark.

Smart girl, he thought.

Was there a torch out in the van? He was almost sure he had stashed one under the driver’s seat in case of emergencies, but the batteries had run out. There was another down there in the dark, sitting in or near his toolbox. So he could go down there and get it, but then he might as well just take care of her in the dark.

He held his breath and listened, heard nothing but his own heartbeat. Hard in his chest, like when he lay down to sleep at night, and he was all alone in the world. Even God couldn’t see him then, when he was at the mercy of the beasts that roamed his mind.

“Are you hungry?” he asked the darkness.

It did not answer. He took two steps inside.

“I can make us something to eat,” he said. “I have bread and soup. Or maybe a baked potato. And coffee. What do you think?”

The stairs creaked as he descended until he felt the hard floor beneath his feet. He stood still and silent as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the light from above allowing vague shapes to emerge from the black. Glass crunched under his boot as he took a step toward the workbench. The lightbulb.

He ran his hands over the smooth wooden surface, felt nothing but the dust and swarf from the tasks performed there. To his right, the cabinet. He could see in the dimness that its doors had been closed, even though he was sure he had left them open.

His tongue toured the inside of his mouth as he thought. Yes, he had left it open. He crossed to it, gripped the handles.

“I only want to help you,” he said.

He jerked the doors open. No waft of girl smell rose from its innards. He reached inside, not trusting his eyes. Empty.

“Will you let me help you?” he asked, turning to face the dark space around him. “Will you, ple—”

A sun exploded in his vision, then died again, leaving bright green contrails in its wake. He raised his hands, trying to swat the glare’s residue away.

Another light exploded, but not in front of his eyes. He had a moment to wonder at its source, before another blow rocked his head sideways and the floor slammed into his shoulder.