The Girls He Adored

23

Lyssy the Sissy was frightened. He didn't like the dark. And this dark was worse than the closet his father used to lock him in. Because at least in the closet, even if you couldn't get out, you knew nothing else was going to come in.

But this dark was more like the basement. Bad things happened in the basement-it was the worst place he knew.

Although he had a watch, a big man's watch, Lyssy couldn't tell time, so he had no idea how long he'd been in this place. All he knew was that he was forbidden to cry, and he was forbidden to use the flashlight. Even so, soon his terror got the better of him. He struggled with the heavy switch-it was hard for his little fingers to operate it. Finally, using both thumbs, he managed to turn on the light, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Because there, lying only a few feet away from him on the dusty gray floor, was the skeleton of a dead bird. Seeing those empty eye sockets, that hungry beak, was worse than the dark. Lyssy tried to turn off the flashlight, but the switch wouldn't budge. He tried to cover the light with his hand. His fingers glowed red-he could see through them-he could see his own bones.

Please, he said, his lips moving silently. Please help me. Then he heard the voice again.

Lyssy?

Yes?

You want my help?

Yes.

You know you've been a bad boy. It was not a question.

Yes.

If I help you, will you do what I say from now on?

Yes.

No more talking to the nice doctor unless I give you permission?

Okay.

No more talking to anybody unless I say it's allowed?

Okay.

You promise?

I promise.

Cross your heart and hope to die.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

You also have to promise to share what you know with me.

Sharing's good.

Sometimes. Tell me what you told the doctor this afternoon.

I told her about the dream-the dream about the masks. And what Daddy did.

Did you tell her about the other people, or where we live now?

No.

About me?

No.

Cross your heart?

And hope to die.

Attaboy.

Can I leave now? Can I go to sleep?

Yes. But when you wake up again, remember what we talked about. And don't forget your promises. Do you know what will happen if you break your promises?

I don't want to talk about it.

I'll put you back in the dark, and the dead bird will come to life and peck out your eyes. Or I'll burn you-remember how bad it hurted you, last time?

You're bad. You're scaring me, and you're bad.

Well ain't that the truth, little man. I am bad. And I am scaring you. But that's nothing compared to what I can do if you ever break your promise.

I won't. I said I wou'n't, and I won't.

All right then. Off you go.

Max opened his eyes. The body was still charged with adrenalinehe took a few deep breaths to calm it down and quiet the pulse pounding in his ears, then switched off the flashlight and listened in the dark. No sirens, no sounds from below-nothing but a little traffic out on Alisal Street. He pushed the illuminator button on Twombley's Indiglo watch. Nine P.M. Full dark. Suddenly Max was immensely hungry. Hungry and horny. He yawned, stretched, rose to his feet. Time to book on out of here for real. He had places to go, people to see.

Max started to give the dead pigeon a wide berth on his way out of the cell, then realized that his repulsion was only a leftover from Lyssy the Sissy's time in the body, and gave it a good boot with the toe of Twombley's shoe. The skeleton dissociated as it skidded along the floor; by the time it hit the wall it was only a pile of bones and feathers.