Lost Boys Read Free Page A

father would kill him, and if he didn't, I would," she said mildly.
    "What if he killed both of you first?" asked Stevie. "And then came and wanted to kill Robbie and Betsy?"
    "Stevie," said DeAnne, "Heavenly Father won't let anything like that happen to you."
    That was more than Step could stand. "God doesn't work that way," he said. "He doesn't stop evil people from committing their crimes."
    "He's asking us if he's safe," said DeAnne.
    "Yes, Stevie, you're safe, as safe as anybody ever is who's alive in this world. But you were asking about what if somebody really terrible wanted to do something vicious to our whole family, and the truth is that if somebody is truly, deeply evil, then sometimes good people can't stop him until he's done a lot of bad things.
    That's just the way it happens sometimes."
    "Okay" said Stevie. "But God would get him for it, right?"
    "In the long run, yes," said Step. "And I'll tell you this-the only way anybody will ever get to you or the other kids or to your mother, for that matter, is if I'm already dead. I promise you that."
    "Okay" said Stevie.
    "There aren't that many really evil people in the world," said Step. "I don't think you need to worry about this."
    "Okay," said Stevie.
    "I mean, why did you ask about this stuff?"
    "He had a gun."
    "Of course he had a gun, dear," said DeAnne. "He's a policeman. He has a gun so he can protect people like us from those bad people."
    "I wish we could always have a policeman with us," said Stevie.
    "Yeah, that'd be nice, wouldn't it?" said Step. Right, nice like a hemorrhoid. I'd have to drive fifty- five all the time.
    Stevie had apparently exhausted his questions.
    A few moments later, Step felt DeAnne's hand on his thigh, patting him. He glanced over at her. "Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to contradict you."
    "You were right," she said softly.
    He smiled at her and held her hand for a moment, until he needed both hands on the wheel for a turn.
    Still, all the rest of the way into Frankfort he couldn't get Stevie's questions out of his mind. Nor could he forget his own answers. He had stopped DeAnne from teaching Stevie that God would always protect him from bad people, but then he had gone on and promised that he would give his life before any harm ever came to the children. But was that true? Did he have that kind of courage? He thought of parents in concentration camps who watched their children get killed before their eyes, and yet they could do nothing. And even if he tried, what good would Step be able to do against somebody bent on violence? Step had no skill in fighting, and he was pretty sure it wasn't one of those things that you just know how to do. Any half-assed hoodlum would make short work of Step, and here he had kids who were looking to him for protection. I should study karate or something. Kung fu. Or buy a gun so that when Stevie is fourteen he can find it where it's hidden and play around with it and end up killing himself or Robbie or some friend of his or something.
    No, thought Step. None of the above. I won't do any of those things, because I'm a civilized man living in a civilized society, and if the barbarians ever knock on my door I'll be helpless.
    They pulled into Frankfort and there was a Holiday Inn with a vacancy sign. Step took it as a good omen.
    Officially he didn't believe in omens. But what the heck, it made him feel better to take it that way, and so he did.

2: Maggots
    This is the house they moved into: The only cheap wood siding in a neighborhood of red brick. No basement, no garage, not even a roof over the carport. Brown latticework around the base of the house like the skirting around a mobile home. Blue carpet in the living room, which wasn't going to look too good with their furniture, an old-fashioned green velvet love seat and overstuffed chair Step had bought from Deseret industries when he was in college back at BYU. But it had four bedrooms, which meant one for Step and DeAnne, one for the