Out There in the Darkness Read Free Page A

said, my words childish in my ears.
    â€œYeah, but we live in the same neighborhood, Aaron,” Mike said, “which makes this ‘our’ problem.”
    â€œHe’s right, Aaron,” Bob said from the breakfast nook.   There’s a window there where I sometimes sit to watch all the animals on sunny days.   I saw a mother raccoon and four baby raccoons one day, marching single file across the grass.   My grandparents were the last generation to live on the farm.   My father came to town here and ended up working at a ball bearing company.   Raccoons are a lot more pleasant to gaze upon than people.
    â€œHe’s not right,” I said to Bob.   “He’s wrong.   We’re not cops, we’re not bounty hunters, we’re not trackers.   We’re a bunch of goddamned guys who peddle stocks and bonds.   Mike and Neil shouldn’t have tied him up downstairs—that happens to be illegal, at least the way they went about it—and now I’m going to call the cops.”
    â€œYes, that poor thing,” Mike said, “aren’t we just picking on him, though?   Tell you what, why don’t we make him something to eat?”
    â€œJust make sure we have the right wine to go with it,” Neil said.   “Properly chilled, of course.”
    â€œMaybe we could get him a chick,” Bob said.
    â€œWith bombers out to here,” Mike said, indicating with his hands where “here” was.
    I couldn’t help it.   I smiled.   They were all being ridiculous.   A kind of fever had caught them.
    â€œYou really want to go down there and question him?” I said to Neil.
    â€œYes.   We can ask him things the cops can’t.”
    â€œScare the bastard a little,” Mike said.   “So he’ll tell us who was with him tonight, and who else works this neighborhood.”   He came over and put his hand out.   “God, man, you’re one of my best friends.   I don’t want you mad at me.”
    Then he hugged me, which is something I’ve never been comfortable with men doing, but to the extent I could, I hugged him back.
    â€œFriends?” he said.
    â€œFriends,” I said.   “But I still want to call the cops.”
    â€œAnd spoil our fun?” Neil said.
    â€œAnd spoil your fun.”
    â€œI say we take it to a vote,” Bob said.
    â€œThis isn’t a democracy,” I said.   “It’s my house and I’m the king, I don’t want to have a vote.”
    â€œCan we ask him one question?” Bob said.
    I sighed.   They weren’t going to let go.   “One question?”
    â€œThe name of the guy he was with tonight.”
    â€œAnd that’s it?”
    â€œThat’s it.   That way we get him and one other guy off the street.”
    â€œAnd then I call the cops?”
    â€œThen,” Mike said, “you call the cops.”
    â€œOne question,” Neil said.
    While we finished our beers, we argued a little more, but they had a lot more spirit left than I did.   I was tired now and missing Jan and the kids and feeling lonely.   These three guys had become strangers to me tonight.   Very old boys eager to play at boy games once again.
    â€œOne question,” I said.   “Then I call the cops.”
    I led the way down, sneezing as I did so.
    There’s always enough dust floating around in the basement to play hell with my sinuses.
    The guy was his same sullen self, glaring at us as we descended the stairs and then walked over to him.   He smelled of heat and sweat and city grime.   The long bare arms sticking out of his filthy T-shirt told tattoo tales of writhing snakes and leaping panthers.   The arms were joined in the back with rope.   His jaw still flexed, trying to accommodate the intrusion of the gag.
    â€œMaybe we should castrate him,” Mike said, walking up close to