Out There in the Darkness Read Free Page B

the guy.   “You like that, scumbag?   If we castrated you?”
    If the guy felt any fear, it wasn’t evident in his eyes.   All you could see there was the usual contempt.
    â€œI’ll bet this is the jerk who broke into the Donaldsons’ house a couple weeks ago,” Neil said.
    Now he walked up to the guy.   But he was more ambitious than Mike had been.   Neil spat in the guy’s face.
    â€œHey,” I said, “cool it.”
    Neil glared at me.   “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings, would I?”
    Then he suddenly turned back on the guy, raised his fist and started to swing.   All I could do was shove him.   That sent his punch angling off to the right, missing our burglar by about half a foot.
    â€œYou asshole,” Neil said, turning back on me now.
    But Mike was there, between us.
    â€œYou know what we’re doing?    We’re making this jerk happy.   He’s gonna have some nice stories to tell all his criminal friends.”
    He was right.   The burglar was the one who got to look all cool and composed.   We looked like squabbling brats.   As if to confirm this, a hint of amusement played in the burglar’s blue eyes.
    â€œOh, hell, Aaron, I’m sorry,” Neil said, putting his hand out.   This was like a political convention, all the handshaking going on.
    â€œSo am I, Neil,” I said.   “That’s why I want to call the cops and get this over with.”
    And that’s when he chose to make his move, the burglar.   As soon as I mentioned the cops, he probably realized that this was going to be his last opportunity.
    He waited until we were just finishing up with the handshake, when we were all focused on each other.   Then he took off running.   We could see that he’d slipped the rope.   He went straight for the stairs, angling out around us like a running back seeing daylight.   He even stuck his long, tattooed arm out as if he was trying to repel a tackle.
    â€œHey,” Bob shouted.   “He’s getting away.”
    He was at the stairs by the time we could gather ourselves enough to go after him.   But when we moved, we moved fast, and in virtual unison.
    By the time I got my hand on the cuff of his left jean, he was close enough to the basement door to open it.
    I yanked hard and ducked out of the way of his kicking foot.   By now I was as crazy as Mike and Neil had been earlier.   There was adrenaline and great anger.   He wasn’t just a burglar, he was all burglars, intent not merely on stealing things from me, but hurting my family, too.   He hadn’t had time to take the gag from his mouth.
    This time, I grabbed booted foot and leg and started hauling him back down the stairs.   At first he was able to hold on to the door but when I wrenched his foot rightward, he tried to scream behind the gag.   He let go of the doorknob.
    The next half minute is still unclear in my mind.   I started running down the stairs, dragging him with me.   All I wanted to do was get him on the basement floor again, turn him over to the others to watch, and then go call the cops.
    But somewhere in those few seconds when I was hauling him back down the steps, I heard edge of stair meeting back of skull.   The others heard it, too, because their shouts and curses died in their throats.
    When I turned around, I saw the blood running fast and red from his nose.   The blue eyes no longer held contempt.   They were starting to roll up white in the back of his head.
    â€œGod,” I said.   “He’s hurt.”
    â€œI think he’s a lot more than hurt,” Mike said.
    â€œHelp me carry him upstairs.”
    We got him on the kitchen floor.   Mike and Neil rushed around soaking paper towels.   We tried to revive him.   Bob, who kept wincing from his headache, tried the guy’s wrist, ankle and throat for