The Burning

'Where was your son found?' Saldana asked. 'I want to see that basement.'

They descended the stairs, none of them remarking upon the black room they had just left, and Jolene found herself more frightened than she had been before. Whatever small confidence the authority of the FBI had instilled in her was gone. Saldana and his men could not have learned much from their brief look at the bedroom, and they certainly hadn't accomplished anything. Which meant that the agents were as lost as she was in the face of this horror.

Still, they all went down to the basement, although she and Skylar ventured no farther than the bottom of the steps in case they had to make a quick getaway.

The door in the floor was closed. Ned again expressed surprise at that, since he was the last person who'd been in here and it had been open when he'd left yesterday afternoon.

Saldana pointed. 'That's it? Down there?' His voice was not quite as loud as it had been, as though in deference to this place.

Jolene nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

'And there's no other entrance or exit?'

'None,' Ned said. 'I checked myself.' He was about to pull open the trapdoor when from beneath the thick wood came an indistinct scratching followed instantly by the sound of wood hitting wood.

Someone was down there.

As one, the FBI agents and the police chief drew their holstered guns. Jolene's heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear over the thumping in her ears. She backed up, holding tightly to her son, retreating slowly up the steps. She thought of that low terrible space with its dirt floor, its foul smell and that single bookcase in the center. It had been ghastly enough in the middle of the day. At night, it seemed more terrifying than anything she had ever encountered or could ever have imagined, and the thought that Skylar had had to spend even a second alone in that dark horrible space filled her with anguish.

Ned and the FBI agents had formed a ring around the trapdoor, their drawn weapons pointed at arm's length at the wooden hatch. Saldana nodded to the agent closest to the handle, indicating that he was to pull the door open. He was Asian, Jolene noticed for the first time. She wondered if he was of Chinese descent.

As before, the spring-hinged door came up fairly easily, and for a brief moment she saw the top of the primitive ladder.

Then the agent was gone.

She could not tell if he fell into the opening or was somehow drawn in. All she knew was that one second he was standing next to Saldana and the next he was tumbling into the blackness with a short surprised scream.

The trapdoor slammed shut.

The screaming continued.

Grew worse.

Jolene yanked Skylar's arm, pulling him the rest of the way up the stairs. They had to get out of here. Now.

'We have to destroy the house!'

She stopped. Her son's declaration was so loud, so authoritative, so unlike his usual quiet voice, that for a brief second she thought he might be possessed, thought something else might be speaking through him. But when she peered down at his face, illuminated by the light from the kitchen above, she saw only Skylar, and while the look of determination on his features was far more intense than usual, it was definitely his own.

A hint of exasperation crept into his voice, as though he knew ahead of time that he wouldn't be taken seriously because he was a kid, but when he spoke it was with the same strength. 'Trust me. I know what we have to do.'

'We can't-' Saldana began, his eyes never leaving the closed trapdoor.

'It's the only way to stop it!'

Muffled laughter sounded from the lower cellar, a deep evil chuckle that was accompanied by a strange juicy sound she could not quite recognize. The screaming had stopped.

'We have to destroy the house!' Skylar's voice was more whiny now than authoritative. 'We have to burn it down!'

Jolene pulled him into the kitchen. She didn't care what the rest of them did, but she was taking her son and getting out of this fucking building.

The two of them dashed through the kitchen, out into the first-floor hall, through the foyer and out the front door.

'Jolene! Skylar!'

It was her mother's voice.

Jolene pulled her son down the steps, running into the drive. She squinted against the patrol car searchlight until she found her mom. And Leslie. The two had driven here in Leslie's Toyota and were waving them over.

'Jolene!' Leslie called, her voice filled with relief.

'Is everything all right, ma'am?' It was the officer who had remained outside. Jolene had no idea how to answer that-so she didn't. She continued running.

'Skylar!' Her mother took him from her, hugging the boy and holding him close.

He pulled away. 'We have to destroy the house!' he repeated in a tone of supreme frustration. He was almost crying. 'It's the only way! We have to!'

'He's right. He knows.'

Jolene looked at her mom. Was this the same woman who'd angrily told her and Skylar that they hadn't seen anything at the window? How could she have come around so quickly-and without even having seen what was inside the house? Jolene wasn't complaining, but she didn't understand. She loved her son, but even she hadn't been entirely persuaded until only a few moments before.

Leslie opened the trunk of the car. In it was a pile of dirty rags and a case of whiskey she had obviously brought from the restaurant. 'We can make Molotov cocktails.'

Leslie had been convinced, too.

'Chief!' the policeman shouted.

Jolene looked up as Ned emerged from the front door, battered and bloody, his clothes torn.

He was alone.

He staggered down the porch steps, leaning on a post for balance as the waiting officer rushed to offer him assistance. No one came out of the house behind him, and Jolene knew without having to ask that the four FBI agents were dead.

'Stay here!' she ordered, and started across the drive to help. She changed her mind halfway over and quickly hurried back. 'Stay together!' She grabbed Skylar's wrist. He was already holding his grandmother's hand, and with Leslie running alongside, the three of them made their way over to the patrol car. Within the house, lights seemed to be flicking on and off at random.

'Are you okay?' Jolene asked the police chief.

His eyes were filled with agony. 'They didn't make it.'

'We have to destroy the house!' Skylar shouted.

'He's right,' Ned said, breathing heavily and with difficulty.

'I brought a lighter and rags and bottles of alcohol,' Leslie offered. She seemed to realize that what she was proposing was illegal, was in fact arson. And premeditated arson at that. She glanced quickly from the police chief to his underling.

'Then let's burn the place down,' Ned said.

The chief was in pain and seriously injured, but through sheer determination he hobbled across the drive to Leslie's Toyota. He looked into the open trunk and nodded approvingly. 'Joe,' he said to the other officer. 'We have five gallons of gas in those emergency canisters in the trunk of the car. Get them out.'

The policeman hurried off. Ned tried to lift up the carton of whiskey bottles but couldn't do it, so Leslie lifted it out for him 'Go take it over to Joe,' he said. 'Set it down in front of the porch. I'll get a couple of rags. All we need is one incendiary device. We'll douse the place first, then set it off.'

Jolene found herself wondering what would happen once this was all over. // it was all over. There would be four murdered FBI agents in a house burned by an arson-set fire. Under Ned Tanner's orders, the Bear Flats Police