“He’s not here yet,” Thomas said. “We’re early, I think.”
“Right on time, actually,” Alden answered. A small scratching
sound was followed by a flickering yellow light throwing their hid-
ing place into even deeper shadow. “I must thank you for being so
obliging, Thomas. And for bringing the Liska brat with you. One
generation must go as another, I suppose.”
“What are you going to show us?” Thomas asked, wariness
straining his voice.
“I’m going to show you what happens when you think an ant
can tell a god what to do.” Glass shattered, and the room was filled
with the acrid scent of kerosene and smoke. “Good-bye, little
ants.” The door slammed.
An impact rattled the walls of the boathouse, followed by
another. “He’s barred it!” Arthur shouted.
“Arthur? Thomas?” Cora peered out from behind the crates.
Arthur’s eyes widened in terror as he saw her, Minnie, and Charles.
He and Thomas ran toward them, but the line of flame had
reached a barrel propped against the wall.
A popping sound was followed by a low boom, and then the
entire boathouse was bathed in brilliant, biting orange light.
October 8, 1967
seventeen
A
rthur blinked, his head pounding. Where was he?
What was happening?
A violent shout next to him brought him to his senses.
Minnie had taken off her overshirt and was using it to smother the
flames licking at Thomas’s trousers. The wall with the door out
was entirely consumed by fire, and the air was already thick with
smoke.