The
flashlight's beam pinned him, and he wanted to run to his mother and
hide behind her, wanted to escape the light.
"Go," he said softly to the golem, touching its elbow. "It'll be all
right."
Slowly, gratingly, the golem turned and lumbered out of the cave, clumsy
and ponderous.
Marci put her arm around him and he buried his face in her skinny neck,
the hot tears coursing down her collarbones.
#
Davey came to him that night and pinned him in the light of the
flashlight. He woke staring up into the bright bulb, shielding his
eyes. He groped out for the light, but Darryl danced back out of reach,
keeping the beam in his eyes. The air crackled with the angry grinding
of its hand-dynamo.
He climbed out of bed naked and felt around on the floor. He had a geode
there, he'd broken it and polished it by hand, and it was the size of a
softball, the top smooth as glass, the underside rough as a coconut's
hide.
Wordless and swift, he wound up and threw the geode as hard as he could
at where he judged Davey's head to be.
There was a thud and a cry, and the light clattered to the ground,
growing more dim as its dynamo whirred to a stop. Green blobs chased
themselves across his vision, and he could only see Darren rolling on
the ground by turning his head to one side and looking out of the corner
of his eye.
He groped toward Davey and smelled the blood.
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