realized as she climbed back down the ladder: The show couldn't resume until the electricity came back on. Whether it did or the show was canceled, somebody should be noticing soon that they weren't getting any responses from her over their headsets.
Nikko would send someone to check on her, and she would have to admit to breaking the headset. Maybe she could come up with a good explanation before then, an explanation that wouldn't make her sound like a klutz or like a baby, spooked by shadows.
She was unwrapping the battery pack wire from around her fingers as she turned to face the door, to pick up the flashlight. Beyond the circle of light aimed past her at the loft, she saw a figure standing in the barn, in front of one of the doors, the doors that were still fastened by twine.
Not the hanged man. Definitely not another leftover dummy.
But even as she backed away she noticed things. Like that he was not a man, but a boy about her age, or at the most a year or two older. Which, of course, did not make him any less dangerous. Despite the light from the flashlight shining in her eyes, she could see him clearly enough to make out that his hair was dry, not dripping in his face as it would have to be in this downpour.
Then lightning flashed, not that close, but visible through the gap between the barn doors, enough to illuminate where the boy stood.
Except there was no boy.
Then the barn was dark again.
And he was back.
He flung his arm up to protect his eyes, then whispered, "Please don't hurt me."
It was a relief, of sorts, that he was afraid of her, except that she knew animals sometimes attacked out of fear. Still, it indicated he hadn't come in here planning on hurting her. Except how could he have gotten in? How could he disappear in lightning that wasn't bright enough to dazzle her eyes?
Ashley darted forward, grabbed the flashlight, and swung the beam in his direction.
He disappeared. Like a movie that fades off the projection screen when the overhead lights come on, he paled into nothingness.
There was no reasonable explanation for that. Ashley backed up and tripped over one of the bales of hay, so that she sat down, hard and fast, her bottom skimming the edge of the bale, which scraped her back on her way down to the floor. The beam of light jerked up and down—over the doors, onto the floor—but she knew to hold tight, and she didn't drop the flashlight.
In the half moments the light was not shining on him, the boy reappeared, crouching on the floor, his arms over his head as though warding off a blow.
Ashley tasted blood and realized she'd bitten her lip. She watched the shadow cast by the hanged man, creeping over the far wall, over the door, as he twisted in the air currents, silent except for the creaking of the beam. She was amazed she could hear that little sound over the pounding of her heart.
"Who are you?" Ashley demanded of the boy who was no longer there. "What do you want?"
Thunder grumbled, off in the distance, but the boy didn't answer.
Ashley felt she knew who he had to be, though her rational mind kept trying to push that possibility away.
He was a dead boy, one of Morgan Roehmar's victims. Brought back ... by what? The electricity of the storm? The particular night? Some alignment of the planets?
By the lack of light, definitely. Ashley kept a firm hold of the flashlight.
Then thought about all the dark corners of the barn behind her.
Still sitting on the floor, she swung the flashlight in an arc around her.
And once more glimpsed the boy by the doors as her beam of light chased the darkness around the barn.
He was gone once she aimed the flashlight directly in front of her again.
So, apparently something confined him to that spot. Good.
She sat with the comforting realness of the bale of hay pressing against her back and tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
C'mon, Nikko,
she thought.
Ramon.
Somebody.
Morgan Roehmar had lured boys into trusting
Nikko would send someone to check on her, and she would have to admit to breaking the headset. Maybe she could come up with a good explanation before then, an explanation that wouldn't make her sound like a klutz or like a baby, spooked by shadows.
She was unwrapping the battery pack wire from around her fingers as she turned to face the door, to pick up the flashlight. Beyond the circle of light aimed past her at the loft, she saw a figure standing in the barn, in front of one of the doors, the doors that were still fastened by twine.
Not the hanged man. Definitely not another leftover dummy.
But even as she backed away she noticed things. Like that he was not a man, but a boy about her age, or at the most a year or two older. Which, of course, did not make him any less dangerous. Despite the light from the flashlight shining in her eyes, she could see him clearly enough to make out that his hair was dry, not dripping in his face as it would have to be in this downpour.
Then lightning flashed, not that close, but visible through the gap between the barn doors, enough to illuminate where the boy stood.
Except there was no boy.
Then the barn was dark again.
And he was back.
He flung his arm up to protect his eyes, then whispered, "Please don't hurt me."
It was a relief, of sorts, that he was afraid of her, except that she knew animals sometimes attacked out of fear. Still, it indicated he hadn't come in here planning on hurting her. Except how could he have gotten in? How could he disappear in lightning that wasn't bright enough to dazzle her eyes?
Ashley darted forward, grabbed the flashlight, and swung the beam in his direction.
He disappeared. Like a movie that fades off the projection screen when the overhead lights come on, he paled into nothingness.
There was no reasonable explanation for that. Ashley backed up and tripped over one of the bales of hay, so that she sat down, hard and fast, her bottom skimming the edge of the bale, which scraped her back on her way down to the floor. The beam of light jerked up and down—over the doors, onto the floor—but she knew to hold tight, and she didn't drop the flashlight.
In the half moments the light was not shining on him, the boy reappeared, crouching on the floor, his arms over his head as though warding off a blow.
Ashley tasted blood and realized she'd bitten her lip. She watched the shadow cast by the hanged man, creeping over the far wall, over the door, as he twisted in the air currents, silent except for the creaking of the beam. She was amazed she could hear that little sound over the pounding of her heart.
"Who are you?" Ashley demanded of the boy who was no longer there. "What do you want?"
Thunder grumbled, off in the distance, but the boy didn't answer.
Ashley felt she knew who he had to be, though her rational mind kept trying to push that possibility away.
He was a dead boy, one of Morgan Roehmar's victims. Brought back ... by what? The electricity of the storm? The particular night? Some alignment of the planets?
By the lack of light, definitely. Ashley kept a firm hold of the flashlight.
Then thought about all the dark corners of the barn behind her.
Still sitting on the floor, she swung the flashlight in an arc around her.
And once more glimpsed the boy by the doors as her beam of light chased the darkness around the barn.
He was gone once she aimed the flashlight directly in front of her again.
So, apparently something confined him to that spot. Good.
She sat with the comforting realness of the bale of hay pressing against her back and tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
C'mon, Nikko,
she thought.
Ramon.
Somebody.
Morgan Roehmar had lured boys into trusting
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