Though his teeth were chattering, he hung around outside, packing snowballs and watching the TV do its thing in the living room. He wondered where his brothers were. He figured Mac would be at work still and Billy would be in their room in bed. Billy was always asleep if he was home. Didn’t matter what time of the day it was, if he was there, you’d find him with his head under his pillow and the blankets up to his chin.
When Sean couldn’t stand the cold any longer, he walked up the front steps and went to the door. He had to turn the knob a couple of times because his mittens were slippery from the snow and his hands were stiff.
And maybe because he would have given anything to have somewhere else to go.
He stepped into the foyer and was careful to be very quiet as he went up to his apartment. The higher he got on the stairs, the drier his mouth became until he was swallowing nothing at all and his tongue was like sandpaper.
He took off his right mitten and went for the doorknob. It was locked.
He closed his eyes and shivered. He knew why his father did this and it wasn’t to keep out thieves. It was so Eddie O’Banyon would have to be inconvenienced when his sons came home. So he would have to get out of his chair and weave across the room. So he would be justified in what came next.
Sean lifted his little hand and formed a loose, insubstantial fist. He knocked as quietly as he could, as if maybe it would bother his father less.
Didn’t work.
A monster opened the door. And a monster dragged him inside. And a monster ripped his dirty snow jacket.
But before things got really bad, Mac came bursting into the apartment, home just in time. Sean had some impression of getting thrown in his room, not by his father, but by his brother. And then his door clapped shut.
As he landed in a heap, his face was throbbing to the beat of his heart and his knees were weak and the food that Mrs. O’Neal had made was a lead weight in his gut.
He started in with the dry heaves.
“W-w-wait! D-d-don’t throw up on the r-r-rug!” Billy stammered.
There was a scramble over by the desk and then a wastepaper basket was shoved under Sean’s face. Billy held him off the floor as he threw up Mrs. O’Neal’s dinner and the only good thing about the retching was that it drowned out the noises from the living room.
Except then the nausea passed and they heard everything.
“Oh God…” Sean whispered as a loud thump hit the wall just outside their bedroom.
Billy started to cry.
The two of them ended up in Sean’s bed with the sheets pulled up over their heads. They trembled together as they listened. Eventually, it all went silent.
Sean waited for exactly one hour. He timed it, watching the alarm clock on the bureau, the one that got them up for school.
Then he shifted off the bed.
“Where are you g-g-going?” Billy whispered.
Sean didn’t want his little brother to come. Didn’t want Billy to see. “Go back to sleep.”
“B-b-be careful.”
“Shhh.”
Sean cracked open the door and winced as the thing creaked. Going utterly still, he waited while his heart pounded, and when nothing came at him, he slipped out into the hall. The TV was still on, still flickering, the glow throwing shadows as if things were coming at him.
There was something wet on the floor.
Sean was shaking as he went into his older brother’s bedroom and he was careful as he shut the door behind him. Quiet. Had to stay quiet. He didn’t want to wake the demon, although their father was likely passed out cold.
“Mac?” The room was dark and he couldn’t see much, just the outline of the furniture. “Mac?”
There was a shuffling noise, as if someone had moved a leg or an arm.
With his eyes still adjusting, he went over to his brother’s bed out of memory. But there was no one in it.
“Where are you?”
Another shuffle.
Sean tracked the sound over to the corner.
And that was where he found his fifteen-year-old brother, on the floor in a ball, hidden on the far side of his bureau.
“Mac, are you okay?” He went over and when he reached out, he felt something wet. He knew it wasn’t tears. Mac never cried, no matter how bad it got. “Mac?”
“Go to bed.” The voice was nothing but an exhausted whisper, more hoarse breath than words.#p#分页标题#e#
Sean patted his brother because it seemed like something their mom might have done. But Mac jerked away as if it hurt then groaned as if any kind of movement was a problem.
“Mac…I’m scared. What do I do?”