Billy by Whitley Strieber Read Free Book Online Page A

was also kind, and intelligent and beautiful. No matter the dangers, Barton could not abandon him. Billy.

 
     

    6.

     
     
    Barton's watch started beeping at exactly three-forty-five. Real sleep hadn't come, only a light nap. He opened his eyes into the warm blackness of the van. It was stuffy and the windows were fogged. He crawled up into the driver's seat, put the key in the starter and turned on the battery. When he lowered the windows the cool, rich night air brought him to full wakefulness.
    The question was, should he go back? He already knew that Billy's father hadn't called the police; he would have picked up the dispatch on his scanner. There hadn't been anything, except when the one patrolman on duty made a routine check with the dispatcher.
    The father must have decided that whatever his son had seen was innocuous. Even so, there was still great danger in going back tonight. But Barton couldn't risk waiting another day. There were too many imponderables.
    While he'd been lying in the dark van, Barton had decided that he had been searching for Billy for all of his adult life. He just hadn't known it until now.
    Barton Royal would give that child just a wonderful, wonderful life. There was so much love in him, so much giving, so much caring. Maybe Billy wouldn't believe it at first, but in the end he would love his new father so much the past would be completely forgotten.
    He gripped the steering wheel as if it was the edge of a cliff. He told himself to breathe deeply and evenly. He was calm, alert.

    Again he inventoried his supplies: ether, felt, duct tape, plastic cards, wire. The hammer, meat and plastic bag he could leave behind. Had there been a dog, it would have come out onto the porch with its master.
    Billy, the little master.
    You will be my soul's guide, Billy. I give you myself. I pray to you: dear Billy, open my eyes, guide me to the light.
    He started the van. Ten minutes later he was passing the Burger King. Then he was on Hicks, then on Oak.
    And there was the house. Thankfully, the basement light had been turned out. Dear old Dad must have noticed.
    Barton imagined the conversation between father and son.
    Dad: "I know what happened to you. You got the heebie-jeebies down there in the dark."
    Billy: "I saw a man, Dad."
    Oh, Billy, I pray you deliver me. Be the one who is stronger!
    He cut his lights and engine and rolled into the driveway. The tires hardly crunched on the concrete driveway.
    Then he stopped the van. A glance at his watch: four-oh-six. He would take no more than ten minutes in the house. He went back in through the storm door, working quickly and efficiently. This time the basement stayed dark.
    As he passed the workbench and its litter of computer disks and equipment, he noticed a Butterfinger wrapper. So Billy liked Butterfingers. Duly noted.
    The door at the top of the stairs was locked with only a knob button, but nevertheless it slowed him down. He fumbled with the plastic cards that you were supposed to work into the crack between the door and the jamb.
    There was quite a scraping noise, so he stopped. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the door. Carefully, he probed more delicately with the edge of the card. Finally he found the tongue of the lock. He twisted the card from side to side.
    Quite suddenly the door swung open.
    Every movement, every breath counted now. He could imagine the father lying still and silent, could imagine his eyes opening, glittering in the dark. Every creak and drip in the house echoed with hidden significance. He heard the clocks ticking, the breeze moving the kitchen curtains, the scuttling of a roach on the floor.

    He took his ether from the knapsack and put it with the felt into his side pocket. The silent house before him was deeply disturbing. He smelled a fragrance of apples and, very faintly, the hint of Pine Sol. There was a faint scent of pecan divinity.
    That odor carried him to his depths. In his neighborhood the older sisters