PANIC by J.A. Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

Ben?”
    “Hell no!”
    “Are you scared, Jerry?”
    Jerry drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m not scared.”
    The words hung there in the air, deflating. The boys’ eyes didn’t meet one another.
    Danny thought about the guy who snapped, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Ben was just full of it.
    He imagined what it might be like at that moment, watching from afar as an assault rifle spat hot lead at stupid adults. The spent clip would drop to the ground, clattering, and a gloved hand would smack another in its place. He’d start in the food court, firing in every direction, indiscriminately.
    Vividly, he imagined them dying like sheep, his parents’ heads and bodies being split open and ripped apart by bullets designed to maim flesh. His dad would be off in his own world while his mom held his hand, tentatively, trying her best to seem civil. They would react far too late for it to matter.
    A bullet would rip through her neck and deflect upward, smacking through his dad’s cheek so hard that the top of his head would open up like a flap. The skin would peel away violently from the force of the projectile exiting his head and wipe the smirk off his face. They’d tumble lifelessly together on top of each other in a heap.
    The killer might start stalking his prey, crouching here, scurrying for hiding spots there. He’d step over bodies with smoking bullet wounds, wading through spent cases with his heavy combat boots. He’d turn his head and acknowledge Danny for a moment then continue on, as if saying “Hey, kid. Got no beef with you.”
    It was just an idle daydream.
    Ben thought about beer and how impossible it seemed he might get his hands on some.
    Jerry had a weird look on his face neither boy recognized, both being too busy trying to be cool and mature to acknowledge what it was. It wasn’t a look you practiced in the mirror to impressed girls.
    The younger boy wasn’t trembling or chattering his teeth or looking around wildly, he just looked blank, considering it although they’d all made the decision. He looked lost. It was the look of dread.
    “I’m not going in unless you guys go, too.”

T HREE
    ON CENTRAL AVENUE, it’s warm. The valley is like a parabola, flattened by roads lined with buildings; some brick, old, not refurbished or renovated but continually occupied since originally built a hundred years or more ago.
    In the 1800’s, way back before anyone alive could remember, a coal fire ran out of control and destroyed every building in town except for the brick mills. It would become the only character the town had, aside from the broad, rolling hills forming the perimeter of the community like a huge cul-de-sac. Everything else was fiberglass and concrete and glass blocks and stucco; a visitor would have no idea why this place existed.
    Joining the main road out of town was an eight lane grey vein, I-25. There lay the mall, as silent as the mills and the mine.
    Whenever his mom wants to go shopping, she gets on the highway and drives across the county to the outlet stores. She doesn't even pretend that eyesore exists. Once, when Danny was six, he asked what the big building was, since they passed it every Saturday and Sunday, returning from the flea market or the movies or visiting Grandma.
    "A mistake," was her sarcastic reply.
    The boys pedal on their mountain bikes in formation, taking up the whole oncoming lane. There’s never too much traffic in town, anyway.

THEY RIDE PAST City Hall, the square where the town fathers used to hold public hangings. The practice died down in the 19th century, but abolished when it was denounced as cruel. It was revived in the early 20th under the clandestine direction of Koenigsmann Bituminous Coal Co. The last unfortunate two hanged were in 1919, a Polish husband and wife named Wodjek. These two were accused and convicted as co-conspirators in a plot to bomb the mine to cause a collapse and draw attention to deplorable working conditions and