Grays

Chapter One Because we know it is there, danger in an obvious place---on a battlefield, say---is often far less of a threat than it is on a quiet street in a small town. For example, on a street deep in America where three little boys rode interlocking figure eights on their bicycles, and on a sweet May evening, too, any danger would be a surprise. And a great and terrible danger---impossible. Not all of the boys were in danger. In fact, two of them were as profoundly safe as anybody else in Madison, Wisconsin on the scented evening of May 21, 1977. The third boy, however, was not so lucky. Not nearly. Because of something buried deeply in his genes, he was of more than normal interest to someone that is supposed not to exist, but does exist---in fact, is master of this earth. It was too bad for this child---in fact, tragic---because these creatures---if they could even be called that---caused phenomenal trauma, scarring trauma...to those of their victims who lived. Play ended with the last of the sun, and lights glowed on the porches of Woody Lane, as one by one the boys of the lane retired. Danny rode a little longer, and was watched by Burly, the dog of Mr. Ehmer. Soon Mr. Ehmer himself came across his lawn. His pipe glowed as he drew on it, and he said, "Say there, Danny, you want to come night fishin' with me and your Uncle Frank? We've been getting some good'uns all this week." Danny was a lonely child, saddled with an alcoholic mother and a violent father, so he welcomed these chances to be away from the tensions of home. He could take his sleeping bag and unroll it in the bottom of the boat, and if his line jerked it would wake him up. But not tonight. "I got scouts real early," he said, "gotta get up." Mr. Ehmer leaned back on his heels. "You're turnin' down fishin'?" "Gotta be at the park at nine. That means seven-thirty mass." "Well, yes it does. It does at that." He drew on the pipe again. "We get a sturgeon, we'll name 'im for you." He laughed then, a gentle rustle in his throat, in the first gusts of the wind that rises with the moon. He left Danny to go down the dark of Woody Lane alone, pushing the pedals of his Raleigh as hard as he could, not wanting to look up at the darkening sky again, not daring to look behind him. As he parked his bike and ran up to the lit back door, he was flooded with relief as he hopped on the doorstep and went into the lighted kitchen. He smelled the lingering odor of fried chicken, felt hungry but knew there was none left in the house. He went into the living room. He didn't stay long. Love Boat was like a religion with Mom and Dad, and then came Fantasy Island. He'd rather be in his room with the Batman he'd bought from Ron Bloom for twenty cents. At the same moment a few miles away, Katelyn Burns, who adored Love Boat, watched and received advice from her mother about painting her toenails. Very red, and use a polish that hardens slowly. They last longer, chip less, good on the toes. Next week school was out and she wanted---had---to paint her toenails for Beach Day. A magnetism of whispers that Joyce assumed were her own thoughts had drawn her to Madison, Wisconsin, and to this shabby apartment near the water. An easy place, Madison, the thoughts whispered to her, for a divorcee to find a man. An easy place, they most certainly did not tell her, from which to steal a child, carry her out and take her far, so that when her screams started, there would be none to hear her but the night wind. And so it would be this night, after the Love Boat sailed away and silence filled the house. As SatuStrieber, Whitley is the author of 'Grays ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780765352590 and ISBN 0765352591.