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"
No
,
only
after
.
But
...
"
But
nothing
.
I
could
see
the
way
they
were
looking
at
me
.
They
did
n't
want
any
more
bad
news
,
anything
else
frightening
or
off-kilter
.
There
was
enough
of
that
already
.
Only
Ollie
looked
as
if
he
believed
"
Let
's
go
in
and
start
her
up
again
,
"
the
bag-boy
said
,
handing
out
the
flashlights
.
Ollie
took
his
doubtfully
.
The
bag-boy
offered
me
one
,
a
slightly
contemptuous
shine
in
his
eyes
.
He
was
maybe
eighteen
.
After
a
moment
's
thought
,
I
took
the
light
.
I
still
needed
something
to
cover
Billy
with
.
Ollie
opened
the
doors
and
chocked
them
,
letting
in
some
light
.
The
bleach
cartons
lay
scattered
around
the
half-open
door
in
the
plywood
partition
.
The
fellow
named
Jim
sniffed
and
said
,
"
Smells
pretty
rank
,
all
right
.
Guess
you
was
right
to
shut
her
down
.
"
The
flashlight
beams
bobbed
and
danced
across
cartons
of
canned
goods
,
toilet
paper
,
dog
food
.
The
beams
were
smoky
in
the
drifting
fumes
the
blocked
exhaust
had
turned
back
into
the
storage
area
.
The
bag-boy
trained
his
light
briefly
on
the
wide
loading
door
at
the
extreme
right
.
The
two
men
and
Ollie
went
inside
the
generator
compartment
.
Their
lights
flashed
uneasily
back
and
forth
,
reminding
me
of
something
out
of
a
boys
'
adventure
story
-
and
I
illustrated
a
series
of
them
while
I
was
still
in
college
.
Pirates
burying
their
bloody
gold
at
midnight
,
or
maybe
the
mad
doctor
and
his
assistant
snatching
a
body
.
Shadows
,
made
twisted
and
monstrous
by
the
shifting
,
conflicting
flashlight
beams
,
bobbed
on
the
walls
.
The
generator
ticked
irregularly
as
it
cooled
.
The
bag-boy
was
walking
toward
the
loading
door
,
flashing
his
light
ahead
of
him
.
"
I
would
n't
go
over
there
,
"
I
said
.
"
No
,
I
know
you
would
n't
.
"
"
Try
it
now
,
Ollie
,
"
one
of
the
men
said
.
The
generator
wheezed
,
then
roared
.
