Anna lit her third cigarette, staring straight ahead at the television set. "If we don't hear anything by tonight, the boy dies," she said, flipping her ashes. "They must've gotten the note by now. I'm tired of this waiting shit."

Casey, the mastermind behind it all, spoke up. "I was sitting there a while ago, having a smoke in that room where he's at? He didn't even try to open his mouth, even move a muscle. It's like he's not even afraid. How could a little kid act like that under these circumstances?"

"Casey," Anna said, taking a sip of her beer, "You musn't go down there unless it's to give him food or water, or let him go to the john. He's evil, I'm telling you. He's really weird."

"Tell that to Charlie," Casey said. "He's down there a lot more than me. He's getting way too chummy with him, and it's gonna make it that much harder when the time comes to... well, you know."

"It's okay, babe," Anna said, trying to comfort him. "If we don't get a call by tonight, it's over, a loss. It won't be that hard for Charlie to do it. He enjoys the kill, remember?"

"I'm sick of thinking about that brat," Casey interjected, and the silence afterward was puncuated by the mindless noise of the TV set. "I'm about ready to do him myself."

"Baby, don't let him get to you," Anna said. "He's doing it on purpose, you know."

"There's something wrong with that kid," Casey said, getting up from the table and walking over to the window. All he could see outside was darkness. They were out in the boonies. "I could feel it when I was down there. I stood dreaming or something with my eyes wide open – he's not okay at all. He's a weird kid. And you know what I dreamed of when I was around him? Gardens. Now how's that for some weird shit?"

"It doesn't matter," Anna said, pushing her wheelchair away from the table to face Casey. "He'll be out of his misery soon enough. He'll be begging to die."

"No, no," Casey said, looking nervous. "I don't mean he's sick, like with the measles or something. There's something about him that just isn't normal. He... he changes somehow."

"Very observant of you," Charlie said, walking into the room. "I called twice. No answer, either. No word from the parents yet."

"I say we do him now," Casey said, shooting Anna an exasperated look.

"Shut up," Charlie said, opening the icebox to grab a beer. "It's a boy, for Christ's sake. A real boy. Flesh and blood, just like us. Not a monster, some supernatural blood-sucking creepazoid with teeth like a shark. He's a little kid, nothing more, nothing less."

"You don't even see it?" Casey said. "You really don't see that he's weird?"

"Sure, there's something not right about him, I'll grant you that. What I'm saying is, I don't think it's anything that's a danger to us."

"The kid is a weirdo," Casey said, closing the curtains. There was a storm brewing outside. "I think the little shit likes being handcuffed."

"Oh, so now he's a sadist, huh?" Charlie asked, shaking his head. "A twelve-year-old sadist? I suppose he's into bondage too, huh? Whips and chains, beatings?"

Anna shook her head in disbelief. "Please, you two. Chill out, okay? It's just a kid, that's all. He's no sadist, or monster, or whatever. But, I'll have to admit, I'll be glad when this is over, and I'm far far away from him."

"He's not as smart as you think, either," Charlie said, sitting down at the table. Casey did the same. "He got bad grades in school last year, I checked. He's boring, too. Collects stamps and bugs."

Anna grimaced, swallowed hard. "Bugs? Like creepy, crawly insects?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "Big ones. I saw some of them while I was casing the house. Had a cockroach in there as big as a friggin' mouse. Now, that's weird."

"That's gross," Anna said, swallowing hard again.

"Told you he was weird, didn't I?" Casey said, draining his beer.

"Okay, okay," Charlie said. "Weird, yes. Dangerous? No."

"Weird," Casey repeated.

"Okay, weird. But not unusual," Charlie said. "This is an unusual line of work, remember? Unsusal things tend to happen to folks like us."

"Yeah!" Anna said, sitting bolt upright in her chair. Her eyes were wide with excitement. "Like that woman last year... what was her name? Anyway, remember what she said before we buried her alive? She said, 'I won't be the last one, will I?' Like she was trying to work on my conscience. But she wasn't wrong, was she? First that banker, then the pro-ball player. Then her. Now this little boy. She knew."

"Ha!" Charlie said, so abrubtly it startled the others. "I'll bet her conscience didn't bother her when she passed by the homeless in the streets and climbed into her fifty thousand dollar limousine." He lit a smoke. "And where was her conscience when she married that money grubbing monster who raped the economy and the environment?"

Suddenly, in one quick move, Charlie picked up a large knife from the block on the kitchen counter. A butcher's knife. Jokingly, he raised the knife and hacked the air in front of Casey's face. Charlie was laughing, but Casey's face was tight and bathed in sweat. "NOW!" Charlie said, turning to walk towards the basement door.

"Charlie!" Anna yelled. "No! Not now... not yet!"

Charlie stopped, staring at the knife as if it were some alien object he didn't understand. He turned around to look at Anna and Casey. "But... he... he told me things that a little boy couldn't possibly know. How did he do that–"

"How?!" Anna said, lighting a smoke with shaking hands. "How could he tell you anything, Charlie?! His mouth is covered with duct tape!"

"You said earlier, you wanted him dead," Charlie reminded her. "Why the change of heart?"

"I'm not changing my mind," she said, holding her hand out for the knife. "I'm just saying it's not time yet. It's only around noon."

Charlie tightened his grip on the knife, then let it drop to the linoleum. "I shoulda cut his little scrawny throat. The little piglet. He's... he's not the same kid we took on Friday..."

"You just said a while ago you didn't think he was dangerous!" Casey yelled, his face flushed red. "What about that? You're not making any sense!"

"Jesus..." Charlie said, falling to his knees and covering his face with his hands. "I'm losing it..."

Anna said, "Oh... my poor baby," and and knelt down in front of him, softly stroking his thinning hair. "Charlie, you poor baby... this is too hard for you after all, isn't it?"

"He's... he's just a kid," Charlie muttered. "How can he–"

"It's okay, babe," Anna said. "It'll be over soon."

"Something... something about him... the way he stares," Charlie croaked in a hoarse whisper.

"It's gonna be all right," Anna said. "Don't worry..."

From his chair, Casey said, "Hey! It's finally on TV!"

Charlie lifted his head, tears in his eyes. Anna sat down by him cross-legged, watching the TV screen. A reporter was standing in front of a large, upscale home on Arlington Road. She was saying: "The discovery of the missing boy on Friday morning shocked this upscale neighborhood, especially with the discovery of two bodies believed to be the boy's parents..."

Charlie knuckled tears from his eyes, saying "This is a scam! We didn't lay a finger on them! Shit, man! They weren't even home!"

Anna glanced at Charlie for a second. Something in his eyes had changed, as if he'd woken up from some strange dream but not come out of it completely.

"They're just trying to flush us out with this shit," Casey said. "Those damn Feds. Shit... why would we kill the two people who are gonna give us three million dollars?!"

The reporter continued: "There is still no sign of the daughter, Angeline, ten years old..."

A photograph of a little girl with blonde hair popped up on the screen. She vaguely resembled the boy.

"A little girl?" Casey said.

Charlie cracked a maniacal grin, Anna thought. Just a little too edgy. "Yes, Anna," Charlie said. "That's what she said. A little girl. I believe them. You know why?"

"Why?" Anna said, in a quivering tone. She was scared now.

"Because he told me so. The kid downstairs. He told me he's been everything before. A girl, a boy, a dog or a cat. He told me he's even been a cockroach once. He told me he does it because... he likes the way life tastes."

Casey said, "What the hell are you talking about, Charlie?"

"He told me," Charlie said. "He wants us to kill him, because he wants to taste us, too. He made me see some things... some awful, bloody things. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't."

"How can he make you see anything?" Anna asked, gently touching his arm. His skin was cold, clammy. She felt as though she'd just touched a cadaver.

"Where he came from?" Charlie said. "That big house on Arlington? Those weren't really his parents. Hell, he's not even really a boy, is he? He's a... nightmare, he's a..."

"SHUT UP!!" Anna said. "This is all a bunch of bullshit! I'm going down there right now, wheelchair or not, and find out just what this kid really is!"

"Don't forget to beg," Charlie said.

As Charlie sat on the floor mumbling to himself, Casey helped Anna back into her chair, and pushed her over to the basement door and propped it open.

"It's a murder wrap, now," he said. "Even if we didn't do it. I say let's grease him."

Anna reached over and flicked on the dim basement light. "No. Not before I see what's really going on with him. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Casey said reluctantly, and began lowering her down the steps one at a time.

The smell of trash and beer cans was bad, mixed with the odor of the boy's waste. It also felt icy cold as they went down.

"Why is it so cold?" Casey said.

"It's him," Anna said. "He's doing it on purpose, to scare us."

"He's doing a real good job," Casey said.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they saw him. He was laying on an old mattress, his right ankle cuffed to a radiator. He was small for his age, and his long, raven hair grew long over his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes. The duct tape was still in place over his mouth. In the dim light they could see the area to the boy's right where they'd told him to defecate, and it was swarming with flies, despite the cold. The room suddenly felt like a meatlocker. She grimaced, turned her head in revulsion.

"Come closer," someone said.

She looked into the boy's eyes.

Obsidian eyes.

The duct tape was still in place over his mouth. No emotion in the boy's face at all.

"Come closer," the voice said again, but the voice couldn't be his – it was the voice of a little girl.

"What kind of silly little game are you playing with us?" Anna said. "How are you talking with that tape over your mouth? Huh? You some kind of amateur ventriloquist?"

"I've seen so many things," she heard the voice say. "So many sights, so many people. None of you really appreciate what you have inside of you. The tastes... the smells." Anna watched as the boy's nostrils flared. Suddenly, the stench of the room hit her full force, and she turned her head to cough into her sleeve.

Suddenly, the wheelchair was jostled, and she was tossed on to the mattress. As she fell, she looked over her shoulder to see Casey was gone. "No! Casey! Charlie... Somebody help me!!"

Someone grabbed her wrist.

Like a steel cuff going around it.

Like cold stone; the granite like texture of a gravestone.

The boy said, "You like little treasures, Anna? You want riches, I know. Well, I have riches, and wealth. Let me show you my treasures, Anna."

She jerked her arm away from him. "What in God's name are you?" she cried out.

"I am many," the boy said, and she could see his lips moving under the tape - but it wasn't tape, but a smear of bloody jelly on his lips - and flies buzzed around his face as he spoke again. "Come closer, Anna. Let me show you the treasures of the world. All of them, here for you, come Anna... into my dreams..."

Anna moaned now, as she felt his breath being breathed into her, his fingers digging into her scalp, pushing through the fragments of skull and gray brain matter, rearranging her mind...

...but he was not a boy, or a girl... but something else entirely...

...Something trapped in unwanted flesh, something bound in the cage of flesh that way that she'd thought they'd trapped a small boy in the basement of an old building.

"Let me show you my garden, Anna," he whispered. "You like gardens, don't you? I know a place where the gardens are quite lovely, although a bit bloody, and the flowers..."

She felt his small hand as it touched her cheek, curling slightly inward...

..."The most beautiful flower that ever was..."

...then she felt the flesh of his palm press into the flesh of her face, growing inside her.

"Do you know what human love really is, Anna?" he asked her.

"No," she moaned, trying to push him away, but his fingers were inside her face, behind her eyes, moving something within her, forcing her to see what he wanted her to see, to experience the world he carried like a virus in his touch... then she closed her eyes.

Anna opened her eyes to see a garden, a garden full of corpses, their bloody, ravaged bodies sprouting up from the ground like wildflowers. Casey was there, and Charlie, too, their skin ghost-like, their eyes cavernous sockets of darkness, their mouths bloody gaping maws. The maws were shaped like rose petals.

Just let me die, she thought. Just let me die now... let me see the flowers...

"No," the little boy's voice said, tickling her ear. "Not until you beg."

She begged, and as he did so, she closed her eyes again. Behind her eyes, she was no longer in the basement, or even in her own flesh, but in a world more terrifying and vivid than she had ever experienced as she let the child prowl through her nightmares.

Anna lay dreaming, no weapon in her hand, a child curled under her arm like a sleeping kitten.

Then the world in her mind opened, like the petals of a flower, the petals bloody and dying as they fell all around her like confetti.

Outside, in the world of metal and concrete and flesh and blood, terrible things started to happen; another child kidnapped, parents murdered. Souls lost, destined to wander.

Awful things, Charlie had said. Things beyond imagination.

I begged him to stop... but he wouldn't.

But within the basement room; wonderous nightmares.

And gardens full of flowers.