THE BOY’S EYES scanned the darkness. It was a cave of some sort. But how had he gotten here?
The last thing he remembered was Eric.
Eric—trying to convince him to play video games. But he went home instead.
The smell of rotten meat pushed the bile up his throat and into his mouth.
He’d been riding through the fields, the cool evening air against his hair. He’d wondered if there was any dinner left over at home.
And suddenly he was flying. Not on his bike, but through the air.
His father once described the hand of God like a lightning bolt, grabbing at you. Waking you up to life.
This bolt had hit him hard. Knocking the breath out of his chest and tossing him through the air.
He’d looked around when he landed. Saw blood covering his kneecap. Concrete. Concrete and the shadow of a man.
That was the last memory before being here, in the cave.
Now someone was lighting small candles in the darkness. The boy lifted his head and saw the bony skulls of animals, each atop a wooden stick.
And then there were fresh kills. The bloody decapitated head of a goat. The fluffy white head of a lamb, smeared with red.
“What is this?” the boy yelled. “Who are you people?”