R. Stine - Red Rain

He couldn’t remember which of the agents was in charge. Was it the good-looking guy with the steel-gray eyes and the short blond hair and the high movie-star cheekbones? Or the short, stern-looking older dude?

Pavano decided to try them both. “Let me go in.”

They squinted at him as if he was speaking Martian. “Say again?”

“Let me go in first. Alone.”

“Why?”

Because I’ve screwed up everything else in my life. Maybe I can be an actual hero today.

“I know those boys,” Pavano said. “I’ve spoken to them before. They’ll remember me. I can talk to them. I can reason with them. They’ll listen to me.”

They reacted with hard stares. Like he was totally mental.

“Maybe I can find out what’s happening in there,” he heard himself say. “Without any more casualties. If I go in by myself, maybe. .”

The two agents exchanged glances. Behind them, Pavano glimpsed Pinto, casting him questioning looks, like, What the hell are you doing?

“Go ahead,” the short bald one said. “One shout and we’ll be there behind you.”

Pavano blinked. “Really?”

The agent motioned to the window. “Better you than me, Sergeant. I hate the smell of burning meat.”

It took Samuel a moment to realize that the gray-haired woman in the hairnet and crisp white uniform was a cafeteria worker. She carried in two plates heaped high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash brown potatoes, just as the twins had ordered. Like all the workers, she had a blue arrow stenciled on one cheek.

Daniel motioned for her to set them down on the teacher’s desk, where the twins had settled after returning from their triumphant moment in front of the school.

Samuel lowered his face near the plate and inhaled. He loved the aroma of scrambled eggs. He could eat eggs all day long.

The cafeteria worker stopped to gaze at the poster hanging on the wall behind the twins. It was a portrait of the president of the United States, and someone had painted a blue arrow on his cheek.

“Go back and make eggs for everyone,” Daniel told her.

She nodded obediently and turned to leave.

A window to a seventh-grade classroom Daniel had claimed as headquarters was open, and snakes of gray smoke billowed in, dissipating under the bright fluorescent ceiling lights.

Samuel leaned over the desk, dug his fork into the pile of eggs, and started to eat. The twins weren’t alone in the classroom. Several boys sat at desks, playing handheld video games, reading books, joking with one another. Samuel knew they were restless, awaiting their next assignment. Were there more houses to break into? Some other mischief to perform to demonstrate who ruled the school?

Samuel knew what was coming next. Daniel would order them to round up more kids. More kids. More. Until all the kids of the town were together, and the helpless parents would go away, and Samuel and Daniel would rule forever.

He and his twin had waited all these years for someone to take them off the island. Sag Harbor was the perfect place for them. Small enough to be quickly conquered. Big enough to show how easy it was to take control.

The perfect place.

Samuel picked up a slice of bacon and bit off a big chunk. Crispy, the way he liked it. Chewing slowly, savoring it, he turned and saw that Daniel hadn’t started his breakfast. He had a faraway look in his eyes that Samuel knew well.

The lad is going to spoil our breakfast.

“Ira”-Daniel waved to their brother, who sat at the back of the room talking with some friends-“Ira, come here. I need you to do something for me.”

The other boys laughed at something Ira said. Then he climbed to his feet and shambled down the long aisle, hands in his jeans pockets. He stopped in front of the desk, eyeing the big breakfast plates. “When do I get breakfast, Daniel? I’m hungry.”

“Don’t be worrying about it, bruvver. I’m going to take care of you. First, I need you to do a tiny favor.”

Ira tossed back his dark hair. “Favor?”

“Find our sister and bring her here. Do you know where Elena is?”

Ira nodded. “With Ruth-Ann and some other girls. In the eighth-grade room, I think.”

“Tell Elena her bruvvers want to see her, all right, boyo?”

Ira nodded again, turned, and walked out the door.

Samuel took a big forkful of eggs. He watched his twin warily.

“When the bruvver and sister come back,” Daniel murmured in his ear, “I’ll need your help.”

“Daniel, why? What do you want?”

“We don’t want them anymore.” Daniel’s face hardened. His eyes appeared to freeze over.

“Don’t want them?”

“We need to burn them, Sammy. It’s important.”

Samuel took a deep breath. He gazed down at the plate of food. He felt sick and knew he wouldn’t be able to eat another bite. “Are you sure, Daniel? Both of them?”

Daniel nodded, then raised a finger to his lips. Ira was leading Elena into the room and down the aisle to the desk.

Samuel shooed the other boys out of the room. “Perhaps you lads would leave now.” They hurried out, shoes clumping on the hardwood floor.

“Hi, guys,” Elena said brightly. She wore a pink sleeveless shirt over white tennis shorts and pink flip-flops. Her hair fell loosely around her face. “What’s up? Are we having breakfast?”

“No. Actually, we have to say good-bye,” Daniel said, speaking matter-of-factly.

Ira squinted at the twins. “Good-bye?”

“Yes. We don’t want you anymore,” Daniel said. He stood up, hands pressed on the desktop.

Samuel saw the shock and confusion on their faces. Elena pressed her hands to her hips and strode up to the desk. “Daniel, what are you talking about?”

“We need to say good-bye to you now. We want Mum to ourselves, don’t you see.”

Samuel had his eyes shut. He concentrated and felt them begin to warm up.

“Whoa.” Elena shook her head. “You’re joking, right?”

“No joke. We want Mum to love us-not you. It leaves us no choice. We have to say good-bye.”

Daniel turned to Samuel and gave a casual wave of his hand. “Go ahead, Sammy. Burn them both now.”

Samuel opened his eyes, felt the heat, the incredible heat, and turned it on Elena first.

Pavano holstered his Glock and grabbed the window ledge with both hands. The granite ledge was shoulder high, and it didn’t take much effort to hoist himself up onto his belly, turn, and lower himself into the classroom.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Smoke from the fires had drifted in through the open window, and he had to squint, as if peering through a heavy fog. The classroom, obviously a room for little kids, judging by the drawings hung on the walls, was empty and appeared untouched, in perfect order.

Pavano heard voices out in the hall. Kids’ voices, he quickly determined. His legs suddenly felt heavy, his shoes rooted to the floor. He forced himself to move, stride silently to the door, where he stopped and listened for adult voices. For any clue as to who was giving the orders.

He realized he had grown used to his rapid heartbeats and the cold fear that prickled the back of his neck and made his hands so clammy and stiff.

Leaning against the doorframe, he peeked into the hall. No one in view, but the voices were nearby. Rectangles of light washed out from several classrooms. He stared down the row of gray metal lockers. Several of them had blue arrows painted on them, blue arrows facing up.

Pavano started to draw his weapon, then thought better of it.

I came in here to talk, not to shoot.