Gone Black Read Online Free Page B

maybe even younger. The boy just stood there in the lights, not running away but crying hard and shaking all over. He looked absolutely terrified. Black climbed out of the car and pulled out the Colt .45 from under the driver’s seat. Just in case all wasn’t as it appeared to be. He had learned the hard way to be careful on trips abroad, and this had the look of an ambush. Why else would a small child be out in the middle of nowhere on a deserted mountain road all by himself? There were no houses anywhere around. All this land belonged to Ricci. Where the hell did the kid come from?
    For several minutes, Black just stood behind the driver’s door, scanning the scene, but outside his headlight illumination the roadway was dark, completely deserted. It was a quiet night, nothing audible but the boy’s loud sobbing. Trees lined both sides of the road, thick and dark and impenetrable. Nothing moved inside the dusty vegetation. Wary, he listened to the creak and buzz of undisturbed crickets and frogs for a few more minutes.
    Still holding the weapon, his finger along the trigger, Black walked around to the front of the car and stood looking down at the child. The boy wore a pair of red shorts and a torn black Star Wars T-shirt with Han Solo and Chewbacca on the front and no shoes or socks. He looked filthy, his clothes stained and wrinkled. His hair was long and curly and dark and a little matted in the back, as if he was a feral child and had lived out in the woods with wolves. Black took a step closer to him and spoke to him in Italian. “What are you doing out here alone, boy?”
    That’s when the child dropped down on his knees in the gravel and wept harder, tears making tracks through the dirt on his cheeks. Frowning, Black glanced around again but saw no one, no cars, and heard nothing but the insects and the wind rustling the tops of the trees. He moved closer to the kid and knelt down in front of him, and then he placed his free left hand lightly on the child’s heaving back. “Are you hurt?” he asked him softly. “Where did you come from? Where are your parents?”
    The child lifted his head and stared up into Black’s face. His curls were wild and unkempt and hung around his face, and his eyes were big and dark and reflected the car lights. They were glassy with tears, and he looked so frightened that Black took him gently by his shoulders and helped him stand up. The child’s muscles went rigid at his touch, and he quivered and sobbed harder. Black spoke again, in English this time. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. Let me help you.”
    The boy suddenly stopped crying and gazed at him again. Black thought he looked hopeful, as if he did want help. Then the kid lowered his eyes and stared at the gun in Black’s hand and looked terrified again. Black glanced around, and then he put his weapon down on the gravel and held his hands out, both palms forward, showing the little guy that he meant him no harm. The child took a step back away from him, and Black was pretty sure the kid was getting ready to bolt into the trees. Black spoke again, staying with English and keeping his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt you. Tell me who you are. What’s your name? Where do you live? I can take you home.”
    That’s when the boy spoke in quick, breathless gasps. “I wanna go home. I’m scared of the bad people.”
    The boy sounded like an American, and that surprised Black. “Where are they? How did you get out here? Did you run away? Did they hurt you?”
    The child put his hands up and touched something on his throat. Black peered down at it and realized that it was some kind of dog collar. Then he saw the long leather leash hanging off it. Black frowned. Then he became absolutely furious to think someone had tethered this little boy in such a way, like some kind of animal. “Come on,