Chapter Twenty-OneA beautiful warm day brought a lightness to his step as he swung into Breck Road. The sunshine gave him the confidence to confront whatever it was he would find down in the shelter and the certainty something, or someone would protect him. The kind soldier had spoken to him, shown him the matches, the lantern, guided him to the ladders. Whoever these ghosts or visions were, they were using him for good. Surely.
He didn't hear them until it was too late. Donna and Francis.
Fifteen years of age, vicious and dangerous, like weasels. They loomed from out of the side entrance of Saint Luke's, swiftly barring his way and cutting off his retreat in one, easy move. They cackled maniacally, the way they always did.
“Where you off to, Ben?” asked Francis, squat, ugly and broodin
