David by Orietta Pinelli

By Orietta Pinelli

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The footsteps stopped just beyond the walls of the church. Then silence for almost a minute. "I don't see them," Nate said. "They're there," Quinn said. "I know. " There were a series of numbered buttons on the base of the joystick Quinn was holding. He punched number 8 and began panning a camera covering the outside of the church's south end. "There," Nate said, pointing at the monitor for camera eight. Quinn could see them now. There were two of them, crouched low and half-hidden by the thick brush.

Marion's eyes widened in surprise. "Come, come," the old woman said. Marion hesitated a moment longer, then moved around the desk and joined Frau Roslyn. Since the hidden door swung out into the office, Marion had not been able to see what was inside until the door was all the way open. The space it revealed wasn't large, maybe a meter deep at best, and only as wide as the opening. It was made even more cramped by the fact that it wasn't empty. One of the older boys was inside. He was maybe thirteen or fourteen.

In the two days Jonathan Quinn had been scouting the location, no more than a dozen cars a day had driven past, and not a single one had even slowed, let alone stopped. The roof of the church had long since disappeared, leaving only the gray, pitted stone walls of the chapel. Encouraged by the wet Irish climate, vegetation had grown up around the building, both surrounding it and filling the inside. It was as if a congregation of flora was waiting in the open-air sanctuary for a priest who had yet to arrive.

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