Page 3 of Shadow Man

“So long, Shadow!” he yells.

“So long, Sun,” I murmur, my words lost to an absent Texas breeze. There’s a twister coming today for sure, but it’s coming by another name.I don’t know it yet, but I can already feel it turning in my bones.

It’s the last time I ever see Cash alive.

* * *

It’s goneseven by the time I make the drop. I follow the tumbling sun all the way home, with the dark from the cornfields casting long and skinny across the track dividing our two properties. It gets me thinking about math class last week, and how our teacher, Miss B, told us to go find shapes and angles in everything.

There's gonna be a prize for the kid with the longest list.It's got my name all over it, ‘cos me and Cash have found loads:

The alphabet letters on my bedroom wall.

The coat hangers in my closet.

The spokes on my bike wheels.

The shape of the boxes inside my heart that hurt the most.

Turning into the driveway, I count the slanting roof on the feed barn as one, and then the incline of Pa’s Ford jutting out from the porch like a stuck blade as another.

Why is he home so early? Closing time ain’t for another couple of hours.

Angles. Angles. Angles. I’m gonna win that prize for sure. My footsteps sound like applause on the loose stones as I celebrate my future victory.

Why is everything so silent?

The screen door is wide open.

Sharp angle.

There’s a crimson stain throwing shadows across the doorway.

Scary angle.

I stop for a second and stare at it. I can feel the dark from the cornfields creeping slow and steady across my body.

“Ma?” I call out tentatively, heading toward the front steps. “Cash? Where are you guys?”

More silence.

More steps.

I pass by Pa’s sawn-off shotgun. It’s lying, discarded, next to the open screen door. Spare shells cover the ground next to it, like seed scattered for a steel bird.

There’s a body lying just inside. My breath catches on an inhale, and it don't release so easy.

Facedown.

Brown dress.

Elbow bent to form a perfect triangle with a blonde head soaked in red paint.

“Ma?” I whisper again.

No answer.

My gaze jerks left. The pool of paint around Cash’s body catches in the fading light, giving it edges.Angles...

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