Come Into Darkness by Daniel I. Russell Page A

symbolism, which you might appreciate,” continued Worth, “is that of the fingers. It would appear your father is again in trouble over his hands. We did that for you, sir. There’s no way your father will be touching you today.”
    “You’re damn right,” said Mario.
    “And you can make sure he never touches you, or any other young boys, ever again. All you have to do is prove yourself. Your release lies in the box.”
    His father’s head swept back and forth. He eyed Mario and Worth in turn.
    “You…you can’t be listening to him,” said his father, aghast. “Look what they did to me!”
    Mario stared at the hoops, the desk, the wires. He guessed what the box, and the lever within, would do. Studying the mechanism, he wondered how far the wires could pull before his father’s fingers gave way. He imagined the geysers of blood shooting from each digit.
    And what if those wires have been threaded through the very joints? That would be something to see. The bones would crack as they were ripped apart, followed by a wet pop…
    “Son?” said his father.
    “I see that look in your eyes, sir,” said Worth. “The look from the pond. The look that says you want to do the right thing, to put things right.”
    Yes.
    Yes, I do.
    “And what better chance then right now?” said a gleeful Worth. The old man bounced in eagerness with each word. “You haven’t set eyes on him for years. Who knows when such a chance will present itself?”
    Mario walked behind his father and towards the box.
    “No!” His father thrashed in his bindings, eyes squeezed shut. The wires held him in agony. The puddle of blood on the desk spread wider, supplied by the droplets falling from the thin metal cables. “Mario, don’t listen!”
    “Be quiet,” said Mario. His hands shot up to his face, and he massaged his temples. “Let me think…”
    “What is there to think about?” said Worth. “Think of what has happened, the shadow it casts over your life.”
    “The c-courts,” said his father. “The lawyers, the case, everything. We forget it all! Help me, please!”
    “Just shut up. Both of you!” Mario clamped his hands over his ears. His feet still carried him closer to the mounted box.
    “Yes,” said Worth, settling. “Decisions have to be made. You’ve put them off for too long, sir. Show us you’re a man.”
    His father burst into tears. The beads of sweat sparkled like jewels on his shaven head. A thin thread of snot dangled from his nostrils. A slight breeze caused it to sway, and it stuck to his chin.
    “Don’t go near, please,” he said, body bobbing slightly in the chair from his sobs. “I forget it all happened. We start new.”
    Mario stopped at the box. The blue light bathed his face. He closed his eyes.
    “The memories. The nightmares. The regret,” said Worth. His voice had quietened. No longer thundering across the room, it sounded like the guide whispered in Mario’s ear. “It all comes down to this…very…moment…”
    Mario looked across to his father. The mouth and moustache called to memories, which squirmed out like worms in the rain. He shivered, gazing at his father’s portly body, remembering the bed wobble as his father slid into bed beside him all those years ago.
    He reached up inside the box.
    Kerry had been right. It looked like a circuit breaker. Relieved she hadn’t pulled it and denied him his decision, he squeezed his fingers tight around the cold, short lever.
    “No,” screamed his father.
    Salty tears coursed down Mario’s face. He tasted them on his lips.
    “The decision,” said Worth, “is made.”
    Mario pulled the lever down.
    Nothing happened at first. Mario glanced around the room. His father wept, and Worth sat rigid in his chair. A clunk sounded from above: something heavy had shifted position. Mario failed to find the source. Another sound, the screech of protesting metal. Mario gritted his teeth. The grating cut like a knife through his middle.
    “What’s