Read I Am God for Free Online Page B

slamming the door and had approached, walking on the grassy verge in order to avoid making a noise with his heavy shoes. When he had gone out, a couple of hours earlier, he might have forgotten to switch off the light.
    That must have been it.
    But in any case he had preferred to make sure by being at the right end of a shotgun barrel. As his father used to say, nobody had ever died from being too careful.
    He had kept on, hugging the fence until he came to the point where it had been cut. Then he noticed that a light was on in the room in back, and saw a silhouette passing the window.
    His hands on the grip of the Remington had started to get damper than they should. He had quickly looked around.
    He hadn’t seen any cars parked in the vicinity, which he found puzzling. The building was full of materials and tools. They weren’t worth a great deal, but they might still tempt a thief. They were all quite heavy, though. It seemed strange that someone would come here on foot if they planned to clean him out.
    He had gone through the hole in the fence, and reached the door next to the vehicle entrance. When he had pushed the door, he had found it open. Groping with his hands, he had felt the key in the keyhole, and in the dim light from the lampposts reflected off the clear wall he had seen that the little window in front of the fire extinguisher was half open.
    Strange. Very strange.
    Only he knew of the existence of that spare key.
    Curious and cautious in equal measure, he had gone inside, woven in and out of the equipment heaped up there, and kicked the door of the backroom wide open.
    Now he was holding his shotgun aimed at the open door.
    A man appeared in the doorway with his hands up. He took a couple of steps and stopped. Ben moved accordingly, so that he was still protected by the squat, ungainly mass of the cement mixer. From here, he could keep the man’s legs in his sights, and if he made even one abrupt movement he would shorten his height by ten inches.
    ‘Are you alone?’
    The answer had come immediately. Calm, steady, apparently genuine. ‘Yes.’
    ‘OK, I’m coming out. If you or any friend you have with you are planning any nasty tricks, I’ll blow a hole in your stomach as big as a railroad tunnel.’
    He waited a moment and then came cautiously out into the open. He held the shotgun at his side, firmly aimed at the man’s stomach. He took a couple of steps towards him, until he could see his face clearly.
    And what he saw sent a shudder through him. The man’s face and head were completely disfigured by what looked like terrible burn scars. From his face, they continued down his neck and disappeared inside the open collar of his shirt.His right ear was completely missing while all that remained of the other was only a fragment, attached like a joke to the cranium, where coarse healed skin had replaced hair.
    Only the area around the eyes was intact. And now those eyes were following him as he approached, more ironic than worried.
    ‘Who the hell are you?’
    The man smiled. If what appeared on his face when he moved his mouth could be called a smile.
    ‘Thanks, Ben. At least you didn’t ask me what I am.’
    Without asking permission, the man lowered his arm. It was only then that Ben realized he was wearing gloves of some light material.
    ‘I know I’m not easy to recognize. I was hoping at least my voice had stayed the same.’
    Ben Shepard opened his eyes wide. Involuntarily, he lowered the barrel of his shotgun, as if his arms had suddenly become too flabby to hold it up. Then the words arrived, as if he hadn’t had the gift of speech before now.
    ‘Christ almighty, Little Boss. It’s you. We all thought you were …’
    The sentence was left hanging.
    The other man made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Dead?’ The next sentence came from his lips like a thought spoken aloud and a long-buried hope. ‘What makes you think I’m not?’
    Ben suddenly felt old. And he realized that the