UNDER THE DOME

Chapter 3: Killing Music

Grumpy's eyes lit up. "You know where the egg is? You get for me?"

Joe nodded so hard he was surprised his neck didn't snap and his head fall off. "Absolutely. I can get the egg and bring it to you." Humongous lie. If he got out of this pit alive, he was never coming back.

Grumpy scratched his beard. "You give me something before I let you go," he said finally. "Something I hold for your return."

"Anything!" Joe said, rummaging through his pockets in his mind. "I've got a couple dollars. A keychain from Disneyworld."

Grumpy snorted. "Something more valuable." He lifted his knife and traced the tip over Joe's earlobe.

Oh please, not my ear, Joe thought. "Wait! Take my iPod. You know . . . music. I've got a killer playlist on it."

Grumpy grinned. "Killing music?"

"No! I mean . . . I mean nice music." Joe would hate to lose his tunes, but he definitely needed his ear. His earbuds would fall out without his ear.

Grumpy scowled. "No dollars. No keychain. No nice killing music." He tipped his head back and narrowed his eyes, casing Joe up and down. "You give me something better." He pushed the blade tip against Joe's chest. It pierced the skin.

Joe started to blubber. Snot bubbled on his upper lip. "Not my heart. Please don't but out my heart."

"Not your heart, pig runt. Your soul."

Huh? Was this dude for real? Who did he think he was? The Devil? Joe felt a snicker rise in his throat. Everyone knew those fairytales about demons asking for souls in return for favors. Nobody believed that stuff. That's why there were called fairy tales.

"Sure, no problem," Joe said, breathing easy now. "Help yourself. One soul, coming up. Free on today's menu." What good was a soul anyway? Just some invisible make-believe thing only church people prayed about. No loss on his part.

Grumpy honked into a dirty rag, then blotted his eyes. Was he crying? "Thank you, pig runt," he said with a sob. "Let the soul-taking begin." He gripped his knife in both hands and raised it over his head.

In an instant, Joe's entire measly life flashed through his brain. He was a goner. Toast. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He didn't want to see the blade stab into his chest. He didn't want to see his blood spurting like a red geyser.

The end was near. Joe and Norrie, skeleton roomies forever. "Bye, Norrie," Joe rasped. "I love you."