The Boy in the Box
And the eye in the sky
The helicopters started around ten at night and, rather than just passing over the town as usual, seemed to be moving in a grid pattern, searchlights scanning the top of the trees in the nearby woods.
Too cold outside for them to be tracking down an illegal rave. The wind was whistling around the eaves and, allied to the incessant thrashing of the chopper blades, the…