Here is the line-up for What Scares the Boogeyman?:
- “Boogeyman Blues” by Janet Morris
- “The Boogeyman’s Wife” by Nancy Asire
- “The Road to Afghanistan” by David Conyers
- “The Fear of the Lord” by Robert M. Price
- “The River Witch” by J.D. Fritz
- “The Cold” by Jason Cordova
- “Blood and Ochre” by Thomas Barczak
- “Testament of Tuff” by C. Dean Andersson
- “Night of the Bettys” by Beverly Hale
- “Jack the Raptor” by Chris Morris
- “Failure to Comply” by Michael H. Hanson
- “The Shadow of a Doubt” by Larry Atchley, Jr.
- “L’Uomo Nero” by Richard Groller
- “Bad Mustard” by Bill Snider
- “Grandma” by Wayne Borean
- “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” by John Manning
- “Apis Primatus” by Bettina Meister
- “Under the Bed” by Shirley Meier
THE ROAD TO
AFGHANISTAN
David Conyers
When Peel drove into the city’s heart he was forcibly
slowed, melded with the busy evening traffic. Despite the late hour, he passed
busy bazaars and crowded alleys. Hindu temples and Muslim shrines were clean
and complete compared to cheaply constructed apartment blocks and government
offices, with their rusting reo jutting from upper unfinished levels. Mounds of
stinking garbage piled against chipped walls. Woman’s faces on billboards were
‘veiled’ with black paint while men were left untouched.
Peel reached the Hoodbhoy Orphanage as it was closing. Identified
by his National Security Agency employers three days earlier, he had been
assured the institution’s reputation was sound. Foreign and local journalists’
accounts spoke highly of their director, a Muslim who accepted all wards,
regardless of their religion, gender or ethnicity.
Peel parked in the courtyard. His aching muscles protested
as he clambered from the old Soviet Army truck. As he unlatched the rear door,
two dozen red and blinking eyes stared back. It took the first child several
minutes to shuffle forward and step into their new home, and into a new life.
“Mr. Peel?”
“Yes Sir?” he snapped in a moment of disorientation.
Embarrassed, he scratched at the dirt caked to his millimeter thick hair. He
felt drunk. He wasn’t. He was dead tired.
“Thank you for saving these children, Mr. Peel.” Rashid
Hoodbhoy spoke softly, with a formal and precise command of the English
language. He watched, with a gentle smile, his volunteers aid the children as
they clambered from the stolen truck. Many had to be carried. All needed water.
A few with infected wounds were attended to with bandages and disinfectant.