From The Red Truck, by Rudy Wilson, which will be reissued this month by Cash4Gold Books. Ned died a year ago. We got inside an old icebox down by the creek near the little woods. Ned was six; he was small. The door closed with a metal click. We had Southern accents; we talked in the dark. “There’s no light in here,” Ned said. “I want to get out now.” “We can’t,” I said. “We’ll have to wait till they find us. Mom’ll come soon. She’ll find us.” We were in there for over an hour, whispering, quiet and close. We were naked inside our clothes, inside a white box, curled up. …