Dweller

by Jeff Strand

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t come. Stay by your cave. I’ll be back some other day.”

  Owen gestured to his mouth. It was an eerily human gesture, although Toby wasn’t familiar enough with primate behavior to know if apes or chimpanzees did this kind of thing on a regular basis.

  “No more food. You ate it all.” He wasn’t sure what the universal gesture for “you already ate all the food” would be, so he mimed chewing and then held up his empty hands again. That didn’t seem to get the point across. “All gone.”

  He took a step backward. Owen took a step forward.

  “Stay,” Toby said, pointing at Owen. “Stay there. Or, you can have the entire rest of the forest except for the part I’m using to get home.” He decided that he was saying too much and confusing the monster with his gibberish, so he repeated his previous command: “Stay.”

  Another step backward. This time Owen didn’t follow him.

  “Good,” he said, continuing to slowly move away. “Very good, Owen.”

  When Owen was out of sight, Toby picked up his pace, just in case the monster changed its mind and tried to follow him again. On a purely scientific basis, he hadn’t really learned much, except that Owen liked to eat most stuff, but it was a trip into the forest well worth making. He’d definitely be back.

  As Toby dragged bags of kitty litter out of the grocery’s stockroom, he realized that there were few things in the world more frustrating than having to work a stupid job when there was a fantastic creature in the forest just waiting for him.

  “One of those bags is leaking,” his boss, Mr. Zack, pointed out.

  Toby looked back. The trail of kitty litter was about thirty feet long.

  “Trying to mark your path so you don’t get lost on the way back?” Mr. Zack asked with a smile.

  “I’ll clean it up.”

  He stood at his locker, trying to remember if he needed to bring home his history book, when Nick walked over.

  “I need to talk to you,” Nick said.

  “You’re not supposed to talk to me.”

  “Look, I don’t blame you for being mad…”

  “You don’t blame me? Well, that’s nice to know. I could barely sleep at night thinking that you might have negative thoughts about me. My conscience is cleared now.”

  “I’m trying to be serious. What we did went too far. Everybody knows it. We got punished.”

  “You got a dinky little slap on the wrist. One-week suspension. Oooooh, wow, I feel avenged!”

  Nick let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m here to apologize, you little freak. Believe me, it’s a lot harder for me to apologize than it is for you to forgive me.”

  Now Toby felt kind of bad, although it was a fleeting sensation and he quickly reverted to intense dislike. He needed more than an apology to forgive Nick. He needed bags of gold.

  Still, there was no reason to get himself beat up again. “Okay, so apologize.”

  “I just did.”

  Toby was pretty sure he hadn’t, but didn’t dispute it. He supposed that having Nick not wishing him dead was better than the alternative.

  “Okay. Apology accepted.”

  “But I need to warn you about something.”

  “What?”

  “Larry. He’s…there’s something wrong with him. It’s like he’s obsessed or something. I’m afraid of what he might do to you.”

  “Seriously?” Social stigma or not, Toby wasn’t going to just let Larry hunt him down. He’d tell a teacher, or his parents, or the cops if necessary, but he couldn’t let fears about being dubbed a tattletale cost him his—

  “No.” Nick let out a mean-spirited chuckle. “He doesn’t give a crap about a zit-faced loser like you. Don’t be so gullible, Floren.”

  Toby had no response. He braced himself in case Nick intended to start throwing punches.

  “By the way, somebody took a dump in your locker,” said Nick, chuckling again as he walked away.

  For a second, Toby considered flinging one of his text-books at the back of Nick’s head. The thick hardcover history book would leave one hell of a skull dent. But, no. It would cause far more trouble than it was worth.

  He tried to think of something biting and clever to shout after him, something that the other kids would chant for the rest of Nick’s high-school career, but the best he could come up with was “Fatso!” And Nick wasn’t overweight. So he remained silent.

  Oh well. He didn’t need friends like Nick anyway. He had Owen.

  As Toby trudged through the forest, he wondered if considering Owen his friend was kind of sad. Even having a human friend who didn’t talk and lived in a cave that took over an hour to walk to might be a little sad by itself. When you added the whole “monster in the woods” element, this might be absolutely pitiful. And scary.

  Well…so what? It wasn’t as if he and the monster were making babies. If he enjoyed coming out and throwing food to it, whose business was it of anybody else’s? Except for maybe his parents, if things went terribly wrong and the monster devoured his intestines.

  Screw ‘em all. Especially Larry and Nick. He wished he could toss Nick’s head over to Owen and see if he liked the taste better than chocolate.

  Nah. If he was going to feed Owen, he should feed him something with higher nutritional content than Nick’s head.

  Behind him, in his peripheral vision, he thought he caught a glimpse of movement. His heart gave a jolt and he quickly looked over there, but saw nothing.

  Relax. You’re in the forest. Things move in the forest. Happens all the time. It’s those eerie stillnesses that you’ve got to watch out for.

  He kept walking. He had maybe a mile to go before he reached Owen’s cave. Perhaps he could get Owen to relocate, find him a nice den of sticks or something.

  More movement, from the same spot. He only saw the source of the movement for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to identify his follower.

  Did Larry really think he was that oblivious?

  Well, discounting the fact that Toby had walked this far into the forest without realizing he was being stalked…

  He pretended not to have seen anything, then continued walking. Now what? Call him out? Run after him with his hunting knife, screaming incoherently?

  He decided to keep going and feign ignorance until he came up with a really good plan.

  Somebody else moved. So he had both Larry and Nick after him. Crap. They must’ve been following from a much farther distance and just now decided to sneak up closer.

  No brilliant plans immediately sprung to mind. He needed something that would keep these psychos away from him forever.

  Having a fanged, clawed, hairy beast jump out at them would be a pretty good deterrent against picking on him in the future, wouldn’t it?

  Oh, yeah.

  But, no, of course he couldn’t do that. Too many holes in the plan, and when it was time to reveal Owen’s existence to the rest of the world, he’d much rather do it on his own terms instead of the terms of a couple of bullies with wet crotches on their pants running shrieking to the authorities.

  “Tooooooby,” said a ghostly voice behind him.

  Damn.

  “Tooooooby, why are you in the woods all aloooooone? Don’t you know you can get huuuuuuurt?” It sounded like Larry, who was clearly behind a large oak about a hundred feet away.

  “I’ll call the cops.”

  “Using what? A tin can and string?” This was Nick, who was behind a different tree.

  “You’re not supposed to come near me,” Toby said.

  “We’re not near you.”

  “You wanna go to jail? Is that it? Do you think I’m not gonna tell the cops that you followed me? Get the fuck out of here!”

  “But Toooooooooby,” said Larry. “That’s not verrrrrrrryniiiiiiiice! You shouldn’t use such ruuuuuuuuuude language!”

  “I’ll scream,” Toby warned.

  As the gales of laughter hit him, Toby wis
hed he’d said just about anything else in the world but “I’ll scream.” I’ll scream? Had those words really come out of his mouth? Not “I’ll sic my monster buddy on you” or “I’ll smash your heads together like overripe nectarines” but “I’ll scream.” Even with the potential of another severe beating looming, Toby couldn’t help but focus on being absolutely mortified.

  He quickly corrected himself. “I’ve got a knife,” he said.

  “You really think that scares us?” Larry asked.

  “It should.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “You think I won’t use it, but I will,” said Toby. “It’s self-defense. I won’t get in any trouble.”

  Larry sneered. “Oh, yeah? Self-defend yourself against this.” When his right hand came into view, he was holding a revolver.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A gun. Larry actually had a gun. What the hell was going on here? These were supposed to be bullies, not killers!

  He glanced back at Nick to see his reaction to this insanity. Nick held a gun of his own, pointed right at Toby.

  Toby wasn’t sure how to react. To his surprise, he felt more anger than fear, although there was still plenty of fear. He wanted to simultaneously attack, cry, and, yes, scream.

  Larry and Nick slowly walked toward him, guns raised, moving in such a deliberate manner that it almost looked choreographed. Should Toby run? There was plenty of tree cover, but he couldn’t come close to outrunning them, and even with a lot of weaving he’d have a bullet in the back before he made it 500 feet.

  “Quit playing around,” said Toby. “Those could go off. That’s manslaughter.”

  “Only if it’s an accident.”

  They couldn’t really intend to shoot him. It just wasn’t possible. The whole situation was out of control, but it wasn’t that far out of control, was it? Though he’d brainstormed quite a few ways he could die, being hunted as human prey by two of his classmates wasn’t one that had ever occurred to him.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “We’re going to make you pay,” Nick said.

  “You’ll go to jail.”

  “Not if they don’t find your body.”

  “They’ll know it was you.”

  “You think so? I’m not so sure. I bet you didn’t think we’d come after you with guns, did you?”

  “And my dad’s got connections,” said Larry.

  They continued walking toward him. Toby wasn’t even able to fantasize of a scenario where he heroically defeated the two villains. If they were serious, he was dead.

  But of course they weren’t serious. They couldn’t be.

  “Get down on your knees,” said Larry.

  Toby shook his head. “No.”

  “You know what would get you down on your knees fast? A bullet. Have you ever seen somebody’s kneecap shatter?”

  “There’s bone and blood everywhere,” Nick said.

  “It’s horrific.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “And it really, really hurts.”

  “You won’t do it,” Toby insisted. “I’m not stupid.”

  “What’s more stupid?” Larry asked. “Falling for a joke, or getting shot in the knees because you were too dumb to realize that we meant what we said?”

  It was a solid point. At the same time, there was a very large chance that Larry and Nick were just playing around, and a very small chance that they genuinely intended to shoot him if he didn’t comply. Before he gave them yet more fodder for ridicule, he was going to make absolutely sure that—

  “On. Your. Knees.” Larry’s eyes looked cold and dead.

  Toby knelt down on the ground. Now he was absolutely terrified.

  Larry and Nick walked over to him. “Let’s see how smart you are,” said Larry. “Do you know what it means to put your hands behind your head, execution-style?”

  Toby nodded. Oh, God…

  “So do it.”

  Toby put his hands behind his neck, threading his fingers together. “There’s nothing funny about this,” he said. “All it’s going to do is get you in a ton of trouble. You’ll be expelled.”

  “Expelled for murder? That’s not such a big punishment.”

  “I meant expelled for the joke.”

  “What joke?”

  “Guys, come on…”

  “Why don’t you take some time to pray?” Larry asked. “That’s what they do when they’re about to die, right? They pray. Go on, Toby, pray.”

  “Out loud,” said Nick. “We want to hear it.”

  Toby hesitated, then spoke in a whisper. “Dear God, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, please let these assholes realize the error of their ways…”

  “Oh, now, see, you messed up a perfectly good prayer,” said Larry. “Now we want you to beg.”

  “No.”

  “Beg for your life.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “I bet you will,” said Larry, pressing the barrel of his gun against Toby’s forehead. Toby felt like he was going to throw up but choked down the urge. “Beg me not to kill you.”

  “No.”

  “Do it.” Larry raised his voice to a falsetto. “‘Oh, please, Larry, don’t shoot me in the head.’ Say it.”

  Toby remained defiantly silent.

  “Then how about ‘Oh, please, Larry, don’t shoot me in the stomach, because that would hurt a lot worse.’ I bet you can say that.”

  “No.”

  “No. No. No. You sound like a broken record. If you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine. Just close your eyes. Close your eyes and count to ten.”

  “No.”

  “Stop saying that!” Larry shouted with enough ferocity that Toby nearly lost his balance. “I’ve got a goddamn gun to your head, and you need to start taking this seriously! Now close your eyes!”

  Toby didn’t close his eyes. He just couldn’t.

  “On the count of ten, you’re going to die,” said Larry. “Are you ready?”

  “Let’s do it on five,” Nick suggested.

  “Okay, five. Five seconds left to live. That’s got to be scary.”

  “Five…” Nick began.

  “Four…”

  “Threetwoone!” Nick shouted. Both of them pulled the triggers at the same time. Both guns clicked.

  Both of the bullies howled with laughter. Larry placed his foot on Toby’s shoulder and shoved him onto his back. “I can’t believe you fell for that! You actually thought we were going to blow your head off! How stupid can one person be?”

  Toby was so relieved not to be dead that he was having trouble being furious. But as they continued laughing, Toby felt his relief fading and his rage rising. He sat up.

  “I’m going to the cops,” he said.

  That made Larry and Nick laugh even harder, if such a thing were possible.

  “I mean it.”

  “Yeah? Will that be before or after you run home crying to Mommy?”

  Nick, who was practically doubled over, cackled as if that was the most hilarious insult ever to pass somebody’s lips. Toby couldn’t remember ever having felt such rage. He wanted to gouge his thumbs into Larry’s eyes and rip his head right off his body.

  Instead, he settled for tackling Larry. He didn’t care if it meant he was going to get beat up again. He needed to get in one punch. Just one good punch.

  “Hey, whoa,” said Larry, still laughing as they crashed to the ground. “Kind of violent there, aren’t you?”

  Toby punched him.

  It wasn’t that hard of a punch, and it got Larry in the shoulder instead of the face, but it definitely made Toby feel better even as his fist exploded with pain.

  Larry’s return punch got him right in the nose. The crunch and immediate gush of blood proved that Larry’s punch had done a lot more damage than Toby’s. The pain was so intense that Toby’s vision blurred.

  He slammed his fists down upon Larry, as hard and quickly as he could. Larry seemed fa
r more amused than hurt, and deflected the countless blows with minimal effort. Nick apparently thought this was the funniest part yet, and even Larry continued to chuckle.

  Larry grabbed Toby’s nose and gave it a pinch.

  The laughter suddenly stopped.

  Toby didn’t remember taking out the hunting knife, or pulling it out of its leather sheath. But Larry now looked really frightened.

  Gripping the handle with both hands, Toby slammed the blade deep into Larry’s chest.

  For a fraction of a second, it felt almost euphoric. Then the reality of what he’d just done struck him, and he cried out in horror. “Oh God, I’m sorry…I didn’t…oh God…”

  Larry lay there, eyes wide open in shock, body twitching. Toby wasn’t a doctor, but he knew exactly where he’d plunged the blade, and you didn’t survive when you had an eight-inch hunting knife protruding from your heart.

  “Oh God…oh Jesus…”

  He looked up at Nick, as if for help. Nick had his hand over his mouth and looked as if he were hyperventilating. There was no more scorn in the bully’s eyes—just pure panic. Toby knew his own panic was even worse. He just wanted to curl up into a tight little ball and scream and scream and scream.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  Larry was dying. He couldn’t be saved. Maybe not even if there were an ambulance parked ten feet away, and definitely not all the way out here in the woods. No matter what he did to try to fix things, he’d murdered somebody. There was a bloody corpse on the ground next to him and he’d made it.

  Nick was the only one who knew what he’d done.

  If he let Nick leave this forest alive, Toby was going to jail.

  He couldn’t spend the rest of his life in prison. Not for somebody as cruel and worthless as Larry.

  Toby wrenched the knife out of Larry’s chest. He couldn’t look at the blade, couldn’t see the blood or he’d go insane and not be able to do this.

  There was no time for apologies or explanations. He had to move fast, get Nick while he was still in a state of shock. Toby rushed at the larger boy, feeling his rage return, rage at Nick for making this happen, for destroying his life. The rage felt a lot better than the fear, the helplessness.