by Jeff Strand
No.
“Would you ever eat anybody? I mean people.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Toby said. “Why would you even ask something like that?”
“If I were Owen, I’d eat people.”
“Well, that’s because you’re one disturbed little boy. Why would you eat people? Just people who were mean to you?”
Garrett shook his head. “I’d start with them, I guess. If I were a big monster like that, I wouldn’t just eat rabbits and squirrels and stuff.”
“He also eats deer.”
“Yeah, but I’d go for more challenging prey.”
“More challenging prey? What books have you been reading?”
“It’s this game I borrowed where you have to hunt humans because they’re the ultimate prey.”
“I’m so very happy to see that you’re basing your sense of morality on video games. Don’t talk to Owen about eating people. Ten-year-old boys aren’t supposed to be that sick. And you’re only talking to get out of work. C’mon, stop being a slacker.”
They were doing some desperately needed repairs on Owen’s shack, which they’d avoided during snowy season but which they could no longer justify postponing now that spring was here. Some of the wood had started to rot, and Toby had decided that even a creature in the forest deserved better accommodations than this.
The job basically involved ripping apart the far wall, a board at a time, and replacing each of the decaying boards with new wood. They’d started at the bottom and were about halfway up. Garrett’s enthusiasm for the project had waned after he pulled off a board and ants swarmed all over his hand, though fortunately none of them had stung him.
Garrett held up the new board, and Toby nailed it into place. Owen, who did not possess a skill set that would come in handy for this particular project, watched intently, as if playing supervisor.
Toby gave a gentle tug on the board. “Think it needs any more?”
Garrett pointed to a spot near the top center. “One more right there.”
“Yes, sir.” Toby hammered in one more nail. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah.”
“Coke or Seven Up?”
“Seven Up.” Garrett leaned against the wall, bracing himself with his right arm.
“You’ll get ants on your hand again.”
“There aren’t any here.”
“Don’t cry when you get stung.” Toby walked around to the front of the shack and removed the lid from the cooler. He fished through the ice for a moment. “Did you already drink all the Seven Up?” he called out.
“No.”
“What did you have before?”
“Seven Up.”
“Then you drank it all.”
Toby took out two Cokes. Garrett shrieked.
Immediately dropping the cans, Toby rushed back around the shack. Garrett’s arm had broken right through the wood. Still screaming, Garrett pulled his arm free from the jagged hole. It glistened with blood and a huge deep gash ran from wrist to elbow.
Owen scooped him up into his arms.
“Owen!” shouted Toby, hurrying forward. “Put him down!”
Garrett thrashed and screamed, but Owen held him tight.
He’s not gonna hurt him, Toby promised himself. He just wants to get him help. “Owen, give him to me, now.”
Owen looked down at the struggling boy, his eyes wide with concern.
Then he leaned down and ran his tongue over the wound.
Toby’s vision went blurry for a split second, then returned to sharp focus. “Owen!”
The monster held Toby’s son out to him. Toby grabbed him, and a sharp pain went through his back. He cursed and tried to adjust Garrett’s position so he could hold him better, then shook his head.
“I’m not going to be able to carry you,” he said, setting Garrett down onto his feet. He took his hand. “Come on, I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
They ran from the forest.
“What happened?” Sarah asked, hurrying outside as Toby led the sobbing boy across their backyard.
“He gouged up his arm pretty bad—he’ll be okay.”
Sarah ran over to them and crouched down in front of Garrett to inspect his arm. “Oh my God! Look how deep it is!”
“I know, I know, it’s bad. I’ll get him in the car. You go get Hannah.”
Toby led Garrett over to their car, opened the back door, and helped Garrett into the backseat. “You’ll be okay,” Toby promised. “It looks worse than it is.”
Garrett nodded silently. His face was frighteningly pale, and his breathing was rapid and uneven. Sarah came out of the house with towels and the first-aid kit. Toby got Hannah strapped into her child seat as Sarah squeezed into the back as well and pressed one of the towels tightly against Garrett’s arm.
“How did this happen?” Sarah asked, as they sped down the road.
“He was leaning against a piece of rotted wood, and it broke.”
“Why was he leaning against rotted wood?”
“We found this old shack out in the forest. Abandoned. It was my fault, we should have been more careful.”
Sarah pulled away the bloody towel and winced. “This is really bad, Toby. Drive faster.”
“I’m already doing eighty.” His heart hammered with panic. Garrett couldn’t possibly bleed to death before they got to the hospital, could he? No. The cut wasn’t that bad. He’d require a huge number of stitches, but this wasn’t a life-or-death situation. Kids got hurt. It happened.
“Garrett, talk to me, honey,” said Sarah. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“The doctor will make it all better.”
“Owen licked the blood.”
“What?”
“Owen, when he picked me up, he licked the blood.”
“Who’s Owen?”
“Our friend in the woods.”
Toby could barely focus on the road, but he tried to keep himself calm, even as he screamed Fuck! in his mind over and over.
“Toby, what’s he talking about?” Sarah demanded.
“Nothing—he’s delirious. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”
Garrett’s eyes closed.
Garrett said nothing about the monster in the forest as the doctor stitched up his wound. With the blood cleaned off, the gash didn’t look as…well, it still looked bad, but Toby’s mind had flashed through scenarios involving amputation.
Toby noted with grim humor that Garrett had been brave throughout the ghastly stitching process, but still cried when he had to get a tetanus shot “just in case.”
He’d have a nasty scar, but he could move his fingers fine and there was no permanent damage beyond the cosmetic. He’d be fine.
The drive home was long and quiet.
It was still early afternoon, but Garrett was exhausted and wanted a nap. Sarah called her friend Becky and asked if she could come over and watch Garrett and Hannah for a bit.
“Why’d you do that?” Toby asked, as Sarah hung up the phone.
“Who’s Owen?”
“Nobody. An imaginary friend. We play around with him.”
“When Becky gets here, I want you to take me to where he got hurt.”
“It’s an old shack we found. I never should have let him near it—the blame for this is entirely on me. I promise you, first thing tomorrow I’m going to tear the place down, make sure no other kids get hurt. Bad judgment on my part. I’m sorry.”
“No, Toby. I want to see it today. I want to know what the hell you two are doing out there.”
“We’re goofing around! Playing make-believe! There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re not hanging out with some crazy old blood-licking man named Owen—we like to pretend that we’re fighting monsters.”
“Becky will be here in ten minutes.”
“Call her back. I’m not leaving my son after he just got hurt. Look, how many times do I have to apologize for this? Don’t you think I feel terrible?”
&nb
sp; “I don’t want an apology. I want to know exactly how our son’s arm got ripped up.”
“I told you, he was leaning against some wood—”
“Stop it, okay? If that’s the real story, then fine, I’ll yell at you for being an irresponsible dad and we’ll be done with it. But you’re going to show me that fucking shack.”
“Don’t curse around Hannah. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
Toby paced around the living room, frantic. What was he supposed to do? Refuse to take her out there? She wouldn’t give up. If she knew they were hiding something, she’d be absolutely relentless.
He wished he hadn’t said it was a shack. If he’d said that Garrett injured himself on a branch, he could’ve just taken Sarah anywhere. But he’d thought about that during the drive to the emergency room, and he wanted to keep his story as close to the truth as possible. If he said a branch and Garrett said a shack, they’d be screwed.
What could he do? What could he do?
What the hell was Sarah going to do when she found out about Owen?
Okay. Calm down. It’s going to be…
A disaster. A total nightmare of a catastrophe of an Armageddon.
Way to think positive.
No. Maybe there was a solution. Well, not a solution, but a way this could work out. Owen didn’t spend all day and all night in the shack. In fact, daytime was when he did most of his hunting. Toby had shown up countless times when Owen wasn’t there. So it was entirely possible that he could get lucky and Owen wouldn’t be home.
“See, sweetie? Here’s the shack. Yeah, I see the boards and tools. We were just trying to fix the place up. Yeah, I should have told you about it. No, I don’t think it was responsible to let him play out here—but to be fair, I was with him the whole time. Well, yeah, that includes when he hurt his arm, but it’s not like he was running around rusty nails without parental supervision. I agree, I’m a total dumb-ass and bad dad. It’ll never happen again.”
Why shouldn’t it work out that way?
Or, he could leave right now, run into the woods, tell Owen to get the hell out and not come back until tomorrow, and then return, apologize to Sarah for running off, and—
No. He’d stick with the plan that did not involve him rushing out into the woods like a complete lunatic, and just pray for good luck. He’d had enough bad luck in his life that it wouldn’t be out of the question for this particular instance to work out in his favor, right?
He wished he and Owen shared some sort of psychic bond, so he could send a telepathic message for Owen to leave.
Maybe they did share a bond, and Toby just didn’t know it. Leave, he thought. Owen, you need to leave. Leave now. Stay away.
Oh, Jesus, he was cracking up. Which was not unexpected at a time like this, but he needed to keep his mental focus. This could still turn out okay. There was no reason to let an accident—a stupid, careless accident—ruin his life.
When this day was over, he’d still have Owen and his family. Absolutely. No question about it.
He continued to pace until he heard Becky’s car pull into the driveway.
Becky made a big fuss over Garrett’s bandaged arm, though not loudly enough to wake him up. She sat Hannah on her lap and promised to take good care of her. Sarah explained that they were going into the forest to retrieve the broken board for the doctor, just so they could run some tests on it and make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous that might have entered Garrett’s bloodstream.
It was a pretty good cover story. Toby wondered if she were hiding her own monster.
They walked into the forest.
“I’m sorry I made a big deal about going out here,” Toby said. “I just don’t like leaving Garrett alone when he’s hurt like that.”
“He’s not alone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Just take me to the shack.”
As they walked, moving at a brisk pace, Toby prayed that Owen wouldn’t be there when they arrived. He mentally pleaded for it. He continued trying to send telepathic messages to his friend, no matter how insane that was. It wasn’t that much to ask, for him to be out on a stroll, perhaps grabbing a bite to eat.
Please, Owen, please, please don’t be there when we get to the shack. Go hunting, go back to find Esmerelda, go swimming…hell, go into town and rip the guts out of another old man, I don’t care, just please don’t be there.
When they arrived at the shack, Owen was waiting for them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
One of the most perceptive observations Toby had heard about the aging process was that time sped up as you got older. At eight years old, summer lasted forever, and it seemed as if Christmas would never come. In your fifties, you said things like “Is it August already?” and wondered how it was possible that you were ready to celebrate the New Year when you’d just celebrated the last one.
But this moment, the moment with Sarah staring at the monster in shock, with Owen staring back at her—that moment lasted as long as Toby’s previous fifty-two years, and yet somehow he didn’t have time to fantasize about the possible ways the moment could end.
Owen looked confused, yet happy. Sarah looked terrified.
“Don’t run,” Toby said. “He won’t hurt you.”
Sarah didn’t speak. He could see how tense her body was, see that she was ready to run, just like she’d wanted to run from that support group meeting but a thousand times worse. But he couldn’t let her. Owen would chase her if she ran.
“He won’t hurt you,” Toby repeated.
Owen signed: Who?
“This is Sarah. You know Sarah. You’ve seen pictures.”
Owen spoke. “Toby.”
The horror that crossed Sarah’s face brought a pain to Toby that was worse than a monster talon plunging into his heart and wrenching it out of his chest in a bloody spray. She covered her mouth with her hands and began to hyperventilate.
Owen signed: Friend?
“Yes, friend,” said Toby, using every bit of energy he could summon to keep his voice steady. “Tell her that you’d never hurt your friend.”
Not hurt friend.
“Toby, get me out of here,” Sarah said. “Get me away from that thing.”
She was losing it. Toby put his arm on her shoulder, trying to calm her, but she shook him off. “I said, get me the fuck out of here!”
Owen frowned, obviously hurt by her reaction.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going. Owen, don’t follow us. Garrett’s fine, he’s okay, so you don’t have to worry about him, everyone’s fine.”
He led Sarah away, checking over his shoulder every couple of seconds to make sure Owen wasn’t following them. He wasn’t. Owen just stood there, disappointed and lonely.
When they were out of sight of the shack, they ran.
They emerged from the forest into the backyard, and Sarah spun toward him, the horror in her face now gone, replaced with pure anger. “What the fuck was that?”
“His name is Owen, he’s—”
“What the fuck are you doing with our son?”
“Just let me explain.”
Sarah slapped him so hard that Toby felt his eyes well up with tears. “Your ex-girlfriend got eaten by a giant animal—you think I can’t put the pieces together? You think I’m a fucking idiot?”
The door opened, and Becky stepped out onto the back porch, holding Hannah.
“It’s not like that. Give me a chance and I’ll help you understand.”
“What am I supposed to understand, Toby? What exactly do you think in that fucked-up head of yours that you’re going to convince me of? I cannot even describe how sick this is, you son of a bitch!”
“Becky, you should go inside,” said Toby.
“Maybe you guys should do this later.”
“Becky, go inside!” Toby shouted.
Becky hesitated, then went back inside, shutting the door behind he
r.
Sarah took several long, deep breaths. “Okay. Explain.”
“Owen would never hurt Garrett.”
“You named it? You named that thing?”
“Yes! Because he’s not some wild animal! I know it sounds deranged—”
“You have no idea how deranged it sounds.”
“Let me talk, okay? I swear to you, I’d never put our child in danger. Owen had nothing to do with this. It was an accident that could have happened anywhere.”
“Garrett told us that thing licked his blood.”
That part of today’s events was hard to overlook, and Toby had planned to address it, perhaps never bring Garrett back to the forest again, no matter how much the boy begged to see his friend.
“That never happened,” Toby said. “I don’t know where it came from. You saw Garrett—he’d lost a lot of blood and barely knew where he was.”
“How long have you been taking him out there?”
“I’m not sure. A while.”
“How long?”
“It doesn’t matter, okay!”
“Why did that goddamn thing say your name?” Sarah wailed.
“Because he’s my friend. I’ve been friends with him since high school. I didn’t know you, I didn’t know Mr. Lynch, I didn’t know Becky, but I knew Owen! He’s been with me through everything! Do you know when I found him in his cave? 1960! That’s how I knew he wasn’t going to hurt Garrett! That’s how I knew he wasn’t going to hurt you! Because he’s my best friend!”
Sarah stared at him, her eyes cold with hatred. “He hurt Melissa.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“If this is the way you want to live your life, that’s fine.” Sarah was no longer shouting, and the even tone of her voice was far more disturbing. “You can hang out in the woods with your magical creature friend and just have yourselves a ball. Do whatever the hell you want. But you’re not going to risk the lives of our children.”
“I didn’t—”
“I’m leaving. Garrett and Hannah are coming with me. I don’t want your mental illness anywhere around us. You’re not going to visit us, you’re not going to call us, you’re not going to fucking exist for us, do you understand?”
