Dweller (8 page)

“Don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t get out here every day. It’s not my fault you don’t have any other friends. If you’d get out of the cave once in a while, you might get to socialize more often, you know? Meet a nice elk or something, get some interspecies lovin’ going on. Where’s your Owenetta?”

Owen patted his belly.

“You ate her? Really? That’s pretty darn rude. You’re not supposed to eat your mate, unless maybe you’re a black widow or something.”

Owen patted his belly again, more insistently this time.

“Okay, okay, I was only kidding. Jeez. I know you’re hungry. And today I’ve got a special surprise for you.” Toby tapped his foot on the blue cooler. “You’d better like it, because this ice was
heavy.
”

He took the lid off the cooler, pushed aside some of the ice cubes, and pulled out the carton of ice cream. “This is Neapolitan,” he explained, “so you get chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry all at once. You’ll love it.”

Owen reached for the carton. Toby slapped his hand away. “Not yet. We’ve got to do this right.” He took a pair of ice-cream cones out of his backpack. “All right, one of them broke, but since I’m such a nice person I’ll give you the unbroken one.” He dug around until he found the metal scoop, then opened the carton. Owen growled.

“Have a little patience. Good things come to those who wait. How many monsters in the woods do you think have people bringing them ice cream? Not many. You are a fortunate soul, Owen, and when you taste this delicious treat, all of your problems are going to fade away.”

It was jacket weather, but no snow had fallen yet, and even in the cooler, the ice cream was starting to melt. It was easy to get out a nice big scoop. Toby made sure he got all three flavors, and then plopped it onto the cone.

“Here you go, sir,” he said, handing the cone to Owen. “Don’t eat it too fast or you’ll get a headache.”

Toby was somewhat less than surprised when Owen popped the entire cone into his mouth. Owen’s eyes widened, as much as his sunken eyes were capable of widening, and then he gave Toby an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign.

“Yeah, it’s good stuff, isn’t it?” asked Toby. “It’s better if you savor it, though.”

He prepared himself a cone, just strawberry, and slowly licked it. “See? Lick. It’s way better like this, and it lasts more than a third of a second.”

Owen made a grab for Toby’s cone, but he held it behind his back. “No. There’s more, but you have to wait until I’m done with mine. You know that.”

Owen patted his belly.

“Seriously, you need to chill out about this whole food thing. I’m hungry, too, but you don’t see me trying to shove you around to get fed. We need to develop your gourmet tastes. Any animal can just shovel food into its mouth. You should learn to appreciate fine cuisine. Like this ice-cream cone.” He turned it in a slow circle as he licked.

Owen watched him carefully, not taking his eyes off the cone.

“Stick your tongue out,” Toby said, sticking his tongue out as far as he could.

Owen continued to stare at the ice cream.

“Come on, do it,” Toby urged, his words garbled because his tongue was sticking out. He waggled his tongue and pointed at it with his free hand. “Let’s see that tongue!”

Owen tilted his head a bit, and then stuck out his tongue.

“Good job!” said Toby. He handed his ice-cream cone to Owen, who tossed the entire thing into his mouth.

Toby prepared himself another ice-cream cone. “Lick,” he said. “Just lick. Savor the smooth, creamy goodness.” He slowly licked the ice cream. “Like this. See how I’m doing it?”

Owen moved his tongue in a licking motion.

“That’s right! You’ve got it!” He gave Owen this ice-cream cone as well. “Now remember: lick.”

Owen ate the entire cone in one bite.

After one more try, Toby gave up and just let Owen eat the rest of the ice cream directly from the carton.

“Wow, this is really gross,” said Toby, trying to pull a comb through Owen’s thick, matted hair. “You’ve got bugs in here. Did you know that? Bugs. How can you not be constantly itching? This would drive me crazy.”

It took all afternoon to get Owen’s arms into decent shape, and Toby wasn’t sure that he was ever going to get the tangles out of the monster’s back. “I think that once we get this done the first time, it won’t be that tough to keep it up,” he said. “But right now I’m thinking we should just shave you.”

Owen continued his semi-purring. He clearly enjoyed the process, except for the moments where the comb tugged his hair too hard.

“By the way, I’ve told you this before, lots of times, but your aroma isn’t everything it could be. It’s a level of reek you don’t usually get from things that are still alive. Next
time I may bring some shampoo. And some mouthwash. That might take care of your romantic problems, don’t you think? There’s nothing that can be done for me, but I think an Owen that doesn’t stink to high heaven might attract the lady monsters. We’ll see.”

The comb caught on a particularly gnarled section of fur, but Toby carefully and patiently worked the teeth through until the knot was gone.

“‘The bullets tore through the side of the armored car like it was tissue paper,’” said Toby, reading aloud from the thin paperback. “‘The driver flopped over, bleeding from three different head wounds. Outside of the now out-of-control vehicle, the hostages screamed as it hurtled toward them, tires squealing.’”

Toby was sure that Owen didn’t understand the plot, but he seemed to enjoy being read to, particularly when Toby laced the reading with sound effects. He mimicked the sound of an armored car plowing into a crowd of six tied-up hostages.

They made up lots of new games. Owen had trouble understanding most of the rules, but even something generic like Twenty Questions was a lot more interesting when playing it with a hideous monster. Tag was a little too dangerous and was discontinued after one session.

“Let’s try it again.
Owen. Owe-wen.
Say it.”

Owen silently stared at him.

“C’mon, you can do it.
Owen. Oooowwwwen.
Say your name.”

Owen contorted his mouth and made a low, growly noise that sounded nothing like his name.

Toby gave him a thumbs-down sign. “You’re not getting it.
Owen.
Just start with ‘
Owe.
’
Owe.
”

“
Ahh-ehh.
”

“Better, sort of. A little disturbing, but definitely on the right track. Let’s keep trying.
Owen. Owe-wen.
”

“You know what he did?” Toby asked. “So I’m sitting there at lunch, and he asks to see what I’m writing, like he always does. You’d think he’d have outgrown that by now—we’re sophomores, right? But no, he tries to grab my notebook, and I yank it away, and I knock over my can of root beer. And everybody in the cafeteria starts applauding, and J.D. is laughing as if it wasn’t his fault! I wanted to make him eat the can. I swear, Owen, sometimes I’d like to just bring you to school and turn you loose.”

Owen walked back into his cave.

“Oh, well, gee,
that’s
not rude or anything! Sure, just walk away while I’m sharing my personal misery with you.”

He’d never quite worked up the nerve to walk back into Owen’s cave. He was very comfortable around Owen, but still…walking into a dark, narrow cave with a monster didn’t seem like a particularly good idea. Out in the open, he at least had some potential for running to safety if Owen went wild. In the cave, he was dead for sure.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll go home now,” he announced. “Thanks for lending a supportive ear. I appreciate it.”

Owen walked back out of the cave. He held a skull.

The lower jaw was missing, and there was a pretty large crack in the center of the cranium, but apart from that the skull was intact. Any flesh or hair that might have been on it was completely gone. Toby had no way to be certain exactly whose skull it was, but he was pretty sure that he could narrow it down to one of two people.

Owen extended the skull toward him.

“Uh-uh,” said Toby. “That was a one-time thing. I mean a two-time thing. It’s never going to happen again.”

He could do it, though. Figure out a reason to lure J.D. out into the woods, show him the cave, and let Owen have another hearty meal. Then Toby could draw whatever he wanted in peace.

Owen tapped the skull against Toby’s chest, as if urging him to take it. Toby recoiled.

“Stop it. You don’t get to eat anybody else. I’m lucky I’m not in prison right now, and you’re lucky you’re not in a zoo. Why do you still have that thing? Bury it or eat it or something, okay?”

Owen prodded him again.

“Not a chance. I’m not going to bring anybody to you, and I’m sure as hell not going to stab anybody again. Do you want to know how often I see their bloody faces? Every goddamn night. I used to have cool fantasies. I used to pretend I was zapping aliens. Now I just keep thinking about what I did. Did you know that I can hardly even think about girls? I’m serious. I’m not sorry they’re dead, don’t get me wrong, but I’m going to be dealing with this for the rest of my life. So find your own meal.”

He yanked the skull out of Owen’s hand. He couldn’t trust his friend to properly hide it again. He’d just bury it on the way home.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to flip out on you, but that part of my life is over, okay? Still friends, right?” He forced a smile and gave Owen a thumbs-up gesture.

Owen tapped the skull with his talon.

“Friends, right?” Toby repeated.

Owen returned the thumbs-up gesture.

“Good. I have to get home. See you tomorrow.”

As Toby walked home with the skull, he realized that he’d most likely inadvertently communicated to Owen that yes, he would indeed bring another human for him to prey upon. Damn it.

“When are we gonna get there?” J.D. asked, as they walked through the forest three weeks later. It was a slow
process now that there was snow on the ground, but it hadn’t snowed in the past few days so Toby’s path was still there, making it easier.

“In a while.”

“I swear, if you’re dragging me out here to go all homo on me, I’m going to tell everyone.”

“Just shut up until we get there.”

“Why are you being such a dick? You’re the one who wanted me to come with you.”

“Look, we’ve been enemies for long enough. I think it’s time we should try to be friends, that’s all.”

“You already said that,” J.D. noted. “You’re a creepy little bastard. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

“Come on. You’re slowing down.”

“I’m going to stop is what I’m going to do. I have way better things to do than let you lure me into the woods in the freezing cold and then whip it out.”

“It’ll be worth it when we get there, so quit whining.”

“I’m not the one behaving like a elementary-school kid. ‘Waaah, we should be friends, let’s go out and play, waaah!’ What a complete waste you are.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I’m curious about how much of a loser you are. You’re probably taking me out to see your art collection. Ooooh, robots and monsters and fairies and shit!”

Toby couldn’t wait to watch Owen bite into this jerk. He hoped Owen wouldn’t kill him on the first chomp—Toby would have to somehow encourage him to start with the extremities.

Scream loud, J.D. We’ll be too deep in the woods for anybody to hear you.

He stopped walking.

What the hell was he doing?

“Go back home,” he said.

“What?”

“Go away. We’re done.”

“Seriously? You dragged me out here for nothing?”

“Yes. Fuck off.”

J.D. snorted in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. You are a creepy, nerdy, zit-faced little freak. Go back to the circus.”

“I will. Fuck off and die.”

“God, you’re a loser,” J.D. muttered as he walked back the way they came.

Toby knew he was a loser. He was fine with that. But the fact that he was ready to feed another classmate to Owen scared the hell out of him.

1963. Age 18.

Toby tossed his graduation cap high into the air, hoping it would get caught in a wind stream and sail away, never to be seen again. It didn’t, it landed on the grass right in front of him, but that was fine because school was
over.

No more school
!
No more books
!
No more teachers’ dirty looks
!
No more cretins who test your resolve not to commit the act of murder again, or at least lead them to their violent deaths
!

Mom and Dad watched proudly from the bleachers. They would’ve been prouder if he were going to college, but Toby had no interest in that. It was hard to believe that there was an era when he didn’t consider school a waste of time. He’d applied to a few universities just to play along, and been accepted into two of them despite his lackluster grades since freshman year, but that wasn’t where his life was headed.

He wasn’t sure
where
his life was headed, exactly, but it wasn’t more school. Without Orange Leaf High hogging up all of his weekdays, he could get in a lot more hours at work, make a lot more money, and get his own place. No dormitory with a roommate for him. He was headed for freedom.

“And that’s it. I never have to see that place again. I mean, I guess I have to drive by it sometimes, but I never have to
set foot in that stupid, awful building ever again. It’s a day of celebration. Now I can finally figure out what I want to do. I guess you’re supposed to figure that out in school, but I think it’s one big distraction in your life. It doesn’t leave time for anything else. But now it’s all over!” He did a merry little dance with his arms folded, like he’d seen some Russian dancers do on television, then frowned. “What’s up, Owen? You don’t seem all that excited.”

Owen had appeared happy when Toby showed up outside his cave, as the monster always did, but his eyes were glassy and his energy level was low. “Are you sick?” Toby asked. He mimed throwing up to clarify what he meant. “Sick?”

Owen gave him a thumbs-down.

“Does that mean no, you’re not sick, or is that just a thumbs-down to the way you’re feeling?”

Owen lowered his head. It was difficult for a creature with oversize jaws to look pitiful, but Owen pulled off the feat.

“Here, let me feel your forehead.” Toby brushed away some of Owen’s hair and pressed his palm against his forehead. “You’re kind of hot, but I honestly don’t know how that compares to your usual temperature. You don’t look like you’re dying, at least. Maybe you should get some rest.” He tilted his head and placed his hands together under it, miming sleep.

Owen slowly wandered back into his cave.

Poor guy. This was the first time Toby had seen him feeling bad, but he had to get sick
sometime
, right? Everybody got sick. There was plenty of stuff in the medicine cabinet at home, but Toby had no idea how it would react with Owen’s body, so giving him human medicine was probably a bad idea. Rest was the best answer. And maybe orange juice.

What if his friend was dying?

He wasn’t dying. That was stupid. Glassy eyes and low
energy did not mean that the Grim Reaper was chopping down your door with his scythe. Owen would be fine.

Still, Toby should at least make sure that he got into bed safely. They’d been friends for three years. Owen wasn’t going to rip him apart in the cave, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Toby dug his flashlight out of his backpack, turned it on, and walked into the cave after him.

Owen pushed through some vegetation that hung in the corner—the secret passage that Toby had missed all those years ago. “Fancy,” Toby said. “It’s almost like you’ve got a beaded curtain. I hope you tidied up the place for my visit.”

Toby pushed through the “curtain” as well, stepping into a room that wasn’t much larger than his own bedroom. There were bones everywhere. As Toby shined the flashlight beam around on them, he was relieved to note that none of them looked human, not that he could necessarily tell a human rib from a deer rib at first glance.

“Nice place,” he said. “Not the decorating scheme I would have gone for, but it works. The scattered bones give it sort of a homey feel.”

A large pile of bushes, arranged almost like a nest, rested against the far wall. Owen lay down in it and closed his eyes.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Toby. “I’ll take care of you.”

He looked around some more. Not much to it. He hadn’t expected Owen to live in a nicely furnished luxury suite with fine china and a butler, but a bunch of bones and some bushes to sleep on seemed kind of sparse. The next time he came out here, he’d bring a picture of himself to tape up on Owen’s wall. Give the place a little more character.

“Hey, Floren, it’s kind of hard to breathe under here,” said a voice from within the pile of bones.

“So come out. You don’t need my permission.”

Larry pushed his way out of the bones. He was looking bad. He always looked bad, but this was a particularly gruesome day for him. Each of the stab wounds still had a knife embedded in them. The blades wobbled as he got to his feet.

“These hurt,” he noted.

“They would.”

“I can’t pry them out.”

“You did last time.”

“That was different.”

Larry’s appearance changed each time. Sometimes he only had one knife in him, usually in his chest. Sometimes he had no knives, but was covered with hundreds of stab wounds, far more than Toby had caused. Sometimes the cuts leaked. Sometimes they glowed. Sometimes they weren’t there at all. Once, Larry had just been a pool of reddish ooze—Toby knew it was him from the hazel eyes floating in it.

Nick hardly ever showed up. When he did, his body was filled with gaping holes and he didn’t talk much.

Larry tugged at the knife in his chest. “You stuck this thing in deep.”

“I was angry.”

“I’m really sorry about what we did. We should have been nicer to you while we were alive. I think, deep inside, we were just insecure about ourselves. We just wanted to be loved.” He chuckled. “A dumb way of showing it, right?”

“Okay, nobody wants to hear that,” said Toby. “Go back to the bones now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then melt.”

Larry shrieked as his skin began to bubble and smoke. There was a sizzling sound as pieces of flesh curled and dropped off his body, bursting into flames as they hit the
ground. Within seconds Larry was nothing more than a knife-filled skeleton. Then the bones fell apart and he collapsed back into the pile.

Good. Toby had control over his imagination today. That wasn’t always the case.

“You know what would be funny?” he asked Owen. “If you didn’t exist, either. I could be out here talking to myself. The people at the loony bin would love that.”

Owen opened his eyes, looking sort of annoyed that Toby was still making noise when he didn’t feel well.

“If that were the case, though, I’d be a cannibal. I may be crazy, but I’m not
that
far gone.” He knelt down next to Owen and stroked his fur. “You’re not going to die on me, right? If you ever leave me, I’ll…I don’t know. I’d just be really sad, I guess. I’ll stop talking now.”

He sat with Owen until the monster fell asleep, and then went home.

Toby had hated his senior year of high school, but he had to admit that his senior photo was pretty good. If nothing else, it was the best picture taken of him in at least a decade. His parents wouldn’t miss a five-by-seven print. Tomorrow he’d take it to the cave and give Owen something to remember him by when he wasn’t around.

Or…maybe he’d decide instead not to be a complete idiot.

Owen was his best friend, but he’d also devoured two humans. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t in Toby’s best interest to have his picture posted right there on the cave wall. That might be a challenge to explain to the police.

As a double murderer who was buddies with a flesh-eating monster, it was very important that he not do stupid things. What he should do, right now, was make a list of dumb things to avoid. A mental list, though—if he wrote it down, it could be discovered, and that would be spectacularly dumb.

No pictures of himself on Owen’s wall, obviously.

Always leave in enough time to get home before dark. He’d screwed that up a few times. Yeah, he always carried a flashlight and had spare batteries in his backpack, but still, he should avoid walking in the forest at night. What if Owen had relatives?

Don’t talk to hallucinations. To be fair, he’d only done that once outside of the forest. Larry had sat down next to him at the library, and Toby had told him to go away. Not a big deal. Nobody had heard. But still, the “talking corpse” versions of Larry and Nick were figments of his imagination, and speaking to them outside of his mind was dumb. He did it fairly often when he was hanging out with Owen, only because he was so used to talking to somebody who didn’t talk back, but that needed to stop.

Don’t think about feeding people to Owen. Well, that wasn’t necessarily something he could control. He thought about it a lot. But after that one time sophomore year when he’d lost his mind and tried to lure J.D. out here—God, how could he have let himself get that far out of control?—he’d never done anything like that again. And he never would. So it didn’t need to be on his list.

Don’t get too comfortable. He messed this up all the time. He just couldn’t conceive of Owen hurting him. But there were a lot of lion tamers missing limbs because they stopped being cautious around their beasts, and he needed to remain aware that Owen was dangerous. He didn’t want to find himself lying in a hospital bed without his arms thinking, “Wow, I really should have been more careful around the creature with claws and razor-sharp teeth.”

Never tell anybody about his friend. This was the hardest one. It was no longer a case of just wanting to share his cool discovery. He had a friend—his only friend—and didn’t dare tell anybody about it, for his sake and for Owen’s. Every time Mom or Dad asked what he
was doing out in the woods all the time, he was tempted to tell the truth, but he never could. They were worried. They didn’t think it was healthy to spend this much time alone. If they knew the truth, they’d think it was even
less
healthy.

Those were the rules. Those were the dumb things he had to avoid. There was nothing on that list he couldn’t handle. And if he broke the rules…well, then he deserved whatever ghoulish fate was in store for him.