Dweller - Jeff Strand [59]
“Is this your family?” Toby asked Owen.
No.
“They seem nice.”
Owen led him to the pond. They waded out into the water, waist-deep, and just stood there, enjoying the sunshine. Owen still wasn’t off the hook for being gone so damn long, but Toby was thrilled for his friend. He’d often considered that there might be other creatures like Owen out there, but he’d never expected to actually find them, or be smelled by them.
A moment later, the three creatures dragged a deer carcass near the pond. They waited expectantly as Toby and Owen walked to shore, and then all four creatures stared at Toby.
Aw, crap. He was pretty sure that they were waiting for their guest of honor to take the first bite.
“You know that I like my meat cooked, right?” Toby asked Owen. Of course, his friend conveniently had no idea what Toby was talking about. This seemed like a scenario where offending his hosts could be fatal, so Toby reached into the carcass, tore off a small chunk of meat (which didn’t come free easily), and reluctantly shoved it into his mouth and chewed.
As if he’d fired a starter pistol, the monsters dove into the dead deer, burying their faces in the raw meat and ripping off huge pieces with their teeth. Owen gestured for Toby to join them, and he held up his hand and tried to make an “I’m full” gesture. Owen didn’t insist, probably figuring “More deer for me!” and resumed the dining frenzy.
After the feast, the other three monsters crawled off, presumably to sleep. Toby and Owen sat alongside the pond, feet in the water. Owen yawned.
“You can go take a nap. There’s no way in hell I’m falling asleep anytime soon.”
No.
“So, pretty nice setup they’ve got. Are you their uncle Owen or something?”
Owen didn’t understand the question.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Stay.
“Me?”
Yes.
“Oh, no. It’s nice out here, but I can’t live out in the woods like this.”
Or could he? He could spend the rest of his life hanging out by the pond, catching fish and teaching these creatures the art of not eating raw meat. Never shave or get another haircut—just let his hair grow out like Rip Van Winkle. Speak in grunts.
It was an appealing concept.
But, no, of course he couldn’t do that. He’d be dead in a week. Any life spent out here would be a life spent making frequent treks into town, shoplifting supplies. He’d gotten away with murdering Larry and Nick, but he’d probably go to jail for swiping a toothbrush.
And he’d spent years building up a bond of trust with Owen—a bond that had, incidentally, resulted in a violent death. He couldn’t just assume that these other three fanged, clawed monsters weren’t having carnivorous thoughts about him.
It was kind of cool that he’d found himself in a position where he could live with a quartet of monsters, should he choose to do so. Most people weren’t given that particular opportunity.
He shook his head. “Can’t do it, Owen.”
Please.
“No. I appreciate that you made the trip to come get me—a couple of years late—but there’s no way I can stay out here. I’m human. I’m bad at it, but I’m human.”
Owen looked at him sadly.
“It’ll be okay. You can stay out here with your friends. I’m much happier with this idea than the idea of being abandoned, you know? I don’t know how the hell I’m going to find my way back home, but I’ll be okay.”
No.
“It’ll be fine. Stay with your own kind. I want you to be happy.”
Come with you.
“I can’t let you do that. You shouldn’t be living in a cave all by yourself. What kind of life is that? You spend your days waiting for a loser like me to show up and entertain you for a couple of hours. You should stay here. Be with the kind of people you should actually talk to.”
No.
“What kind of friend would I be if I let you go back to Orange Leaf? It’s the worst place in the world. I’m going to miss you like you wouldn’t believe, but you need to stay here.”
No.
“Don’t argue with me. I’ll come visit. There’s this shitty saying, ‘If you love something, set it free,’ and that’s what I’m doing.”
The thought of losing his best friend again, so soon after rediscovering