Dweller - Jeff Strand [74]
“I wouldn’t lie about something like that. So will you?”
“Yes!”
They kissed.
It was going to be wonderful. They’d get a new house, stay near the forest, and nothing would change. Maybe he’d have to visit Owen less often, but that was fine—Owen would just have to understand. He wouldn’t abandon his friend. Not ever. Nothing would change.
Nothing changed after the wedding. They bought a wonderful little house at a great price, not as close to his old place as Toby would have liked, but still acceptable. While Sarah went to classes at night, Toby spent time with Owen. He and the monster weren’t too old to make up new games, even if there was much less running around involved these days.
They’d planned to wait a couple of years before having kids. Not too long—they didn’t want to be parenting from a nursing home—but long enough to give themselves time to travel the world and for Sarah to get her degree.
One positive pregnancy test and some quick calculations showed that she’d gotten knocked up during their honeymoon.
Things did change after that. Toby didn’t go out to visit Owen on weekends—well, not every weekend. Owen understood. There were no more jealous rages.
Love her?
“I do. Who would’ve thought that a loser like me would ever get married, huh?”
As her belly swelled, Toby grew less comfortable leaving her alone. He still visited Owen, just not as often. He brought him extra treats to make up for it. Life was good. They were still best buddies.
The night Garrett Andrew Floren was born, weighing six pounds, three ounces, Toby held his son and vowed that nobody would ever harm his child.
Nobody.
For all these years, he’d allowed a monster to live in the woods outside of his house.
Not anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1987. 42 years old.
“He doesn’t have either of our eyes,” Sarah said, taking Garrett back from Toby. Toby and Sarah both had brown eyes, but Garrett’s were a beautiful shade of blue.
“Recessive traits.”
“He does have your nose, though.”
Toby scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, he does.” She gently stroked the newborn’s forehead. “He’s so precious. Can you believe I’m sitting here saying things like ‘He’s so precious’? That’s not like me. Do you think we’re going to become those parents who show pictures of their baby to strangers and tell everybody that he’s the most beautiful baby boy in the entire world?”
Toby gave her a kiss. “I hope so.”
He walked through the woods with a clarity of vision. He’d lived a confused life—a mixed-up, crazy, confused life, but he wasn’t confused now.
Sarah had been nervous about having a gun in their house, even an unloaded one, so she’d insisted that he keep it in the attic. He’d pointed out that an intruder would be unlikely to let him climb into the attic to retrieve his weapon for the purposes of self-defense, and she’d argued that the idea of guns in their bedroom scared her more than the idea of intruders, so he’d conceded.
That was fine. He didn’t need to defend his wife and son in their home. He was going to get rid of the threat before it came to that.
Owen was his best friend. For most of Toby’s life, he was his only friend. And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, was one fucked-up concept. Best buddies with a snarling, flesh-eating monster? He’d have to be insane.
Owen would not be coming to his house in the middle of the night. Owen would not be looking in Garrett’s crib. Owen would not be reaching out with a single talon, perhaps to lovingly stroke the infant, perhaps to slit his throat. Owen would not be doing to Garrett what he’d done to those other two people.
Or what you did.
No. Toby’s secret was long buried, something that could never happen again. Owen was a monster. If Toby allowed Garrett to come to harm because he let that creature lurk out there, hungry, then Toby might as well kill himself.
Up the arms, not across the wrists.
He had to do it tonight, while Sarah was still in the hospital. Tomorrow, she’d bring home the baby.
Owen stood outside the shack when Toby approached.