Dweller - Jeff Strand [80]
Toby turned and shot at the alien with the hacksaw, which didn’t make logistical sense but seemed effective. “Okay, we need to drop the alien stuff,” he said. “We’ve got hard work ahead.”
Garrett saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Toby scooted the stepladder closer to the trunk of the tree and then climbed up a couple of steps. “Make sure it’s sturdy,” he said. “Hold it with both hands.”
“I’ve got it.”
Toby sawed away at the excess branches, carefully tossing them aside as he cut each one from the tree. This was going to be a fantastic tree house. Garrett was going to be the envy of the neighborhood kids. This would make him some friends.
“Do you think it’s going to be safe?” Sarah asked.
“Yep. I’ve already given him the lecture about not going near it until it’s finished, and I won’t let him up there alone until I’ve done jumping jacks inside.”
“How’s your back?”
“It’s fine,” Toby lied. It wasn’t anything a few aspirin couldn’t fix.
She kissed him. They still kissed, and laughed, and made love, but it really wasn’t the same. The jokes felt more forced, the Sunday morning cuddling less intimate. She didn’t seem to have missed him as much when he came back from the long walks in the forest by himself.
Still, he had a lot of joy in his life. Garrett, Hannah, and Owen.
“Can I come?” Garrett asked, looking away from his video game. Toby figured he had to be doing pretty well as a father—it was a place of high honor to pull Garrett’s attention from his Nintendo. Toby had played games with him on a few occasions, and found himself getting embarrassingly addicted, so he tried to avoid them when at all possible.
“This is Daddy-alone time,” Sarah explained. She sat on the couch, holding Hannah on her lap.
“Please?”
“Not this time,” said Toby. “Next one’s yours.”
Garrett returned to his video game. Toby and Sarah had gotten lucky—he rarely got whiny about anything. Having kids forced them to socialize with other parents, and some of those other children were tantrum-throwing demons.
He hadn’t seen Owen in three days. It just wasn’t easy to get out of the house alone, except to go to work. He really wished there were another Owen-creature, maybe Esmerelda, that lived nearby to keep him company. It would help ease his guilt about not being able to visit more often.
He had a brand-new picture of Garrett and Hannah, covered with pancake batter, to show Owen. Owen loved seeing the pictures. He’d only accidentally ripped two.
Toby hated not being able to bring his son along.
Hated it.
Sarah would never understand, but Garrett would. Garrett would think it was the greatest thing ever. Toby could picture his expression of wonder. Some fear at first, yeah, but it would transform into pure joy at the discovery his father had shared with him.
They could come out and visit Owen every day.
Just he and Garrett. Father and son.
But it could never happen. Not a chance. This was always going to be Toby’s secret, hidden from the world forever. Maybe even after he died. Some kid would be wandering through the woods fifty years from now, and he’d find the remains of a quaint old shack, and thoughts of what might have lived there would capture his imagination. Maybe he’d envision something with even bigger talons, bigger teeth, and scarier eyes.
Or maybe Owen would still be alive, and he’d find a new friend.
Goddamn he hated not being able to share this with his son. What a cruel joke, that something that gave him this much joy had to remain hidden, a dark, dirty secret. In what kind of universe was it fair that he couldn’t tell his own son about the greatest discovery of his life?
Granted, there were murders involved…
Still…
Owen looked particularly happy to see him this time, and Toby didn’t even come bearing treats. As Owen hugged him, Toby wondered why he couldn’t bring Garrett out there to meet him.
Garrett was old enough to keep a secret. Toby had kept his own secret at age eight. No, wait, he hadn’t—he’d told his parents everything, but