Owen hesitated.
Then he tore another chunk out of her arm.
Toby spun back around. He needed the gun. He had to shoot Owen before he killed Melissa. Toby was feeling sick and dizzy but he needed to end this, and Owen was no longer listening to him. He couldn’t let Melissa die.
He picked up the gun and fired. The shot went wild, knocking some snow off a tree branch. Owen looked back at the source of the noise, and Melissa wriggled free and ran off, cradling her mangled arm.
Toby aimed the gun more carefully, but his fingers wouldn’t work.
Owen didn’t seem scared by the gun anymore.
Toby switched to his other hand. Fired another shot that didn’t even come close. If he kept this up he’d shoot Melissa by accident.
Owen looked back and forth between Toby and Melissa, as if trying to decide which one to attack. Good. If he came after Toby, he could get a better shot. “Here!” Toby said, gesturing toward himself. “Come get me!”
The monster rushed at him.
Toby squeezed off two more shots in rapid succession. Neither one hit. He didn’t think he was trying to miss on purpose, but maybe subconsciously he-
Owen leaped at him.
They both slammed onto the ground.
Toby hit him in the face with the gun. If he couldn’t shoot straight, he could at least use it as a bludgeoning weapon. Owen yipped like a hurt puppy. Toby struck him again, and the gun dropped out of his grasp once more.
“I hope she blinded you!” Toby screamed. He threw a punch at Owen’s face, thumb extended, trying to gouge out his uninjured eye-
– and then his hand was pinched between Owen’s jaws.
Toby stopped moving. Owen could bite off his hand with almost no effort, pop that thing right off and gulp it down.
They locked eyes. Owen’s eye had a small cut in the iris, and he kept blinking.
“Owen, please don’t,” Toby said, forcing himself to remain calm and soothing. “Don’t hurt me. You don’t hurt your friends.”
Within Owen’s mouth, Toby felt a warm tongue slide over his palm.
He desperately hoped that Melissa was running fast, putting plenty of distance between them, getting the hell out of this deadly forest.
Toby’s hand remained attached, so Owen hadn’t gone completely feral. He could still be reasoned with. They were still friends.
“Let me go,” said Toby, softly.
Owen continued to lick his palm. A sign of affection…or gauging the taste?
Then he opened his jaws, just enough for Toby to pull his hand free. Toby did so and then flexed his fingers, as if testing to make sure they were really still there and not inside Owen’s stomach.
Owen gave him a look that Toby couldn’t decipher, then sprung to his feet and raced in the direction that Melissa had gone. Toby got up and went after them.
Melissa hadn’t gotten far. The trail of red snow ended just around the corner, and she leaned against a tree, bracing herself as she tried to catch her breath. God, she’d lost so much blood.
“Toby, please, call him off!” she wailed. “You said-!”
Owen got her.
He bit into her shoulder, ripping off and devouring a chunk of flesh that went down to the bone. The next bite ended her screams.
Toby stood in place, watching. Now he just felt numb.
He should have tried to scare Owen away from Melissa’s corpse, but the idea of the monster defiling her body didn’t matter to him, now that his girlfriend was dead. It wasn’t Melissa anymore. It was food.
He just watched Owen eat.
Owen watched Toby as well, as if daring him to come closer.
“Why did you do it?” Toby finally asked, but not loud enough to be heard over the chewing sounds. “She didn’t hurt you that bad. It wasn’t on purpose.”
Owen’s meal went on, uninterrupted.
Toby wiped away tears and collapsed against the same tree he’d used to brace the shotgun all those years ago. “You shouldn’t have done it. I wish you hadn’t done it.”
He snapped back to reality, as if awakening from a trance. There was blood everywhere, staining the snow and the trees and the rocks. Melissa lay in a gory, half-skeletal mess. Owen remained hovered over her, his teeth stripping her right leg.
“Get away from her,” he whispered.
Owen didn’t acknowledge him.
“Geta way from her!” he shouted. He looked around and saw the gun lying on the ground. He picked it up and pointed it into the sky, firing off four or five shots before the clip was empty.
Owen ran, not looking back as he charged off into the depths of the forest.
Toby walked over to what remained of Melissa. He stared at her with an almost detached curiosity.
And then he let it all out, screaming in primal anguish, punching and kicking the trees, cursing the heavens, vowing to hunt down and kill the murderous beast, and sobbing over his loss.
This morning, he’d had two friends. Now he had none.
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
“Burn the whole forest down,” Larry suggested. “Just pour gasoline over every square inch, light a match, and watch this place go inferno.”
“I might,” said Toby.
“Yeah! We’ll dance in the flames! It’ll be the party of the century! Burn, burn, burn!”
“You want to know the best part?” asked Nick. “Watching Owen run through the woods with his hair on fire. Total body burn. I’ll cheer for that. Hopefully I’ll even have a bucket of water in my hand that I can refuse to throw on him.”
“It wasn’t Owen’s fault.”
“Oh, of course not, his claws aren’t bloodstained at all. Somebody else grabbed his jaws and opened and closed them on Melissa’s arm. Owen’s just a big furry puppet.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know crap about what you mean, Toby. I just know that you should destroy that thing. Get a machine gun and pump six thousand bullets into its chest. Flay the skin right off its bones. Better yet, get the army involved, have them drop a whole atomic bomb right smack-dab on his cave. Turn Owen into a pile of glowing white ashes.”
“Not painful enough,” said Nick.
“I don’t even care about making him suffer. I just want to see something spectacular. Flames or an atomic blast. Wipe him off the map.”
“He’s my best friend.”
“Are you still clinging to that? Toby, I know you don’t think of me as a father figure, but I’m going to share a piece of wisdom with you: When somebody tears your girlfriend apart and scatters her guts all over the ground, he ceases to be your best friend. He ceases to even be a pleasant acquaintance. It’s pretty much mortal-enemies territory.”
“But he’s the only thing I’ve got.”
“Well, yeah, now. Because of him. You don’t have to open the valentine with the time bomb just because it’s the only one in your mailbox. If you’re that needy, move to California and live by your mommy and daddy again.”
