For a split second Toby frantically wondered why the weapon hadn’t fired. He realized that the safety was still on. However, the monster took a big step back and let out a pitiful whimper. It held its clawed hands up in front of its face.
Toby flipped off the safety but didn’t shoot. He backed up a few paces, putting enough space between himself and the monster that he didn’t feel that his bloody death was seconds away. The monster kept its hands over its face, almost sounding like a puppy as it whimpered in fear.
Toby felt a bit of his courage return. “That’s right, asshole!” he shouted, waving the barrel of the gun at the monster. “I’m a lot scarier than you, aren’t I?”
Picture. He needed the picture. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how to snap the picture while still keeping the shotgun safely pointed at the thing that wanted to devour him. He backed up a couple more steps, and then tried to balance the shotgun with one arm while grabbing the camera with his free hand. The instant the barrel wavered, he changed his mind. Maybe he’d skip the photograph.
No. That’s why he was out here, risking a great big bite mark in his throat. If he didn’t get proof, he’d have wasted the effort. He needed some kind of reward for all of the forthcoming foot pain and nightmares.
He let out a snort of laughter. The answer was obvious. He rested the barrel of the shotgun on one of the tree branches, keeping it pointed at the monster. After a moment of hesitation to make sure the branch didn’t snap under the shotgun’s weight, he picked up the camera with his left hand and peered through the viewfinder.
Say cheese…
He snapped a quick photograph. It might not have been a very good one, but he didn’t want to get greedy. He let go of the camera and clutched the shotgun in both hands again.
Now what?
He could shoot the monster. Blow open its chest, get photographs of its corpse from every possible angle, then bring the authorities back here. He’d be world famous. The coolest kid in Orange Leaf. Maybe the coolest kid in Ohio.
The monster lowered its hands from its face.
No, he wasn’t going to kill it. You didn’t kill something like this. It could be the last of its kind.
Or it could be one of thousands, which were circling him at this very moment. That was a new spin on the situation that Toby hadn’t considered. He nervously glanced around at the trees around him, but there didn’t seem to be any reinforcements.
The monster was no longer whimpering, though it still looked frightened. And sad.
He couldn’t kill this thing, even if it weren’t a scientific discovery. He’d been the one to invade its territory. And it had let him go when it had the chance to kill him.
Toby lowered the shotgun. One act of mercy for another.
Of course, he kept his arm tense, ready to bring the shotgun right the hell back up if the monster rushed at him. But it didn’t. It just looked at him.
“Uh, sorry about that,” said Toby.
The monster did not acknowledge his apology. Toby felt kind of silly for having said it. He couldn’t exactly gauge the monster’s facial expression, especially not with all those teeth, but it almost seemed to look grateful.
Did it live out here all by itself?
How old was it?
It was far from cute, but Toby couldn’t help feeling sorry for it…not that he would hesitate to blow its head off if necessary.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Do you…talk?” Toby asked. “Do you speak English?” Toby was 99.9 percent sure that the monster didn’t talk and that he was asking a very stupid question, but if the monster did talk, it would be much stupider for them to stand here staring at each other when they could be communicating through spoken language.
The monster didn’t respond. It just kept looking at him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Toby promised, hoping that his tone of voice would get his message across. “If you stay where you are, I won’t do anything with the gun.” He patted the barrel to show the monster what he was talking about. Then he decided that patting the barrel of the gun was more of an intimidating gesture than a reassuring one, and quickly shook his head. “I won’t shoot this.”
There was no evidence that the monster knew what he was talking about. But at least it wasn’t charging at him.
Toby patted his chest. “Toby,” he said. “I’m Toby.” He said it more slowly, enunciating as well as he could. “Toby.”
It was hard to tell with its sunken eyes, but the creature seemed to squint a bit. Toby had no idea what that meant.
He was starting to relax. This was probably a bad idea, considering that there was a savage beast standing not too far from him. Toby was pretty sure that he’d pushed his luck as far as it was going to go in this particular situation, and that his best course of action would be to walk away from the monster while it was relatively sedate.
“Good-bye,” he told it. “I guess I’ll…see you around or something.”
Now came the tricky part: turning his back on it.
Toby backed up a few steps, keeping his eye on the monster, but he knew he couldn’t watch both the uneven path and the monster at the same time. He turned around and slowly walked away, imagining his ears as finely tuned robotic instruments, capable of hearing the slightest movement behind him. If the monster exhaled, he’d hear it. If the monster blinked louder than necessary, he’d hear it. If the monster did anything at all…
He heard it.
He spun back around, withstanding the urge to aim the shotgun. The monster took another step toward him. It didn’t look like it was trying to be aggressive or threatening-it was simply following him. Still, nonaggressive or not, Toby couldn’t have a monster following him home.
“Shoo!” he said. “Go away!”
The monster stood in place. It clicked two of its talons together, and Toby felt some fresh perspiration run down his back.
“Don’t follow me,” Toby told it. “I’m going home. You can’t come.”
The monster licked its lips.
Shit.
Should he run? Should he blow a hole in its face? Should he wet himself and perish?
None of those sounded good. Well, the running part sounded good, but not on a sprained ankle.
“Stay,” Toby warned. “Staaaay.” God, he hoped that the monster didn’t think he was being condescending.
He waited for a few moments, until he decided that the monster wasn’t going to keep moving toward him. He turned his back on it once again and resumed walking. Robot ears…robot ears…
He made it a few steps before he heard some rustling, but when he spun around the monster was still standing there. Just normal forest rustling. No imminent peril. He returned his attention to the path ahead.
There were seven more false alarms before the monster was finally out of sight. Toby walked home, feeling relieved to still be uneaten…and absolutely exhilarated by his encounter.
C HAPTER F IVE
Toby lay in bed, his injured foot elevated on a couple of pillows. His camera rested on his bedside.
He hadn’t told his parents about the monster. They’d believe him-they’d have to, at least after he developed the picture and showed them the proof, but he just didn’t feel like sharing his discovery quite yet.
It was his monster.
If he told people about it, he’d probably be famous, but then the government would swoop in there and capture it. They’d either throw the monster in a cage and study it, or break out their scalpels and start slicing it up.
