In the toilet, the boy curled up on the floor, snoring quietly.
The Outcast brought him out. He would have preferred the lad to have witnessed the show, but it had been over faster than he himself had anticipated.
He sat him on the floor, his tiny back propped against the wall, and then shook him gently until he was half- awake.
The Outcast stepped back and brought out a knife from the pocket of his capacious outfit-about nine inches long from end to end. He slit his wrist open with it, and let the claret fluid drip onto the sparkling blade till the metallic sheen was about half-covered.
To the boy, he said, “When they see my blood upon you, they will leave you be.”
He wiped his bleeding wrist over the boy’s hair. With a smaller knife, he cut out a small thatch from the middle section of Robert’s head, and let the strands of hair drop onto the floor. He did the same with his own natural hair. Then, he put the bloody knife in the boy’s hand, closing his tiny fingers on the handle.
His True Blood was still hypnotized at the time The Outcast walked out through the door.
Chapter 11
Wednesday, August 19
Robert was in the throes of another nightmare. With his eyes closed, he walked down a quiet path in the dead of night, all by himself. He could smell greenery around him. He must be going through the woods again.
He touched his chest and thighs. What he wore felt like his favorite red woolen pajamas. He held
Like a bat in the dark, he moved on with an exceptional grace, eyes still closed, not groping, not worrying about bumping into a tree trunk or tripping over a naked root.
What was he holding? A ping-pong paddle? No, that didn’t sound right. That was a wild guess.
Wild or not, he didn’t care.
And he wasn’t afraid. Not yet, anyway. Not until he reached his destination.
What destination? He wasn’t sure.
But then, all of a sudden, he knew every detail of his destination as understanding rushed towards him through the trees, soughing like a spirit wind, and nestled in his head.
He was on his way to the same place he had been dragged to several times in the past. Destination of blood. And death. And wonders.
Now, he was afraid. Very afraid. He didn’t want a part of this any longer. He had never wanted a part. Never. He would rather just have chocolate and cookies and cheese. But he couldn’t help the situation. There was not a thing he could do about it.
Still, he strove to turn around. Turn and just walk back to his bed. Back to his bed where he could wake himself up from this nightmare.
But it was too late. It had happened so fast. Faster than he could have imagined. He was already seated under an oak tree, by the river bank, his back against the coarse bark of the trunk.
He sensed a movement. The man’s movement.
The most dreadful part of the entire creepy show had finally begun.
“Open your eyes,” the man ordered Robert, his voice a bass of terror.
Robert did as he had been instructed, and tears flowed down his cheeks to his chest, soaking up his red pajamas. In his hand was a blood-coated scythe. And lying on the ground to his side and a little ahead of him was the body of a man. A dead man. He knew who the man had been, but he couldn’t remember his name.
Robert wept. “I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I want to get back to my bed. I want to wake up. Make me get out of my nightmare and back to my bed. Please, make me.”
“My little True Blood,” the man said, touching Robert’s head. His callous hand felt rough and warm through Robert’s hair down to his scalp. “This is your destiny, not just a dream. Nor a nightmare. You’re the chosen one. Together with me, you shall reign. And you’ve been brought here to watch so you can develop. Your growth has been somewhat slow lately, a little bit disheartening. But I won’t lose sleep over it-we won’t lose sleep over it. I’m positive you’ll get there in good time.” He ruffled Robert’s shock of hair briefly, and lifted his hand off the boy’s head.
“But I don’t wanna watch,” Robert said, gazing up at the man, who gazed back down at him with glowing eyes set against the backdrop of a creepy simian face.
The man took two steps back. “How do you grow if you don’t watch?”
Robert shook his head slowly. “I don’t wanna grow, either. I just wanna go, please.”
“You truly speak as one still in embryo.” The man removed his mask, turned his face towards the sky, breathed in the night air and let it out. He put his mask back on. “This isn’t about what you want, little one. It’s about what you
Robert didn’t get it, and he didn’t say anything at that point. He only sat there, looking at the bloody weapon in his hand and the dead body by his side. He sobbed quietly.
After a while, the man tugged the dead body away and dumped it into a declivity that stretched to meet the water below.
He walked back to Robert.
The boy said, “I’m scared.”
“There’s no reason to be scared. I shall be watching over you. Now, you may rise and go.”
Robert rose, and set the bloody scythe down on the ground.
“No,” the man said. “Go with it. It’s a treasure, your trophy for tonight.”
The man watched Robert go.
The man-The Outcast, who was about to reign.
With his endowed belly dancing up and down, side to side, Donnie sprinted like he had never done since he graduated high school more than two decades ago. He tore along like a cheetah, which was unusual for a man his size but absolutely apropos for the dangerous situation he was up against. Except he ran so fast he passed his closest neighbor’s apartment. “Shit,” he muttered, and kept running.
He had planned that, if he got lucky enough to snatch an opportunity to escape the jaw of death back in his apartment, he would run straight to Susan Kenneth’s. There, with the monster locked out, and with the hope of buying sufficient time, he would place a call to the cops.
But that plan had become history now, hadn’t it? He couldn’t turn back around and run up Susan’s porch step any more than he could run back to meet his attacker and worship at its feet.
Brad Conner.
Yes, that was his next hope-and probably his last. So, he’d better not mess it up, because doing so would mean ruining almost all of his chances and running through the wood for the next three-or-so minutes before setting eyes on another building.
He ran, breathing like a grampus.
Behind him, heavy footfalls pounded the ground.
Why did he live so far away from the rest of the community-away from the core of
And why couldn’t he have been in tune with civilization by owning a gun?
