CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

2005. 60 years old.

The best thing about being a drunken babbling idiot was that nobody believed you when you blurted out secrets about your monster friend. Toby was a laughingstock in the small bar, whatever it was called, and he rarely ventured there more than once a month, and only when he was already half plastered.

He’d never said anything about the murders, at least as far as he knew, but he’d told the bartender all about Owen. The bartender hadn’t cut off his drinks. It wasn’t that kind of place.

Toby sat alone in a booth surrounded by empty bottles, although many of those were left over from the last patron. He wondered if he should try to walk home, take a cab, or let the bartender sort it out after he passed out.

A man slid into the seat across from him.

“You’re the monster guy, right?”

The man was probably a few years older than Toby, smelled truly vile, and had wild hair and an unkempt gray beard. Even by Toby’s drastically reduced standards, the guy looked like a complete bum.

“No.”

“Yeah, you are! You don’t have to pretend anything with me, man.” The bum had a lazy eye and sounded like a hippie. Toby was embarrassed to admit to himself that despite the odor he was happy to have somebody to talk to.

“There’s no monster,” Toby said. “I make stuff up.”

“Man, lower your defenses. I know all of these. Loch Ness Monster, Jersey Devil, aliens in Area 51 and Hangar 18…you go online and know where to look, you can find the truth on anything.”

“Fine. So I’m friends with Bigfoot.”

“Nah, man. What you described to Jimmy isn’t a Bigfoot.”

“The bartender’s name is Jimmy?”

“I dunno. Might be.” The man picked up one of the discarded bottles, shook it, and finished off the drops that remained. “You don’t know the story?”

“I didn’t know there was a story.”

“1946. These American soldiers are back from World War II, and they take their girlfriends out camping, right? Maybe a hundred miles from where we are right now. Nice and peaceful, everybody’s having a good time, probably gettin’ it on because you don’t get laid much when you’re out fighting Nazis, and then these things attack them. They’ve got these scary-ass teeth and claws, and they just rip those people up. It’s like a war, man. One of our heroes gets away. A girl. Yep, three trained soldiers and it’s one of the girls who escapes. So she makes it out of the woods and she’s going nuts and she tells somebody what happened, and the next thing you know this team goes in there with rifles and they just mow those things down!”

“Sounds kind of far-fetched.”

“I know! It’s crazy! So you’ve got this government operation and a bunch of dead creatures, and they think, ‘Well, shit, we can’t have Americans panicking over soldier-killing monsters after we just got over the whole Nazi thing!’ and they cover it all up. The lady who survived goes into an asylum. Rips her own eyes out. Dies a few years later.”

“What did they do with the bodies?”

“Underground bunker. They studied them for a while but couldn’t figure out what the hell they were, so they froze the bodies until the technology could improve. They’re still there.”

Toby laughed. “You’re a numbfuck. You’re telling me that in 2005 we can’t do an autopsy on a dead animal and figure out what it is? Your whole story is crap.”

The man shrugged. “Hell, for all I know, they’ve already cloned thousands of ‘em and they’re gonna take over the planet. Not all information on the World Wide Web is reliable. But I’m just saying, it’s a big forest. One of those creatures could have escaped and hid out all this time.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to see one.”

“I bet you would.”

“Come on, man, you can’t hold out. You’ve gotta share the wealth. I wanna see Aaron.”

“It’s not Aaron, it’s Owen.”

“You got a picture?”

Toby took another drink of beer, swished it around in his mouth, then swallowed. “How do I know you’re not from that government unit?”

“Man, if I were from a government unit like that, I’d be gettin’ some pussy right now, not talking monsters in a crap-smelling pit like this, that’s for damn sure.”

“Sorry. I don’t know where you’d find any soldier-killing supermonster. Good luck on the pussy, though.”

“Man, I will blow every whistle I’ve got if you keep being selfish like this. I’ll have the Men in Black scouring those woods for your friend. Next time you see me, I’ll be on the front page of a Cryptozoology Today, grinning like a son of a bitch.”

“I’m a drunken moron. Why would you believe me even if I said I did have a monster buddy?”

“Because you’re still drunk, and now you’re denying it. And I’m drunk, too.”

“Fuck it. Buy me a beer for the road and we’ll go.”

The man never offered his name during the drive to Toby’s house, and Toby didn’t ask. Better that Toby didn’t know—it would make it easier to deal with the guilt when the man disappeared forever. Everything but his bones.

Toby had done a lot of irresponsible things, but before now he’d managed to avoid driving while intoxicated. One more to add to the list, he supposed.

What did the man think, he could threaten to expose Owen’s presence to the world and not die tonight? The vagrant probably wouldn’t make good on his threat; if anything, he’d spend the evening passed out in a gutter and forget he’d ever seen Toby by sunrise. But Toby wasn’t taking that chance. He had too much invested in his friendship to let this pathetic hippie scumbag mess with it.

The man decided to start singing as they walked through the woods, which made his upcoming death even more essential.

“You need to shut up,” said Toby.

“Sing with me!”

“You’ll scare him away.”

“Yeah, I suppose I might.” The man stopped singing. “Did I tell you about when I went to Scotland?”

“No.”

“Went to Scotland just to go to Loch Ness. Well, that wasn’t the whole reason, I had relatives, but that was the selling point. Spent a week out there, staring at the water. Just wanted to see Nessie.”

“Did you?”

The man shook his head. “They say it’s fake. A lot of scientists and other people say it’s a hoax, and even the guy who shot that one movie said it wasn’t real. Why would you say that? Even if you could prove it was a fake, why would you take it away from people like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I spent seven days sitting there, watching the water. Never saw any hint of the Loch Ness Monster. But I bet he was down there the whole time, watching me. Best vacation of my life.”

He resumed singing as they walked through the woods.

They stood outside the shack. Toby shone the flashlight on the door.

“Is he in there?” the man asked.

“He might be. Hey, Owen, I’ve got somebody for you to meet!”

The door opened, and Owen emerged. The monster rubbed his eyes sleepily, then frowned as he noticed the man standing next to Toby.

The man stared at Owen in pure wonder, lips trembling. “He’s real,” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe I’m standing here seeing this.”

Owen stepped out of the shack. Friend?

“No,” said Toby. “He’s not.”

“He’s not what?” asked the man.

Toby ignored the question. “Do you want to touch him?”

Twenty years seemed to vanish from the man’s face. “Yes!”

The man apparently had no fear as they walked over to Owen. Maybe he wanted this to be his last moment. Or maybe he was just too drunk to realize the danger.

Owen stood there, motionless, as the man ran his fingers down his chest, a tear trickling down his cheek.

Toby grabbed the man by the back of his shirt collar and shoved him to the ground. Then he kicked him in the spine. “Kill him, Owen! Hurry!”

Owen continued to stand there. The monster looked surprised and upset.

“Do it, Owen! He’ll tell everybody! Rip him apart!”

The man cried out and tried to get back up, but Toby tackled him and held him down. He grabbed a handful of hair and slammed his face against the dirt.

“Owen, come on!”

No.

“This is food! I’m giving you food! For fuck’s sake, Owen, do something before he gets away!”

“I didn’t do anything!” the man wailed.

Toby slammed his face into the dirt again. “Eat him, goddamn it! He’s gonna tell the world!”

“I’m not! I swear!”

Toby twisted the man’s arm behind his back until something snapped. The man screamed in pain. He deserved it. He was going to destroy everything.

“Owen, please!”

The monster let out a roar and lashed out with his right claw. A large piece of the man’s bloody scalp remained stuck to one of his talons as he did it again. The man’s scream became much higher pitched.

Toby moved away from the man as Owen pounced upon him, raking his talons across the man’s back. He opened his jaws wide and took the first bite, ripping off a large chunk of meat from the man’s side.

“Make him stop screaming!” Toby shouted.

Owen rolled the man over and bit off his jaw.

Toby sat against a tree, shivering, and watched Owen devour the man. He wasn’t sure when he actually died. He guessed that it didn’t much matter.

“Had to be done,” Toby whispered. “Right? You threaten my friend, you die. That’s the way things work around here. Right, Owen?”

Owen ignored the question and continued eating.

Toby had some blood on his shirt. Head wounds definitely did their share of bleeding. He touched each spot.

“We probably shouldn’t have done this,” he noted with a slight giggle. “Not a wise idea at all. Nope. But that’s you and me, Owen, a couple of kids always getting into mischief…”