Authors: Jeff Strand
Visiting Owen had always been inconvenient because of the distance. It became much worse when Toby had to walk out there, chain him up (Owen never fought against the process but made his displeasure quite clear), go back home and get Garrett, walk to Owen’s place for the visit, walk Garrett back, return to the shack, unchain Owen, and walk back home. It was ridiculous.
By the fourth visit, he just made Toby wait for him a short but safe distance back. He’d been friends with the monster since the 1960s—Owen wasn’t going to suddenly jump out of nowhere, grab Garrett and run off.
“Can I pet him?” Garrett asked, as he’d asked on every previous visit.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think?”
“But he wouldn’t do anything to me. You wouldn’t do anything bad, would you, Owen?”
No.
Toby chuckled. “Still not gonna happen.”
“Okay, we’re going to walk up to him very slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves. Think of him like a lion in a cage.”
“He could kill any lion.”
“Yes, he could. And he could rip a little boy’s head off as easy as snapping his fingers.”
Garrett grinned and snapped his fingers.
“We’re done. You’re not taking this seriously.”
“But Dad—!”
“I said we’re done.”
“He’s probably the most talented in the class,” said Mrs. Kingston. “Look at the detail on that. A lot of kids his age haven’t progressed beyond stick figures.”
“He’s always loved to draw,” said Sarah, beaming with pride.
Toby nodded. It was a wonderful, accurate drawing, and there was a little boy who was going to get a very stern lecture tonight.
“Part of keeping a secret involves
not
drawing pictures of Owen to turn in for a class project,” Toby explained.
“I didn’t tell anybody he was real.”
“I realize that, but it looks just like him. What if somebody asks you how you drew it so well?”
“They already did. I said I made him up. He’s a monster.”
“Right, but…do you think the president draws pictures of secret nuclear weapon stockpiles?” Toby could feel the logic of his argument slipping away. “Just don’t draw Owen any more, okay?”
“Okay.”
“But we’ll show him this picture. He’ll love it.”
“Careful. Be
very
careful.”
One month and ten visits later, they walked toward Owen again. Owen stood in his chains, arms at his sides, head lowered slightly as if to say, “I’m a humble, harmless creature.”
While Garrett stayed back a few feet, Toby moved right up to Owen and stroked his fur. “Yeah, you’re a good boy, right? The best buddy ever. It’s going to be a pleasant
experience for everybody. No gore at all. Is everybody calm and happy?”
Yes.
“One more time: you’re a good boy, right?”
“You’re treating him like a dog,” Garrett said.
“I’m being cautious.”
“He doesn’t like that, though. He’s smarter than a dog.”
“Yeah, and he’s also got way bigger claws and teeth than a dog, and as your father I’m allowed to be overprotective. Put your mask on.”
“This is stupid.”
“Mask.”
“Yes, sir.” Garrett put on the mask, which completed his baseball catcher’s uniform. It wasn’t as good as a suit of armor, but if Owen did lash out unexpectedly, this would help protect him from scratches. Toby would much rather have his son look like a fool than risk having this encounter end with bloodshed.
“Gloves, too.”
Garrett put on the thick, padded gloves without protest.
“All right. Come on up.”
Garrett stood there for a moment, as if working up his courage.
“You can take as long as you need.”
It took Garrett another couple of minutes. Then he stepped forward, reached out, and gently touched Owen with his index finger.
“Easy,” Toby warned Owen, even though Owen hadn’t moved.
Garrett moved a bit closer, then began to pet Owen’s arm. The monster remained docile.
“Isn’t that cool?” Toby asked.
“Not with the gloves.”
“Okay, you can take the gloves off. But that’s it.”
Garrett pulled off the gloves and shoved them back into his pocket. He ran his fingers through Owen’s fur. “He’s got bugs on him.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You should give him a bath.”
“Do you want a monster or a poodle?”
“A monster.”
“He’s got lots of knots in his hair, too. I haven’t been combing him as much as I used to.”
“Can I do it?”
“Not today. But you can someday.”
“I like him.”
“Me, too. Okay, that’s enough for now.”
As Garrett stepped away, Owen signed:
Friend.
“He says you’re his friend,” said Toby.
Garrett smiled and made the
friend
sign back.
“Why can’t we go see him?” Garrett asked.
“Do you know what ‘arousing suspicion’ means?”
Garrett considered that. “It means people think you’re doing something bad?”
“Pretty much. If we go out there too often, then your mother will question what we’re up to, and then there’s a bigger chance that she’ll find out about Owen. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” Garrett looked disappointed.
“I’d be out there with Owen all day, every day if I could be. Heck, I’d have him move in with us, give him his own bedroom. But since we can’t, we have to be careful.”
“Okay.”
Toby had to admit to himself that it probably wasn’t a very good parenting technique to give his child advice on how to avoid arousing suspicion in his parent when breaking the rules, but this wasn’t a normal situation. There was nothing better than the excitement in Garrett’s eyes when they went off to see Owen, and he couldn’t risk Sarah finding out.
“We’ll go tomorrow, though. I promise.”
“Can Hannah come with us sometime?”
“Not until she’s eight.”
As they approached the shack, Toby realized that it had been over three months since he’d visited Owen by himself for any reason except to fasten the chains. It was a wonderful realization.
“Oooh, yeah, you’re getting a welt there,” Toby said, inspecting Owen’s right wrist. “Maybe we can pad it somehow. Do you think they sell fuzzy handcuffs in your size?”
Owen either didn’t get the joke, or didn’t find it amusing. Toby suspected the latter.
“We’ll leave one of them off, just for today. Will that make you happy?”
Yes.
Owen kept his arm at his side the entire time, just as Toby knew he’d do.
It was cruel to keep his best friend chained up like this. Sure, Owen loved getting to interact with somebody besides Toby (excluding the unfortunate animals he killed for food) but these conditions were becoming tiring. It was sadistic, as if he were bringing his son to gape at the sideshow freak every three or four days.
Regardless, it was several more months before Toby felt comfortable enough to let Garrett see him without the chains.
1996
There was no danger.
None at all.
Owen was gentle, even when Garrett started roughhousing with him a bit. Yes, Toby had to call for them to stop a couple of times—okay, a few times—when the
game of tag got too feisty, but his son was far rowdier than his monster. Owen played with him like a grandfather might—having fun, but always aware that he was the adult and Garrett was the child and that it was his responsibility to make sure Garrett didn’t get hurt.
Garrett loved feeding him. He’d toss popcorn and beef jerky and jelly beans into his mouth, and Owen would show off his impressive catching abilities with far more glee than he’d ever shown with Toby. It was as if having a kid around made the monster feel young again.
“We should build a roller coaster out here for him,” said Garrett.
“No way. How much do you think a big guy like him pukes? We can’t be cleaning that up all day.” He playfully tapped Garrett on the head. “Use your brain, boy.”
“What about a merry-go-round?”
“No offense to Owen, but if I build a merry-go-round, it’s going to be for your sister.”
“She could use it, too.”
“How about we build him a chair? A rocking chair. You exhaust the hell out of the poor guy, and he needs something to relax in after you’re gone.”
Yes.
Garrett was fascinated by Owen’s love for ice cream, but not a fan of the process of lugging an ice-filled cooler out there to provide his friend with a nonmelted treat. However, once the first snow fell, the three of them scooped snow into bowls, added syrup, and had homemade slushies.
“Are you sure I can’t bring him to school?”
“You will never, ever be allowed to take him to school. He’s not a show-and-tell project.”
“What about his tooth?”
“No.” Owen had lost another tooth, and Garrett had volunteered to keep it under his pillow and split the unquestionably huge Tooth Fairy payout with Owen. Toby
explained that the Tooth Fairy’s payment process was not based on tooth size, and that, no, he could not put the tooth under his pillow, and no, he could not bring it home, and actually, he shouldn’t even be touching it because, no offense to Owen, it was a nasty, smelly tooth.
“Will I ever be allowed to come out here by myself?” Garrett asked.
“Sure.”
“When?”
“When I’m dead.”
“But that’s going to be a long time!”
“And don’t sound so disappointed about that! What you mean is, ‘Gosh, Daddy, I hope you live forever and ever, even if it means that I never get to see Owen all by my lonesome.’”
“ ‘Gosh, Daddy, I hope I get to see Owen by myself tomorrow!’”
“Garrett!”
“I was joking!”
“Did you think it was a funny joke? Do you think it makes me feel good to hear you say things like that? Both you and Owen will be really sad if I die.”
“I said I was only kidding! Jeez!”
“I don’t care if you were kidding or not. There are some things you don’t joke about. I think it’s time to go home.”
Garrett folded his arms over his chest. “I’m staying.”
“No, you’re not. And if you keep up that attitude, I won’t bring you back.”
“Then I’ll tell everyone.”
Toby simultaneously wanted to throttle his son, and double over and throw up. “What did you say?”
“I’ll tell.”
“You’ll tell, huh? You’ll break your promise to me? Your blood promise?”
“There wasn’t any blood.”
“You know what I mean. I know that you’re just kidding, that you wouldn’t really tell anybody, but it’s really horrible of you to say something like that, even when you’re mad. What do you think they’ll do to Owen if they find him?”
“I don’t know.”
“They’ll kill him. They’ll cut him apart and study him. Is that what you want to happen to your best friend?”
Garrett looked mortified. “No.”
“Then you need to apologize to him.”
“I’m sorry, Owen,” Garrett said in a very soft voice.
“And apologize to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not coming back for two weeks. And no Nintendo.”
1997. Age 52.
“Has Owen ever eaten anybody? Hey, Owen, have you ever eaten anybody?”
No.
“Would you ever eat anybody? I mean people.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Toby said. “Why would you even ask something like that?”
“If I were Owen, I’d eat people.”
“Well, that’s because you’re one disturbed little boy. Why would you eat people? Just people who were mean to you?”
Garrett shook his head. “I’d start with them, I guess. If I were a big monster like that, I wouldn’t just eat rabbits and squirrels and stuff.”
“He also eats deer.”
“Yeah, but I’d go for more challenging prey.”
“More challenging prey? What books have you been reading?”
“It’s this game I borrowed where you have to hunt humans because they’re the ultimate prey.”
“I’m so very happy to see that you’re basing your sense of morality on video games. Don’t talk to Owen about eating people. Ten-year-old boys aren’t supposed to be that sick. And you’re only talking to get out of work. C’mon, stop being a slacker.”
They were doing some desperately needed repairs on Owen’s shack, which they’d avoided during snowy season but which they could no longer justify postponing now that spring was here. Some of the wood had started to rot, and Toby had decided that even a creature in the forest deserved better accommodations than this.
The job basically involved ripping apart the far wall, a board at a time, and replacing each of the decaying boards with new wood. They’d started at the bottom and were about halfway up. Garrett’s enthusiasm for the project had waned after he pulled off a board and ants swarmed all over his hand, though fortunately none of them had stung him.
Garrett held up the new board, and Toby nailed it into place. Owen, who did not possess a skill set that would come in handy for this particular project, watched intently, as if playing supervisor.
Toby gave a gentle tug on the board. “Think it needs any more?”
Garrett pointed to a spot near the top center. “One more right there.”
“Yes, sir.” Toby hammered in one more nail. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah.”
“Coke or Seven Up?”
“Seven Up.” Garrett leaned against the wall, bracing himself with his right arm.
“You’ll get ants on your hand again.”
“There aren’t any here.”
“Don’t cry when you get stung.” Toby walked around to the front of the shack and removed the lid from the cooler. He fished through the ice for a moment. “Did you already drink all the Seven Up?” he called out.
“No.”
“What did you have before?”
“Seven Up.”
“Then you drank it all.”
Toby took out two Cokes. Garrett shrieked.
Immediately dropping the cans, Toby rushed back around the shack. Garrett’s arm had broken right through the wood. Still screaming, Garrett pulled his arm free from the jagged hole. It glistened with blood and a huge deep gash ran from wrist to elbow.
Owen scooped him up into his arms.
“Owen!” shouted Toby, hurrying forward. “Put him down!”
Garrett thrashed and screamed, but Owen held him tight.
He’s not gonna hurt him
, Toby promised himself.
He just wants to get him help.
“Owen, give him to me, now.”
Owen looked down at the struggling boy, his eyes wide with concern.
Then he leaned down and ran his tongue over the wound.
Toby’s vision went blurry for a split second, then returned to sharp focus. “
Owen
!”
The monster held Toby’s son out to him. Toby grabbed him, and a sharp pain went through his back. He cursed and tried to adjust Garrett’s position so he could hold him better, then shook his head.
“I’m not going to be able to carry you,” he said, setting Garrett down onto his feet. He took his hand. “Come on, I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
They ran from the forest.
“What happened?” Sarah asked, hurrying outside as Toby led the sobbing boy across their backyard.
“He gouged up his arm pretty bad—he’ll be okay.”
Sarah ran over to them and crouched down in front of Garrett to inspect his arm. “Oh my God! Look how deep it is!”
“I know, I know, it’s bad. I’ll get him in the car. You go get Hannah.”
Toby led Garrett over to their car, opened the back door, and helped Garrett into the backseat. “You’ll be okay,” Toby promised. “It looks worse than it is.”
Garrett nodded silently. His face was frighteningly pale, and his breathing was rapid and uneven. Sarah came out of the house with towels and the first-aid kit. Toby got Hannah strapped into her child seat as Sarah squeezed into the back as well and pressed one of the towels tightly against Garrett’s arm.
“How did this happen?” Sarah asked, as they sped down the road.
“He was leaning against a piece of rotted wood, and it broke.”
“Why was he leaning against rotted wood?”
“We found this old shack out in the forest. Abandoned. It was my fault, we should have been more careful.”
Sarah pulled away the bloody towel and winced. “This is really bad, Toby. Drive faster.”
“I’m already doing eighty.” His heart hammered with panic. Garrett couldn’t possibly bleed to death before they got to the hospital, could he? No. The cut wasn’t
that
bad. He’d require a huge number of stitches, but this wasn’t a life-or-death situation. Kids got hurt. It happened.
“Garrett, talk to me, honey,” said Sarah. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“The doctor will make it all better.”
“Owen licked the blood.”
“What?”
“Owen, when he picked me up, he licked the blood.”
“Who’s Owen?”
“Our friend in the woods.”
Toby could barely focus on the road, but he tried to keep himself calm, even as he screamed
Fuck
! in his mind over and over.
“Toby, what’s he talking about?” Sarah demanded.
“Nothing—he’s delirious. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”
Garrett’s eyes closed.
Garrett said nothing about the monster in the forest as the doctor stitched up his wound. With the blood cleaned off, the gash didn’t look as…well, it still looked
bad
, but Toby’s mind had flashed through scenarios involving amputation.
Toby noted with grim humor that Garrett had been brave throughout the ghastly stitching process, but still cried when he had to get a tetanus shot “just in case.”
He’d have a nasty scar, but he could move his fingers fine and there was no permanent damage beyond the cosmetic. He’d be fine.
The drive home was long and quiet.
It was still early afternoon, but Garrett was exhausted and wanted a nap. Sarah called her friend Becky and asked if she could come over and watch Garrett and Hannah for a bit.
“Why’d you do that?” Toby asked, as Sarah hung up the phone.
“Who’s Owen?”
“Nobody. An imaginary friend. We play around with him.”
“When Becky gets here, I want you to take me to where he got hurt.”
“It’s an old shack we found. I never should have let him near it—the blame for this is entirely on me. I promise you, first thing tomorrow I’m going to tear the place down, make sure no other kids get hurt. Bad judgment on my part. I’m sorry.”
“No, Toby. I want to see it today. I want to know what the hell you two are doing out there.”
“We’re goofing around! Playing make-believe! There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re not hanging out with some crazy old blood-licking man named Owen—we like to pretend that we’re fighting monsters.”
“Becky will be here in ten minutes.”
“Call her back. I’m not leaving my son after he just got hurt. Look, how many times do I have to apologize for this? Don’t you think I feel terrible?”
“I don’t want an apology. I want to know exactly how our son’s arm got ripped up.”
“I told you, he was leaning against some wood—”
“Stop it, okay? If that’s the real story, then fine, I’ll yell at you for being an irresponsible dad and we’ll be done with it. But you’re going to show me that fucking shack.”
“Don’t curse around Hannah. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
Toby paced around the living room, frantic. What was he supposed to do? Refuse to take her out there? She wouldn’t give up. If she knew they were hiding something, she’d be absolutely relentless.
He wished he hadn’t said it was a shack. If he’d said that Garrett injured himself on a branch, he could’ve just taken Sarah anywhere. But he’d thought about that during the drive to the emergency room, and he wanted to keep his story as close to the truth as possible. If he said a branch and Garrett said a shack, they’d be screwed.
What could he do? What could he do?
What the hell was Sarah going to do when she found out about Owen?
Okay. Calm down. It’s going to be
…
A disaster. A total nightmare of a catastrophe of an Armageddon.
Way to think positive.
No. Maybe there was a solution. Well, not a solution, but a way this could work out. Owen didn’t spend all day and all night in the shack. In fact, daytime was when he did most of his hunting. Toby had shown up countless times when Owen wasn’t there. So it was entirely possible that he could get lucky and Owen wouldn’t be home.
“
See, sweetie
?
Here’s the shack. Yeah, I see the boards and tools. We were just trying to fix the place up. Yeah, I should have told you about it. No, I don’t think it was responsible to let him play out here—but to be fair, I was with him the whole time. Well, yeah, that includes when he hurt his arm, but it’s not like he was running around rusty nails without parental supervision. I agree, I’m a total dumb-ass and bad dad. It’ll never happen again.
”
Why shouldn’t it work out that way?
Or, he could leave right now, run into the woods, tell Owen to get the hell out and not come back until tomorrow, and then return, apologize to Sarah for running off, and—
No. He’d stick with the plan that did not involve him rushing out into the woods like a complete lunatic, and just pray for good luck. He’d had enough bad luck in his life that it wouldn’t be out of the question for this particular instance to work out in his favor, right?
He wished he and Owen shared some sort of psychic bond, so he could send a telepathic message for Owen to leave.
Maybe they did share a bond, and Toby just didn’t know it.
Leave
, he thought.
Owen, you need to leave. Leave now. Stay away.
Oh, Jesus, he was cracking up. Which was not unexpected at a time like this, but he needed to keep his mental focus. This could still turn out okay. There was no reason to let an accident—a stupid, careless accident—ruin his life.
When this day was over, he’d still have Owen and his family. Absolutely. No question about it.
He continued to pace until he heard Becky’s car pull into the driveway.
Becky made a big fuss over Garrett’s bandaged arm, though not loudly enough to wake him up. She sat Hannah on her
lap and promised to take good care of her. Sarah explained that they were going into the forest to retrieve the broken board for the doctor, just so they could run some tests on it and make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous that might have entered Garrett’s bloodstream.
It was a pretty good cover story. Toby wondered if she were hiding her own monster.
They walked into the forest.
“I’m sorry I made a big deal about going out here,” Toby said. “I just don’t like leaving Garrett alone when he’s hurt like that.”
“He’s not alone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Just take me to the shack.”
As they walked, moving at a brisk pace, Toby prayed that Owen wouldn’t be there when they arrived. He mentally pleaded for it. He continued trying to send telepathic messages to his friend, no matter how insane that was. It wasn’t that much to ask, for him to be out on a stroll, perhaps grabbing a bite to eat.
Please, Owen, please, please don’t be there when we get to the shack. Go hunting, go back to find Esmerelda, go swimming…hell, go into town and rip the guts out of another old man, I don’t care, just please don’t be there.
When they arrived at the shack, Owen was waiting for them.