Jeff Strand - Dweller

Did Larry really think he was that oblivious?

Well, discounting the fact that Toby had walked this far into the forest without realizing he was being stalked…

He pretended not to have seen anything, then continued walking. Now what? Call him out? Run after him with his hunting knife, screaming incoherently?

He decided to keep going and feign ignorance until he came up with a really good plan.

Somebody else moved. So he had both Larry and Nick after him. Crap. They must’ve been following from a much farther distance and just now decided to sneak up closer.

No brilliant plans immediately sprung to mind. He needed something that would keep these psychos away from him forever.

Having a fanged, clawed, hairy beast jump out at them would be a pretty good deterrent against picking on him in the future, wouldn’t it?

Oh, yeah.

But, no, of course he couldn’t do that. Too many holes in the plan, and when it was time to reveal Owen’s existence to the rest of the world, he’d much rather do it on his own terms instead of the terms of a couple of bullies with wet crotches on their pants running shrieking to the authorities.

“Tooooooby,” said a ghostly voice behind him.

Damn.

“Tooooooby, why are you in the woods all aloooooone? Don’t you know you can get huuuuuuurt?” It sounded like Larry, who was clearly behind a large oak about a hundred feet away.

“I’ll call the cops.”

“Using what? A tin can and string?” This was Nick, who was behind a different tree.

“You’re not supposed to come near me,” Toby said.

“We’re not near you.”

“You wanna go to jail? Is that it? Do you think I’m not gonna tell the cops that you followed me? Get the fuck out of here!”

“But Toooooooooby,” said Larry. “That’s not verrrrrrrryniiiiiiiice! You shouldn’t use such ruuuuuuuuuude language!”

“I’ll scream,” Toby warned.

As the gales of laughter hit him, Toby wished he’d said just about anything else in the world but “I’ll scream.” I’ll scream? Had those words really come out of his mouth? Not “I’ll sic my monster buddy on you” or “I’ll smash your heads together like overripe nectarines” but “I’ll scream.” Even with the potential of another severe beating looming, Toby couldn’t help but focus on being absolutely mortified.

He quickly corrected himself. “I’ve got a knife,” he said.

“You really think that scares us?” Larry asked.

“It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You think I won’t use it, but I will,” said Toby. “It’s self-defense. I won’t get in any trouble.”

Larry sneered. “Oh, yeah? Self-defend yourself against this.” When his right hand came into view, he was holding a revolver.

A gun. Larry actually had a gun. What the hell was going on here? These were supposed to be bullies, not killers!

He glanced back at Nick to see his reaction to this insanity. Nick held a gun of his own, pointed right at Toby.

Toby wasn’t sure how to react. To his surprise, he felt more anger than fear, although there was still plenty of fear. He wanted to simultaneously attack, cry, and, yes, scream.

Larry and Nick slowly walked toward him, guns raised, moving in such a deliberate manner that it almost looked choreographed. Should Toby run? There was plenty of tree cover, but he couldn’t come close to outrunning them, and even with a lot of weaving he’d have a bullet in the back before he made it 500 feet.

“Quit playing around,” said Toby. “Those could go off. That’s manslaughter.”

“Only if it’s an accident.”

They couldn’t really intend to shoot him. It just wasn’t possible. The whole situation was out of control, but it wasn’t that far out of control, was it? Though he’d brainstormed quite a few ways he could die, being hunted as human prey by two of his classmates wasn’t one that had ever occurred to him.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“We’re going to make you pay,” Nick said.

“You’ll go to jail.”

“Not if they don’t find your body.”

“They’ll know it was you.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. I bet you didn’t think we’d come after you with guns, did you?”

“And my dad’s got connections,” said Larry.

They continued walking toward him. Toby wasn’t even able to fantasize of a scenario where he heroically defeated the two villains. If they were serious, he was dead.

But of course they weren’t serious. They couldn’t be.

“Get down on your knees,” said Larry.

Toby shook his head. “No.”

“You know what would get you down on your knees fast? A bullet. Have you ever seen somebody’s kneecap shatter?”

“There’s bone and blood everywhere,” Nick said.

“It’s horrific.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“And it really, really hurts.”

“You won’t do it,” Toby insisted. “I’m not stupid.”

“What’s more stupid?” Larry asked. “Falling for a joke, or getting shot in the knees because you were too dumb to realize that we meant what we said?”

It was a solid point. At the same time, there was a very large chance that Larry and Nick were just playing around, and a very small chance that they genuinely intended to shoot him if he didn’t comply. Before he gave them yet more fodder for ridicule, he was going to make absolutely sure that-

“On. Your. Knees.” Larry’s eyes looked cold and dead.

Toby knelt down on the ground. Now he was absolutely terrified.

Larry and Nick walked over to him. “Let’s see how smart you are,” said Larry. “Do you know what it means to put your hands behind your head, execution-style?”

Toby nodded. Oh, God…

“So do it.”

Toby put his hands behind his neck, threading his fingers together. “There’s nothing funny about this,” he said. “All it’s going to do is get you in a ton of trouble. You’ll be expelled.”

“Expelled for murder? That’s not such a big punishment.”

“I meant expelled for the joke.”

“What joke?”

“Guys, come on…”

“Why don’t you take some time to pray?” Larry asked. “That’s what they do when they’re about to die, right? They pray. Go on, Toby, pray.”

“Out loud,” said Nick. “We want to hear it.”

Toby hesitated, then spoke in a whisper. “Dear God, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, please let these assholes realize the error of their ways…”

“Oh, now, see, you messed up a perfectly good prayer,” said Larry. “Now we want you to beg.”

“No.”

“Beg for your life.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“I bet you will,” said Larry, pressing the barrel of his gun against Toby’s forehead. Toby felt like he was going to throw up but choked down the urge. “Beg me not to kill you.”

“No.”

“Do it.” Larry raised his voice to a falsetto. “‘Oh, please, Larry, don’t shoot me in the head.’ Say it.”

Toby remained defiantly silent.

“Then how about ‘Oh, please, Larry, don’t shoot me in the stomach, because that would hurt a lot worse.’ I bet you can say that.”

“No.”

“No. No. No. You sound like a broken record. If you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine. Just close your eyes. Close your eyes and count to ten.”

“No.”

“Stop saying that!” Larry shouted with enough ferocity that Toby nearly lost his balance. “I’ve got a goddamn gun to your head, and you need to start taking this seriously! Now close your eyes!”

Toby didn’t close his eyes. He just couldn’t.

“On the count of ten, you’re going to die,” said Larry. “Are you ready?”