Dweller

by Jeff Strand

What did he have to show for a half century?

  It wasn’t too bad, he supposed. Two great kids. A beautiful wife whom he loved dearly, even if she resented him. And the friendship of a monster whose talons had turned from ivory to yellow without him really noticing the transition, and whose teeth were starting to fall out. Owen had held up the tooth in dismay, as if asking, “What the hell is happening to my body?”

  Pretty soon, the flesh-eater might be on a liquid diet.

  Mr. Zack had died a couple of weeks ago. “Natural causes.” That’s where Toby was headed. Natural causes: “Yeah, he died, but that’s what was supposed to happen.”

  The big five-oh had not been a happy birthday, even though Garrett got him a copy of Close Encounters of the Third Kind on VHS (which he’d already had, but which Garrett had painted all over with nail polish a couple of years earlier) and Hannah made a portrait of him out of jelly beans glued to construction paper. Fifty was just too old. He wanted a rewind button.

  No, not rewind. Reset.

  Jesus. What a whiny baby he was being. He might clean up some past messes, given the chance, but he certainly wouldn’t wish away the path of his life. He was best friends with a monster. Who else in the world got to say that? Probably nobody. His life was cool.

  He wished Garrett were with him right now. They took lots of walks in the forest together and had a great time, but, of course, when he went to visit Owen his son had to stay at home.

  A pity. Garrett would love Owen.

  Owen would love Garrett.

  Toby had been eight years old when he first saw Owen. Admittedly, his reaction had been to scream and run home crying to Mom, but there hadn’t been anybody there to reassure him, to show him that Owen was nice. If Dad had been there to hold his hand, Toby would have been filled with awe, not terror.

  Not that Toby was considering bringing Garrett to meet the monster. Not a chance.

  Owen wasn’t there when Toby arrived at the shack, but he showed up soon after, a half-eaten dead rabbit in his claw. He took a great big nasty bite out of it, then held out the dangling remains, offering them to Toby.

  It was polite of him to do so, though Toby had never once accepted his offer. Toby waved it away and Owen resumed dining.

  “So do you think I’ve been obsessing about turning fifty?” Toby asked. “Sarah thinks I have. I don’t know, I probably have, but I guess my real question is, do you think there’s anything wrong with obsessing about turning fifty? It’s what I’d expect other people to do. And Sarah wasn’t exactly bouncing with joy when she turned forty—you know that, I told you about it. Hey, chew with your mouth closed. Nobody wants to see that.”

  As always, Owen continued to chew with his mouth open. Toby hated being here right after a fresh kill. “Do you really have to do that in front of me?”

  Yes.

  “Okay, then. That answers my question. I can’t stay long today, anyway. I promised Garrett we’d get started on that tree house.”

  Bring him.

  “You say that every time. Not going to happen, buddy. Not if I want to stay out of divorce court.”

  Owen looked disappointed. But, let’s face it, life was full of disappointments.

  “There’s one behind the tree!” Garrett shouted.

  “Holy cow! Shoot it! Shoot it!”

  Garrett pointed his fingers at the tree and zapped the imaginary space invader. Then he made a sound effect to indicate that the alien had blown into a million pieces, the bits scattering across several acres.

  “Good job,” Toby said. “The woods are safe.”

  They stood in the backyard. The tallest of the three trees in their yard had been declared the site of the new tree house, which meant that they’d have to saw off a few branches and displace a squirrel.

  Toby looked over the plans that Garrett had carefully drawn up. They depicted a two-level structure with a fireman’s pole connecting them. There was a secret passage, a guest bedroom, a room with a fully functional alligator pit where enemies could be deposited, a pizza parlor, and a cannon. Garrett was aware that the project had to be scaled back, though Toby promised to respect his creative vision.

  “All right,” Toby said, brandishing the hacksaw like a knight’s sword, “neither one of us has a clue what we’re doing, so we’ll make a good team. Your job is to hold the stepladder, while Mom watches us through the window and gets really nervous. Can you handle that?”

  “I want to cut down the branches.”

  “Okay, here, have a dangerous saw—no. I’ll do the cutting. You can haul away. That’s a lot more fun.”

  “Watch out, Daddy!” Garrett shouted, pointing at the same tree as before. “It’s another one!”

  Toby turned and shot at the alien with the hacksaw, which didn’t make logistical sense but seemed effective. “Okay, we need to drop the alien stuff,” he said. “We’ve got hard work ahead.”

  Garrett saluted. “Yes, sir!”

  Toby scooted the stepladder closer to the trunk of the tree and then climbed up a couple of steps. “Make sure it’s sturdy,” he said. “Hold it with both hands.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  Toby sawed away at the excess branches, carefully tossing them aside as he cut each one from the tree. This was going to be a fantastic tree house. Garrett was going to be the envy of the neighborhood kids. This would make him some friends.

  “Do you think it’s going to be safe?” Sarah asked.

  “Yep. I’ve already given him the lecture about not going near it until it’s finished, and I won’t let him up there alone until I’ve done jumping jacks inside.”

  “How’s your back?”

  “It’s fine,” Toby lied. It wasn’t anything a few aspirin couldn’t fix.

  She kissed him. They still kissed, and laughed, and made love, but it really wasn’t the same. The jokes felt more forced, the Sunday morning cuddling less intimate. She didn’t seem to have missed him as much when he came back from the long walks in the forest by himself.

  Still, he had a lot of joy in his life. Garrett, Hannah, and Owen.

  “Can I come?” Garrett asked, looking away from his video game. Toby figured he had to be doing pretty well as a father—it was a place of high honor to pull Garrett’s attention from his Nintendo. Toby had played games with him on a few occasions, and found himself getting embarrassingly addicted, so he tried to avoid them when at all possible.

  “This is Daddy-alone time,” Sarah explained. She sat on the couch, holding Hannah on her lap.

  “Please?”

  “Not this time,” said Toby. “Next one’s yours.”

  Garrett returned to his video game. Toby and Sarah had gotten lucky—he rarely got whiny about anything. Having kids forced them to socialize with other parents, and some of those other children were tantrum-throwing demons.

  He hadn’t seen Owen in three days. It just wasn’t easy to get out of the house alone, except to go to work. He really wished there were another Owen-creature, maybe Esmerelda, that lived nearby to keep him company. It would help ease his guilt about not being able to visit more often.

  He had a brand-new picture of Garrett and Hannah, covered with pancake batter, to show Owen. Owen loved seeing the pictures. He’d only accidentally ripped two.

  Toby hated not being able to bring his son along.

  Hated it.

  Sarah would never understand, but Garrett would. Garrett would think it was the greatest thing ever. Toby could picture his expression of wonder. Some fear at first, yeah, but it would transform into pure joy at the discovery his father had shared with him.

  They could come out and visit Owen every day.

  Just he and Garrett. Father and son.

  But it could never happen. Not a chance. This was always going to be Toby’s secret, hidden from the world forever. Maybe even after he died. Some kid would be wandering through the woods fifty years from now, and he’d find the remains of a quaint old shack, and thoughts of what might have lived the
re would capture his imagination. Maybe he’d envision something with even bigger talons, bigger teeth, and scarier eyes.

  Or maybe Owen would still be alive, and he’d find a new friend.

  Goddamn he hated not being able to share this with his son. What a cruel joke, that something that gave him this much joy had to remain hidden, a dark, dirty secret. In what kind of universe was it fair that he couldn’t tell his own son about the greatest discovery of his life?

  Granted, there were murders involved…

  Still…

  Owen looked particularly happy to see him this time, and Toby didn’t even come bearing treats. As Owen hugged him, Toby wondered why he couldn’t bring Garrett out there to meet him.

  Garrett was old enough to keep a secret. Toby had kept his own secret at age eight. No, wait, he hadn’t—he’d told his parents everything, but when they hadn’t believed him, he’d kept it a secret from everybody else.

  Until Melissa.

  Forget the past. No, don’t forget the past, learn from it. Garrett would keep Owen a secret. Toby knew he would. And if he didn’t, well, Toby’s parents hadn’t believed him, so why would Sarah believe Garrett now?

  “Yep, that’s one crazy kid we’ve got,” Toby would say with a laugh. “What an imagination! Reminds me of me when I was his age. I thought I saw a monster out there, too. Garrett’s lucky, though—I got a spanking, and we don’t believe in physical punishment.”

  Melissa had accidentally scratched Owen’s eyeball. The monster had been peaceful until then. Owen would never hurt Toby’s son on purpose, and if Toby took every possible precaution…

  No. Terrible idea.

  Or, life-changing brilliant idea.

  He’d have to think about this some more. Brainstorm from every angle.

  Good Lord, was he excited.

  “Owen, I may bring you another friend,” Toby said, one week later.

  Owen looked positively delighted at this prospect.

  “But there are parts of this that you’re not going to like, and if you don’t agree to them it’s not going to happen. So, how do you feel about being in a cage?”

  No.

  “Okay, see, if you’re already unwilling to compromise, then this whole idea is over. You remember what happened last time. There is no way in hell I’m going to let anything happen to my son. Not one scratch. So you can work with me, or I’ll be your only company for the rest of your life. Your choice. So what about the cage? You think that might be all right?”

  Owen hung his head a bit. Yes.

  “It may not have to be a cage. I’m going to look at chains. Chains can be stylish. They make you look tough. But I need to make it very clear that you will be restrained, and if you’re going to fight me on that, it’s no deal. I don’t want to spend the money for a cage or chains until I’m positive that you’re all right with the idea. Are you?”

  Yes.

  Owen didn’t look cool in the chains. He actually looked kind of pathetic. But still, the plan was coming together.

  “Tug,” Toby said.

  Owen wore a thick leather strap around his neck, which was connected to a chain that was wrapped around a tree. Owen was pretty damn strong, but he didn’t have the strength to rip trees out by the roots, and according to the guy at the hardware store, this chain “could withstand a half dozen elephants pulling on it at once.” Toby doubted that this claim had been tested in the field, but it was definitely a solid chain.

  Owen signed: Heavy. This was made more difficult for him because he was also chained by the wrists.

  “I know it’s heavy. But you can handle it for a while, right?”

  Yes.

  “So tug.”

  Owen yanked on the chains.

  “No, really tug. I’ll know if you’re faking, so give it everything that you’ve got.”

  Owen pulled against his restraints, teeth clenched together, muscles bulging. Those chains, and those trees, weren’t going anywhere.

  “Good job,” said Toby. He walked over to the cooler, opened it, and took out a surprise. “If you can break free, I’ll give you this banana split. Otherwise, I’m eating it myself.” He spooned up a bite and slowly slid it into his mouth. “Mmmmmm.”

  Yeah, it was a mean thing to do, but he really had to make sure that Owen couldn’t break free. And Owen strained to get the ice cream, strained so hard that he thought the monster might start popping blood vessels. But the chains and the trees held.

  “Perfect. I was only kidding—of course you can have the ice cream.” Toby walked over, unlocked Owen’s right wrist, and gave him the bowl. Owen raised it to his face and licked up the banana split within seconds.

  It was set. Tomorrow he’d bring Garrett.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “How good are you at keeping secrets?”

  “Good.”

  Toby shook his head. “That’s not enough. I need you to be the biggest secret keeper in the entire world. Even better than the president. Do you know how many secrets the president keeps?”

  “No,” Garrett admitted.

  “He keeps thousands of secrets. He knows things that could destroy the entire United States if he let them get out. That’s how serious I am.”

  Garrett looked doubtful. “You’re going to tell me something that could destroy the entire United States?”

  “No, not that extreme, but I would like to show you something that you can never tell. You can’t tell Mommy, you can’t tell Hannah, you can’t tell Mrs. Kingston, you can’t tell anybody in your class…nobody. No matter how much you want to tell, you can’t tell this secret to anybody, no matter who asks.”

  “What about the president?”

  Toby pointed to the ground. “If the president were standing right here, right now, I wouldn’t tell him. He might say, ‘Darn it, Toby, I demand that you tell me this secret or I’ll have the entire Secret Service punch you for hours!’ and I would say, ‘No, I refuse to tell my secret.’ But if you can keep it to yourself, I’ll tell you.”

  Eyes wide, Garrett nodded. “I won’t tell.”

  “Do you swear?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you blood swear?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s where we cut our hands and press them together, and swear in blood that we won’t tell.”

  Garrett looked a bit tentative, but nodded.

  “I won’t really make you blood swear. Mommy wouldn’t like that. But I think you’re old enough, so we’re going for a walk in the woods…”

  “If you get scared, it’s okay,” Toby assured him. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Just know that you’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll take care of you. Are you scared now?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  They weren’t far from the shack—maybe another two minutes of walking. What if this was a really, really, really bad idea?

  It wasn’t. He’d taken almost absurd safety measures. There was no possible way Owen could escape. Even if he somehow developed supernatural strength and broke free from one of the chains, there’d be two more holding him, each fastened to a different tree so even if the tree itself ripped in half he couldn’t get loose. And if a chain broke, Garrett wouldn’t be anywhere near close enough to get hurt by a swinging claw.

  It was completely safe.

  Maybe not safe from weeks of nightmares, but Toby just knew that Garrett would understand. He’d be delighted.

  The three of them, friends forever.

  The shack came into view. “Remember your promise,” Toby said. “It’s a blood swear.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re almost there, then. It’s behind that little house.”

  Owen looked extremely unhappy in his chains, but that changed as soon as he saw Toby and Garrett. His face lit up and he stood up straight.

  Garrett stopped walking. He gasped and clenched Toby’s hand tight.

  “It’s okay,” said Toby. �
�He can’t get loose.”

  “Daddy, I want to go home.”

  “He won’t—”

  “Daddy, I want to go home!”

  “Okay, okay, we can go.” Toby led him back through the trees, away from Owen, who let out a whine of disappointment. “I should’ve told you what we were going to see, it was my mistake, I’m sorry.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my friend.”

  Garrett scowled as he tried to process that. “Is it—is it a guy in a costume?”

  “No. He’s real. He won’t hurt you, I promise. He lives in the forest. I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

  “You have not.”

  “I have! I blood swear that I have. I wouldn’t play a joke like this on you. He’s my best friend. His name is Owen.”

  “Owen?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is he always locked up?”

  “No. I did that for you. He won’t hurt you, but I didn’t want you to be scared of him. He’d like to say hi to you.”

  “He talks?”

  “Not like you and I talk, but he can do hand signals. I’m going to leave it up to you. We can go home, and maybe come back some other day, or we can go over now and see him. Just remember that you promised not to tell anybody.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Do you want to see him?”

  Garrett considered that for a long moment. “Yeah.”

  They walked back around the shack. Twenty feet away, Owen’s chains rattled as he signaled: Hello.

  “Say hello,” Toby urged.

  “Hello, Owen.”

  Hello, Owen repeated.

  “Is he a Bigfoot?” Garrett asked.

  “I don’t think so. He might be a Bigfoot’s cousin. I don’t know what he is, for sure. Nobody else knows about him, though. Just you and me.”

  Well, nobody else alive…

  “Can I go closer?”

  “No.”

  “Does he like the chains?”

  “He hates the chains. Don’t you, Owen? You hate those things.”

  Yes.

  “See? He can do thumbs-up to mean yes. Ask him a question. He doesn’t always understand, but he can get it a lot of the time.”