Hair in All The Wrong Places (7 page)

“Did you hear the goth twins projectile vomited in Fren—”

“—so sad. I always thought Sam was cute.”

“—brother heard from his cousin who works with the coroner. There were bits of Sam all over the—”

“—had to be Gareth Dugan.”

Gareth was a bully, degenerate, and evil incarnate, but he was definitely not a wild animal. In no hurry to see his grandmother, Colin decided to walk home. He had a lot to think about.

Were people hearing his thoughts or was he hearing theirs? What's with the headaches? The puking? The
stranger on the football field? His blackout? Thinking about it all together proved to be depressing.

Colin decided to get at least one of his questions answered by stopping by his grandfather's old garage. He smeared the grime across the front window with the sleeve of his sweater and peered through the clean spot. The car was definitely gone. Nothing but an empty space remained where the old car had been resting peacefully until Colin had liberated it last night.

Where did I leave the car?

The garage flashed before him, and he once again saw smoke and a helicopter, a large creature, like the one in his shower, searing pain, a howl, running through the woods … a cascade of images that caused Colin to stagger backward off the sidewalk and into the road.

Even though the vehicle screeched to a halt, Colin still took most of the impact.

Upon collision, his visions disappeared, and he simply lay in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road.

“Colin! Holy crap, Colin! Are you okay?” Jeremy's voice.

“You hit me with your car.”

Jeremy was crouching next to him. “Well, my mom technically hit you. You came out of nowhere; we couldn't have missed you if we'd tried.”

“You could have at least tried,” protested Colin, rolling onto his back. The initial pain was horrific, but now he actually didn't feel that bad.

“Hi, Colin, you okay?” called Jeremy's mom, cheerily leaning out her window. Mrs. Rodson shared her son's ignorance for normal things, like hitting someone with
your car for example. Nothing ever seemed to bother the Rodsons. It was a bit weird, but they seemed to fit into Elkwood quite well.

“You dented the fender,” Jeremy pointed out unhelpfully.

“I'm fine, thanks, Mrs. Rodson. And I'm sorry, Jer. I didn't mean for my body to damage your car.”

“Well, I guess it's okay. Dad can probably just hammer it back out.”

That was Jeremy. Completely immune to sarcasm. Some days Colin believed that Jeremy was barely human. He was just too oblivious to everything.

“Should I call 9-1-1?” said Jeremy.

“No, I think I'm actually okay.” Colin sat up and then got to his feet.

“Wow, you can really take a hit. I thought for sure you'd broken something, maybe some internal bleeding.”

“Your optimism is really what keeps me going.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Oblivious.

“Hey, can you give me a ride home?” said Colin.

“Of course we can, dear,” said Mrs. Rodson. “It's the least we can do.”

Before, Colin had been in no hurry to get home, but now all he wanted was to crawl into bed and pretend that today hadn't happened. Colin and Jeremy sat in the backseat while Mrs. Rodson hummed happily. Colin listened as Jeremy launched into a one-sided conversation about Sam Bale and all the gossip he'd heard since the announcement. Other than offering a cursory “um-huh” and an occasional “yeah,” Colin's mind remained firmly
elsewhere with his many questions that not only weren't getting answered but were also gathering reinforcements.

My dreams.

The dreams from the previous night had something to do with people hunting him.

Or did it?

Giant hairy creatures in his shower?

Hallucinations maybe?

The goth twins.

Could be a virus?

And now the death of Sam Bale.

What next?

“So will you come out tonight then?” Jeremy whispered.

“What?” answered Colin, lost in his own thoughts.

“Were you listening to anything I said?”

“Every single word.”

Jeremy glanced at his mom, but she too seemed caught up in her own musings. “I said that a few of us are going to head out to Merton Forest this evening and look at the crime scene,” said Jeremy enthusiastically but quietly. “Do you want to come?”

Colin's stomach turned at the thought. “Why would you want to? What are you hoping to see?”

“I don't know. It's just something to do, ya know?”

“I'll pass.”

“You're sure?”

“Certain.”

“Suit yourself.”

Mrs. Rodson pulled to a stop outside Colin's house. “Here you go, Colin,” said Mrs. Rodson. “Sorry again
about the little accident.”

Colin nodded politely.

“Jer, do you ever find Elkwood a bit weird?” asked Colin.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know. The people? The weather? It's just … don't you think it
feels
weird?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Nope. Seems normal to me.”

Oblivious. Or maybe
I'm
just crazy.

Colin got out of the car. “All right, well, have fun tonight. Try not to get attacked by any wild dogs, wolves, or rabid rabbits.”

Jeremy laughed. A tenth grader had come up with the theory that Sam Bale had been killed by a group of rabid rabbits. It got a few laughs.

Colin's grandmother was watching
Wheel of Fortune
as he passed the living room.

“Did you hear about that boy?” snapped his grandmother.

This was new. His grandmother rarely tried to make conversation. She normally just called him names and told him what a disappointment he was.

“Yeah, they let us out of school early because of it.”

She didn't take her blind eyes off the TV. “Did you know him?”

“We had a few classes together.” And even if he
hadn't, everyone knows everyone in Elkwood. The place wasn't big enough not to.

“Nasty business. I don't suppose you had anything to do with it?”

“With what, Grandma?”

“With his death.” She turned toward him. Her blank eyes would send chills through a penguin, but there was something else there that Colin wasn't used to seeing. She looked sad.

“No, of course not! I … I don't know anything.”

The old lady turned back to the TV. “Good! I don't need any murderers living under my roof. Get yourself some food! You look unhealthy!”

This was familiar ground. He was used to her insults, and although he didn't need any more reasons to dislike himself, he still found it somewhat comforting.

Colin ate several cans of precooked spaghetti, a leftover container of mac and cheese, six slices of bread, two apples, and a frozen steak that he microwaved until it was hot enough to eat.

What is the deal with my appetite?

After drinking an entire jug of water, he cleared away the dishes and ran upstairs. It was just after 5:00 p.m., and thanks to the eternally overcast skies of Elkwood, it was already starting to get dark. Exhaustion washed over him, and his bed looked entirely too inviting. He stripped down to his underwear and didn't even bother trying to find some clean or at least semi-clean pyjamas. Flopping into bed, he rolled to look at the gray sky outside his window. Colin couldn't remember the last time the sun had shined in Elkwood.

Somewhere outside he could hear what sounded like a helicopter. A now familiar twinge signalled the oncoming headache that had accompanied too many strange events today. Colin buried his face in his pillow and tried to will it away. The whir of helicopter blades grew louder, and Colin's memory suffered a sudden seizure.

A radio play, Becca's dad, a helicopter, a creature, a car crash, biting, howling, explosion, pain!

The pain ripped through his body. Every muscle in his body felt like it was contracting and then pulsating, then contracting again. Sweat-slicked sheets bunched beneath his body as his back arched unnaturally. Vomit threatened the back of his throat, and his head pounded a relentless drumbeat that vibrated through his muscles and bones. And then, he passed out.

Fire drenched his dreams. Fire and screaming. A medieval town with thatched roofs and low-built stone homes where livestock used to wander the streets but now the carcasses of cattle, chickens, and sheep littered the dirt road that wound through the town. Men carrying swords and pitchforks surrounded Colin. He could smell fear everywhere. Fear and hate. It was such a strong, nauseating scent that Colin's head swam, barely able to focus. He looked down at his hands which turned out not to be hands at all. They were massive and covered with thick hair. Each finger tipped with a black, sharp claw.
Growling fiercely at the frightened faces of the townsfolk, he realized they meant him harm. He wouldn't give them the chance.

Unexpectedly Colin caught a scent in the air and felt a break in his dream. Like he was lying in his bed at home but at the same time still connected to the creature in the mediaeval town. He could smell Becca Emerson. She wasn't big on fragrances, and this wasn't one distinct smell like a perfume, but it was her. She smelled … what was it?

Adventurous?

Colin, the creature, looked around, but his mind wasn't with the townsfolk anymore. A burly man with armor clearly too small for him screamed and threw a spear at Colin. The blade sliced through Colin's chest, and he roared in pain—

—sitting bolt upright in bed.

“Jesus! Colin!” yelped Becca. “You scared me!”

It was dark out. Colin was breathing heavily, covered in sweat and not much else. At the end of his bed stood Becca Emerson. She wore her usual dark clothing, heavy eye shadow, and held a flashlight in one of her gloved hands.

“I scared
you
? Becca, what are you doing in my bedroom?” Colin demanded.

Maybe I'm still dreaming?

“I came in the back door. You should really lock it.”

“Yeah, good advice. What are you doing here?”

Colin looked at his clock. It was 1:00 a.m.

“I'm going to Merton Forest. Want to come?” She smelled excited.

How can someone smell excited?

It smelled like lavender and the color purple.

Colin blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

When the girl you've secretly been crushing on for the last year breaks into your house in the middle of the night, wakes you up, and asks you to visit the scene of a crime with her, what else do you say?

“Let me put on some pants.”

T
he night was crisp and cool as they slipped out the same patio door through which Becca had secretly entered Colin's home. The fog was less dense than it had been during the day, which made navigating through town a lot easier. Not that it was really an issue as, not surprisingly, no one was out at 1:30 a.m. Colin had tried to think of something smart to say in hopes of impressing Becca but was failing miserably. His headache and general soreness had subsided but there were lingering scents from his dreams that disturbed him. Mostly the smells of fire and blood.

“Why are you so twitchy?” said Becca.

“I didn't realize I was.”

“You're like a chihuahua.”

“Cute with big ears?” Colin asked hopefully.

“They're always so jumpy.”

Colin didn't know much about flirting but he was almost certain this wasn't it.

“Well if you had my grandmother, you'd be jumpy too.”

Becca laughed, and Colin smiled triumphantly.

Ha! I made a funny.

“She is one seriously creepy old lady,” said Becca.

“She comes from a long line of crypt keepers.”

Becca laughed again, louder, and the sound bounced around empty buildings as they walked down Main Street.