The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group (8 page)

‘Jeez,’ I croaked. ‘What happened to
them
?’

‘You did.’ Reuben nudged me closer. ‘Look at that. And that. Your tooth went through there.’

‘It didn’t.’

‘It did.’

‘It’s a bullet hole!’

‘Gimme a break.’ Reuben couldn’t conceal his scorn, though he tried to. ‘Have you ever
seen
a bullet hole? This isn’t a bullet hole.’ Before I could protest, he forestalled me. ‘If you can bite through bone, you can bite through plastic. And you
can
bite through bone, mate. We both can.’

But I was shaking my head. I was backing away.

‘No,’ I said. All at once I felt cold, even though the sun was beating down. Something about those bins had hit me like a hammer. ‘Nuh. Uh-uh. I don’t believe you.’

‘Toby—’

‘You did this.’ It was the only explanation – and it freaked me out. ‘You got here early and you did this yourself. With tools and stuff.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘You tore up these bins after I phoned you!’

Reuben’s eyebrows climbed his forehead.

‘In broad daylight?’ he exclaimed. ‘Next to a car park? Are you crazy?’

‘
You’re
the one who’s crazy.’ I turned on my heel, catching sight of Fergus as I did so. He was up ahead, peering around the side of the kiosk, camera in hand. But he vanished before I could do more than blink.

‘Toby. Wait.’ Reuben grabbed my arm. ‘You said you
wanted
proof.’

‘That isn’t proof. That’s just sick,’ I quavered, pulling free. Then I stumbled blindly away from him, my mouth dry, my heart pounding. I must have been in a state of shock, because I’d forgotten all about the plan I’d made with Fergus and Amin. I just wanted to escape.

‘Well, why don’t we go look somewhere else?’ Reuben called after me. Though he raised his voice, he didn’t move. ‘Why don’t you think of a spot, and we’ll see what’s there?’

‘No.’

‘I didn’t smash up these bins, Toby!’

When I swerved around the corner of the kiosk, I found myself face to face with Fergus, who scowled like a gargoyle. ‘
You’re not finished!
’ he hissed, flapping his free hand. Behind him, Amin was shrinking back against the wall. There was no one else in sight.

Mutely, I shook my head.

‘
He’s trying to snow you!
’ Fergus breathed. ‘
Keep going and he’ll lie about the paw prints!
’

‘I know you’re scared!’ Reuben continued, from somewhere behind me. ‘I felt the same way, at first, because it’s a scary thing. It’s hard to cope with, right?’ In the pause that followed, Fergus fixed me with a reproachful look, urging me silently to proceed. ‘Toby?’ Reuben implored. He was still out of sight. ‘I’m not trying to scare you, here—’

‘I’m not
scared
!’ Given a choice, I would have run all the way home, like a five-year-old. But I didn’t have a choice. Not in front of witnesses. I
had
to stand my ground. ‘Don’t keep saying that!’

‘Sorry,’ said Reuben. He was definitely coming after me; I could hear him drawing closer. And as I turned to confront him, Fergus and Amin began to retreat. They probably wanted to scoot around the corner, to the front of the building. But they were much too slow off the mark. Reuben emerged from behind the kiosk before they could hide themselves.

When he saw them, he froze. We all froze. There was a long, long silence – which Reuben was the first to break.

‘So,’ he said, ‘I guess you’re Toby’s friends, huh?’

I
t was a
blood-chilling moment. I didn’t know what to say.

Luckily Fergus did. He turned to Reuben.

‘Is that what you were told?’ asked Fergus, with barely concealed contempt. ‘That I’m a
friend
of his?’

He was giving me my cue, and I took it.

‘We go to the same school,’ I announced, for Reuben’s benefit. And although I didn’t add ‘unfortunately’, it was certainly implied. Because I couldn’t pretend that Fergus and I were strangers. Reuben wouldn’t have believed me; the whole atmosphere was far too loaded for a story like that to work. My face was too tense. My body language was all wrong.

So instead of denying that Fergus and I had ever met, I was forced to behave as if my best friends were my sworn enemies – or at least, that they were people I didn’t particularly want to mix with. I had to act as if I’d come to the park alone.

Fergus was such a quick study, he’d grasped this at once. My job was to follow his lead.

‘Who’s this, then? Your big brother?’ Fergus scornfully inquired, jerking his chin at Reuben. I have to admit, it was a master stroke. In just six short words, Fergus not only demonstrated complete ignorance of my family life; he also managed to suggest, very subtly, that I was the sort of loser who couldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.

‘No,’ was my sullen response. ‘He’s just a friend.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Fergus drawled. ‘Well, it’s good when you’ve got at least
one
friend, eh?’ By this he meant to convey his firm belief that I couldn’t possibly have much of a social life. ‘I guess you wanna buy something at the kiosk?’ he continued. ‘Like maybe a lollipop? Lollipops are great when you’re feeling scared.’

I didn’t even have to fake my wince. As for Reuben, he narrowed his eyes. But he didn’t say anything.

‘Is that what
you
do when you’re scared? Suck on a lollipop?’ was the only comeback I could think of. It was pretty lame. I used it as my exit line, though, because I was desperate to leave before someone screwed up. Amin, for instance, was sweating bullets. I’ve never
seen
anyone look so guilty. And Fergus isn’t always reliable in these situations. His lies can easily spiral out of control.

That’s why I headed for the lake, hoping that Reuben would come after me. I wasn’t trying to lure him towards the werewolf tracks. I just wanted to draw him away from Fergus.

‘See you at school!’ Fergus cried, as I bolted. Amin was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. I prayed that they would both have the sense to hang back; if they followed me too soon, Reuben would probably spot them. And if he did, I knew, there would be hell to pay.

I figured that things might get pretty hairy, once Reuben became suspicious.

So I loped off, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and Fergus – without, at the same time, giving the impression that I was in a hurry. I didn’t really set a course. I had no destination in mind. I just put one foot in front of the other.

‘Hey! Wait! Hang on!’ It was Reuben, right on my tail. He wasn’t even out of breath. ‘Toby, listen. This is important.’

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to keep moving.

‘There’s something I’ve gotta tell you,’ he growled into my ear. It was impossible to shake him off. He kept pace with me, so he didn’t have to raise his voice. ‘When I was your age, I was locked in an underground tank. I spent five years in that tank, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. Okay?’

That
made me stop. I stared at him, speechless, as he scanned our immediate surroundings. We were on the outskirts of the Memorial Gardens, where some kids were playing under the pergola. But they were very young kids, and they were screaming like mandrakes. It was pretty obvious that they weren’t going to be interested in anything that Reuben said.

‘I was raised in the country,’ he went on, ‘and one morning, when I was your age, I woke up in a field. Couldn’t remember how I got there. But I had a brother who liked to party, and I’d been drinking with him the night before, so I figured it had something to do with that. I didn’t connect it with all the dead sheep around town. I thought wild dogs were responsible. Which was what most people thought.’

He paused, as if expecting me to comment. Once again, though, I was lost for words. What do you say in these situations?
No wonder you’re so screwed up, if you were locked in a tank for five years?
It suddenly occurred to me that Reuben might be genuinely mad – that he might be suffering from some kind of post-traumatic thing.

You can imagine how happy I felt when
that
thought popped into my head.

‘There were only two people who guessed the truth,’ he said (after realising that I had nothing to contribute), ‘and they weren’t locals. They were two guys who knew what to look for. The McKinnons. They’d watch out for reports of wild dog attacks, and whenever they heard of an attack that happened on the night of a full moon, they’d investigate. They’d come to town asking questions about families with seven sons, and kids with behavioural problems.’

This time, when Reuben stopped, it wasn’t because he was waiting for input. It was because his voice had failed him. He had to clear his throat and lick his lips before proceeding.

‘The McKinnons kidnapped me,’ he finally declared, his tone so harsh that it sounded like a concrete slab being dragged down a gravel road. ‘Then they locked me up. And every full moon they’d let me out to fight another werewolf. In a pit, with people watching. Those bastards would lay bets, like they do at dogfights.’ Something in my blank expression must have warned him that I wasn’t buying this, because he thrust his face into mine, pushing aside his tangled curls to display a scar like a trench above his left ear. ‘How do you think I got all these scars?’ he demanded roughly. ‘These are
bite marks
. These are
claw marks
. I killed six people, and they went down fighting. Do you think that’s easy to live with?’

‘No,’ I mumbled, shrinking back. He was really,
really
freaking me out.

‘In the end I escaped,’ he concluded, ‘and those guys – the kidnappers – they got what they deserved. But you can make big money out of blood sports, so there’ll always be people somewhere in the world going after that money. I know there’s a guy in America who never got caught. Name of Forrest Darwell. He’s probably still staging fights and buying kids from the Philippines. In fact he once came over here to buy
me
, only it didn’t pan out.’ Reuben’s eyes became blazing green slits. ‘One day,’ he said slowly, spitting out every word, ‘I’m gunna track down that bastard. When I’ve got enough money saved, I’ll head to America and introduce myself. Then I’ll teach him a few lessons about
fighting for his life.’

Oh man
, I thought, swallowing hard. I don’t know if I can convey to you how goddamn
scary
Reuben was, at that moment. You got the distinct impression that he could barely keep a lid on the red-hot fury that was seething behind his clenched fists and bared teeth.

All the same, I had to ask the obvious question.

‘Why don’t you just tell the police?’ I said. ‘If you know where this Darwell bloke actually is—’

Reuben cut me off.

‘No,’ he snapped. ‘That’s the whole point. We can’t go around
telling
everyone, it’s too risky. Once the news gets out, people totally lose it. They treat you like an animal. They lock you in a tank or pull your teeth out.’

‘Pull your
teeth
out?’

‘It’s what happened to a guy I know. Someone like us. He had a bad time when he was a kid, even before the McKinnons got hold of him. His grandfather said he was a threat to society and pulled some of his teeth out. Kept him chained and muzzled. It was way off in the boondocks, so no one ever noticed – except the McKinnons, of course.’ Distracted by painful memories, Reuben hadn’t been paying much attention to the outside world. But all at once he emerged from this reverie; he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. ‘If you wanna end up living like Danny Ruiz,’ he added, ‘out in the desert with a buncha dogs, then you should keep shooting your mouth off.’

‘
Me?
’ I was aghast. (How did he know?) ‘I haven’t said a word to anyone!’

He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. His expression was enough.

‘It’s true!’ I protested. But he just shook his head.

‘You’ve cooked up some scheme with those friends of yours,’ he flatly declared. ‘You think I couldn’t work that out? I’m not a complete idiot.’

‘What friends?’ My motto has always been: if you’ve told a lie, then stick with it. Because sometimes, if you stick with it long enough, it might actually start to sound like the truth. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You told me to come here so your mate with the freckles could have a squiz at the crazy guy,’ said Reuben. ‘You just wanna laugh. You don’t really want me to find you any proof.’

‘I do!’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘I swear! I’m really interested! I am!’

Reuben sighed. He put his hands on his hips, letting his gaze drift towards the pergola as if he couldn’t bear to look at me anymore.

‘You know what? If I could, I’d tell you to stuff it,’ he said at last. ‘But I can’t. I can’t just sit back and let you kill someone.’

He was watching the little kids as they scurried around not far from us; I guess they must have struck him as natural werewolf bait. As for me, I glanced nervously in the other direction, hoping that I wouldn’t catch sight of Fergus.

To my relief, there was no one skulking behind any nearby hedges.

‘So you want proof?’ Reuben suddenly asked. ‘Is that what you really came here for?’

‘Yeah.’ I nodded madly, like one of those bobble-headed toys.
Humour him
, I thought.
Don’t annoy him.
‘Yes. That’s what I came here for.’

‘Okay. Well . . . choose your spot.’ He waved at the scenery. ‘Tell me where you wanna go, and we’ll see if you left any traces there on Monday.’

By this time, let me tell you, I had things all worked out. Reuben was a bad-news guy. I had to get away from him. But I couldn’t just run; he’d come after me for sure. He knew where I lived. He had a weird, compulsive agenda of some kind. What I had to do was
scare
him away, so he’d never return.

The problem was that I couldn’t exactly threaten him with severe bodily harm. Though taller than Reuben, I didn’t have the muscle. He would have wiped the floor with me. So my best bet was blackmail. If I could record him claiming that the fake paw prints were real, it would give me a bit of leverage. I could say to him, ‘Back off or I’ll use this. I’ll stick it on the Net. I’ll show it to the police.’

It was my only weapon. In the heat of the moment, I could think of no alternative.

‘O-okay,’ I stammered. ‘Let’s try the lake.’

‘The lake?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s where everyone else always goes.’

He studied me for a few seconds, then gave a nod. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I reckon you’re right. I reckon those ducks would have got you interested when you were on the rampage.’ As he spun around, I stealthily fingered my phone, unlocking the keypad without even glancing at it. (I learned to do that at school; you have to count your keystrokes very carefully and cough whenever the phone beeps.) ‘You might even have stopped at the lake for a drink,’ Reuben continued, up ahead. ‘Since it was a hot night on Monday.’

I grunted, then followed him to the lake. While most of the lakeside is lawn right down to the water, in two or three places someone has lined the shore with reeds and bushes and big, jagged rocks. Around the waterfall it’s like that; it’s also like that near the little white bridge. And in both locations, you get a lot of birds as well as a lot of mud.

So I guess it wasn’t surprising that Reuben headed straight for the very grove where Fergus had left his paw prints.

‘We’ll try in here,’ Reuben suggested. He was still on the path, which had begun to wind between two thick walls of foliage. But he soon stopped to look for an opening among the dense, spiky clumps of palm trees and ornamental grass that blocked his route to the lakeside.

‘Can you smell that?’ he asked suddenly.

I stared at him in confusion. ‘What?’

‘Can you smell that?’ he repeated, sniffing the air. ‘I can.’

Cautiously I followed his example. Sniff, sniff. Australian native plants have a distinctive scent, very spicy and antiseptic; it was dominating the Nurragingy smellscape, as usual. I could also smell jasmine, exhaust fumes and hot chips. But there was something else as well – something faint and rank that caught at the back of my throat.

‘Dog poo,’ I concluded.

Reuben clicked his tongue impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. ‘Not that. I’m not talking about that.’

‘Cigarette smoke?’

‘Come here.’ He beckoned to me with one hand while parting branches with the other. ‘Have a whiff of that. Can’t you smell it?’

For some reason (don’t ask me why) I wanted to show him that my nose was just as good as his, if not better. So I willingly thrust my head into a murky thicket that stank of squashed dates and stagnant water and . . . possum?