Free Feral by Brian Knight Page A

gone before he hit the pavement.   Shannon gunned it, tearing over the spot where he should have been.   Seconds later she was barreling down the highway again and he was behind them, clinging to the trunk.   He punched the back window, blocking her view with the large glass spider web.   He punched it a second time and it caved in to the back seat.
    â€œ Charity !” he screamed, crawling through the shattered window.   “ Come back here now !”
    Charity lay curled up in a ball on the car’s floor.   “ No !” she dropped the scissors and crawled onto the seat.   “Go away.”   She shined the small flashlight again and he bellowed in pain.
    Shannon turned on the dome light as he plunged in at them.   She felt one of those feverish hands at her throat, skin dry as scales and light as smoke.   Then he was gone.
    His last words hung in the air between them like a fog as they continued toward Normal Hills.
    Tomorrow night then .

Part II
    Â 
Crazy Ernie’s Cellar
    Â 

Chapter 14
    Â 
    L ittle Andy Couldn’t Sleep . . .
    He couldn’t, he was too afraid.   He had gone to bed at nine under the threat of the belt.   Dad wasn’t having any more of his excuses or stories.   Everybody has nightmares , his dad had said.   Get over it kid, it’s called growing up .   Then he had sent Andy down the hall to his room with a stinging rap to the back in his head.   His dad called them love taps.
    Once Andy heard his mom say love hurts, and he knew exactly what she meant.   Dad gave his mom love taps too sometimes, and even when they made her bleed and cry they always ended up kissing and hugging again.   Dad hardly ever hit Andy hard enough to make him bleed, but he left bruises.
    When he got mad he hit harder, so Andy tried not to make him mad.   That was why he had closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep after climbing into bed.   That seemed like hours ago, and even though he was awake the whole time, he never opened his eyes.
    Little Andy Counted Sheep . . .
    Mommy was nicer about the bad dreams; she said she had them too sometimes.   She said the way to make them go away was to think about good things, and if that didn’t work, counting big fluffy sheep might.   Andy didn’t know what sheep had to do with anything, but he tried it anyway.   It never worked.
    What his mom and dad didn’t understand was that when he did sleep his dreams were usually good.   Sometimes he dreamed about kissing Kimberly from next door, although he was eight and she was seven. She was pretty.   Sometimes he dreamed about running away to the park by the river.   He heard at school that lots of kids run away and go to live there, and they did nothing but play for the rest of their lives.
    The nightmares only happened when he was awake.   It was the man in the closet, or under his bed.   Talking to him, sometimes singing to him; like tonight.
    Little Andy, Change Your Plans . . .
    Andy was going to run away; he didn’t like it here.   Dad drank too much and hit a lot, and Andy didn’t like the friends that he always had over.   They called him cum squirt, and little shit, and they always made fun of him.
    Mom was nice, but she never helped him when Dad and his friends got mean.   She was too afraid.
    He was spending Saturday night at Ryan’s house, and he was going to leave after Ryan and his parents fell asleep.   He was going to Feral Park, and he would do whatever he wanted to from then on.
    Say Hello To The Bogey Man .
    But the bad man was back again, singing to him in that soft and scratchy voice.   Telling him to change his plans, because he would never make it to Ryan’s house or Feral Park, and this time the Bogey Man wasn’t hiding in the closet, or under his bed.   He was standing above Andy, singing and stroking his cheek with blood-caked fingers.
    When Andy