Free Feral by Brian Knight Page B

finally opened his eyes he saw that shadow face, that wide crocodile smile.   Ear-to-ear teeth, all white and shining.   Then the teeth opened and Andy could see all the way down his throat.
    Told ya, Dad , he thought.   I told you he was real .
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    S hannon drove with the dome light on, crying silently for Jared and Alicia as she drove toward Normal Hills.   She had forgotten, but she remembered now, every night spent wide-awake, she and Jared both, finding no comfort except for in each other’s terrified eyes.
    She cursed her mother and father for not believing them, and she cursed herself for not believing Alicia.   How tired and distant she had been the last few weeks of her life, and how frustrated Shannon had gotten with her when Alicia had told her why.
    How many times do I have to explain this to you, Alicia ?   There is no such thing as the Bogey Man .
    She had even confronted Thomas, accused him of letting Alicia stay up late and watch those scary movies they both loved so much.   Shannon was dead set against them, they were pointless and cliché; the only thing they were good for was giving kids like Alicia nightmares.   Thomas took every opportunity he could to play the good guy with their daughter.   He gave her too many presents, too much candy, and anything else her wicked mother dared to deny her.
    Thomas was a hero in Alicia’s eyes, but even he had not been able to save her from a nightmare come to life.
    Charity slept on the car’s floor, the bloody scissors stuck through the belt loop of her new pants like a savage’s trophy.   The little flashlight rolled and bounced on the floor next to her.   It lit her face, turning every angle and shadow into a ghastly caricature.
    She was chanting softly in her sleep.
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    Little Andy Couldn’t Sleep ,
    Little Andy Counted Sheep ,
    Little Andy Change Your Plans ,
    Say Hello To The Bogey Man.
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    Then she jerked awake with a shriek.
    â€œ Shh , it’s okay, baby.   It was only a dream.” This was automatic, the parental version of Pavlov’s drooling dogs, and she cursed herself as soon as the words came out.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t,” Charity said.   She picked up the flashlight and climbed into the seat, sliding next to Shannon.
    Shannon slowed the Chevelle, put an arm around Charity and squeezed her.   “I know, I’m sorry,” she said.   Charity clung to her arm, the little girl who just that morning had fought like a wolverine to escape them.   She guessed maybe Charity had awakened from a similar dream then.
    â€œWas it him?”
    â€œYes,” Charity said.   “Andy’s dead.”   She began to cry again.
    Shannon felt the patter of tears on her arm, and wiped them from Charity’s eyes.   “Who’s Andy?”
    â€œDon’t know,” she said.   She sniffed, spent a few moments in silent concentration, and the tears stopped.
    I wish I were that tough , Shannon thought.
    â€œHe’s punishing me.   When he’s mad at me he makes me watch,” she said.   She stared at Shannon, and when Shannon looked back, into Charity’s eyes she could almost see it happening inside her head.   “I took his scissors, so he tore them open with his hands.   I thought if I took them he wouldn’t be able to do it again, but he did anyway.”
    Shannon squeezed her again, but said nothing.   She didn’t know what to say; Dr. Spock had never prepared her for this.   She passed the entrance to the old Normal Hills Cemetery, and slowed.
    â€œI need my arm back, sweetie.”
    â€œâ€™Kay.”
    She took the next right turn, a single lane trail through the trees and brush.
    â€œWhere we going?”
    â€œNormal Hills.   I used to live there.”
    â€œWe hiding?” Charity asked.
    â€œYes, for now,” she said.
    The trail went on straight for a few hundred yards then