Free A Measure of Disorder by Alan Tucker Page B

about Brandon?” she asked him.
    “His features don’t fit the pattern. I don’t know what he’s turning into, but from what I’ve seen, it won’t be good.”
    Jenni sat in silence for a time. “What should we do?” she asked finally.
    “Watch them. Beyond that, I don’t see anything else we can do. Hopefully the transformations won’t be complete. I just don’t know.” He nodded toward the group. “Looks like they are finishing up.”
    Jenni saw that indeed, everyone was moving back to camp to get some sleep. She reached over and gave him a quick hug and said, “Thank you, Crank.”
    Surprised, he asked, “For what?”
    “For saving us. For everything. For being a good friend.”
    “Thank you for that last as well, Jenni.” He smiled. “Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    Jenni smiled and walked back to camp.
     
     

10
     
     
    Brandon woke the next morning to raindrops on his face.
    Clouds had rolled in during the night and the rain had started at first light. Brandon sat up and combed his fingers through his wavy brown hair. He watched as the others woke to the same wet surprise then he packed his things.
    His eyes found Sara across the camp. She had beaten him again last night and his anger rekindled.
    He reached into his bag for a Tolenton’naie and ate it. He grabbed two more and ate them as well. The fruit didn’t satisfy him any more. He was always hungry and had a terrible craving for meat. All they had to eat was the fruit and some flat bread the little dwarf people had given them.
    Still fuming, he grabbed his pack, slung it over one shoulder and marched out of camp. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which way they were headed. They had been following the river to the southeast for a week. He was pretty sure they weren’t going to do anything different today.
    A rabbit darted from his path and dashed away. His eyes tracked the movement immediately. He thought he could hear and feel its racing heartbeat. It excited him.
    He looked at his fingernails. They were growing, becoming stronger, like the rest of him. Soon he wouldn’t need a silly tree branch to fight with. His skin felt tough and leathery, like armor almost. It won’t be long before Sara gets hers. It’s just a matter of time.
    Brandon had always been the best at everything, without really even trying. Sports, school — everything came easily to him. He enjoyed the praise and attention from friends and family. Then they had arrived here, and he’d been relegated to pack mule most of the time. Now they were following a puny little runt with a beard who wouldn’t last two seconds in a real fight.
    Everyone had been so quick to compliment Denny for his stupid nut bombs. Who had carried the injured girl most of the way that night? Me, that’s who. But did I get a “thank you”? No. Of course not. Then his two best friends, Mike and Scott, had been hurt in the attack and had to stay behind. Now I’m stuck with the retard patrol ,he steamed.
    He grimaced as pain shot through his upper back. He dropped his pack and reached over his shoulder, feeling along his spine below his neck. Several hard spikes poked through his skin, each two or three inches long. That’s interesting . Brandon then heard a pop, and a tearing sound at his feet. He looked down and saw his toes had torn through one of his shoes. Disgusted, he pulled both shoes off his feet, as well as his socks, and tossed them all in the grass. His toenails looked like his fingernails and he could hardly feel the ground beneath his bare feet. He shrugged, hefted his pack, and kept walking.
    It rained lightly, on and off, throughout the day. Fortunately, the grass was thick enough that there wasn’t much mud if he stayed away from the river. By evening, the clouds broke up and the rain subsided.
    Brandon ate four Tolenton’naie but still didn’t feel full. He needed meat. He had seen rabbits, mice and other small creatures all day, but wasn’t