Free Flying by Carrie Jones

move.
    â€œDo you know what it is?” I ask Lyle, shutting off the radio.
    The silence is big. I almost miss the elevator music.
    Lyle breaks it. “Why would I know?”
    â€œYou watch all those old sci-fi movies.”
    â€œVintage TV shows. And some are quite modern, honestly.”
    â€œWhatever. And all those gaming thingies you do.”
    â€œGaming thingies? Are you trying to emasculate me? Gaming thingies? They are battles of skill and persistence and intellect, Mana.”
    â€œOnce again … whatever, Lyle. I am not trying to emascul … de-man you. I am just saying you would have a better idea about this stuff than I would.”
    He picks at the edge of the steering wheel. “It kind of reminds me of a Windigo.”
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œThere’s this old Algonquin story about how if you eat the flesh of a person, you turn into a Windigo, and you’re always starving, craving human flesh.” He thinks for a second. “But they don’t have webbed feet.”
    â€œMaybe it mated with Donald Duck or a platypus or a penguin! No, not a penguin. It would be so much cuter if it was part penguin.”
    â€œFunny.” He pauses. “It still isn’t moving.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œIt could be the only one of its kind, and we killed it.” He looks traumatized, and he actually seems a little sorry.
    â€œLyle!”
    â€œWhat?”
    My words pound out like each is its own sentence. “It was trying to kill us. It wrecked my house. It was evil.”
    He nods. “I know. I know, but still…”
    Sometimes I cannot believe him. Now is so not the time to discuss the moral ramifications of killing in self-defense or the possible extermination of a species that is most likely rare, albeit predatory.
    I lean forward in the seat, staring through windshield cracks at my house, my formerly safe, cozy house. “Do you think my mom is in there?”
    â€œIn the house? Or in its stomach?”
    I gasp. “Lyle!”
    â€œI definitely don’t think it ate her.”
    â€œLyle!”
    â€œSorry, sorry.”
    â€œWe should check in the house,” I say. “It might have…”
    I don’t finish my sentence, but the thought dangles there, broken and horrible.
    â€œShe’s okay, Mana.”
    â€œHow do you know?” I sound like a baby, pleading.
    He touches my shoulder. “I just know.”
    I nod. I have to choose to believe it. “Do you have your cell phone? Mine is in my bag.”
    He reaches into his pocket and hands it to me. I flip it open, call Mom’s cell. It rings. It’s on the floor of the car. “Great.”
    My insides start to shudder. I check to make sure the lump hasn’t moved, then open the door just a bit so Lyle can’t lock me in.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œI have to see if she’s in there.”
    â€œNo! What if that … that … exterminate thing isn’t dead?”
    â€œYou will stay in the car and run it over if it moves.” I say this like it’s the most rational request in the world, like I ask Lyle to run over things every day after cheering practice.
    â€œLook…” He runs his hand through his hair. “You can’t do this. There could be other things in the—”
    â€œMy mom could be in the house,” I interrupt. I pull one of Mom’s scarves off the backseat, wrap it around my ankle so I don’t bleed everywhere. It doesn’t even hurt much, I am so full of adrenaline. My pulse must be up around three hundred beats a minute, which would actually make me dead, but whatever.
    Lyle watches me and then sighs. “We should call the police.”
    â€œAnd tell them what? We just killed a monster? Or maimed it? That a boy flew through my house? They are not going to believe that. That’s why I couldn’t tell the truth to Deputy Bagley