Hudsonville: Tales of the Hunted

Chapter 3: Meet and Greet

Rrrrrrrrrrrr.

The door to the rustic home made a noisy crack as it swung open. Stepping in, taking in the old pine scent, the lingering odor of tobacco—it certainly fit the man's aesthetic. Dusty framed photos lined the walls, depicting Hudson sitting on various chairs, dressed in various suits—the man seemed to have quite the liking for himself, an ego that reeked almost as much as the pipe in his mouth.

Various long sofas stretched across the living room adjacent to a dusty CRT. A vintage radio sat on the maple countertop, along with a few withered plants. As the two walked in, the elder would frown at this revelation, the chore having completely skipped his mind. Sigh.

"...So, ya want the grand tour?" Hudson asked with diluted enthusiasm. Andy nodded, and followed along while the man showed him about. It was pretty short, simple, not much to explain besides the odd sand pit in the bedroom and a few frozen rats in the freezer—Hudson was also sure to lay out a number of housekeeping chores he wanted the boy to complete while he'd be staying there—water the plants, rake the leaves, mow the lawn. Once Andy was acquainted with his temporary home, the mayor said his goodbyes, and before he could really begin to process everything, the man left Andy to his own devices. It seemed Hudson had a lot on his plate, as expected for someone in his position.

So what to do, now? The night was still young, and now Andy found himself with idle hands in a strange new world. He could write, he thought, about the experiences he's had in the last 72 hours. How he'd put his Scouting skills to the test, how he'd lived off of the land for three whole days—heck, maybe he could even begin to describe the utterly outlandish things he had seen just within the last few hours.

The walk over to the cabin had continued with the uncanny—Andy swore he'd seen a cerberus being touted around in a handbag like some Beverly Hills chihuahua. There were more dragons—smaller ones, ones Hudson encouraged not to feed. "Invasive species," he called them, "just like the kloons." And what was that about? What was a kloon? It was too much information.

With a whine, Andy slumped into the spare bedroom and flopped face down onto his bed. Total relaxation—the first time he'd been able to feel it in days. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been without sleep...

Tap tap tap.

The rapping on his window didn't register at first, but after some persistence, Andy's eyes shot open, his body seizing as he jolted awake. What was it, now? What could possibly be happening now? Dread welled in the boy's lungs as his neck craned toward the pane. Just outside, that pale teenager from before, the one who'd taken his picture—a boy with slicked back hair and a pointed nose, bluish-gray skin and darkened eyes—he waved, pointing a claw toward the window hatch. Andy made a sour expression and shook his head.

"Ugh," The strange boy groaned. "Don't be lame. Lemme in."

"No."

"Promise I won't bite—you probably taste bad."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means I can smell you from out here, you reek."

Andy sighed. "What do you want?"

"Well, I wanna know the scoop on Hudson's new little friend."

A pause—his new little friend? What was this guy talking about? And more importantly, how many others know about him? Andy sat up from his bed and walked over to the window.

"Come again?"

The pale teen smirked. "You're not the first pup Hudson's dragged in—probably ain't gonna be the last. Got a real weird habit of bringin' in strays."