How to Slay a Beast (Book 1)

Chapter 17

"See what I'm thinking is we can't just shoot it---I mean that clearly didn't work and even if we found bullets strong enough or the arrows---I mean it's probably going to eat us before it realizes it's dead," I said, as Billy followed me through the woods. "So, I think---at least my idea---is what we're going to have to do, is trap it somehow, and like, completely annihilate it."

"Like, a bear trap?" he asked.

"Yeah, but those'd be too little, that'd be just like, you know, a mousetrap on your shoe, if you really wanted to do something you wouldn't stop what you were doing and get it off---and even if you did it'd only take a second," I said.

"No, I suppose not---what about like---a tiger pit?" Billy suggested, "Like they used to use to kill tigers, in India or wherever, they'd make this pit, and then cover it with branches, and stuff, to disguise it, and then trick the monster into running across it, then it falls in."

"Okay, I'm following it---it falls in then, what---it jumps out and then it eats us?' I asked.

"Well---no we put steaks in the pit," he said.

"Steaks for it to eat, before it eats us? Sorry I'm not following," I said, shaking my head.

"No, like, stakes, as in, big sharpened spears for it to impale itself on," he said.

"Oh---those sorts of stakes---that could work," I said, nodding, "That and maybe gasoline and fire, I think that might help."

"It's worth a try," he said, nodding, "I don't know where we'd get that sort of a hole though."

"We don't need a hole----a river bed, I know of one, it's north of here---in the dark, if we created like the false floor---and then put the spears and such in the creed bed---that could work," I said, nodding, "I like the way you think."

**

"He's the one?" I asked, as Violet and I stood, eating our lunches in the back room. It was only a few hours to go now, we usually ate late. Give us time to get home and get dinner for our kids without being hungry ourselves.

"Who? I mean what?" I asked, pretending I had no idea what she was talking about when I had every idea what she was talking about. 

"Mr. I only own one shirt and when I wash it I don't' wear anything because my abs are enough," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," I lied again.

"Come on, you don't actively avoid acknowledging a person exists that well unless you've slept with them," she said.

"It was a long time ago----it started a long time ago," I sighed, staring out the window. It was just starting to get dark. Merry had better be home.

"When you were still married?" she asked.

"Listen nobody knows," I said, "You cannot tell anyone."

"I'm not going to tell anyone I'm going to talk to you until I'm positive you are completely okay," she said.

"I've already told you how not okay I am," I said.

"He's weird," she said, "Not like, cute weird, like---has significant mental problems weird."

"Well, clearly, so do I or we would not be having this conversation," I said.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked.

"Since before the divorce," I muttered.

"Like, how long before the divorce? Like you guys were breaking up before the divorce or---"