Animal Nature

Chapter 28

Yanking the covers over his head, Ron Black tried to block out all the noise.

He'd barely been able to sleep all night, what with the full moon shining through the window and his skin itching like crazy. He knew he had slept, because he'd had one of those dreams about running and running and running and he woke up from it feeling even more tired and on edge than before.

After that, he hadn't wanted to go back to sleep, but of course he had school in the morning. His parents had let him skip most of the week, because of Bart dying, and today was the day they had insisted he would have to go back. "I know it's hard, honey," his mother had cooed, combing her fingers through his hair. "I think seeing your friends might help you to deal with it."

Now his mother was down in the kitchen banging every cabinet door and slamming every pot, it sounded like, and stomping all over the house. Ron would rather she come up to his room and knock on the door to wake him up, like a normal person.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he flung the covers off, meaning to get up and do a little stomping of his own.

His feet were covered in dirt.

It was all over his sheets, and reached his calves. "What the hell?" he murdered, twisting his foot around to look at the soles. He must have gone sleepwalking or something, while he had that strange dream.

He got up and stripped the sheets from his bed. He dumped them on the floor while he went in to take a shower. Upon looking in the mirror, he blanched. He had just shaved yesterday, for the funeral, yet his jaw was scruffy with stubble. He could almost imagine what he'd look like with a full beard. Shaking his head, he turned on the shower as hot as it would go and stripped down.

After his shower, he shaved and then got dressed, wearing a black t-shirt in honor of Bart. Then he took his sheets down and started the washing machine.

"Another animal attack," Mrs. Black said when Ron finally sat down at the table.

His mother slid a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, and Ron was suddenly overcome by the smell of the bacon, eating all three strips immediately.

"I can't believe the town hasn't done something about this," Mrs. Black said. "First you and your friends were attacked, and now this."

Ron eyed the frying pan, where more bacon was crisping, then realized that she seemed to be waiting for him. "What happened?" Ron asked.

"The attendant down at the mini-mart was attacked last night. Killed. Sometime around three in the morning." Mrs. Black sipped her coffee. Ron didn't have to ask to know how his mother had come by this information. His father managed that mini-mart, and three others in surrounding towns. He would have been called in to deal with it.

"That's crazy," Ron said slowly. His mother was cooking more bacon, and she wasn't watching the pan. It was going to burn.

"Darn right, it's crazy. There's a rabid animal out there killing people, and the town hasn't implemented a curfew? On the news last night they said they'd caught the animal, but it escaped. Bit one of the animal control officers, too—"

"Mom, the bacon," Ron said.

"It's fine." She waved a hand. "I think I might just go down to the police station and see exactly what they are planning to do to ensure your safety."

Ron jumped up and grabbed the spatula, saving the bacon before it was charred. He dumped it in the nest of paper towels on the plate his mother had set out, only for a moment before he started eating it.

"Ronnie! That's barely cooked!"

When Ron didn't stop – it tasted too good, he couldn't seem to stop himself – his mother for the plate, saying, "I was going to make bacon crumbles for my Caesar salad."

Ron growled at her.

"Honestly, Ronnie," Mrs. Black huffed, backing away. "If you had asked for more bacon, I would have made it for you."

He chewed the last slice and exhaled. Now that it was gone, he felt like his mind was finally clear. The dirt on his sheets, the full moon, the dream that he was running on all fours and the fact that it had been after 3 AM when he woke up... it all came together and collided with this new information about the mini-mart attendant getting killed.

What had he done last night?

As he zoomed into the school parking lot, he told himself that he hadn't done anything. It was an animal, and he wasn't an animal. Sure, in all the confusion that night at the cornfield he'd thought he'd been bitten, but once he'd gotten home and washed off the blood, there weren't any tooth marks. He probably just had PTSD or something from seeing his friend get mauled by a wild animal.

He slammed through the doors, readying himself for that first pitying comment of, "I'm so sorry about Bart."

Instead, an intoxicating scent hit him with the force of a gale wind. Was it some perfume, one of those pheromone-laced scents designed to drive men wild? His narrowed eyes darted around. No one else seemed to be feeling what he was feeling, which was the desire to rip off his pants—his entire groin was throbbing—and then tear off the clothes of the nearest girl and force himself on her.

No, not any girl, he realized, when he saw Brittany Bowden strutting toward him. With a dismissive glance at her tight crop top, he stalked down the hallway, hunting for the source of that smell.

When he found it, he stopped dead. It couldn't be.