Page 33 of Solivagant

We couldn’t look more different, apart from the long hair. Though mine was my natural brown and the sides streaked with gray rather than shaved. I also wore whatever clothes were comfortable and cheap. Usually jeans with some type of flannel or plain T-shirt.

“Something’s wrong with both of us, Joey. That’s why we get along so well. That, and we’re the only queers in this dump.”

She wasn’t wrong. Tash and I had been friends since high school. We’d both been outcasts back then too. Socially awkward fifteen-year-olds who somehow ended up sticking together until now, almost twenty years later. We only had each other, only trusted each other.

While Tash busied herself throwing darts at Dale’s face, I focused on getting this project sanded and ready for staining.

There wasn’t really enough work here for both of us, but fuck dealing with people on my own. While I preferred working in the shop, we occasionally took on handiwork in houses or renovations. Tash definitely didn’t make it easier, in fact, she often caused more problems. But I still preferred keeping her with me rather than dealing with people on my own.

Dad had long since given up on trying to get me to take over the farm. He didn’t understand it, the twisting feeling deep inside me whenever he roped me into helping him out there. Farm work made my neck itch and my chest tighten just as much as crowds did. He’d been disappointed, sure, and with Jacob gone, it meant my parents had to list the place for sale when they couldn’t manage it on their own anymore. But as long as I promised him I wouldn’t leave Hollow Creek, he didn’t push me on it.

“We going hunting tonight?” Tash asked.

“Yep.”

“Fuck yes.”

There was a restlessness rising inside me. A combination of Dad’s visit, looking at Dale’s ugly mug on that poster, and the bone-deep rage that never truly left me.

It built up quickly. Lately, even faster than usual.

Sometimes, going for a walk through the woods was all it would take to calm it. The trees soothed me like nothing else could. But sometimes it weren’t enough. There was a pull inside me like a magnet that urged me to go deeper. To wander further. Far beyond the hiking tracks and known paths. I’d spent days getting lost in those woods. Searching for… something… never feeling like I’d found it.

Then there were the days like today, when I was angry instead of lost. Filled with a rage that felt older than I was. I wanted to destroy things. I wanted to hurt people in a way I couldn’t remember ever being hurt, and yet it felt like vengeance.

“Should be a full moon tonight. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Tash beamed as she strolled over to the tools, no doubt looking for something new to use as a weapon.

“They ain’t werewolves.” I huffed.

“We don’t know what they are, Joey. But they ain’t human either. They only come at night, so you can’t be sure they aren’t affected by the moon phases.”

I rolled my eyes, but I hoped she were right. At times like this, hunting was the only way to get out the feelings festering deep inside me.

A lot of people thought my dad was crazy. And while there definitely weren’t aliens in these woods, there were things that weren’t human. Of course, I’d never tell him that.

If he knew there were monsters in the forest that stole voices and faces, he’d probably never sleep again. And maybe that was the normal reaction one should have to learning about those things. But for me and Tash? We sought them out. Putting black-blooded, limb-twisted bodies in the dirt like it was a hobby.

Most men in Hollow Creek considered themselves hunters. But they had no idea what was out there, hunting them back.

We knew what lurked in the darkness, though. And we hunted it first.

16

JOSIAH

I woke up crying.

The dream did what it always did and faded from my mind the moment my eyes opened to a dark, cold room. My limbs were stiff, my fingers numb and frozen. The blankets were wet and heavy on my damp skin.

It’s just sweat.

I knew that, logically. It was always sweat. Even though the lingering metallic scent told me it had to be blood.

What if it’s blood?

The skin on my neck was cold. Split. My chest. Split open.

It’s not.