“Goatman.”
Paul and I turned to Perry. He was staring at the screen with a blank expression. “Definitely the Goatman.”
“What’s a Goatman?” I asked.
Perry’s eyebrows rose and his head dipped slightly as it swiveled to me and then Paul. “You guys are joshing me, right? You’re telling me you’ve never heard of the Goatman? Either of you?”
Embarrassed, I backtracked. “Well, sure I’ve heard of him but not a whole lot. Just rumors really. What do you know about him?”
“Uh-huh.” Perry didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, this is clearly the work of the Goatman. He’s been killing dogs for years now. I remember hearing stories about him when I was younger than you dorks—and it’s not just animals he’s after. A couple of years ago, they found two bodies out by Allen’s Pond, a girl and guy. They were all chopped up into tiny bits by some maniac with an ax. They never solved the case, but everyone says it was the Goatman that got them.”
Something about what Perry said wasn’t adding up. Although I was all for a good boogeyman story, it needed to be well-constructed for me to invest in it. “Wait a minute. If this is the same guy, then –”
“Goatman,” Perry interrupted.
“Right. If this is the Goatman in both cases, why would he be ripping up dogs one day and chopping up kids with an ax on another? It seems weird. If he had the strength to kill two dogs with his bare hands, why would he bother with an ax?”
Perry glared at me like I had a hole bored straight through my head. “Dude, he’s a Goatman. That’s weird. The fact that he kills dogs and people with his hands or an ax isn’t that strange.”
“So,” Paul chimed in, “where did he come from?”
“No one knows for sure,” Perry said. “But rumor has it he was a scientist working on some secret genetics testing, and something went wrong.”
Yet another sign of poor craftsmanship. I couldn’t help myself. “Hmm.”
Perry scowled at me. “Hmm, what?”
“Well, what kind of genetics testing would you use a goat for? If they were looking to make some kind of human animal weapon, why not use a gorilla or a tiger, or something like that?”
“Or maybe a snake or lizard.” Paul added.
“Exactly,” I said. “All of those are cool. A goat is just…goofy.”
“What, are you two scientists all of a sudden? I’m just telling you what I heard. Besides, it doesn’t matter. He’s out there, and he’s been hunting down people and dogs for a long, long time. Ax or no ax, the Goatman is real, and he’s on the hunt.”
His words brought with them the memory of my narrow escape on the bike trail and the warnings uttered by the hidden things. He’s watching you. My silence must have encouraged Perry.
“Come to think of it, you two chumps would make for a pretty good Goatman snack. If I were you guys, I’d stick close to home this summer, probably not mess around much after dark. Otherwise,” Perry leaned back in his chair, slowly tilting his head from side to side, “well, you never know.”
Luckily for us, the voice of Paul Shaffer drew Perry’s attention to the television and away from his taunts. After watching SNL, Paul and I crashed out in sleeping bags in the family room, and Perry headed upstairs.
As we drifted off to sleep, I whispered to Paul, “See, I wasn’t imagining things on the bike trail.”
“I know. Sorry about that.”
Silence fell upon the dark room and lingered for a minute until Paul said, “What now?”
Whatever wickedness was stirring up had all started at White Marsh. Yes, it was more of a gut feeling than a brain feeling, but it was still a powerful feeling. “I kind of want to go back there.”
“What? You mean to the place you were almost killed? You crazy?”
“I won’t go alone, and I won’t go so close to nightfall. You’ll be with me and maybe a few others. I don’t think whatever is there will attack a group of people. Too many witnesses.”
“How can you be sure it won’t kill us all?”
“I think it’s trying not to attract too much attention. That’s why it hid from me at first. It didn’t make a move until it knew I was alone. Like I said, no witnesses.”
More silence.
Paul yawned. “Well if you want me to come, you’re going to have to wait.”
“Why?”
“Thought I told you. Tomorrow we’re heading to Ocean City. Won’t be back until Friday.”
“Dude! I need you there with me. You’re the only person that knows about this.”
“Then I guess you have stay cool for a week.”
“What the heck am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Don’t know… maybe you can try and convince Steve to come with us.”
“Please?” I begged. “Steve has zero interest in anything I have to say. Now that he’s gonna be a senior, he wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with his fifteen-year-old brother. Not that we were hanging out much anyways.”
“Yeah, same with me and Perry. Guess they think they’re big shots ’cause they can drive and go to parties that have beer and stuff. Anyway, don’t do anything stupid while I’m away,” Paul said.
“Nah, I’ll wait till you get back.”
I thought about telling Paul about the walk over to his house, but the details were already getting fuzzy. The sad truth of it was, I wasn’t entirely sure what happened myself. Being a little nuts could be frustrating at times—especially when monsters were after you.
Chapter 4
Sunday opened with a gray sky that darkened—along with my mood—as the day progressed. I was bored out of my mind. Although I could hang out with other neighborhood kids, most were older like Steve and Perry or much younger like my sister. I was nibbling on the crust of a PB&J while zoning out in front of the television when I heard my mom’s voice coming from the kitchen.
“Chris, I would like for you to do something nice for me today,” she said.
A soft groan slipped from my mouth. “Oookay, what is it?”
“A new family has moved into that white rancher on Spiral. They are very nice, and there is a young man there who is about your age. Kevin McNamara is his name. I told his mother you would pay him a visit.”
Only eleven-thirty and the day was getting crappier by the second. In response, I released one long, loud sigh.
My mom, Maureen Dwyer, was a sweet and loving mother, but she was nobody’s fool and had no tolerance for whining from any of her children. Her New England accent grew thick along with the sternness in her voice. “Christopher Brennan Dwyer, he is new here and has no friends! You will go over to his house and you will welcome him to the neighborhood. As I recall, his mother said he enjoys some of the same games that you do. What is that one called, Dragons and Wizards?”
Parents were so clueless. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons, Mom.”
“The name isn’t important. What is important is you going over there and being a gracious neighbor. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Dragging my feet along the pavement, I started the two block walk to the new kid’s house. Why my mom had to assign me Welcome Wagon duties on today of all days I’ll never know. With