Page 19

He stepped back, lost. How…?

His knees ached. He looked down and found bruising on his knees and some road rash on his hands. Evidence.

But it had bitten him too, hadn’t it?

The memory was so vivid. It had to have happened.

He turned and snatched up the small bathroom trashcan. Sure enough, there was half a roll of toilet paper stuffed inside, now a rusty brown.

He’d been bleeding. That was real.

So how was it gone now?

Will walked out of the bathroom in a daze, and went back to the front door. The pile of wet clothing was still there on the linoleum, and water had leaked out of it in a puddle. His shoes were with it, covered in muck.

It made no sense.

Will went back down the hallway to his bedroom, and then back to the bathroom to check in the mirror again.

Still no bite.

Under the sink he found his bottle of ibuprofen and dry swallowed two for his aching knees.

Had he imagined the part with the bite?

But there was blood in the trash bin.

So how…?

His mind spun and spun through the facts. He found himself wandering back into the main room, then opening his refrigerator. It contained an open can of baked beans, a jug of water, some random condiments, and half a tub of margarine.

Maybe some food would help get his head on straight.

Will grabbed the can and a fork from the drawer, and sat at the kitchen table. He shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth, and then scraped the can for every bit of the sweet sauce.

What had happened, Will decided, was that he’d run into something impossible. A creature no one had ever mentioned or talked about before. It had appeared before him, and he’d had… interactions with it.

He scrubbed a hand over his face just thinking it. Had he really done all that?

There was enough evidence to believe it had happened. And maybe his shoulder could heal over night if that creature was some kind of fantastical, impossible, magical thing.

Magic?

He reached for his unmarred shoulder. It hadn’t seemed otherworldly though. At the time it had felt so real. Every wet, strange, messy detail of it had felt viscerally real.

So maybe he’d imagined the last part, the bite. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.

And to that, how had he gotten home?

Will laughed at himself. He remembered fleeing the water and staggering around the trailer, taking his clothing off, but between those two points, there was nothing.

Will sighed, tilting his head up to stare at the front window. The light was shifting from blue to yellow as the sun rose. Minutes ticked by. He needed to get ready soon. He had work.

A part of him had the thought to call out, if only so he could lay in bed and have a more extended crisis.

But Will didn’t own a home phone. He couldn’t call to say he wasn’t coming in. If he walked to the grocery to tell Adrián, he might as well just stay and work his shift. He needed the money.

Will turned to look at the pile of muddy clothes by the front door. He didn’t have another pair of shoes. He needed to clean those so he could wear them today.