cabin fever. The agents bring us food
and we never go out, so let’s go.” Once he got in, she added in a
more placating tone, “I’ll stay in the car once we get there,
okay?”
Thinking that this was a very bad idea, but
having no choice, Harry started the motor. “You get carsick,
remember?”
“ It’s just down the hill. And I don’t want
to run in the daytime.”
“ Yeah... okay.”
Misgivings aside, Harry revved the motor and
took off. A few minutes later, they arrived at a convenience store.
He went in, grabbed a basket and began to load it up. Razors, candy
bars, a few items for Anastasia... check. He took the basket over
to the cash register, where an extremely overweight man in his
forties sat behind a counter, reading a newspaper and ignoring the
world.
In addition to him, there were three other
people in the store, two large young men who looked like
weightlifters—thick necks and torsos—and a young kid, maybe fifteen
or so. The kid darted around, filling up a small basket, and one of
the big men stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Try going
around me.”
Harry heard the sneer in man’s voice and a
pang of painful memories resounded in his mind. Punking time... and
this kid was the one being punked. Short and skinny, he reminded
Harry of himself before the transformation. While he wasn’t any
taller now—he stood around five-eight and weighed maybe
one-sixty—he was far stronger and faster than he looked.
“ I need to buy something,” the kid piped
out in a high-pitched voice.
“ Buy it somewhere else,” the large dude
responded.
Casting a frightened and resigned glance
around him, the kid put down his basket and took off, which
provoked a snicker from the bigger man and his friend. This was all
wrong, Harry thought, but he wasn’t about to cause trouble.
Things—he had to buy things, and he went over
to the counter. The man did nothing except to whistle tonelessly
under his breath and read his newspaper. “Excuse me,” Harry said
after waiting a minute for a response and not getting one. He
rapped the counter and waited. Why people had to be rude was beyond
him, but he didn’t make the rules. He just tried to be polite. “I’d
like to buy these things, please.”
With glacial slowness, the man put down the
paper and turned around as if he was doing the world a favor by
doing so. Once he got a good look at Harry, a look of alarm crossed
his face. “Hey, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but what’s
wrong with your eyes and what’s with the fur? Are you an actor or
just a freak?”
That remark crossed over from rude into
asshat territory. Harry had always shaved on a daily basis. His
body, no, it retained a light coating of fur, but his face, once
clean, looked almost human. Not that he minded looking as he did.
It was what others thought that concerned him.
As for his eyes, he silently cursed for not
wearing his sunglasses. He usually wore them in public, but in his
haste, he’d forgotten them inside the car. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s
all good,” he said.
The two other guys in their twenties, big,
beefy, with overdeveloped biceps and t-shirts cut to display their
arm growth overheard the question. One of them nudged the other and
they ambled over. “Hey Tim,” one of them said to the cashier. “Is
this guy giving you trouble or what?”
“ There’s no trouble,” said Harry, trying
to avoid a conflict. Before the transformation, he would have
backed off. He’d been skinny and weak and got used to being picked
on, beaten up and discarded like so much of yesterday’s garbage.
But that was before, not now. Still, he didn’t see this as a
life-or-death situation.
Unfortunately, the other two guys did. The
man who’d spoken poked him on the shoulder. “You got a problem,
buddy?”
“ I don’t know, Mark,” the older man said.
In a split second, his look of surprise changed to one of meanness,
his mouth twisting into a slit. “I heard about
and we never go out, so let’s go.” Once he got in, she added in a
more placating tone, “I’ll stay in the car once we get there,
okay?”
Thinking that this was a very bad idea, but
having no choice, Harry started the motor. “You get carsick,
remember?”
“ It’s just down the hill. And I don’t want
to run in the daytime.”
“ Yeah... okay.”
Misgivings aside, Harry revved the motor and
took off. A few minutes later, they arrived at a convenience store.
He went in, grabbed a basket and began to load it up. Razors, candy
bars, a few items for Anastasia... check. He took the basket over
to the cash register, where an extremely overweight man in his
forties sat behind a counter, reading a newspaper and ignoring the
world.
In addition to him, there were three other
people in the store, two large young men who looked like
weightlifters—thick necks and torsos—and a young kid, maybe fifteen
or so. The kid darted around, filling up a small basket, and one of
the big men stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Try going
around me.”
Harry heard the sneer in man’s voice and a
pang of painful memories resounded in his mind. Punking time... and
this kid was the one being punked. Short and skinny, he reminded
Harry of himself before the transformation. While he wasn’t any
taller now—he stood around five-eight and weighed maybe
one-sixty—he was far stronger and faster than he looked.
“ I need to buy something,” the kid piped
out in a high-pitched voice.
“ Buy it somewhere else,” the large dude
responded.
Casting a frightened and resigned glance
around him, the kid put down his basket and took off, which
provoked a snicker from the bigger man and his friend. This was all
wrong, Harry thought, but he wasn’t about to cause trouble.
Things—he had to buy things, and he went over
to the counter. The man did nothing except to whistle tonelessly
under his breath and read his newspaper. “Excuse me,” Harry said
after waiting a minute for a response and not getting one. He
rapped the counter and waited. Why people had to be rude was beyond
him, but he didn’t make the rules. He just tried to be polite. “I’d
like to buy these things, please.”
With glacial slowness, the man put down the
paper and turned around as if he was doing the world a favor by
doing so. Once he got a good look at Harry, a look of alarm crossed
his face. “Hey, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but what’s
wrong with your eyes and what’s with the fur? Are you an actor or
just a freak?”
That remark crossed over from rude into
asshat territory. Harry had always shaved on a daily basis. His
body, no, it retained a light coating of fur, but his face, once
clean, looked almost human. Not that he minded looking as he did.
It was what others thought that concerned him.
As for his eyes, he silently cursed for not
wearing his sunglasses. He usually wore them in public, but in his
haste, he’d forgotten them inside the car. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s
all good,” he said.
The two other guys in their twenties, big,
beefy, with overdeveloped biceps and t-shirts cut to display their
arm growth overheard the question. One of them nudged the other and
they ambled over. “Hey Tim,” one of them said to the cashier. “Is
this guy giving you trouble or what?”
“ There’s no trouble,” said Harry, trying
to avoid a conflict. Before the transformation, he would have
backed off. He’d been skinny and weak and got used to being picked
on, beaten up and discarded like so much of yesterday’s garbage.
But that was before, not now. Still, he didn’t see this as a
life-or-death situation.
Unfortunately, the other two guys did. The
man who’d spoken poked him on the shoulder. “You got a problem,
buddy?”
“ I don’t know, Mark,” the older man said.
In a split second, his look of surprise changed to one of meanness,
his mouth twisting into a slit. “I heard about
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