Savage by Thomas E. Sniegoski Page A

backyard was as chaotic as the house. They picked their way over toys and flowerpots as they descended the steps into a large yard overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. Rusty bicycle frames, old tires, car rims, and garden statuary were nearly swallowed up by the overgrowth, and there were enough birdbaths to keep all the birds that called Benediction their home very clean indeed.
    Isaac found that thought amusing, picturing cartoon birds scrubbing their backs with tiny brushes as they took their evening baths, but his musings were interrupted as a gust of wind picked up a blue kiddy pool and sent it hovering across the high grass toward them like a UFO.
    â€œYou should probably put some rocks in that,” his mother said. “Don’t want it blowing away.” She was holding on to the back stairs’ metal railing so she wouldn’t lose her balance in the wind.
    Isaac looked around and found a stone cherub lying on its side in the grass beside the house. One of its wings had been broken off, something his mother was going to fix, but never quite got around to. He walked over to the stone angel, lifted it up, and placed it atop the pool, looking up to see if his mother approved. But she’d already moved on, making her way through the grass to a metal bench just beside the run-down garage.
    â€œCome over here and help me,” she called to him, motioning with a hand. “We’ve got a lot of hungry mouths to feed.”
    He carefully navigated the yard, not wanting to trip on something hiding in the brush. But as he was concentrating so hard on his feet, another powerful gust took him totally unawares, and he stumbled after all, his shoe catching in the metal frame of an old bike and sending him to all fours in the high grass.
    â€œIsaac!” his mother called out with concern.
    But he could barely hear her, for the sound—that strange sound that he had heard primarily in his Steve ear—had come back and was louder now, making his head hum and his teeth rattle. He brought a dirt-covered hand up to his ear to turn down the sound, but only managed to make it squeal and crackle all the louder.
    â€œDon’t play with your hearing aids!” his mother yelled. “Come here and let me take a look at you.”
    He wanted to do as she asked, but the sound had frozen him in place, stealing away his ability to act. The sound had become like a voice, but a voice he could not understand, drifting in and out among the static, like a bad radio station. It was just as much inside his head as it was in his bad ear.
    It was like the sound was trying to tell him something, but no matter how hard he listened, he could not understand.
    The rain was starting to fall harder now, the moisture of the damp ground under his knees soaking into his pants. He didn’t like the fact that he was getting wet, but he could not concentrate enough to move. Even though he knew he was not supposed to touch the hearing aids, Isaac decided that he couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached up to his Steve ear to tear the device from his head.
    A hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. He looked over and saw that his mother now stood there.
    â€œWhat did I tell you?” she asked, annoyed with him. “Do you know how much those hearing aids cost us?”
    He wanted to apologize, to explain what was happening, but he was unable to speak, the sound inside his brain stealing away his ability to communicate. His mouth moved noiselessly as he tried to tell her. She continued to hold on to his wrist, preventing him from reaching his Steve ear.
    The sound was growing in his brain, making him feel wrong .
    It made him feel angry. The kind of special angry that he felt when one or more of the cats got into his room and messed things up. The kind of angry that made him want to hurt things. The sound continued to fill his head with bad feelings, and he could stand it no more.
    With a cry of desperation he tore