Frightened Boy by Scott Kelly (easy books to read in english txt) 📕

me out into the Red. You know what happens to girls like me out there? We get raped, we become slaves. Would you do that to me?"

I have watched more terrible things happen to people than I care to remember. The only reason I wasn't one of them, was because of my ability to keep my mouth shut and stay hidden.

I began walking again.

“So, where do you live?” her cheery voice sounded off behind me.

It looked like she was going to Happen all over me whether I liked it or not.

“I’m not telling you,” I said, “because you’re not coming. I don’t know you. What am I doing even talking with you? I must be out of my mind.”

My ears were pricked by the howl of a dog; I turned to see if I could spot the animal. There was no trash on the streets; people knew it would invite trouble. The feral dogs were a big problem.

I hated dogs. People got bitten, torn up, infected, and died because of the beasts. Meningitis, rabies, bacteria…I’d heard even their ticks would get you killed.

“I’ll protect you,” she offered, noticing my nervous glances. She walked up close to me and put her arm around mine. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything."

It wasn’t comforting. Instead, it was another alien act in the day’s abduction that put me off center and made me nervous.

“I don’t understand why you’d want to do this. Do you just need a place to stay? I can let you stay with me, maybe for a night. You don’t have to do all this weird shit if you’re just desperate,” I said finally.

Erika stiffened. “Of course not. It’s an experiment, like I told you. I am not a beggar, I am an artist. What you are doing is the same as standing still so I can paint your portrait,” she reasoned.

So that’s how she kept her pride. Not a prostitute, just an actor playing one.

“Except you’ll be sleeping in my house. Eating my food.”

“Gods are supposed to provide for their worshippers.”

“For months, though, and you’ll be living with me.”

“It’s gotta be real. I will be the greatest devotee you’ve ever had, I swear. I'm a performance artist, and you're my next piece."

Another howl cracked the silence, this one much closer. I became very aware that Erika and I were alone in an abandoned part of the city. Two hunched canine figures materialized out of their shadowy surroundings: a lean brown dog with a long torso and a muscular blonde dog with shaggy hair. Each were indecipherable mutt mixes that were a standing testament to the Darwinian triumph of their ancestors. They were about thirty feet away, down the street.

The canines trotted down the street directly toward us. Erika and I froze. Many citizens had been mauled by the animals, who along with the cats and rats overtook abandoned portions of the city.

“Get out of here!” I shouted shakily.

The dogs didn’t understand, or else didn't care.

Erika moved stiffly to pick up a rock from the curb and threw it. It clattered harmlessly on the ground in front of them; both dogs sniffed it idly and kept moving toward us.

“Don’t run,” she said.

I wanted to run. As the dogs approached a low vibration shook the air; the quiet growl of a hunting dog. The two animals separated, so that we were flanked by the two as they closed the gap between us.

“We need to run.”

“They’ll just chase you, don’t run,” Erika hissed.

The dog turned its attention toward me. It was snarling now, the hair on the back of its mangy neck making an effort to rise from the matted, greasy hide.

It paused a few feet away. We made eye contact. I could see its simple mind coming to a deadly decision. It crouched down on its haunches, preparing to leap at me. The muscles wound tightly, compacting into a dangerous dense space.

“Clark!” Erika cried in a sharp warning.

The dog hunched, snapping its jaws.

“It’s okay, Erika,” I said. My voice was so shaky like I was speaking into a fan. I was twelve years old again, hiding in a closet while drifters ripped the walls apart to pilfer our copper wiring.

“It’s okay, Erika,” I repeated.

If dogs could really sense anxiety, I must have looked like a wounded rabbit to them. There were fifty flavors of fear peaking through my pores.

I blinked. The dog leapt. I ran.

As I took off down the street, I could sense the dogs shadowing me. This only fueled the cycle, and my legs struck the ground with frenzied renewal.

Again, I heard that soft baying moan, the guttural growl. I pushed even harder until the only feeling in my body was the dull pain of my feet pounding the concrete. I didn’t have to look behind me to know they were keeping pace with me; their hungry, rhythmic panting was a sick chorus in my ears. I flitted in and out of alleyways, looking for anything to dart up or into.

At last I spotted a fire escape ladder hanging from one of the buildings and I clambered up it, weightless in my fear. All I could think about was the approaching onslaught of fang and claw; of the dull pressure of a dog bite jerking my body; the sensation of being torn apart drowned out by the shock of losing limbs.

I was only a few feet off the ground when the dogs slowly turned the corner into the alleyway. Two more canines had joined in the hunt. I watched them slink slyly up to where I hid, and in a moment I was surrounded.

All four resumed barking in unison. I was possessed by the bulging eyes and wet fangs of the grotesque quartet.

Erika turned the corner and shouted my name. I saw fright wash over her as she spotted the four dogs that kept me trapped up on the ladder. One by one, the dogs’ eyes turned from me to her.

A shrill whistle shattered the tension and left all parties looking about nervously.

The dogs, myself, and Erika all stared down the alleyway at an approaching figure. A woman with spectacularly thick, dark hair and olive skin, wrapped in a flowing trench coat and charcoal-colored scarf, and crowned by a towering gray hat—cone-shaped with a wide brim. She walked regally down the opposite end of the alley, moving toward us.

The newcomer was trailed by a cavalry of cats. They slithered like sea snakes through the trashcans and boxes that littered the alley. Dozens of pairs of glowing yellow eyes would appear from under some refuse in the alley and then dip into the veil of darkness, only to reappear alongside her a few feet ahead. It was impossible to gauge how many animals followed her. Their eyes twinkled like a swarm of fireflies, giving her all the impression of some luminous faerie creature.

She was undoubtedly and very obviously a Stranger—the most dangerous entity to run across outside, particularly at night. They walked the untamed darkness with no regard for their own safety, a part of some deeper plot that should not involve average citizens. It seemed to me that they were somehow in cahoots with the dangers of the night; they were on the same team as the beasts and poisons.

The woman walked into the alleyway corner where our drama was unfolding. One of her pure, white cats leapt up to me, rubbing against me affectionately. I was too afraid to push it away.

Beneath her bundled cloak was a tight black dress that clung to her. It was visible only for a moment through the many veils of thick fabric; I was half-afraid to admire her, because she seemed so confident and dangerous. The Grapes of Wrath pressed into a shapely wineglass.

The woman whistled again, this burst even louder and more shrill than the first. All attention was directed at her long coat sleeve, which was slowly rising. Cats, dogs, and the frightened children that we were all trained our vision to it.

A long, delicate finger extended from the depths of her sleeve and pointed away from the alley.

The dogs followed the path of her finger, retreating and disbanding into the darkness.

“It’s okay,” the woman said, her voice smooth and even. “You can come down. Are you alright?”

I was still paralyzed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she reassured me. “Those dogs looked mean. You shouldn’t be afraid of them though. They act however the people around them act.”

“Thank you,” Erika stuttered. “Thanks for saving us.”

The Stranger laughed a tinkling laugh.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I always appreciate a little excitement at night, don’t you?”

I tittered nervously as I climbed down the fire escape, feeling exposed as my legs dangled, seeking purchase on anything below me. At last, I let myself fall to the cement.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. The dogs are gone. And you, girl—what’s your name?”

“Erika Bronton. Pleased to meet you,” she said, breathless.

“I’m…I’m Clark,” I said as the Stranger flitted her eyes toward me. “We have to go. Thank you for saving us.”

“I’m Whisper,” the Stranger said. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the cloaked figure called again. She extended her hand as though in a peace offering; Erika took it nervously, and they shared a long handshake in which Whisper brought her other hand over Erika’s and held it there, holding the moment hostage. I was afraid the Stranger would never let go.

But then she did, and she took a step toward me.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have to go,” I said, feet moving without my consent once more.

As our feet struck the pavement in unison, I turned to look at Erika. She was the first woman in my life since the Collapse, and I’d just ousted myself as a total weakling in front of her.

“You can stay, but you probably want to go pick another God,” I said to her between desperate gulps of air. “I already almost got you killed.”

“My God is no average god,” she said, smiling.


3. Encounter

A month later.


“Lunch, breakfast,” Erika said, pointing at two different brown paper bags from her nesting place on my couch. She groaned as she leaned over, blankets and pillows draped around her, ass exposed, to grab an enormous pitcher of water she constantly sipped from.

“Thanks,” I said.

Inside the breakfast sack were two bags of pretzels and a bag of cookies. Inside the lunch bag I found sour cream chips mixed with one-third jalapeño chips. Erika was a culinary disc-jockey when it came to vending machines, but had never touched a stove in her life.

“What’re you going to do at work today?” she asked.

I sat down next to her. “Sit and watch monitors,” I said, reaching for the remote. “Let me get warmed up.”

She grabbed the device out of my hand. “No news, I