Chapter 12
He drove to a park, and sat and opened his lunch box. It was just a sad looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mark stared at the kids playing at the park, and thought to himself that he should be either at work or playing with his own children of the park. He was an idiot, sitting here by himself. And yet, and yet he kept looking at this note. It was strange that he was sleepwalking. He had never sleepwalked before, not in his entire life.
But strange didn’t mean dangerous. Coincidence did not equal being hunted, or cursed or whatever this was. It just wasn’t the same thing.
There was a young girl playing on the monkey bars. But otherwise the park was empty, it looked like she must’ve walked there by herself. She had absent parents, and he knew the feeling. He knew what it was like to take yourself to the park because your parents wouldn’t do it. And how you go to the park, because there was nothing else to do. And because leaving the house was better than staying home. Safer than staying home.
He thought about one of the times he had gone out hunting with his father. And his dad got drunk, like he always did. And they would sit in the quiet, it was one of the few times he and his dad really got along. Because they didn’t say anything, they just sat and waited for something to come along so they could kill it. Anyways, this time, since his dad was too drunk to aim anymore, he told Mark to shoot the buck. He vividly remembered lining up the gun, while his dad dozed. A large buck wandered into view, and he took his time, holding the gun exactly straight. Sweat pouring down his face. The intense desire to chicken out was running through his frightened little seven year old body. But then, with a snort, his dad woke, and gently clapped his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Pull the trigger.” He hissed, in a slow, slurred, drunken noise.
The gun fired loud. He’d never forget the way the gun pounded into his shoulder. He got it. The buck fell. And for a rare, special moment, both son and father were happy together. He still liked hunting, it was one of the few delightful memories that he and his dad shared. He had already taken Beth and Caralina many times, trying to recreate his happiest childhood memory with his own kids.
He mindlessly munched his sandwich as he remembered, and a big black form caught his eye. He looked up, and a big black dog was running toward the playground. It looked like a pitbull, and it was running like it’s tail was on fire. His teeth were bared and he was barking. And that little kid, the one who had nobody was climbing across the monkey bars. The dog was going for her. Mark hopped out of his truck quickly, and started to run forwards towards the girl on the monkey bars. She was struggling to hold herself in the air as the dog came closer, and he was about to see her be mauled. Mark let out a scream of terror, “look out!” He said. And he tried to jump over a little park bench.
But he floundered, his toe catching on the back of the bench and he collided into the ground. He was back on his feet in a heartbeat, trying to race for the girl. He was too late. She looked at Mark, then dropped, landing on her feet. The enormous black dog immediately knocked her down. She let out a squeal, screaming. And Mark charged towards her, but the dog just licked her face.
Mark’s heart was pounding as he absorbed the scene. He wasn’t hurting her. Fuck that was scary. Mark turned and limped back to his truck. He’d skinned both his knees when he fell in his leg was hurting. But when he turned to open the car door he realized his middle finger was twisted at the wrong angle. It was only then that he realized he had broken it.
Frantically he checked the note:
Bone Snap: The second stage.
