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"Madone," Muzzy gasped. "You got yourself a goddamn werewolf." |
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The kid was naked and filthy, his face and body covered with coarse black hair, even the thick-knobbed hands. He looked at Muzzy and growled, his white teeth flashing against red gums, his eyes mostly pupils. The sight took Muzzy's breath away. |
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"I think he's beautiful," Jerry said. |
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"Beautiful? I think you're nuts," Muzzy said. He looked back at the kid. "I mean, what is it?" |
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"Name's Matthew. He's twelve." |
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A week had passed since that day in the woods when he had fired the dope-laden dart into the kid and replaced him with the body of that street hustler from the train station. What startled Jerry was how fast Matty was changing. |
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"You steal him from Barnum and Bailey or something? I mean, look at it. It's a freak." Muzzy stepped back from the cage. |
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Jerry grinned. "He's got an unusual medical problem." |
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"Unusual medical problem? I'll say. Gives me the goddam creeps." |
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Matty hunched over to the bucket of water on the floor. He raised it with his hands and guzzled it noisily. When he had emptied it, he banged it against the floor. |
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"Wants a refill," Jerry said with a smile. |
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Muzzy muttered, "Where you get it?" |
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"Around? What do you mean, around? I mean, somebody's missing a twelve-year-old caveman or whatever the fuck it is. Where'd he come from, all's I want to know?" |
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