Freeks(44)

24. tigris

Hutch leaned against a black trunk marked Gideon’s Magic Act in white paint, and caught his breath. The cargo trailer filled with supplies for Gideon’s act appeared to be half empty, but Hutch already looked exhausted.

It didn’t help that the temperatures were already over eighty with humidity that made it feel like the air was sticking to my skin. Hutch was shirtless, and his wiry frame was covered in a thick layer of sweat.

But I understood it. I spent the morning practicing with my crossbow at the edge of the camp. It was an old crossbow, with the stock literally held on with duct tape. It was all that we’d been able to afford, but it still shot straight, so that’s what mattered.

It’d been hard taking aim with sweat dripping down my forehead and stinging my eyes, but I managed to hit every target I aimed for.

“I come bearing gifts from Betty,” I said as I reached him and held out a big glass of lemonade.

“Thanks,” he said, and gulped it down within seconds of me handing it to him.

“Where’s Gideon?” I asked, peering into the trailer with another glass of lemonade in my hand.

“He’s down at the tent, setting stuff up.” Hutch wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. “You can leave his glass here, if you want. He’ll probably be back up in a few minutes.”

I set it down on the trunk beside him. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Not unless you can get Seth back here.” His joke felt empty, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Sorry. This just really sucks without him. I didn’t realize exactly how much we relied on his strength.”

“Gideon called the hospital today, and it sounds like Seth’s on the mend, so that’s good,” I said, relaying what I’d heard from my mom. “I don’t know when he’ll be back, though.”

Hutch squinted, staring off at nothing for a moment. “Do you think that thing we saw last night was the same thing that attacked Seth?”

“I don’t even know what we saw last night.” I shrugged. “I’m not even sure we saw anything at all.”

Hutch looked at the ground and muttered, “I saw something.”

“If it was anything, it was probably a dog,” I said.

“Luka thinks it was a coyote.” He scratched absently at his knee through a hole in his jeans. “At least that’s what he told Tim when they were arguing this morning.”

“They were arguing?” I asked.

He nodded. “Tim’s angry that Luka was chasing after this thing, and it could be a rabid animal or a psycho from town. Tim pointed out that we still don’t know who spray painted ‘freeks’ on Gideon’s trailer.”

“Well, we’ll probably never know. It’s not the first bit of unsolved vandalism we’ve come across, and it probably won’t be the last.”

“Maybe.” He stretched as he stood up. “But I hope that we’ll at least figure out what the hell is hunting us.”

For some reason, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and a chill ran down my spine. “‘Hunting us’? Don’t you think you’re being a little extreme?”

Hutch shrugged. “That’s just how it feels to me.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say to that, so I wished Hutch good luck on the rest of his unloading, and I walked across the campsite to work on my own chores.

The tigers were restless, with Mahilā making mewling sounds. I hooked the hose up and hauled it over to their pen, hoping that a cold pool would help them relax and fight the heat.

When I walked over, Zeke was already there, leaning against the fencing and watching his tigers. His fingers hooked onto the thick metal bars, and he watched as Mahilā paced. The thick scars that marred her soft golden fur looked more pink than normal. As she turned and rubbed up hard against the fence, sending tufts of fur flying, I realized that must be why her skin looked so irritated.

Since Safēda was older and hadn’t had such an abusive past, she was usually calm, preferring to lie in the shade or splash in the pool. But today she couldn’t seem to sit still.

She’d walk across the pen, then she’d turn quickly and walk back toward Zeke and me. Safēda stopped right in front of Zeke and stared up at him with her wide blue eyes.

“What is it, Saf?” Zeke asked. He reached his hand through the bars, and she leaned in toward him, allowing him to stroke her white fur. But only for a moment. Then she turned and darted across the pen again.

“The tigers are acting strange,” Zeke told me, keeping his eyes on the big cats.

“Do you think the heat’s getting to them?” I asked. “Heat can make anyone act crazy.”

“I don’t know.” He pointed to the kiddie pool in the center of the pen. “I just filled that up a half hour ago. They drank some, but then went back to the pacing.”

“I could spray them down with the hose. It might help.”

“I don’t think so.” He finally pulled his eyes off Safēda and looked at me. “I already told Roxie this, but now I’m telling you too—I don’t want you feeding the tigers or cleaning up after them or going in the pen at all. Not until we’re out of town. Is that clear?”

“But—” I began.