Hair in All The Wrong Places (5 page)

He lay chained to a table in a white laboratory surrounded by men in white coats and surgical masks observing him. Colin began to panic as he tried to move his arms but they were restrained to the table.

“What are you doing to me?” said Colin in a young sounding voice.

“It's quite all right, son,” answered one of the doctors. “We just want to examine you and study that thing inside you.”

“What thing? What are you talking about? Where's my dad? What happened at the cabin?”

A nurse appeared with a syringe.

“What are you going to do with that?” asked the boy.

“Just relax,” said the nurse.

Colin felt a pin prick, and then the world turned woozy and—

He was in what looked like a cave, or maybe a catacomb, flickering torches hanging from the walls, the air was musty and old. Looking down at the body he now inhabited, Colin noted he was naked and, thankfully, a man. His left foot was shackled to the wall by a long, rusty chain.

Thirteen men in white hooded robes that hid their faces stood in front of him. One swung incense while another read from a book. It sounded Italian or maybe Spanish. Colin had never been any good with languages. But he could smell the fear in the men or priests or whatever they were. And it made him angry. “Let me go!” said Colin. His voice was low and guttural. Commanding.

The priests didn't move, and the reader continued.

“If you don't let me go, you're all going to be sorry,” said Colin.

The reader pulled back his hood to reveal a cross tattooed on his forehead. The old man was bald, and his skin had a weathered quality that looked like he'd spent time at sea. He smelled of incense and fear.

“It is not right that you exist, my son,” said the priest, making the sign of the cross. “You are not fit for this world. Whatever manner of evil brought this upon you, we will extinguish it here tonight.”

“You're an idiot,” said Colin. “I feel amazing. There is nothing wrong with me.”

“You have killed without remorse,” accused the priest.

“I killed thieves and murderers. I did a service. This power I have, it's good.”

“You are possessed, my son.”

“And who are you that you think you can take it away from me?”

“We are the ones that would protect you.”

“I will tell you one last time. Let me go.”

“This we cannot do,” said the priest.

“So. Be. It.”

Colin felt something inside him surge. Like
butterflies in your stomach at first, then quickly turning into a burning sensation that raced through every limb, muscle, and sinew. The hair on his arms stood on end, and bone began to crack as Colin screamed. The priests ran in a panic, trying to escape the catacomb as Colin was consumed in blinding pain—

Colin sat up in bed in a cold sweat. It was his own bed. He wasn't a man, a woman, large dog, or anything else unnatural. He was just Colin. And he was in his bed. The illuminated numbers on his alarm clock read 6:00 a.m.

How did I get home? Did I dream everything?

He tried to piece together the events from the night before. He remembered sneaking out while the town meeting was on and stealing his grandfather's car to go see his parents. He remembered the alley and Mr. Emerson and the strange man. He remembered driving out of town and seeing Becca, and he remembered turning onto the forestry road … but nothing else. Horrible dreams had plagued his sleep. Something to do with blood and priests and …

It was like trying to pick up water with a pair of tweezers. He couldn't fully remember anything.

S
neaking across the hall so as not to disturb his grandmother, Colin crept into the bathroom, carefully closing the door and locking it. After unsuccessfully trying to recall the events of the previous night, Colin decided a shower was the best course of action. He felt grubby, for lack of a better word. He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Still the same loser as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. His reflection looked back at him, still in agreement.

Colin removed his underwear, which apparently was the only thing he had slept in, and turned on the hot water. Stepping into the shower and closing his eyes, Colin let the water pour over his face and body. He fumbled for the soap on its usual ledge and turning around, opened his eyes, coming face to face with a giant wolf-man. It was standing in his shower looking down at him. Colin
didn't scream or shriek; he just slipped easily into a blind panic, dropping the soap, and tried to scramble out of the shower, slipped on the soap he had dropped, and fell backward toward the creature. He made a grab for the shower curtain, missed, and collapsed into the bathtub again. He'd expected to fall into the creature, but it was gone as if it had never been there in the first place. Colin scrambled up, flinging the curtain open to see if the creature was in the bathroom.

It wasn't.

But his grandmother was.

She stood in the open doorway, ninety pounds of bitter old woman with bright pink rollers in her hair and wearing an ancient looking nightgown. Her blind eyes stared in Colin's direction who unnecessarily covered his private areas with his hands, looking sheepish.

“Uh, Grandma, I … ”

“You're making a lot of noise!” barked his grandmother.

“I'm sorry. It was just—”

“How am I supposed to get my beauty sleep with you in here treating my bathtub like it's a playground?”

“I … I slipped.”

“Frightened me half to death banging around like that!” His grandmother stepped out and slammed the door. “And lock the door when you use the bathroom!” she called from behind the door.

I did lock the door. Didn't I?

Colin tried to recall, but his memory was playing tricks on him. He closed the curtain and quickly washed. Shutting off the water, he opened the curtain and then closed it again. Something had caught his eye. There was
a rip in the shower curtain, four rips to be exact. Four perfect gashes that sliced diagonally across the curtain.

Creepy.

Colin's brain was a logical one, not really all that creative unless you count some marginally impressive finger paintings he'd done in the third grade. The sketchy memory from the previous night, the giant creature he hallucinated in his shower, the gash in the shower curtain, the locked bathroom door. None of it made any sense, and that troubled Colin. It troubled him while he dried off, it troubled him when he got dressed, and it troubled him as he walked down the stairs.

His grandmother had already taken her place in front of the TV, so Colin ducked into the small kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. Still hungry, he ate two cartons of yogurt and drank the remainder of the milk. After the milk, he made some toast and piled it with peanut butter.

I'm so hungry! What is wrong with me?

Once he had consumed the toast, he started searching the pantry and for the lack of anything better, ended up eating an entire package of beef jerky. He was happily tearing through the dried meat when he was suddenly very aware of the time.

School!

Colin raced down the hallway and out the front door before his grandmother had a chance to bark at him for being late/dressing strange/being an idiot. The sky was overcast as usual, and parts of Elkwood were shrouded in fog. Colin ran for the bus stop but arrived just in time to see the retreating taillights of the school bus. Another day
of being late. Maybe even another detention.

Great. No memory, hallucinations, and the appetite of a bear after hibernation. How can this day get any worse?

And then it started raining.

Colin arrived onto school grounds as the bell rang to indicate the beginning of class, his heart sank as he rounded the corner of the main building and came face to face with Principal Hebert.

“Well hello, Mr. Strauss. First you skip out on checking in after detention yesterday and now you're late once again. I have the distinct feeling of deja vu. Might you be sharing the same feeling this morning?” said Principal Hebert.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Hebert. I—”

“Miss the bus again, did we?”

“Well, yes, but well, you see—”

“Oh, there's more?” said Principal Hebert. “Come on, Mr. Strauss. Enlighten me.”

Colin stared at Principal Hebert. Principal Hebert stared back. People were always trying to push Colin into doing things he didn't want to. He hated that feeling. Maybe it was the disorientation, the food, maybe even the weather was finally getting to him but he decided to do something about it.

“Last night I tried to run away, met a floating man in a back alley, and then blacked out and ended up back in
my bed. This morning when I woke up, I found a giant wolf-man in my shower and then I ate half the contents of my kitchen. And that, Mr. Hebert, is why I'm late.”

Colin's chest hurt, his pulse was racing, and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Principal Hebert raised an eyebrow. “That's much more interesting than you missing the bus, Mr. Strauss. Try and make it on time in future.”

Colin slowly sidestepped around the large, scary authoritarian and ran up the rest of the steps into the building.

Once inside, he leaned against a wall. His heart was trying to pound out of his chest, and he had a splitting headache. At a water fountain, Colin threw some water on his face, trying to collect himself.

He knocked lightly on the door to the biology classroom and pushed open the door.

“Mr. Strauss!” barked Mr. Winter.

Colin actually jumped. He'd been expecting Mrs. Davenport again, but it looked like Mr. Winter was feeling better.

“Take a seat quickly please. We have a lot to cover, and I'm in no mood for your tardiness today.”

Colin slouched his way to the empty stool next to Jeremy who was looking his usual spritely self.

Leaning over, Jeremy asked in a whisper, “Detention again?”

Colin shook his head. “Let me off with a warning.”

“Today we're going to study the brain,” said Mr. Winter. “Although most of you seem to be missing yours, there's no reason not to study it in case you happen to
come across one. While I fully expect the majority of you to fail the inevitable test that will follow our line of study today, I do encourage you all to try your hardest despite the fact you're all idiots.”

This was new. Mr. Winter was cruel and callous often alluding to insults and playing on the edge of being rude. But this was much too straightforward, even for him.

Maybe he's still not feeling well.

“Turn to page thirty-four in your textbooks and start reading.” Mr. Winter sat down at his desk and closed his eyes.

Colin looked to Jeremy for an answer, but his friend just shrugged.

The rest of the class started reaching for their textbooks, so Colin did the same. His head felt like it was trying to split in half. It felt like his brain was humming, a sort of buzzing or static sound.

“You okay, Colin?” said Jeremy. “You look a little pale.”

The entire class was beginning to notice him.

Colin stared at Jeremy who was still talking, but Colin couldn't hear him over the static in his head. He looked back at the rest of the class. All the usual suspects were present. Tori was seductively tracing her pen along her jaw line while she read.

That buzzing!

Gareth Dugan was in his usual spot along with Kevin Hadfield, but henchman number two, Sam Bale, was absent today.

There was Becca, looking gorgeous like always. Her eyeliner was especially dark today. Either that or she was
just really tired.

The goth twins, Micah and Nathaniel, were sitting together in the back, staring at Colin. That was weird in itself, but what really tipped the scales was that they both looked incredibly worried. Or angry. He couldn't tell.

Colin lurched unnaturally as he lost control of his body and almost fell off his stool. Jeremy was shaking him. The buzzing in his head was numbing, he could barely hear anything, and the splitting pain in his head almost blinded him. He wiped a hand across his face and it came away wet. He was sweating. Not just sweating, he was practically leaking.

Finally, a bit of popularity.

Colin smiled drunkenly and fell off his stool but quickly scrambled to his feet.

“What on earth is going on, Mr. Strauss?” snapped Mr. Winter.

Colin staggered toward the door using the tables as support and muttered something about the bathroom. He crashed out of the door and collapsed in the hallway as Mr. Winter started to shout something but was cut off as the door swung shut.

The floor felt cool on his face, but he scrambled to his feet and made his way down the hallway toward the bathroom. He couldn't seem to get his arms and legs to work properly.

Managing to turn on a tap, he splashed water on his already damp face.