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would do if I ever lost any of you guys. Sometimes I wonder
if I made a mistake in starting us up in the first place.”
    “Fighting
monsters, you mean?”
    Chris looked
at Owen and nodded. “We’re all still kids, practically. I just wish I knew
where all these monsters came from.”
    Owen had a
troubled look on his face. “I keep wondering that, too.”
    “Maybe they
came from space,” Chris teased.
    Owen gave a
distracted grunt in response. He looked seriously worried now.
    “What’s
wrong, Owen?”
    He shook
himself back to the here and now. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were from
space, to be honest. I mean, if they’re not vampires, what else could they be?”
    “You still
don’t think they’re vampires?” Chris asked skeptically.
    “Eric said
he wasn’t.”
    “And you
trust him?”
    “Why else
would he say it if he wasn’t?”
    “To confuse
you.”
    Owen sighed.
“Well, it worked. But I think he and the others are something else. I really
do.”
    “Okay,
Owen.”
    He stared at
Chris for a moment before leaving the room without another word. Chris suddenly
felt like a jerk with his condescending tone, but could think of nothing to say
as his friend disappeared into the hallway. He would make it up to Owen
somehow.

CHAPTER
5

 
 
    Not caring about anything at
the moment, Les tossed his bag of quarters haphazardly to the floor. It was
late and he was exhausted; tonight had been too weird for him. He rubbed his
big belly and lay down on his bed. The walls of his room were covered with
posters for videogames, anime, and movies—pretty much anything considered
popular.
    That’s not
to say he was a slave to popular trends. In fact, Hero Saga was not even a popular videogame, but he loved it anyway.
The only reason the arcade kept the machine was because Les kept it well funded
every week.
    His
grandmother disapproved of so many posters. She insisted it covered up the
beautiful color her husband had painted the walls before he passed away. She
was fond of the color cyan, but Les didn’t care either way. He didn’t bombard
the walls with posters to cover up the color. He merely liked being surrounded
by his favorite things—it made him feel good and whole, and he needed that.
    Speaking of
whole, he suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He’d completely
forgotten after the encounter he’d had with Michael. Since he walked to and
from the arcade, he’d worked up an appetite. He always had to walk or take a
cab to get places because he didn’t have a car and Grandma had forbidden him
from driving hers (she disapproved of him “spending so much time playing those
god-awful ‘ vidya ’ games”). It didn’t bother him so
much since he lived right down the street from the place in which he spent much
of his time, but the walk had taken a bit out of him.
    As he tried
to work up the energy to get up from bed to make a sandwich, he cursed himself
for mentioning he lived nearby in front of Michael. That guy had been too
weird.
    Les got up
from his bed and headed to the kitchen. He knew his way around so well he
didn’t feel the need to turn on any lights.
    He froze for
a moment in the hallway just outside his room. He could have sworn he just saw
something move in the living room, in the darkness. He could also swear he felt
something else in the dark, a presence dispelling the air around it. But what?
    He was about
to flip the nearest switch to turn on the living-room light, then his stomach
growled. He patted his belly, then stared into the dark living room for a few
more seconds. He could still feel the presence, but he almost didn’t want to
know—see—what was standing there, watching him. Just make the sandwich and get back to your room, dummy!
    Once in the
kitchen, he grabbed the handle on the refrigerator door and opened it. Then he
froze upon seeing the horror that waited.
    There was a
head inside the fridge!
    Its dead
eyes were rolled up so the whites showed, its