Pete was waving fiery arcs all over the place, at times coming close enough to hitting himself that Jim thought he was about to see another friend die. His friend looked like he would most likely set himself on fire long before he ever reached Jim. Wanting to avoid either scenario Jim hastily stepped back and called out to Pete hoping he could snap his friend out of whatever demented nightmare he might be caught in.
“Pete!” he yelled. “Calm down! It’s me Jim! Stop waving those damn things around for a minute and think!” He was afraid Pete might be so far gone that he wouldn’t recognize him. Jim watched as he got closer and closer. It didn’t appear Pete was going to stop until he was almost within attacking range. Almost tripping over his own feet Pete skidded to an abrupt stop roughly ten feet from Jim. Deep throaty breathing burst heavily from his direction obviously caused by his short run.
“Jim?” whined a hesitant voice after a few tense seconds, “Is that really you?” As he spoke Jim saw the branches lower slightly. That was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die. The pain and sorrow in Pete’s voice cut Jim to his very being. If it hadn’t been for the threat of imminent attack he would’ve rushed over the few remaining feet to his friend and hugged him like the brother he was. Then he saw the torches again and thought he’d better wait until he was sure Pete wasn’t going to brain him.
“Yeah Petey, it’s really me,” he answered with tears creeping into his eyes. “Why don’t you put those things down before you hurt someone? Then maybe we can go back to your house and have ourselves a little talk.”
Pete took a few steps closer, obviously straining his eyes to see him. With no other warning than a quick sob and a flash of discarded weapons Jim found himself being rushed. He only had a few seconds to react to what was happening. His first instinct was to back up or try to jump out of the way but that was quickly forgotten as Pete reached him and threw his arms around him. The thrashing Jim was expecting didn’t come. Instead he found himself in a great bear hug of the type a little kid might give and adult. A minute ago he was sure he was about to be bludgeoned to death by his only remaining childhood friend but instead he was pleasantly surprised.
Pete was obviously a person of unexpected mood swings.
If the rush and sudden burst of affection was unexpected what was even more unexpected was that as Jim put his arms around Pete to return his hug he could feel his friends’ body shaking with great, raking sobs. The sound of them reached Jim’s ear and forced a few tears of his own out.
“It is you,” Pete repeated over and over through his tears. Knowing that Pete needed to be held more than he needed to be let go, Jim hugged him back and realized while doing it that he needed it too.
They stood in that position for several minutes before Pete finally pulled away. When they finally did separate Jim realized he’d been crying and hadn’t even known it. Pete was still crying a little and talking to himself but unfortunately it was getting more and more incoherent. Jim thought he heard something about a “fucking purple dinosaur” or something along those lines but he wasn’t sure. Having no idea what his friend was talking about he shrugged and waited until his friend had exhausted his imaginary conversation.
While waiting Jim had a chance to get a better look at what his friend had become. By the flickering firelight Jim found that time had not been kind to poor Pete. The pitiful sight before him had always been smaller than everyone else but now he looked like some kind of demented dwarf with only vague similarities to the man he’d once been. Standing at a whole five foot four inches there wasn’t much to him. Since their last meeting Pete had looked as if he’d somehow turned in on himself. He’d gotten quite a bit stockier and looked almost fat, but if the bear hug he’d received was any indication looks had definitely been deceiving. His raven black hair now hung down in his face and was quite a bit longer than it needed to be and definitely a lot dirtier than it should’ve been. It was so thick that Jim could barely see any of Pete’s face through it all. This was probably a good thing since it smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in a while.
“It’s good to see you again,” Pete stuttered, gazing out into the darkness. “But let’s go back to the house where it’s safe. My fires need tending and shouldn’t be left for long. They must never go out when night comes.” Stooping down without another eerie word Pete picked up the two barely burning branches he’d discarded earlier and started towards the house.
Jim, caught slightly off guard by his friends words, followed the waddling form ahead of him trying not to trip over any of the holes in the road that were waiting for him. Pete reached the house first but didn’t stop to wait for Jim. Instead, he continued on towards the back not even looking over his shoulder to make sure his friend was there. He seemed more worried that the roaring fires would go out than anything else. Jim thought there was no need to worry about that happening. They were actually quite a bit bigger than they should be. Especially this close to the woods and definitely bigger than any one person could handle.
Just before turning around the back corner of the house Pete paused and grabbed some wood from a nearby pile. Jim tried taking advantage of this momentary stop to make up some distance between them but Pete still beat him and was out of sight by a few steps. In his haste to catch up with Pete Jim tripped over something in the dark and half fell half tripped into the back yard. Falling to the ground he quickly pushed himself up brushing off as he did so. After he was as clean as he could get he looked up and didn’t know what to think of the sight that greeted him. He’d heard of a living hell before but never thought he’d see it. Now he had. Hell had finally come to earth. That was the only thing he could think as his eyes watered from the heat cast by the fires.
There were four separate bonfires burning about twenty feet from the back of the house. Scattered haphazardly around the yard were piles of wood and what looked like an assortment of different sized cans of gas and kerosene. Some appeared empty, at least Jim hoped they were since they were laying on their sides, but others, which must’ve been full, were sitting upright and much too close to the fires. It was those that made Jim’s skin crawl. He could just imagine one bursting and turning him into a Jim-kabob. Not exactly a pleasant thought.
Heat wafted out in waves that could be felt all the way over where he was standing. Knowing that if it was this hot where he was he didn’t even want to think about the temperature where the cans were. With every passing second he was surer and surer they were going to blow. He moved to grab the closest one so he could move it to a safer spot but Pete turned on him viciously yelling.
“Don’t touch that!” he screamed. “Leave it where it is!”
Jim, faced by the crazy Pete once again, quickly backed up to where he’d been and watched as the man he’d once known returned to his task. Over the crackling of the fires Jim could still hear Pete mumbling to himself. Moving from one conflagration to the next Jim saw Pete’s lips moving. He actually managed to catch a word every now and then but still couldn’t make any sense of what he was hearing. He was beginning to see that Pete did indeed have many problems he needed help with, the least of which was the mumbling. Seeing no hope of reasoning with Pete, Jim looked around the yard trying to decide what to do.
Thinking he’d seen all the strangeness Pete and his yard had to offer he was horrified when his eyes settled on what lay at the immediate rear of the house.
The four windows running along the back had been hit many times by God only knew what. If it’d been rocks he knew he’d see just maybe a piece here or there missing. Most likely a bunch of holes. These windows instead looked as if whole boulders had been heaved through them but that wasn’t the worst part. Around most of the holes was stuff that looked like pieces of flesh. Dried ragged hunks of blackened meat hung from some of the windows looking like jerky left too long to smoke. That was bad enough but what he saw next was enough to make his stomach heave.