Put That Kid Down

Chapter Eleven

There still hadn't been any attackers. David was starting to believe it was really over. He'd only patrolled once yesterday. Paradoxically, the idea that it was over had his tension levels up to a new high, even with solving the problem with Max behind him. Or it might have just begun. He never really knew with that kid, but the low self esteem would probably be an ongoing issue. Max didn't seem to appreciate his attempts at boosting said esteem, though, and frequently waved off any praise with an agitated series of swears.

Let David repeat it: he did not understand Max.

And he was losing his mind.

At any time - at all times, the phantom feeling of blood on his hands would taunt him, make him crave the real thing. The rush of the fight. The high of the adrenaline. The calm after he'd gotten rid of a threat, like a quiet, glowing kernel of knowing that the campers were safer than they'd been, dropping down gently to join the others in his chest. And it was horrible. He should be jumping for joy that there might never be a threat like that to the campers again.

Plus it wasn't even the might that bothered him most. The uncertainty wore at him, but the utter lack of combatants was the real issue.

The lack of killing.

From his seat at a picnic table, David had been watching the campers play a massive game of Red Rover when he admitted it to himself. Part of it was because, despite the fun they were having and the smile it brought to his face, he was still chewing on a knuckle and his knee was bouncing under the table. In the full view of the summer sun, he probably looked like an addict, and he couldn't even deny the charge.

Of course, of course he'd never be a danger to the children. But what about the rare hiker he met in the woods? The camper who wanted to rough it alone? The lone Flower Scout leader- David shut the thought down and his knee bounced higher. He couldn't. He wouldn't. For one, hunting down another human being - his mind didn't cringe from the thought so he pushed it further, deeper - an innocent human being just to calm his own nerves would be truly unforgivable. There, that brought a twinge of guilt. But it wasn't strong, and something about that sparked a small amount of panic. His mind rushed to convince itself. Even if his hands might bear the stain of innocent blood - that damn Flower Scout leader - already, it was still wrong. Even if, maybe, he'd never needed to kill the attackers at all. He certainly hadn't needed to cause them the pain he had; he'd just wanted-

...This was not heading the direction he'd intended. Instead he tried to focus on the idea of Max finding out. What if he killed an innocent person, on purpose, and Max had found out? No, worse, if Max saw and heard the whole thing and knew?

The imagined terror, the broken expression, the complete loss of any trust they may have built tugged the right strings, and David was able to be disgusted with himself again.

Good.

He blinked, he could almost imagine Max was sitting across from him now, but the look of disgust on the boy's face was real and- and so was Max, sitting there, staring at him with an expression that churned David's stomach.

"You didn't even notice Nerris fall into the bushes," Max accused, abruptly, and David was dragged back into the real world.

"Oh?" He looked up, and there was Nerris, struggling to escape the thorny hedges on the edge of the clearing, with Harrison and Nikki's help, "Oh!" Bounding up and over the table (and ignoring Max's ridiculous scrambling out of the way - David wasn't about to step on him any time soon), David jogged over and waded into the thorns, wincing a little as they poked through his protective layers and dragged against his skin, but it was not as bad as the frantic scratching of a combatant fighting for their life, so he persevered and plucked Nerris gently from the tangle. She rode out on his shoulders, above the mess, but still had to duck close to his head to avoid the low-hanging branches of the forest's edge.