Toby had yet to receive a single check, but quite honestly he didn't care.

Kirk sent him links to some online discussions about the strip, and Toby didn't care much about those, either. He'd started to register for the first site, decided they wanted too much personal information, and didn't bother completing the process.

He was happy just to write and draw the strip and know that it was out there.

Owen was happy for him, too. Toby had the software to draw the strip directly onto his computer, but he stuck with paper and ink and a scanner, and mostly drew the comic while spending time with the monster.

2009.

Kirk called him to let him know that he was shutting down the website, effective immediately. It wasn't a decision that came easily, but advertising had never really picked up the way he'd expected, and the site was one big time sink for him.

However, he had a friend who was looking for original content for his own website, and he'd already expressed interest in Rusty & Pugg. Rusty & Pugg.

Toby was fine with the switch. One month in, he was told that the hit count for the strip's new home was "through the roof," though the actual number meant nothing to him.

Still no check, but he didn't care.

His hands hurt, all the time, and he didn't care.

He could feel that something was wrong inside of him, but he didn't go to the doctor. He knew what it was. They'd give him chemotherapy or radiation treatment and he'd be too sick to draw. He couldn't allow that to happen. He had an audience to make happy. A faceless audience, but still an audience.

He introduced a hairy monster into the cast, and apparently it was a big hit with readers, especially when it ate a couple of bullies named Larry and Nick.

A car pulled up in front of his house after dark.

Toby cursed. He was soaking his hands in warm water to ease the pain, and didn't feel like being bothered so that some inconsiderate jerk could ask him if he believed that he would be ascending to the kingdom of heaven.

He looked through the peephole, and then opened the door. A twenty-two-year-old boy stood there and gave him a nervous smile.

"Hi, Dad."

CHAPTER T THIRTY-THREE.

2010. 65 years old.

"I wish you'd called first," said Toby. "When someone's reunited with their son for the first time in twelve or thirteen years, it's nice to be able to shave and clean up the house."

"I thought about it, but I don't know, I thought it would be weird. I'm not a phone person, I guess."

"You look good." Toby was telling the truth. Garrett had grown into a handsome, healthy young man. Opposite of his dad, that was for sure. He wore a nice watch and a wedding ring.

"Thanks."

"How's Hannah?"

"She's fine. Got into some trouble but worked through it."

"And your mom?"

"She's fine, too. You know she got remarried, right?"

"Haven't heard a word from her. But that would make sense. It's been a long time."

"Yeah. She's actually been married for quite a while now, but, you know, it's not important."

Toby nodded. "So why'd you decide to pay me a visit?"

"I hate the way things ended. The way we left you alone like that."

"It wasn't your fault. You were just a kid."

"I'm not a kid now, though. Marianne and me...here, let me show you a picture." Garrett handed Toby his cell phone, which had a photograph of a lovely brunette girl. "We've been married three years already-"

"Wow."

"I know."

"Was she pregnant?"

"Nope. We just 'got' each other, I guess, and didn't see any reason to keep shopping around. But we had a really long talk last weekend, and we decided to start trying to have a kid."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. I mean, we haven't succeeded yet, as far as I know, but we want to do this. The fringe benefits are definitely nice. But a decision like this is the kind of thing that makes you evaluate your whole life, and I look back at the day I got hurt and think, 'I can't leave things like that.'" He pulled up his sleeve and showed Toby his arm. "Look at that scar. That's how I met Marianne. I told her I was in a knife fight."

"You ever tell her the truth?"

"Oh, yeah, she called me on my bullshit in about three seconds. That's when I knew I wanted to marry her. I mean, I just told her that I broke through some wood, not about, you know..."

"Owen."

"Is he still alive?"

Toby grinned. "Sure is. Chatty as ever."

"Still in the same shack?"

"Yep."

"Can we..." Garrett looked as if he were going to cry. "Can we go out there and...fix the place up? I know it sounds like a stupid reason for me to make a six-hour drive, but..."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all." Toby got up off the couch. "We should go now. He'll love to see you."

"Well, we don't have to go right right now. It's dark out." now. It's dark out."

"But we should. Don't worry about the dark-I've got a great new lantern. He'll be thrilled. There aren't any repairs to do, but I've meant to paint it for a long time."

"I wanted to talk about your comic strip first."

"Oh, you heard about that?"

"I've been following it. Marianne found it, actually."

"I still have all of the originals except for a couple that Owen ruined. I'm going to give them all to you before you leave. You can keep them or sell them or do whatever you want with them, but I'd like you to have them."

Garrett stood up. "That would be awesome. Thank you, Dad."

"Let's go! Let's go! A wonderful monster in the woods awaits our arrival!"

Toby knew he was babbling like an incoherent old man, but he couldn't help himself as they made the trek through the woods, their way illuminated by a lantern Owen had gotten him for Christmas, in much the same way that Toby's favorite shoes ever were "from" Garrett when he was only two. He told Garrett all about how he'd finally gotten Rusty & Pugg Rusty & Pugg published, and all about his miserable job that he couldn't afford to retire from, and his arthritis. He didn't talk about the other medical issues. published, and all about his miserable job that he couldn't afford to retire from, and his arthritis. He didn't talk about the other medical issues.

He also didn't talk about the man he'd murdered. Technically Owen had delivered the killing blow, but Toby had murdered him. That wasn't information with which to burden his son. He'd have to take that to his own grave.

Mostly he talked about Owen. That's where he could sense he was blathering on the most, but Garrett didn't interrupt, he barely spoke at all, apparently quite happy to let his father talk and talk and talk. That's what old people did, he supposed.

Owen wasn't there when they arrived at the shack, so Toby subjected his poor son to another half hour of talk while they added a coat of dark brown paint to the outside of the structure.

Movement to the side.

"That's him," said Toby. "Hey, Owen!"

Owen growled a greeting.

"I've got somebody who wants to see you!"

Garrett tensed up as Owen came into view. Toby wasn't sure if it was fear-which was only to be expected at first-or shock at Owen's appearance. His fur had turned almost completely gray, and small patches of it were missing all over his body. The monster looked...well, old. old.

Owen walked over to them, slowly, gazing at Garrett as if trying to remember where he'd seen him before.

"Does he recognize me?"

"Owen, do you remember Garrett? My son? Your friend?"

Owen stepped into the clearing around the shack, still obviously trying to place Garrett. He ran his talons along the side of the shack, a gesture that Toby found vaguely threatening-not something Owen had ever done before.

"It's Garrett. I know you remember Garrett."

And then Owen's face beamed with pure joy that went beyond anything Toby had ever seen from the monster. Yeah, his smile was rather grotesque with his missing teeth, but you simply could not deny the emotion behind it.

Toby was so overcome with his own happiness that he didn't immediately realize that Garrett had taken out a gun.

Owen howled with fright and put his hands over his face.

Toby grabbed for the weapon. He struck Garrett's arm just as he pulled the trigger. The gun fired.

Owen roared and clutched at his side, blood spurting between his fingers.

Garrett tried to shove Toby out of the way, but Toby didn't care if he was was a sixty-five-year-old arthritic mess, there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to Owen. He threw a punch that connected solidly with Garrett's jaw, knocking him to the ground. a sixty-five-year-old arthritic mess, there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to Owen. He threw a punch that connected solidly with Garrett's jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Think how much different your life could have been, if you'd done that to Larry forty-five years ago.

Garrett pointed the gun back at Owen and squeezed off another shot. The bullet tore across Owen's left arm.

Owen was a close target, but a target in motion.

The monster pushed Toby aside and dove at Garrett, attacking him in a flurry of teeth and claws. Toby's son screamed in agony, and Toby screamed for Owen to stop.

There was blood everywhere.

Including on Toby's chest. Owen had gouged him deep with his claws when he pushed him away.

"Owen, stop it!" Toby screamed.

Owen tore off a particularly meaty strip of Garrett's flesh.

"Stop it, goddamn it!" Bleeding and hurting and terrified, Toby moved over to the carnage and kicked Owen as hard as he could. Owen yelped, then stood up and backed away.

"Owen, that's my son, you fucking beast!"

Owen looked at Toby, absolutely devastated, then ran off through the trees.