Chapter Fifty
A well-built teenaged boy in a soiled black leather studded vest and black jeans was crouched, waiting for us in the far corner of the cellar. He had a crowbar. He leaped up and began swinging it over his head. He was growling. It had to be Irwin Snyder, the boy who had killed his parents. He was so damn young, just seventeen. What had gotten into his head? Gold fangs protruded from his mouth. Contacts made his eyes appear blood-red. His nose and eyebrows were pierced with at least a dozen gold and silver tiny hoops. He was tightly muscled and over six feet tall. He'd been a star football player before he suddenly dropped out of school. Snyder continued to growl at us. He stood in an oozing groundwater puddle and didn't seem aware of it. His eyes were glazed and seemed to be set way back in his skull. 'Back off!'he shouted.'Y'all have no idea how much shit you're in. Y'all have no goddamn idea! Get the f*ck out of here! Get out of our house!'He was serious; he believed every word he said. He was still swinging the heavy, rusted crowbar. We stopped moving. I wanted to hear whatever he had to say. 'What kind of shit are we in?' I asked Snyder. 'I know who you are!' he shouted, spraying spit all the way .across the room. He was in a murderous rage. He looked stoned beyond comprehension. 'Who am I?' I asked him. How could he know? 'You're f*cking Cross, that's who,' he said, and bared long canine
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teeth, the smile of a madman. His answer shook me up. 'The rest of /all are FBI dogs! Y'all deserve to die! You will! The Cross don't work here, a*sholes.' 'Why did you kill your mother and father?' Kyle asked from his place on the stairs. 'To free'm,'Snyder sneered.'Now, they're free as little birdies in the air.' 'I don't believe you,'I said. "That's bullshit.' He continued to growl like a barnyard dog.'Smarter than you look. Cross.' 'Why did you use metal fangs when you bit them? What does the Tiger mean, Irwin?' I asked another couple of questions. 'You already know, or you wouldn't ask,' he said, and laughed wickedly. His real teeth were yellow and nicotine-stained. His black jeans were filthy, and looked as if they'd been dipped in ashes. The leather vest had studs missing. The cellar smelled awful, like spoiled meat. What had happened down here? I almost didn't want to know. 'Why did you kill your parents?' I asked again. 'Killed them to free myself,'he screamed.'Killed their asses 'cause I follow the Tiger.' 'Who's the Tiger? What does the Tiger mean?' His eyes danced with mischief.'Oh, you'll see soon enough. You'll see. Then you'll wish you hadn't.' He reached into his jeans and I rushed him. Irwin Snyder had a stiletto knife in his right hand. He swiped the knife at me and I pivoted away. I wasn't fast enough, and the blade sliced my arm. It burned like hell. Snyder screeched in triumph. He lunged at me again. Fast, athletic, forward. I managed to wrestle the knife from his hand, but he bit into my right shoulder. He went for my neck! Kyle and the others were all over him now. 'Goddamn it!'I yelled in pain. I punched his face. He bit me again. This time on the back of my hand. Damn, it hurt! The FBI agents had trouble pinning him down as he hurled a
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stream of curses and threats at all of us. They were afraid of being bitten. 'Now you're one of us!'he screeched at me.'You're one of us! Now you can meet the Tiger,' he howled, and laughed, grinned like a madman.
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