The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

8

He found me!

The swamp hermit found me! And now he's got me!

Those are the thoughts that burst into my mind.

I spun around — and uttered a startled cry when I saw that it wasn't the swamp hermit. It was a boy.

"Hi," he said. "I thought you saw me. I didn't mean to scare you." He had a funny voice, gravelly and hoarse.

"Oh. Uh… that's okay," I stammered.

"I saw you in your yard," he said. "I live over there." He pointed to the house two doors down. "You just moved in?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm Grady Tucker." I slapped the tennis ball into my hand. "What's your name?"

"Will. Will Blake," he said in his hoarse voice. He was about my height, but he was heavier, bigger somehow. His shoulders were broader. His neck was thicker. He reminded me of a football lineman.

He had dark brown hair, cut very short. It stood straight up on top, like a flattop, and was swept back on the sides. He wore a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt and denim cutoffs.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twelve," I answered.

"Me, too," he told me, glancing over my shoulder at the deer. "I thought maybe you were eleven. I mean, you look kind of young."

I was insulted by that remark, but I decided to ignore it. "How long have you lived here?" I asked, tossing the tennis ball from hand to hand.

"A few months," Will said.

"Are there any other kids our age?" I asked, glancing down the row of six houses.

"Yeah. One," Will replied. "But she's a girl. And she's kind of weird."

In the distance, the sun was lowering itself behind the swamp trees. The sky was a dark scarlet. The air suddenly became cooler. Gazing high in the sky, I could see a pale moon, nearly full.

Will headed over to the deer pen, and I followed him. He walked heavily, his big shoulders bobbing with each step. He poked his hand through the wire mesh and let a deer lick his palm.

"Your father works for the Forest Service, too?" he asked, his eyes studying the deer.

"No," I told him. "My mom and dad are both scientists. They're doing studies with these deer."

"Weird-looking deer," Will said. He pulled his wet hand from the pen and held it up. "Yuck. Deer slime."

I laughed. "They're called swamp deer," I told him. I tossed him the tennis ball. We backed away from the deer pen and started to throw the ball back and forth.

"Have you been in the swamp?" he asked.

I missed the ball and had to chase it across the grass. "Yeah. This afternoon," I told him. "My sister and I, we got lost."

He snickered.

"Do you know why it's called Fever Swamp?" I asked, tossing him a high one.

It was getting pretty dark, harder to see. But he caught the ball one-handed. "Yeah. My dad told me the story," Will said. "I think it was a hundred years ago. Maybe longer. Everyone in town came down with a strange fever."

"Everyone?" I asked.

He nodded. "Everyone who had been in the swamp." He held on to the ball and moved closer. "My dad said the fever lasted for weeks, sometimes even months. And lots of people died from it."

"That's horrible," I murmured, glancing across the back yard to the darkening trees at the swamp edge.

"And those who didn't die from the fever began acting very strange," Will continued. He had small, round eyes. And as he told his story, his eyes gleamed. "They started talking crazy, not making any sense, just saying nonsense words. And they couldn't walk very well. They'd fall down a lot or walk around in circles."

"Weird," I said, my eyes still trained on the swamp. The sky darkened from scarlet to a deep purple. The nearly full moon seemed to glow brighter.

"Ever since that time, they called it Fever Swamp," Will said, finishing his story. He flipped the tennis ball to me. "I'd better get home."

"Did you ever see the swamp hermit?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. I heard about him, but I've never seen him."

"I did," I told him. "My sister and I saw him this afternoon. We found his hut."

"That's cool!" Will exclaimed. "Did you talk to him or anything?"

"No way," I replied. "He chased us."

"He did?" Will's expression turned thoughtful. "Why?"

"I don't know. We were pretty scared," I admitted.

"I've got to go," Will said. He started jogging toward his house. "Hey, maybe you and I can go exploring in the swamp together," he called back.

"Yeah. Great!" I replied.

I felt a little cheered up. I'd made a new friend. Maybe it won't be so bad living here, I thought.

I watched Will head around the side of his house two doors down. His house looked almost identical to ours, except there was no deer pen in back, of course.

I saw a swing set with a small slide and seesaw in his back yard. I wondered if he had a little brother or sister.

I thought about Emily as I headed to the house. I knew she'd be jealous that I'd made a friend. Poor Emily was really sad without that goon Martin hanging around her.

I never liked Martin. He always called me "Kiddo."

I watched one of the deer lower itself to the ground, folding its legs gracefully. Another deer did the same. They were settling in for the night.

I made my way inside and joined my family in the living room. They were watching a show about sharks on the Discovery Channel. My parents love the Discovery Channel. Big surprise, huh?

I watched for a short while. Then I began to realize I wasn't feeling very well. I had a headache, a sharp throbbing at my temples. And I had chills.

I told Mom. She got up and walked over to my chair. "You look a little flushed," she said, studying me with concern. She placed a cool hand on my forehead and left it there for a few seconds.

"Grady, I think you have a little fever," she said.