He throws open Andrea\u2019s door. He cries, \u201cAndrea! Look! I have new boots! I\u2019m stomping in them!\u201d<\/p>\n
Andrea . . . is being eaten.<\/I><\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re like the boot that will stomp this School,\u201d Peter says. \u201cOnly, smaller.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice is becoming uncertain.<\/p>\n
He is becoming a little confused now. He is staring into the room. He is having trouble processing it, what with all the red. Edmund\u2019s white hat is like a tooth amidst the gums, if the gums were the bloody remains of Andrea\u2019s human flesh and all our teeth were little hats.<\/p>\n
The smell hits him.<\/p>\n
\u201cBloody,\u201d says Peter. \u201cBloody. Bloody heck.\u201d<\/p>\n
He isn\u2019t thinking about stomping. There was this whole cognitive shelf in his brain that was reserved just for thinking about stomping, only, it\u2019s like there\u2019s been an earthquake in his mind, and all the jewels of thoughts are falling off his shelves and shattering against the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d says the Edmund-beast. It turns around. It smiles. Its teeth are white. \u201cPeter. Come in.\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter shakes his head.<\/p>\n
Why did he sleep through all the lectures on cannibal-fighting? Why? Why? Why? <\/i>He had been so certain that he\u2019d never actually need that in real life \u2014<\/p>\n
The Edmund-beast edges forward a little.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Peter,\u201d the Edmund-beast says. \u201cYou know me. I\u2019m just Edmund, remember? I found \u2014 I found \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
The Edmund-beast hesitates. It tilts its head to one side.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it all right,\u201d it asks Peter, \u201cto lie, if the end result is freedom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Peter says.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sure? That seems a self-serving answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d says Peter, \u201cyes, but \u2014 why am I talking to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m your friend,\u201d Edmund says. \u201cI\u2019m your friend and I don\u2019t want to eat you. That is why we are talking. Language is what lets us communicate with one another.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund swallows. He blinks at Peter innocently. His eyes are luminous and white. His head is tilted to one side. It is a very canine expression. It is basically the same way your dog would look at you when attempting to reassure you that it doesn\u2019t actually want to kill you and eat you.<\/p>\n
Except that he\u2019s slavering. Just a little.<\/p>\n
That doesn\u2019t help him sell it. That and \u2014<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve still got bits of Andrea on your mouth!\u201d<\/p>\n
And that<\/i>.<\/p>\n
If your dog looks at you and it slavering a little and still has bits of Andrea on its mouth, then even the most otherwise innocent expression can perturb. That is why your dog is always so very careful to wipe the blood and slaver away before<\/i> you see!<\/p>\n
I mean, they would be. If they did that kind of thing. They don\u2019t! They\u2019re a good dog!<\/p>\n
As for Peter, his eyes have shrunk to points. He is flailing for his ninja competence but he cannot find it. His stomach is too busy turning. His heart is too busy racing. The Edmund-beast is wiping at its mouth unsavorily and all Peter can think is: Oh, God. Oh, God.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cOh, God,\u201d the Edmund-beast echoes. \u201cThat\u2019s so embarrassing. But seriously. I don\u2019t want to kill and eat you.\u201d<\/p>\n
His stomach roils and grumbles.<\/p>\n
\u201cLittle white lie,\u201d admits Edmund. His teeth are white. \u201cBut honestly, I\u2019m totally in control of the flesh-hunger. You . . . don\u2019t need me to kill you, do you? To let you out of that body or anything? I can imagine that you\u2019re trapped in there. It must be so lonely, Peter, all alone in that great big body of yours. No wolf. No Edmund. No Vaenwode and no Jordis. I could help you. If you like.\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter fumbles in his pockets.<\/p>\n
\u201cI mean, look at you,\u201d says Edmund Gulley. \u201cYou\u2019re trapped in your mortality. You\u2019ll just grow old and die, and the whole time you\u2019ll be caught in this world of suffering. Surely I can help you with that. Surely you\u2019d like me to \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He hits the side of his head. He gets gore on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no, no, Edmund. Bad wolf-boy. No. There is no killing and eating people simply so they do not grow old and die. Sorry. I\u2019m so hungry. <\/i>It is making it hard to engage in moral reasoning.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gives Peter a strained grin.<\/p>\n
Peter continues fumbling in his pockets. He is looking for inspiration. Inspiration and\/or a weapon. He has neither. He finds gum!<\/p>\n
Gum is extremely <\/i>similar to a gun when spoken or in print, but it\u2019s harder to shoot people with it! So much harder! In order to shoot someone with a gum \u2014<\/p>\n
You can\u2019t shoot somebody with a gum! Peter discovers this right in the middle of the relevant exposition.<\/p>\n
It is not possible.<\/p>\n
A piece of Lethal gum slips from the pack he is attempting to shoot Edmund with and falls, pathetically, to the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have a razor!\u201d Peter declares.<\/p>\n
It is a sudden, bloody victory, this razor in his pocket. His fingers run red with his power and his joy. He brandishes it.<\/p>\n
It is small. It is made from blue plastic. Its twin blades could cut Edmund open, leave him bloody and dead and Peter<\/i> to be the one who walks away, if someone removed them from their housing. Small imprinted letters on its handle read, Lethal.<\/i><\/p>\n
Edmund smells Peter\u2019s blood.<\/p>\n
His stomach rumbles. He groans. He moves towards Peter as if his body could stretch.<\/p>\n
He whispers cruelly, unfairly, \u201cOh, you\u2019re using scissors<\/i> now?\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter gapes at him. Just because the razor has two blades \u2014<\/p>\n
Peter works his jaw. Peter is horrified. Then Peter convulsively throws the razor at Edmund. There\u2019s a flash of metal and light. The razor\u2019s patented surface scrub technology slivers a hair off of Edmund\u2019s arm!<\/p>\n
Edmund loses control. He snarls. He leaps. He bowls Peter over.<\/p>\n
They melee-roll.<\/p>\n
Peter scrambles up and away. He flails through the door into Andrea\u2019s room. He tries to slam it. Its handle and latching apparatus is broken! It just hits the frame and bounces back.<\/p>\n
Peter continues scrambling! He is over by Andrea\u2019s remains now.<\/p>\n
He scans her for a weapon. He slams her eyelid closed with a palm and scribbles a cross in the air in front of her forehead. Behind him, Edmund is stalking in after him. Edmund is shaking his head, repeatedly, as if trying to throw off being sleepy.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like it noted,\u201d Edmund says softly, \u201cthat you initiated hostilities.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund closes the door. Adding insult to injury it closes seamlessly behind him with a click.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have boots!\u201d Peter remembers.<\/p>\n
He flails a boot at Edmund. Edmund recoils. Edmund\u2019s mind becomes a confusion and he staggers against a wall.<\/p>\n
This is infinitely better than Peter had expected this to work.<\/p>\n
\u201cAha!\u201d says Peter. \u201cGot your weakness! You can\u2019t handle boots, can you? Because you\u2019re a cannibal!\u201d<\/p>\n
That must be what was covered in the anti-cannibalism lectures!<\/p>\n
Peter\u2019s eyes glint with Peter-wroth. He hops vindictively towards Edmund on alternate feet. \u201cBoot!\u201d he says. \u201cBoot! Boot!\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund snarls. He cowers. He can\u2019t even figure out why<\/i>. He has nightmare visions of \u2014<\/p>\n
He clutches at his empty chest. His mind seethes with whiteness.<\/p>\n
\u201cBOOT!\u201d says Peter.<\/p>\n
He tries to show Edmund both boots at once. He slips on Andrea\u2019s vitals. He staggers. He falls sideways. He unexpectedly autodefenestrates.<\/p>\n
He attempts a ninja disappearance. He is distracted as three bolts of lightning attempt to grab him out of the air.<\/p>\n\r\n\t\t\t