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Glick stared at the Brush-Man in the container. It was the smaller one that McBrid and Louis had captured before they’d gone into the enclosure with the larger Brush-Men.
It’d been in the cage for days now and it was sad. Glick tapped on the glass but it didn’t even look at him. At first, it’d tried to attack him, hitting the glass over and over. Eventually, it’d learned that it wasn’t getting out and Glick wasn’t coming inside.
The poor thing spent most of the day staring at the enclosure that had once been Glick’s home. It was lonely and Glick could relate. He liked Charlie and McBrid. Even Louis had been nicer to him since he’d refused to take credit for saving them, but while all three of those guys were great, they weren’t the same as Bumpers, Flea and Speckles.
“Hey, McBrid.” He turned toward the scientist who was studying the samples from the larger Brush-Men. “When are you going to let this guy go back with his friends?”
The caged Brush-Man shifted, watching him. Its unblinking stare was unnerving and he still hated these creatures, kind of. They had killed Bumpers but this one may not have been involved. Plus, it was like him—a prisoner—forced to live and survive in a cage. Things might’ve been different if they’d been born free.
“McBrid!” The scientist was ignoring him. He ran across the desk and onto the Almighty’s hand.
“Hey Glassick, what’s up?” McBrid stopped working. “Are you hungry?”
He shook his head and at McBrid’s frown, he raised his left hand.
“Okay. You miss Charlie? He’ll be back soon.”
He raised his left hand again.
“Then, what do you want?”
“I want you to turn him loose.” He pointed at the other Brush-Man.
“You know I can’t understand your words.”
He wanted to scream. Communicating with these guys was a nightmare. He pointed to the cage that held the Brush-Man and then pointed to the large enclosure.
“Is that Brush-Man bothering you?”
“Please. It’s locked in a cage. How much bother can it be?” He shook his left hand.
“Hmm. Okay.”
He pointed at the Brush-Man again and then at the other cages.
“It’s about that Brush-Man, correct?”
He raised his right hand.
“Okay. Good. Now, what? Is he hungry?”
“No.” Glick raised his left hand.
“You sure?” McBrid studied the Brush-Man. “They’re always hungry.”
He slapped McBrid’s knuckle. “I don’t care if he’s hungry.”
“Okay. Okay.” McBrid laughed. “I was joking.” His face grew serious. “You also pointed to the other cage. You want me to put him back with the others, don’t you?”
He nodded, his right hand waving in the air.
“Is he bothering you at night when we leave?”
He hesitated, not wanting to lie. McBrid didn’t know that Charlie snuck him out every night.
“I can put him in a drawer when I leave.”
He shook his head, lifting his left hand.
“No? You sure?”
He raised his right hand. Yes, he was sure. Being locked in the dark and alone was a punishment that only Scottsmoor and the Brush-Man who’d killed Bumpers deserved.
“Okay.” McBrid stood, lifting his hand and putting Glick on his shoulder. “I have all the samples that I need from him. I guess, I can set him loose with his friends.”
Glick nodded.
“You sure? You’ll be all alone in here once he’s back with the others because we aren’t going in there again. Ever.”
Was that why the Almighty had left the Brush-Man in the cage? To keep him company? He touched McBrid’s cheek and then moved down his shirt, pointing to the large cage. It’d been nice of the Almighty to worry about him, but McBrid didn’t understand that he and the other Brush-Man would never be friends.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” McBrid lifted the small container.
“I do. He should be with his friends. His kind.” Glick swore there was a spark of something besides hatred or sadness in the other Brush-Man’s eyes, something like gratitude.