But Sam stepped sideways, and blocked his path. He bravely stared the man down, right in the eye.
"You owe her an apology," Sam said to him, in a calm, cool rage.
The man, a good foot taller than Sam—and twice as wide—looked down at Sam as if he were joking, then broke out into a menacing laugh.
"Do I?" he asked.
He turned and looked at Polly, and then licked his huge fat lips, practically drooling.
"I tell you what: how ’bout I take her home with me for a ring or two, and I could apologize to her all night long. Yes. In fact, I think I’ll do that.”
The man took a step towards Polly, as if to grab her.
But before he could get any further, Sam stepped up and shoved him hard, sending him flying through the crowd, knocking over several people with him, and finally landing on his behind.
"Sam, let's go," Polly urged in a low, hurried voice, grabbing Sam's arm, trying to pull him away.
" Please.”
But Sam wasn't ready to walk away. A part of him, the rational part, knew that he should. But that part was quickly receding into the back of his mind. Another part came to the fore: and it was the part that wanted blood. Vengeance.
And the huge man didn’t seem to be in exactly a forgiving mood, either. His face turned bright red, as he sat there, embarrassed, on his behind, looking at Sam with something like shock. It didn't help that the entire crowd was now looking down at him, howling and hooting at him, making his face turn even redder.
As he regained his feet, two other huge men suddenly came up beside him, and Sam could see that they were his friends. There was now, facing him, a pack of three of them, and as they approached Sam, they each pulled out a knife.
"Small boy," said the man, "you're going to pay for that with your life. I hope it was a good one."
The three of them lunged toward Sam.
But Sam didn't feel any fear. Instead, he felt resolve—a cold, steely resolve.
With one arm, he reached out and brushed Polly back behind him, so that he stood in front of her, offering her safety.
Then he took two steps forward, leapt into the air, meeting the huge man in the middle, kicking him in the chest with both his feet, and sending him flying backwards. In the same motion, he reached out one hand in each direction, grabbed the heads of the two other men, and smashed them together.
They collided with a sickening crack, and both collapsed to the ground.
But Sam wasn’t done. He kept running forward, as the big man landed on his back once again.
As he tried to regain his feet, Sam kicked him hard in the face, knocking him out cold.
Sam wheeled, looking to see if anyone else was coming after him.
But the crowd just stood there, in shock, finally silenced. Nobody dared come within feet of him.
He saw several other men come towards him, from another direction, dressed in all black. They looked like officials, all dressed in the same uniform. They were larger, meaner, more professional looking. Security, perhaps.
Five of them approached, holding clubs.
Sam felt himself pulsing with rage, and he couldn't stop it. He leaned back and roared, the rage coursing through every inch of his body. He had never felt such rage, and as he leaned his head back and roared, the noise reverberated, louder and louder, above the din of the crowd, finally shaking the entire stadium. Within moments, the roar became louder than even the bear’s.
People from every direction of the stadium stopped and turned their attention on him.
The five security guards stopped cold in their tracks, a good ten feet away, frozen in fear at the sound and the sight.
Clearly, it was evident, even for them, that Sam was not human.
Sam blinked and opened his eyes to see Polly standing before him. It was hard to focus on her in his rage, but she was now standing just inches away, holding her hands to his face. Forcing him to focus.
"Sam," she said. “It’s me.”
Slowly, his rage waned.
She reached out, took his hand, and led him through the parting crowd, everyone afraid to be close to them.
Within moments, they were out the door, and back outside the stadium.
Polly led him at a quick pace, gaining even more distance, walking and walking, and they were soon far from the stadium. Eventually, they reached the bank of the river. As they did, Sam slowly felt himself returning to normal.
Finally, she let go of his hand. He was so flooded with emotion, he was having a hard time remembering what had just happened.
"Don’t you ever do that again," Polly snapped. "You just put us both in danger. And our entire race.”
Sam felt indignant. He had just stood up for her—this was hardly the thanks he had been expecting.
"What are you talking about?" he said. "I was looking out for you. I was protecting you. That man elbowed you.”
"I don’t need your protection," Polly said. "I can handle myself, in case you forgot. It's not like I'm human. And I especially don't need any protection from any boys. I'm fine on my own. And besides—you weren’t protecting me: you were endangering me. And just flattering your own ego.” Sam felt angry now. He had thought she’d be grateful, and couldn’t understand why she was upset.
"Fine,” he snapped. “I won't help you again.”
"Fine," she snapped back.
Sam stood there fuming, watching her back as she walked away.
Girls, he thought. He would never understand them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Caitlin marveled at how quickly children rebounded. Scarlet walked beside her, practically skipping with joy, laughing aloud as she played with Ruth. Ruth practically skipped, too, glued to Scarlet’s side, turning her head left and right, on the lookout for any and all possible harm that might come within ten feet of Scarlet. Caitlin had never seen Ruth so protective, or so overjoyed. The two seemed like a match made in heaven, and they were already inseparable.
Scarlet smiled from ear to ear, and looking at her now, it would seem as if she had never suffered any hardship at all. It lifted Caitlin's heart. It had crushed her to see Scarlet lying there, being beaten by that cruel human being. Now, she seemed alive again.
Caitlin was thrilled to have Scarlet by her side, too. She couldn't help herself, but as she studied her, she found herself thinking of the child that she and Caleb might have had, had they remained in the 21st century. She couldn’t help but wonder if their child might have turned out somewhat like Scarlet. It was strange, but Caitlin even felt as if she could recognize some of her own facial features in the girl. Their connection felt so real, so natural, Caitlin felt, as she walked, as if she had always known her.