Cougar's Roar

by Jim Mohr

  He bites his lower lip as he looks up at me. “Okay, Dove. We are not fighters. We Pigeons are only messengers.”

  As we cross into the zone our pace quickens and I think of what he has just said. He’s a messenger. “Pigeon, who are the fighters?”

  “Right now, the best fighter is Tiger. We can’t find him though. German Shepherd is good. Falcon, Mountain Lion, and Cheetah are all good too.” He hesitates, “Lion, Eagle, and Wolf are the family heads but their power is in more than just fighting.”

  “Pigeon, you say ‘we’ when you talk about yourself. Can you hear the other Pigeons?”

  “I can hear all of them. I know where all the Pigeons are.”

  “So, you have a hive mind with them?” I ask, not even turning to look at him. I can feel my pace is too quick for him. We have to move quickly through this zone.

  “Yes. We all know what the others know. We carry messages for the other Psychokinetics.”

  “Psychokinetics? We are Psychokinetics? I thought we were mind readers and telekinetics.”

  “Dove, are you playing with me? Most of us are mind readers. We Pigeons are different. You are different. You are an empath, and there is only one Dove. The only other one that is different, is Saint Bernard.”

  “Pigeon, when we get to the transport I want you to read a letter that my dad gave me. I want you to tell me where the people in it are.”

  “Yes, Dove. Anything for you. We are brother and sister, you and us.” He referred to himself in the plurality again. This kid is creeping me out.

  The street begins a downward slope as the graffiti on the ragtag buildings becomes viler. A steel trash can burns as two rough looking men warm themselves by it. In the street, a man is lying. Several dogs surround him. The dogs growl at us as we slow our pace to avoid them. I can clearly see that they’re eating the man. “My God! He’s dead,” I say softly.

  Pigeon screams in terror at the sight of the wild dogs, covered in the corpse’s blood. I pull him. “Come on! Don’t look!”

  From behind us, a yell sounds out. “Hey!” I pull Pigeon harder. He turns to look at the origin of the shout. “Hey! Whitey!”

  Pigeon looks at me as he resists my pull. “Dove, he’s calling you.”

  I can sense the human calling us. He has evil intentions. “No pigeon. The man is evil. Come on.”

  The man yells again. “Stop them! I want Whitey!”

  My power feels like a magnifying glass is over my consciousness. I see everything in the human’s souls as they emerge from buildings, cars, and alleys. We are surrounded by evil.

  I pull my hand free from Pigeon. Memories of the dove in my dreams come back. “You are a predator. You will never be prey” echoes in my head.

  I look at the approaching men, eleven in all. “Humans, go about your business and leave us. You will not like it if you try to harm us,” I announce. My hair is standing on end. Did those words just come from me? I have always been a quiet girl, peaceful and accommodating. My voice seems different as if I wield some great, mysterious, power.

  Pigeon turns as he looks at the men. “The other Pigeons know this is happening. There isn’t any help near us.”

  “Hey Whitey, you’re kind of cute,” the men say as they continue their advance.

  Pigeon looks at the leader of this group of criminals. “Human, this is Dove, leave her be. If you need more blood, take mine. She is good, take me!”

  I look at the little boy, this Pigeon. I hear pistols being pulled from holsters. The man who was yelling pulls a knife as he stops. He is only a few feet from Pigeon.

  I look at him. “Back off, humans. I mean it. Leave us be, this will not be enjoyable for you.” Images of these eleven men fill my mind. Evil images of rape, murder, theft, and drugs. They will not leave. Humans never do the wise or kind thing, they spread their corruption and sin everywhere.

  The man smiles, several teeth have rotted from his mouth. “Are you a virgin, Whitey? How about we break your cherry?”

  “No!” Pigeon yells as he rushes at the man. Before I can grab him, before I can react, Pigeon stops midstride. He lowers his head and drops to his knees. The man’s knife is covered in blood. He has stabbed the boy.

  I gasp as I sense Pigeon’s life end. I was too slow in dealing with this. My power boils, my voice cracks as I raise my arms. Anger fills me. “I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!” I yell. I release all of my power. Dust rises from the ground as a wave of empathy emanates from my soul. My reaction is instinctual, I never had control over it.

  Love, compassion, forgiveness, mercy, and empathy are weapons. They are weapons of good. Every evil deed these men have done now comes to their conscious minds. The lies they have told themselves to shield their souls from their evil are stripped away. They see themselves as they are.

  Weapons fall to the ground. The men drop as they sob uncontrollably. I rotate, looking at them as my arms drop to my side. “You men are evil! Change your ways and make right the wrongs that you have done!”

  Deep, painful sobs are all the reply I hear. “Take this boy’s body to the authorities. Do not leave it here for the dogs!”

  I hear the knife-wielding man through his sobs. “Yes, ma’am,” I can sense he is broken.

  I leave the scene of Pigeon’s death as tears run down my cheeks. Is this my life, to wade through mankind’s vile existence and bring people to their knees sobbing? I need to see Lion. I need his help.

  Chapter 27

  Cougar—Wisconsin Illinois Base

  It isn’t long after Sergeant Slowiski is out of my hospital room before a small knock sounds from my door. I can sense it is the human woman, Sergeant Montclair. I open the door and before me stands a stunningly beautiful woman. Her blonde hair is pulled up under her hat, her blue eyes pierce me with a vibrancy I haven’t seen since Gabrielle’s.

  “Recruit Reed, I am Sergeant Montclair. I am your chaperone, so to speak.”

  I smile at the Sergeant. “Hello, Sergeant,” I nod as I extend my hand to shake her hand. She looks at me confused. “It’s a handshake. People who meet do it as a sign of peace,” I say.

  “I know what a handshake is,” she says as she shakes her head and raises an eyebrow. “You are a recruit, and I am a Sergeant. It isn’t appropriate.”

  I drop my hand. “Oh, you’re one of those Sergeants,” I say.

  “One of what Sergeants?” she replies. I can tell she is annoyed.

  “One of those stuffy, play by the rules kind. So, Sergeant, what’s on the agenda?”

  She shrugs her shoulders, not knowing how to answer me. “I’m not stuffy, I’m responsible for you. I am not sure how the Resistance works as far as recruits addressing Sergeants, we treat them with respect here. As for your agenda, your classes and training don’t begin for a few days. So, you are free to do what you want, in a limited sense of course.”

  “What limits? Am I free to leave the base? Free to explore?”

  “No. You cannot leave the facility. As for exploring, you may roam throughout the residential areas, the entertainment section of the base, and with me as an escort, you may visit the armory and indoor range. By the way, your friend, Lieutenant Smith, is leaving for Atlanta base. Did you want to see her off?”

  I shake my head. “No, not really.” My muscles ache from the inactivity of my capture and tranquilization. “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I haven’t had a workout in almost a week and a half. Can I go to the fitness area?”

  “Sure, I’ll take you now.” She turns to leave and I follow her. “I’ll take you first to get your clothing issue. After your workout, I’ll take you to your residence. They are stocking your refrigerator now. I can either escort you to the dining hall, or you can eat what’s in your residence. Does that sound acceptable?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I reply as we exit the medical ward. “After my clothing issue tho
ugh, we are going to the fitness area, right?”

  “Yes,” she replies as we approach one of the many elevators in this enormous fortress of a base.

  The door to the elevator closes and I turn to her and smile. “In Prague, the locker rooms are coed. Do you want to work out with me? You can change clothes too, next to me, so I don’t escape or anything.”

  She remains looking at the door as the floors pass us by. “Recruit, I’ll say this only once. I am your chaperone. I’m not here for you to harass. One more comment like that and I will fail you from the recruit program. There are proper ways to speak to NCOs. I’m also not sure the Resistance trains their Sergeants to speak to women like this. Now that you are a recruit, I expect you will start practicing some proper etiquette,” she turns, “Especially when you’re disrespectful to people who are assigned to care for you. I won’t tolerate your disrespect much longer. The consequences are more severe for you than regular recruits.”

  A small wave of warmth washes over me and I feel ashamed of harassing this beautiful woman. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Montclair. I’m just trying to have some fun. I don’t mean to offend you. I am sorry.” I bow my head slightly submitting, because of my behavior.

  She looks to me as the elevator door opens. We exit, and I lift my head. “That was very odd, why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Bow like that. Why did you bow like that to me? It’s weird.”

  I stop as we enter the supply department. It is in the sublevels, beneath the jet hangers. “I am a Psychokinetic. I am from the cat family. Regardless of my place in the world of men, I am a cat. I bowed in submission to you because of my behavior, of how I spoke to you. I shouldn’t have spoken like that. It was very disrespectful of me.”

  The confused look returns to her face again, she is so cute with that look. “Are all Psychokinetics like you?”

  “No,” I answer, “some are assholes.”

  Sergeant Montclair shakes her head as she smiles. “And some of them never know how to apologize properly and learn from their mistakes, or have a degree of humility.”

  ***

  Funnel Web—Resistance Installation: Prague, Czech Republic

  “Senior Lieutenant Feng Chu, you are hereby promoted to Captain in the Euro-Asian Militaristic Society, congratulations.” Colonel Cyril Kral pins the bars on my collar. I watch the human complete the act as I smile.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Colonel Kral looks at me and I salute him, he returns my salute. “Captain, we have a very important job for you.”

  “Yes, sir, whatever you need,” I answer. Colonel Kral is the officer in charge of the Secret Forces Department here at Prague base. I am his second-in-command. Behind me, my former instructor, and now newly promoted Senior Lieutenant Volker Gerdt stands.

  “Captain, we are placing you in charge of the Office of Interrogations. The High Commander has been informed that the failure of the assassination attempt at Wisconsin Illinois base is the result of an agent from this base. The High Commander suspects that the traitor had been aided, or at the minimum, shielded, by persons still at this base. Your office must find these apostates and deal with them.”

  I glance back at Senior Lieutenant Gerdt. He is nodding his head, accepting any mission given. “Yes, sir!” I respond to Colonel Kral.

  “Captain, the traitor is a Sergeant by the name of Cougar Reed.”

  I feel a weight descend on my heart. “I know him, sir. He is a whelp and a Psychokinetic.”

  Colonel Kral’s eyes grow. I can see that the idea of a traitorous mind reader frightens him. “We don’t know how much Intel has been compromised. Captain, use whatever force is necessary to obtain the information, and then deal with the traitors.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Colonel Kral turns and hurriedly leaves the room. He doesn’t allow me to salute him as he leaves.

  I turn back to Gerdt. Gerdt’s eyes are blazing. “Sir, Cougar Reed!” Gerdt exclaims.

  “Yes, my old instructor. It appears the depths that Psychokinetics sink to has no bounds. We raise him, train him, care for him, and he repays us by turning coward at the first opportunity.”

  Gerdt nods in agreement, “Sir, Gabrielle Detches was with him for years. We should start with her.”

  “Yes,” my thoughts go back to our Timere class. He was only there for a week. I can still feel his genitals in my hand, I can still feel the sickness of his power. “He spent time in the medical ward, we’ll recall his records. Also, the unattached Timere, Nada Dvorak, I think is her name. She tried to defend him.”

  Gerdt doesn’t respond, he is looking off at some imaginary horizon.

  “Lieutenant!” I yell.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sir, I request permission to be the chief interrogator of Miss Detches.”

  I nod to Gerdt. “You have need of your old chair?”

  Gerdt smiles at me. “Of course, sir.”

  Chapter 28

  Cougar—Wisconsin Illinois Base

  I cannot let this Sergeant Montclair distract me from my workout, the punishment I will put my body through. My workouts all begin the same way: pushups until my arms can no longer lift my body, sit-ups until my abdomen locks up, and stretches. Next, I focus on an area of my body, switching up my routine to keep my flesh untrained in the form of abuse it will be subjected to. Whether the workout is weightlifting, cardio, or jump training, my body will grow stronger. After the workout, I will then practice my hard martial arts. I will complete the first four of the Shotokan karate forms perfectly. I will then move to soft martial arts and will complete the Shaolin kung fu forms. I love the grace and circular movements of kung fu. Depending on the foe, I can also employ Jujutsu, Aikido (Japanese wrestling), or the Israeli art of Krav Maga.

  I always finish my workouts with either repeating the forms again with a bo staff, nunchaku, or sword, or I will go on a three- to five-mile run, or I will work the heavy bag. Since my gracious Alliance babysitters won’t allow me to have weapons, I guess today I’ll run.

  ***

  The track here at Wisconsin Illinois base would be much nicer if it were indoors. There’s nothing like running and having a Death’s Head jet scream overhead. It scares the shit out of me, which messes with my breathing.

  As I run the laps, I pass Sergeant Montclair. She just stands there, watching me run. Every time I pass her, I enter her mind for a few seconds. I’m not looking for anything personal, just seeing what is on the surface of her thoughts. She thinks that I am showing off, that I’m a peacock. It’s funny, I used to think that about myself when I was a kid.

  I reach the three-mile mark and I can tell that Sergeant Montclair is anxious. She is tired of watching me exercise and is ready to call it a day. I slow my pace as I slow my heartbeat. It responds to my will, within reason. I approach the Sergeant as another Death’s Head takes off. It is heading off for its patrol.

  “Sergeant, I’ve learned about the Death’s Head’s in our weaponry class. It’s far more intimidating actually seeing one in person.”

  She nods as the jet disappears into the horizon. “Well recruit, I think it’s the best weapon going for us.”

  I shrug my shoulders as we walk toward the outer door, into the locker area. “I’ve always believed the greatest weapon is a fearless soldier and a mission.”

  “That’s a nice sentiment, Reed. However, I don’t share that belief.”

  Sergeant Montclair opens the door and we enter the base. “Look at the damage I did to the Resistance by my actions. Berlin and Prague’s air forces are severely damaged.”

  “Yes, but is it because of you, or because of the Death’s Head’s?” she answers.

  I stop and look at her. I’m slightly irritated by the stance she has taken. “I can assure you, Sergeant Montclair, if
I wouldn’t have stopped the assassination, and then informed the Admiral, this base would be rubble.”

  She looks at me questioningly, “Do you have O1, Operations and Tactics training?”

  “Yes, I’ve had extensive Operations and Tactics training. I also graduated with more Level 5+ courses than anyone in the Resistances history. I would’ve had another, in Art and Literature, if they wouldn’t have removed me.”

  “Level 5+? What is that?” she asks.

  “Level 5+ is advanced college. I guess it’s comparable to a Master’s degree level course in the American civilian world.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief, “but you’re only eighteen.”

  “What does my age have to do with it? Besides, I’m a Psychokinetic.”

  Sergeant Montclair rolls her eyes and says, “Yes, I know. You told me. How many 5+ levels do you have?”

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I’m not trying to brag. I just have learned that humans cannot relate to how our minds work. Let’s see if I can make a comparison for you. How long is the Alliance Basic Military Training?”

  “BMT is two months,” she replies. “After that is NCO school. That is six weeks.”

  “Okay, so to take them consecutively would be three and a half months, right? I can complete them in probably five weeks.”

  Sergeant Montclair shakes her head. “No way. Listen, you’d pass the fitness portion obviously. There’s marksmanship, etiquette, command course, military history, troop tactics. No way could you complete all of it in five weeks, even with the head start that you have.”

  “All right, I see that you don’t understand. To answer your questions about my Level 5+ classes. I graduated Level 5+ in Math, Russian Language, Science, Czech Language, Tactics, and Secret Forces Tactics. Plus, I am sniper level on my marksmanship. I graduated Level 5 in Military History and Etiquette and had extensive aeronautical engineering training.”