Consequences

by Elyse Draper

  Jim’s vehicle is the only car left in the parking lot, and he has left the front door unlocked for us. Meeting us in the main hallway, he leads us straight back to the room housing the x-ray unit. I lay Lune down on the steel table in the middle of the room, and after a brief, but thorough examination, Jim agrees with Ann and me … he doesn’t seem to have any internal damage. Lifting Lune up again, we move him to the machine and proceed to take the pictures we need to rule out any unseen issues. After making small talk for a few minutes, we look over the films … nothing is broken, not even fractured.

  After we thank him profusely, Jim locks up the lab, and hands me a white paper bag with a bottle of pain pills for Lune, and then ushers us out to my truck. He doesn’t ask any questions; he just advises us to give Lune up to two tablets of the Tramadol pain reliever every four hours to ease the discomfort from the bruising. Turning around, he reminds us to call if anything changes in Lune’s condition, and warns us that he will be loopy while he is on the meds. Then he unpretentiously gets into his car and drives out of the parking lot.

  Ann and I are relieved beyond words that our furry friend is all right. In no rush to return to the cabin, we sit quietly in my truck and simply listen to Lune breathe.

  After repeatedly trying to imagine what she witnessed during V’s attack, I finally decide to ask, “What happened during the fight … that made you scream?”

  “I was wondering why you hadn’t asked before now …” She looks down at her hands, nervously folded in her lap. “… V was screaming. Have you ever heard what it sounds like when a rabbit is captured, and they scream? Their hearts beat so fast that their minds become blank, and all they have left is the guttural instinct, the basic knowledge that death is imminent. That sorrowful awareness has to be let out … so they howl, and it sounds like a dying infant. V was making a sound like that … and I guess, I don’t have the stomach to inflict or even watch that kind of pain.”

  Her hands are shaking slightly; they look so pale and delicate. She notices my eyes studying her, and in response she buries her trembling fingers in Lune’s thick mane before she continues. “In my time with James’s surrogate family, all the abuse I witnessed and endured … I don’t think I’ve seen anything as stone cold as what Christopher and Artemis did today.

  "Except for maybe … once when I was little, and my parents took me to visit a family friend’s ranch in Western Colorado. I watched a pack of Coyotes stalk a calf that was separated from its mother.

  "I sat in the Rancher’s family room while all the adults were talking loudly in the kitchen. Bored, I picked up an adult-sized pair of binoculars and scanned the grass and sagebrush, trying to find something interesting. I knew most of the herd was on the other side of the building, since I had ridden in the truck that dropped bales of hay out back earlier in the evening. I remember the Rancher saying he thought he had accounted for all the calves … obviously he was wrong.

  "When I found the little, black and white calf through the binoculars … she was scared and crying for her mother. Cows are such stupid creatures; they were gorging themselves so noisily, none of them heard the little, lost one, or they didn’t care. But something heard the baby … and it brought friends. The efficiency of their hunt was exhilarating at first, but when they attacked … I pressed the rubber eyepieces so hard to my face that they left angry, red welts. I couldn’t stop watching. The coyotes had a vicious beauty to their slaughtering technique … I understood then that nature just is, and we only survive because it allows us to. There were no morals to what was happening, just naked survival … cold and unforgiving. That is what I saw in Artemis and Christopher during the battle; pure instinct, not hatred … just nature reasserting itself in the most gruesome way possible. And the animal in Christopher, his most basic nature, scares the hell out of me.”

  I can see that she is still soaking in the horror of her re-education in the nature of things. I don’t want to press for the specifics of V’s injuries; I can imagine them now, clearly enough. My knuckles are turning white from my grip on the steering wheel. During her story, I realize I know exactly what Ann is talking about … and it scares the hell out of me, too. We sit in silence listening to Lune’s intake of air and quiet sighs, until both of us start to relax. I decide it is time to head back to Polebridge and the reality of life … my mind is whispering regrets over my loss of ignorance, quietly wishing I’d never met Christopher, or seen his world.

  Playing on our reprieve from the drama of the day, I drive slowly and show Ann some of my favorite places around town. Looking at her change in posture, from apprehensiveness, to a genuine interest in my little corner of the world … I mentally amend my wish, because I found her.

  *Echidna*

  Crouching, I stay well hidden in the darkest shadows, underneath the trees at the edge of the clearing that surrounds the cabin. Watching closely, I see two of the boy’s friends carry out a dog, and then climb into a large vehicle that is parked near the front door. I saw the broad man talk to Cassandra earlier in the day, and then the small woman with the rigid demeanor, come out to address my ancient friend a bit later. Cassandra referred to her as a seer … and my stomach jerked at the thought of running into one of them. Humans are not supposed to be able to understand anything about our world. Livestock are meant to remain ignorant! Seers can interact … and they always come armed, damn them. But the seer is leaving … and that means Cassandra and the boy are unprotected.

  The image of my evil plaything’s injuries flashes into my mind, and even though I admire the handiwork … I know that whatever the boy is, he definitely isn’t defenseless. Rather than jumping right in and getting killed, I need to try and control my fixation, and take a little time to study my future companion.

  I know that if I stay intangible, I am virtually invisible to the human world … but when stalking a talented human and a powerful ethereal entity, there is no telling what weaknesses they could perceive. Thinking back on my return trip to the cabin, I remember seeing wolf tracks setting a perimeter around this part of the woods. The boy has to have seen wolves around here … if they catch a glimpse of me; they won’t see anything more unusual than a wolf patrolling its border.

  In preparing for my transformation, I picture a wolf … not the monster from Romania I created, just a simple, unassuming wolf. The image brings up the memory of my last encounter with a wolf pack in Roxburgh, Scotland, and I have to repress an involuntary shiver. Their unified essence gives them a fearlessness that is unmatched in any species I’ve ever encountered. I have no supremacy over the fearless; and being incapable of inducing and feeding on fear, the powerlessness of my confrontation with the Pack left me with an unusual feeling of pending defeat. A sensation I had never felt before … and will never put myself in the position to feel again. I paid back my revenge to Canidae Lupus, by creating hysteria in Europe that led to the humans almost hunting them into extinction. I wish humanity would finish what they start.

  The leader of that pack was a beautiful black and red female. After I killed her mate, she nearly ran herself, and her pack, to death, trying to track me down. Such an enchanting creature; I can still see the muscles rippling under her sleek coat, and her fangs asking for my blood as she sneered. The murderous gleam in her golden eyes struck cords of fearful surprise in me … making me giggle uncontrollably. I thoroughly enjoyed her game of chase. She was one of the only living things that I almost admired. Yes; that is who I shall become. Even as I am letting the memory build in detail, I can feel the change already starting.

  I lower myself onto my hands and knees, where I can let my body recreate itself. I feel my knees dislocate and rejoin, so that they will bend higher up my thigh. My calves shorten and my feet elongate, bringing my heels and ankles closer to the knee joints, and forcing me to stand on my toes. My chest cavity collapses and stretches forward; and as my shoulder blades grow, they force my arms, more permanently, down in from of me. My spine feels as if it is being chewed up an
d then spit out in a long line that extends past my hindquarters. Then my skull flattens, and the excess of bone from my cranium moves to the front of my jaw, lengthening my nose and teeth into a vicious muzzle. Finally, my entire body starts trembling, as the sensation of fur sprouting everywhere sends a feeling of ecstasy to my nerve endings.

  Bowing forward, and stretching my new joints, I can feel my tail wagging. I have almost forgotten how much I enjoy having a tail … although; I think I prefer a snake’s tail over this hairy banner that advertises my mood for everyone to read. At least the wolves are more reserved than their domesticated cousins … stupid animals, falling all over themselves at the feet of humans … and for what? A scratch on the stomach, that’s all they want … pitiful, absolutely contemptible.

  A shake that starts with my head and travels all the way down through my tail helps to distract my mind from the nausea that was building at the notion of unconditional love … I loathe dogs. Pouncing forward, the feeling of power and strength in my muscles is addictive, and I find myself sprinting for the cabin. The wind folds itself through my fur and tickles my ears … I can't help but to run laps around the property, relishing the sensation of speed.

  “I can’t believe you would allow yourself to become wrapped up in the simple brain of this beast … next thing you know, you’ll be chasing your own tail.” Slightly angry with myself for being so easily sidetracked, I slide to a stop outside the boy’s bedroom window.

  I can hear voices on the other side of the glass. Finding what I am looking for, I curl up in the brush underneath the window. Cassandra is talking; I am finally able to call the boy by name, and I understand why she brought us here to seek him out. So, Christopher and Ellie are in love … and he believes that she is dead. Beautiful!

  Cassandra’s annoying voice begins ranting about righteous anger and the reality of fear … I cringe as her philosophy makes my heart hurt and my stomach twist. She is trying to turn Christopher into some sort of hero. Telling him anger and fear are perfectly normal, it is what you do with them, which defines who you will become.

  She is completely ruining his potential for chaos; this is extremely unusual for her. She has always been happy, or at least tolerant enough, to sit by and let the human race destroy itself … maybe this Ellie has been her tutor as well. I think … I hate Ellie.

  The wind picks up and I curl tighter into a ball. Tucking my nose under my tail, I close my eyes and listen harder, hoping to learn more. Christopher has a rich voice that’s aching with misery, when he finally answers Cassandra. “Are you telling me that you agree with my choice to hunt down Ellie’s murderer?”

  “I’m telling you that no one will blame you for trying. I just want you to calm down, so that you don’t do something rash. Let the anger feed you, and the fear of life without her give you strength … but don’t let them blur your mind with irrational obsessions. I want revenge, too, and I need your help … but I don’t want your death staining my hands. You are very weak right now … you need to become healthy again, before you can challenge anyone.” There is a confidence infecting Cassandra's tone as she speaks … I don't like this; a Cassandra strong enough to fight is very dangerous indeed.

  “Do you promise to show me the men that killed her? Once, I would have been able to see them in your mind … but I can’t see anything, anymore. I can still hear that everything you’ve told me is the truth; but the truth can be subjective … I wish I understood why I can’t see into your memories.” Christopher holds back his frustration very well … good thing, too, because I am not about to let down my block on Cassandra’s mind, or her visions.

  If he’s weakened … I wonder how powerful he is at full strength. He knows that there is something odd surrounding Cassandra’s mind, something impenetrable, something not to be trusted. His perceptiveness gives me an odd sensation in my nerves. What he fears is strange too; not something I can mimic physically, nor can I easily manipulate it mentally. His fear isn’t for himself at all. Cassandra is wrong; he’s not afraid of a life without Ellie … He’s afraid of himself without Ellie in his life. Every ounce of his energy is focused on not hurting strangers … that can’t be right.

  I can’t remember when I have ever felt this way before: the confusion, and the inexplicable adrenalin begging for me to run. I’m fighting my own body, forcing myself to stay still under the window.

  I can’t stop my mind from buzzing inside my skull; and the more I try to remain calm, the more my muscles and joints ache to move. I don’t know how much time has passed before I hear a vehicle pull up in front of the building. The chances of my discovery are multiplying by the second, and I feel a purely irrational pain cut into my abdomen. As the stabbing ache starts pulsing out across my ribs with every rabid beat of my heart, I resituate my position, preparing to flee.

  The muscles in my legs start to jump, trying to push me forward out of my crouch. Ignoring the twitching, I press my stomach hard against the ground. One car door slams and then another; the sound ricochets in my ears, making my heart skip painfully. Shifting my ears to tune in the noises from all directions, I distinctly hear the scratching of claws running across the floor in the room behind me. By the time I hear the crash against the bedroom widow, I am already on my paws and running. One quick glance over my shoulder, and into the eyes I find watching me from the cabin, almost stops me in my tracks. She is so bright that she makes my eyes hurt; and when she starts barking, the sound reverberates through the ground, touching my soul, inside the ethereal mist. I know at that moment, that white wolf is going to taint my nightmares forever.

  “Time to hide, time to disappear … maybe it is time to return to hibernation.” Fear, panic, and a complete loss of control … I’ve never felt this from my own being. Insanity, utter madness, I think I may have left a piece of my heart back with Christopher. And that hellhound will never let me get close enough to touch him. Trembling, I’m overcome by the yearning to touch him. Whatever is wrong with me, I can’t let this win, or it will lead to my annihilation.

  Focusing on the pine needles that are poking into the pads of my paws, while trying to forget the fire in my muscles, I run. Exhaustion sucks at my breath in great panting gulps, and my tongue feels as though it is going to crack from thirst. I don’t know how much distance I cover, but it feels good to run the anxious energy out of my system. After the initial panic attack passes … I still press forward; and as I come to a stream the urgent need to drink is the only thing to stop me. Sticking my front paws and my muzzle into the ice-cold water, soothing my sore pads and my tongue, quenching my desire; but in losing my forward momentum, I also lose the will to stand. Crashing down, splashing and soaking every inch of my fur, I fight the current until I remember to relax, allowing my soul to pass back through the veil, where I can fly.

  **~~**

  Part Four

  Homecoming

  **~~**

  Chapter 20

  Bittersweet

  *Michael*

  After climbing out of the truck, I walk around and offer a hand to Ann. She looks at it like it's a snake, but grabs it nonetheless, and even smiles a little as she pulls herself out through the door. Leaning around her to reach in for Lune, I can feel the pressure of her touch as she runs her hand down my side while ducking out of the way. A smile forms on my face at the prospect of my mind recording every trivial contact made with Ann … I’m becoming a Silly Putty moron, in her hands.

  My mind is swimming with Ann’s fragrance so that I barely notice Lune’s weight in my arms. As I turn to face her, a number of things hit my senses all at once, which immediately pulls my head out of the clouds. Ann’s expression turns perplexed as she tilts her head trying to see around the corner of the cabin. From my angle, I can’t see what has caught her attention. I can only make out the square of light, from Christopher’s bedroom window, shining on the dark ground. Paranoia turns to shock, and I almost drop Lune, when I hear the loud thump from inside the cabin. The sound is quickl
y followed by claws scratching on glass, and Artemis barking out a baritone threat. Slamming the truck door awkwardly with my knee, I turn and run past the edge of the cabin, afraid of what I might find. I clumsily skid to a stop at the sight of a large, black wolf sprinting away towards the woods. Lune starts rumbling against my chest when he sees the wolf's head turn to look back, and its eyes reflect the light from the window momentarily. The eyes are scarlet, not merely reflecting red … they are on fire, generating heat. Its fur stands on end as it focuses momentarily on Artemis, but it keeps running. Faster than any wolf I’ve ever seen, it disappears into the trees.

  In awe, I whisper, “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know what it was, but I do know it wasn’t V … could it have been a member of a local pack?”

  I jump at her answer; still edgy from the strange wolf’s appearance, I hadn’t realized that Ann had moved to my side. “No … I’ve seen, and helped tag, all the local wolves. We don’t have any that look like that one. Its head was too broad, the eyes were set too far apart … black with a red undercoat, white diamond on its chest. No; it definitely wasn’t from around here. I guess it could have migrated from up north, but it would be an idiot to cross into Ursa’s hunting area.”

  I don’t feel comfortable mentioning the wolf’s extraordinary eyes, just in case what I saw was a trick of the light … or my mind. Even as I am writing off what I’ve seen, some part of my mind is reminding me of the Inuit Ijiraat folklore. Stories that state, those evil creatures could be identified by their red eyes; no matter how hard they tried, they could never hide their burning eyes.