Predatory Animals

by Gabriel Beyers

  “Oh, it’s not late at all. We’re night owls around here. And please, call me Maggie.” She stepped to the side and invited him in. “Cas is in the family room.” She shut the door then led him down the hallway.

  Dale found Casper Brown sitting on the couch with his left leg propped up and looked as if he was in a fair amount of discomfort. His face blushed pink and a shiny film of sweat glistened on his forehead. He watched the large flat-screen TV mounted over the old fashion brick fireplace—the local news was on—but his eyes were fixed and glassy, as if he were in deep thought.

  Maggie cleared her throat as she entered the room, breaking his trance. “Officer Wicket is here.”

  “Hello.” Casper made an attempt to stand up.

  Maggie put her hand on his shoulder. “Stay where you are.”

  There was an edge to her voice, and Dale caught a glimpse of fury flash in Casper’s eyes.

  “Yes, please don’t get up,” Dale said. “You look like you’re in pain. We can do this another time if you like.”

  “No, I’m fine. Please, sit.”

  Dale moved to the loveseat so that he and Casper faced each other. “I don’t want to keep you from your rest.”

  “Cas has been looking forward to meeting you,” Maggie said. “Now that you’re here, he’s not going to let you leave without a fight.”

  “Damn straight,” he said. “I owe you my life. The least I can do is answer a few questions.”

  Maggie turned to leave. “Would you like something to drink, Officer Wicket? A beer?”

  “Thank you, no. I’m seven years dry.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Soda? Water?”

  “No need to apologize. I’m fine, thank you, though.” He looked at Casper. “This really can wait.”

  “You don’t know my husband, but you’ll learn quick,” Maggie said. “He’s got a thick head. Even went against his doctor’s advice and stopped taking his pain medication.” The edge was back in her voice and her eyes boiled with frustration.

  The sharp glare was not lost on Casper. “I don’t like the way it screws with my head. Ibuprofen works just fine.” There was a finality in his tone that warned her not to pursue this conversation.

  Maggie shook her head. “Marines. You can’t do anything with them.” Then she turned and left the room.

  Dale could feel the tension in the air like static electricity. “This seems like a bad time. I should probably go.”

  “You’re fine. She’s just still mad at me for jumping in the river. She seems to think I’m having some sort of crisis because of retiring from the Marines. That I have a need to prove myself.”

  “Do you?” Dale hoped Casper didn’t mistake his tone. He wasn’t taking Maggie’s side, but he thought there to be some truth in it.

  Casper smiled. “Some days, I guess. But I won’t admit that to her.”

  A roar of stomping feet and raucous laughter rang out from somewhere in the house. Dale listened as the Brown’s three children chattered to each other, and he felt suddenly grateful that he wasn’t giving his condolences to them at some graveside ceremony. A funny clicking noise broke this train of thought and he looked up as three dogs walked into the family room together.

  One was a yellow lab, one was an Australian Shepherd, and the other was a tiny dog that looked like a black fox. They stared at him for a moment, their jeweled eyes shimmering in the light, scrutinizing him as though he were a species they had yet to encounter. Then the black dog poked her pink tongue out, wagged her tail and the others followed her lead. It seemed that Dale had met their approval.

  The three children ran into the family room. The smallest child, a little girl of five with her mother’s hair, ran up and hugged the lab. “There you are.”

  The dogs and children swirled in and out of each other in a storm of hops, squeals, barks, dancing and laughter. They bounced around the entrance to the family room for a bit then spun off down the hall.

  Dale smiled. “A dog for each kid?”

  “No, not really. Just some strays. I wanted them gone, but I was overruled.” Dale could see Casper was a man not used to being overruled. “They’ll be hitting the road in the morning.”

  “I’ve seen this situation hundreds of times. You’re a three-time dog owner now.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Tell me something then. Have the kids named the dogs yet?”

  Casper didn’t have to answer. The look on his face said it all.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dale said. “They’re your dogs, now.”

  Casper rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”

  “You don’t like dogs?”

  Casper readjusted his position, which seemed to take a great deal of his energy. “I like them just fine. I just prefer they belong to someone else.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Brown.”

  “Call me Cas or Casper.”

  “Casper Brown. That’s a unique name.”

  “Yeah, my folks were real comedians.”

  “So, you were in the Marines?”

  “Yes. I retired about a year ago.”

  Dale nodded. “What is your rank?”

  “I achieved lieutenant major.”

  “Impressive. What landed you here in Shadeland?”

  Casper hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Maggie recently received her Master’s in nursing and she landed a teaching job at the university.”

  The idle talk continued for a bit. Though Casper was in pain, it seemed to come naturally for the two of them. They were more like old buddies reunited than recent acquaintances. Casper was a very interesting guy, genuine and honest, and Dale liked him instantly.

  “So, why did you jump into Rogers River?” Dale didn’t intend to ask this question. The conversation just naturally brought them to the subject.

  “Like I told the people at the hospital, someone threw a burlap sack into the river. I jumped in after it.”

  “Yeah, I got that part.” Dale rubbed his face. “But why? You’re willing to die for a bag of trash?”

  Casper’s face hardened and Dale worried that he had overstepped his bounds. “There was something in that sack. Something alive. I’ve seen enough death to last me two lifetimes. Whatever was in that sack, I didn’t want it to die.”

  When Casper spoke like this, Dale had a hard time picturing him as a high ranking Marine. It seemed to go against the jarhead stereotype. But then when he thought about the courage, strength and heroism that emanated from this man he could see the soldier’s virtue within.

  “You know all of this,” Casper said. “Whatever your real question is, just ask it for pity’s sake.”

  Dale thought it over. It was impossible to ask the question and keep from opening a door to more questions. There was no way to have this conversation and not impart a bit of his own biases and suspicions on Casper. There was no official investigation, and there wouldn’t be one even if Casper gave him the answer he was looking for. All he would gain is a morsel to feed his curiosity with, but it wouldn’t satiate the hunger.

  “Did you see who threw the bag over the side?”

  Casper shook his head. “No. We were too close to the bridge.”

  Dale shifted in his seat. “But you did see the vehicle?”

  “No. Sorry. Like I said, the angle was bad.” He stared off, no doubt replaying the images in his mind. “It was blue.”

  Dale’s face tensed as he struggled to conceal his interest. “You sure it was blue?”

  “Yes. And I think it was a truck. A late model one, though I can’t say what year or model. Does that mean something to you?”

  Either Casper was great at reading people or Dale had the worst poker face ever. “How do you know it was a truck?”

  “I could see the top of the cab. It looked like an old truck to me. Tell me what you know. You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

  Dale needed to tread this one lightly. Casper was a nice guy—a true American p
atriot—but Dale hadn’t known him long enough to know if unbalanced and hot tempered were among the list of attributes. The last thing he needed was a pissed off ex-Marine stirring up trouble with one of the most beloved families in Shadeland.

  Dale chose his words carefully. “I pulled over a 53 Chevy pickup just past the bridge on the day of your accident. In fact, I was about to write a speeding ticket when I heard your children screaming for you.”

  Casper shuddered and Dale felt it as well. As if Death’s cheated hand was close by, ready to reclaim what was stolen from it.

  “I believe that this person dumped the burlap sack over the bridge when they heard my siren. I have no proof, of course. Especially since the sack was never recovered.”

  “Have you discussed any of this with the owner of the truck?”

  “No. If we had saved the sack, then we’d have a leg to stand on. Right now all I’ve got is a speeding violation that I failed to ticket at the scene.” Dale laughed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I can’t very well follow people home and deliver tickets that I missed.”

  Casper dissected him with his razor-sharp glare. Dale saw the Marine in that look and pitied any of the man’s subordinates that had not lived up to his expectations. It took a lot to make a cop squirm, but Casper’s gaze made it hard to sit still.

  “Who owns the blue truck?” Casper asked finally. “Why—”

  Just then the three dogs broke into the family room in a tornado of fur, barks and wagging tails. They hopped and snapped at each other playfully, every now and then grabbing each other by the throats. Though the Australian Shepherd was a good size, and the lab was even larger so, it was the tiny black dog that seemed to be leader of the pack. When the two bigger dogs, caught in a joyous frenzy of canine-sumo-wrestling, slammed into the little dog, she showed her authority. With a menacing growl she grabbed the lab by the throat then followed him to the ground where he rolled onto his back in submission. The Shepherd dropped down and forfeited the fight as well.

  Dale found it very amusing that the smallest of the group was the one calling the shots. The two larger dogs could easily overpower her, but they obeyed like a pair of chastised children.

  Casper whipped his head around, his eyes bulging with fury. “Cut it out.”

  Immediately the dogs ceased their grappling and sat in a row like a line of furry soldiers. “Get out of here.” The black dog turned and left, followed by the lab and the Shepherd.

  Dale watched with raised eyebrows. Those are some obedient strays, he thought, but said nothing. He stood up. “I should get going. Let you rest.”

  Casper fixed him with another hundred-yard-stare. “What aren’t you telling me? I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would like to understand what you are looking for.”

  Dale didn’t want to answer that question, but he liked Casper, and it’s hard to keep a secret from a friend. “When do you think you will be back on your feet? What I mean is how long before you’ll feel like taking long walks?”

  “I don’t know. I have some rehab to do, but I’ve always been a fast healer. I should be up to decent speed in a couple of weeks. Maybe not running marathons, but good enough to get by. Why?”

  “You and your family should visit the St. Francis Refuge Center. It’s an interesting place. You seem like a man with a keen eye.” Dale pulled a card from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. “Call me and let me know what you think.”

  Casper eyed the card but made no move to pick it up. His face was screwed up in a look of pain or frustration. Probably both. “I will. Maybe sooner than you think.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  Dale let himself out. It wasn’t until he closed the door of his cruiser that the call coming over the radio from dispatch caught his attention. Something bad had happened at the golf course just down the road.

  The Nest

  Clifton Arnold didn’t mind the burning in his skin, or the aching in his bones. Since meeting the creature, he had yet to sleep. Though the hyper-insomnia drove him mad, it wasn’t the worst thing. The hunger troubled him most of all. A voracious pit—a black hole—seemed to have taken up residence within him and its unrelenting gravity tore at him day and night.

  Clifton didn’t know what that thing had done to him, but he knew he was changing. And not all of the changes were physical.

  Once upon a time good hygiene and grooming were a top priority. He wouldn’t have been caught dead out in mismatched clothes and heaven forbid he go a day without showering. Now, however, he was free of those things. He had been wearing the same clothes for the past week, and neither a drop of water nor a bar of soap had graced his body. And the funny thing was it didn’t matter to him. Not one little bit.

  A pain-filled moan filtered down from the loft bedroom of June’s cabin. Clifton ceased his pacing in the kitchen and stormed up the stairs, both amazed and frightened by the speed and agility with which he accomplished this. He no longer moved like a human, but a fierce and angry insect.

  He eased open the bedroom door. June writhed upon the bed, battling the pain of her own metamorphosis. He knew she was hurting but was in no outside danger. Clifton sighed. His supercharged senses geared down. He watched her a moment longer then closed the door.

  Over the past few days even his thoughts of June had evolved. When he had known her before, he’d thought she was mousy and boring. A terrible dresser. A lonely soul destined to be a castaway. Someone that would sooner or later choose the path of suicide and neither be mourned nor remembered.

  But now he feared to be too far away from her and would venture no farther than the confines of the cabin.

  Something rattled in the kitchen below. A primal surge of adrenaline rushed through his body. Clifton neglected the stairs, leapt right over the rail and landed with barely a sound. Without hesitation he ran into the kitchen where a large, fat raccoon snooped through the trash that was strewn across the floor. It had smelled the garbage and ventured in through the broken window. It meant no harm; was merely looking for a little snack. But when Clifton saw the beast, a boiling territoriality pumped pure anger through his veins.

  The raccoon had only a moment to register that it was no longer alone. It made a tiny startled hop backward, but could manage nothing more. Clifton darted forward with a raptor’s speed and took hold of the animal.

  Clifton grabbed the raccoon and wrenched the creature hard enough to not only break its neck, but to twist its head off. The power flowing into his hands was immense and intoxicating. The rapture of the battle washed away the pain, the fear, the world. He pulled the raccoon into pieces as though it were tissue paper. A single thread of humanity stood silent and appalled, but the rest of him howled in rage. How dare this filthy beast trespass here? How dare it invade their nest? He would not let it or anything near June. She would not be harmed. She would not be bothered. She was his and no other could have her.

  Clifton looked down on the mess he had made. A week ago he would have vomited. He would have rushed from the room squealing. That was before. Now, a great satisfaction filled him. He was the victor. An enemy had entered and threatened June’s sanctuary. But that enemy was now in ruins and June was safe.

  Clifton stood up and wiped his blood-soaked hands on his pants. He left the kitchen without even thinking of cleaning up the mess. He explored the lower rooms of the cabin for more intruders. The knight must protect the queen.

  Clifton sat outside the bedroom door, watching through the large windows as the light outside dwindled. The shadows grew, at first filling the nooks and crannies, but soon spilling out into the open spaces. As night consumed day, Clifton thought to rise and turn on the lights but stopped when he realized the darkness did not hinder his vision any longer. In fact, it seemed he could see even better at night than in the daylight.

  Clifton eased the bedroom door open again. June was safe and sound, sitting cross-legged on the bed. It seemed the burning metamorphosis within her had quieted.
She looked around the dark room, peering here and there, with an astonished look on her face. She must have heard a whisper of sound or caught a whiff of his odor, because she turned her head and looked directly at him. She smiled and his heart rushed. He wanted to enter and tell her about the raccoon, about how he protected her, but the knight should enter his queen’s chamber only if bidden.

  Yet, he wanted to enter. He longed for her to call to him. Her week of transformation had brought very little change to her appearance. Her complexion was more animated, but other than that she was the same June as before. Her hair was a system of knots; her clothes soiled and malodorous. There was nothing extraordinary about her. In fact she was a mess, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. Clifton had never been aroused by women before. It was this change that perplexed him the most. Although he wanted to have sex with June, it was due to neither love nor lust. It was almost like instinct.

  What was happening to him? How was this possible? What did that thing do to him?

  Please, a voice spoke in his head, call me Scorpion.

  Clifton flinched hard. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to hear the voice for June made a startled little cry. He peered down through the stairway spindles. Though the darkness hid nothing from his new eyes he could not locate the creature.

  “Where are you?” Clifton’s throat felt packed with dust and he had to choke the words out.

  Near, Scorpion said. I have brought nourishment for you and June. Are you not pleased?

  Clifton discovered he was pleased, not just with the thought of eating (though his body was burning with hunger) but also that the creature had returned. He felt safer, more at peace, with it near.

  “Thank you,” he said then added, “for your kindness.”

  Scorpion didn’t respond, but Clifton felt a sense of approval.

  “What is happening to us?”

  No more questions. Both of you must feed.