by Tia Wilson
When the waitress was out of earshot Grace said, “Where are we heading?”
“It’s a town far north in Canada. A place called Twin rock. It’s a small out of the way town. It was a once prosperous logging town that had fallen on hard times. Most of my clan lives there and it’s just they way my people like it. It’s remote and has very little contact with the outside world. Once we get there we should be safe,” he said.
The waitress came back with more plates of food and refills for their drinks.
“Is it filled with people like you,” Grace asked.
“It is mostly shifters living there but we do have a fair amount of shifter human families in the town. The place is a safe haven for our clan. The town rarely has outside visitors and so we get to live out our lives in peace which is all our clan has ever wanted,” Tom said.
“What about the white bears do they want peace too?” Grace asked.
Tom shook his head and said, “They want peace but only if our clan is wiped out of existence. The white bear clan has always been more interested in accruing money and power. For hundreds of years we stayed in our part of the world as did they and our paths very rarely crossed. That all passed maybe ten years ago,” Tom said trying not to meet Graces eyes.
“What is it?” Grace asked reaching out and taking Toms hand.
“It was a dark chapter in our clans history. I don’t want to go into it now. Maybe some other time,” Tom said as he started on his sixth plate of food. He kept his eyes down and didn’t look in Graces direction as he polished off the remaining plates. Once he’d finished them all he wiped his mouth and smiled. “I feel like a new man,” he said with a grin. Grace could see that the colour had returned to his cheeks and his eyes looked clear and alive again.
“Lets hit the road,” Tom said standing up, “we have a good bit of driving ahead of us,” he said as they paid the bill and left the diner. The road unspooled ahead of them as they made their way North, towards safety, towards home and maybe towards a better life.
2
The First Black Bear
The black bear stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air. His huge head tilted to the side as he breathed in the scent of the forest. The loamy rich aroma of the soft forest floor and the fragrant smell of the forest canopy above filled his snout. There was something else mixed with the familiar smells of his habitat, a smell the bear knew to avoid from a young age, a scent that always signified change in the bears life. It was the smell of burning. The bear had been on the move for two weeks now. The burning forest constantly at its back, pushing it forward and into unknown territory. Food had been scarce since the great fire started and the bears dark fur hung slack across its back and shoulders. This should have been a time of great bounty when the bear hunted and ate a range of animals as it increased its body mass in preparation for the cold winter. Instead the bear had been on the run.
It had been surviving on berries, wild fruits, the occasional small mammal, grubs and beetles. The bear would stand on its hind legs in front of a tree and rake its claws into the bark and strip off chunks of bark. As the bear ripped the strips off it reverberated around the forest sounding like someone breaking a bundle of sticks over their knee. The bark would fall to the ground and the bear would lick up soft bodied grubs and crunchy tunnelling beetles. These minuscule amounts of food were enough to keep the bear moving forward but as each day went by his power was waning.
A moss covered fallen tree lay across the bears path and he reached his paw into the hollow end to fish out any sleeping prey. His paw came out empty and the bear stood tall and bellowed into the still forest air.
The bear heard something behind him and turned. He saw a movement between the trees, four or five patches of dark brown darted between the boughs and then disappeared. The bear stood on his back legs and roared again. Something was wrong and the bear could feel it. There was a time when he was feared by all other bears in his wide expanse of territory. He had cowed and defeated many a young pretender to his throne and his dominance had allowed him to sire many young. He would have charged at the shapes hiding in the woods but for the first time he felt something different. The bear looked back and then charged through the woods in the opposite direction of the mysterious shapes watching him.
The bear tore through the scrubby underbrush of the forest, ripping through the undergrowth as branches snapped back behind him. The bears muscles ached and his already weakened body could not sustain the pace. He slowed down sniffing the air again. The fire was closer. Gone was the smell of the forest and it was now replaced with an acrid sting of smoke. Trees could be heard crackling in the distance, a trunk exploded like a bomb as it caught fire and moisture escaped explosively.
The bear was pushed onward into territory he was not familiar with. Strange smells filled his senses, the sounds of the forest were different here. Nothing was the same as he was used to. The forest began to thin out and the bear pushed on. The soft spongy ground of the forest changed to swaying grass as the bear left the tree line. He looked back over his shoulder and felt a yearning for the safety and cover of the trees. He pushed on knowing he could not exist anywhere the burning fingers of the fire reached.
The bear stood in the tall grass and surveyed his surroundings. North of him was another forest off in the distance and across the swaying sea of grass. From the West and carried on the wind he caught a new odour, something he hadn't smelled in a long time. Mixed into the smell of the burning forest he caught the metallic scent of blood and flesh. Long white strings of spittle ran from his maw as the bear turned and ran in the direction of the enticing stench.
The bear crossed the plain with speed, his muscles finding a renewed strength brought on by the smell of carrion. All other thought, all other sensations were background noise to the bear as it pushed on. Filling its belly was the overriding concern for the emaciated beast.
The bear ran on all fours, his soft paws kicking up sprays of dirt as he loped across the plain. Off to his left a flock of birds flew out of the tall grass with a squawk and flew high above. The bear didn't even notice them. His world was pinpointed to the rich aroma of flesh being carried on the breeze.
He cleared the tall grass and stopped as he stood in a large circle with the grass cut back. In the middle of the clearing lay a deer carcass split open. His entrails spilled out in front of him and steam rose from the guts. The bear paused and sniffed the air once more. In the distance and of no current threat he could smell the burning forest, the most overpowering smell was the deer carcass mixed with something the animal had never smelled before. The bear raised up on its hind legs and sniffed the air, its ears plastered to the side of its head. The strange scent was gone. The bear could not hold back anymore. It charged into the centre of the circle and snapped its jaws, ripping a chunk of meat off the deers hind leg.
The group of eight men stood in the tall grass watching the bear approach the deers carcass. The men where all naked and caked in a layer of red mud. Their eyes looked like marbles peering up from the earth as they stood in silence. The tallest of the men looked at his companions in turn. The oldest of the group stepped forward and rubbed his fingers across the tall mans closed eyelids, across his throat and his stomach. When the old man finished the tall man turned and walked out of the tall grass and into the cleared area. He walked forward a few steps and the bear continued to wrench at the deer carcass, blood, spittle and tufts of fur flying as he ripped at it his massive incisors.
The man took another step forward and raised his hands above his head. His hair was slicked back with mud and one side of his skull was completely hairless with a jagged scar running from front to back. He clapped his hands together loudly in quick succession. The claps sounded unnaturally loud in the grass circle. The bear wheeled around, a chunk of flesh hanging from its jaws. The bear reared up on its hind legs and growled deep in its chest. It had never seen an animal like this before and appraised the mud covered creature before it.
The blow knocked the man to the ground. A huge flap of skin folded back from his chin to his ear and he coughed and spluttered bubbles of blood. A new smell filled the bears nose and it intoxicated him. The bear slammed his front paws down and one pinned the mans arm which snapped like a twig as the claws dug into the flesh. Blood ran down the mans chest from his gaping facial wound and yet he stayed still as the bear stood over him. The bear opened its mouth and roared into his face, blood and foam spraying the mans face. The rotten smell of flesh and decay filled the air around them. The man looked into the unknowable dark eyes of the bear and for a moment no longer than the beating of a hummingbirds wings he thought he could see some secret nature of the bear.
The bear opened his jaws wide and snapped them shut around the mans head. The sound of bone grinding and cracking filled the mans ears as his skin shredded between the bears teeth. A breath like the furnace of hell had opened, blasted down on him and the man screamed in agony. The bear held the screaming man by the head and stood up shaking him like a rag doll. The screams stopped as bone shattered between the bears teeth. The bear dropped the body and ripped open its torso. The bear stuck its snout into the hole and pulled out a mouthful of viscera. Thoughts of the forest fire or the unusual scent were gone as the bears mind was clouded by the feast of blood and flesh before it.
The man dreamed. He was in a lush green forest. Figments and phantoms moved behind the tress. He would turn and they would dance out of his vision always tantalisingly close. The man smelled the air. He knew there was a deer nearby. He could smell the burning forest on the wind and if he really concentrated he could tell another man, a younger man had passed through here not long ago. He looked around and he could see steam rising from the ground and moving off into the distance. The man knew this is where the younger man had gone. If he wished he could easily follow his path. He looked around undecided.
The man heard movement in the trees, the sound of rustling and breaking branches coming from every angle. He spun around wildly. He wanted to call out but his throat seemed sealed shut and produced no noise. Something stepped out from behind a green and leafy part of hanging canopy and looked at him. The mans first instinct was to run. He did not give into it and stayed his ground. He recognised the figure before him. It was another man. He heard more rustling and more men appeared from out of the woods, each watching him silently.
The man spun around as they watched him. His hands sprung up to his throat. He couldn't breath, he scratched at his throat as something hot burned inside him. He tried to scream and no sound came out. His nails raked at the flesh as the burning sensation spread through his body. He fell to the ground thrashing about. His feet scratched in the leaf litter as he spasmed, everything was going dark. He could hear a noise like a river rushing over a rocky bed as he scratched at his throat drawing blood. The forest around him was beginning to darken as his lungs burnt and his body felt like it was burning up from within.
The forest split before him, bright light flooded in as he fell towards the tear. He rolled over and the forest was gone. He was laying on the ground, his torso sticking out of pile of steaming flesh. Fur and bone was embedded in the oozing pile and the man coughed and spluttered as he pulled himself out of it. Clouds of dust rose up as he coughed up lungfuls of a clear liquid. Once his lungs where empty he rolled over onto his back and sucked in some air. His lungs filled for what felt like the first time and the man hollered and shouted at the sky.
A circle formed around him as he got up on his knees. Each man reached out and touched the throat of the newly born man, and then kissed their finger and looked to the sky. The tall man stood up, his body streaked with blood, bits of grass sticking to his body. He stood and flexed his arms and legs and then stopped and sniffed the air. He looked over at the carcass of the deer and ran to it. His stomach rumbled as spittle ran down his chin. He glanced back at the men watching him and then got on hands and knees and buried his face in the torn apart abdomen. He bit and ripped off great mouthfuls of the raw flesh, the still warm blood pouring down his throat. Every one of his senses tingled and throbbed. He ate until he was full and then turned back to the watching men, his face covered with blood and gore. The men were on their knees bowing towards him. The oldest of the group raised his head and spoke in their ancient tongue. “Shaltar you have become one with the beast. You must now lead us south so we can vanquish our enemies.” Each of the men on their knees looked towards Shaltar and they all roared in unison. Shaltar stood before them dripping with blood and feeling the life force of a savage beast pulse behind his eyes. He looked to each man, sniffing the air before them and jutting his chest out. He stepped forward and threw his head back and roared. The deep rumbling bellow of the black bear came from deep inside Shaltar as his eyes darkened and his lips pulled back in an inhuman snarl.
3
Death Row
Lewis “Button” Crail had spent most of his life behind bars. His first arrest had been for snatching an old woman’s bag as she walked down the street. He'd grabbed the bag easily enough from the woman and started to sprint away from her when he tripped on his laces and went sprawling onto the ground. A bull of a man who ran the corner store had seen the whole thing go down and he ran out and laid some serious punches to Lewis before he got up.He was knocked out cold and the next thing he knew he was waking up and being dragged into the back of a police car.
Back then he was a thin gaunt looking sprig of a guy, his clothes always seemed to hang off his angular frame making him look more stick like. He was the butt of the joke in his small group of would be street thugs and had grabbed the woman’s bag to show the others he was capable of being a tough guy. He could hear the peals of laughter as he face planted onto the pavement. Even the cops gave him a hard time as they drove him to the station. “You’re lucky that old woman didn't beat your skinny ass back there,” said the cop with crewcut and piggy features.
“She could have broke you over her leg like a twig,” said the other cop with the acne scars and mean eyes.“ They both laughed at this.
The abuse continued all the way to the station with the two cops making bad jokes about how skinny and weedy he was, how he would weigh more if he was wet, and what they would do to someone so powerless in prison.
The word prison chilled Lewis to the marrow as he imagined guys twice as big as him beating the crap out of his far weaker body. He spent the following night in a cell on his own, crying silently to himself and making all kinds of promises that he would go straight and turn himself around. He ended up getting a few hours of community service because it was a first offence and his blessed mother got his former english teacher to speak as a character witness on his behalf.
His brush with the law changed Lewis. He started working out aggressively. The first few months were hell, he’d puke if he pushed himself too hard, his arms and legs were always sore and his muscle mass didn't seem to be increasing. He was working out one day on the small bit of scrub grass that backed onto his mothers bungalow and she saw how determined he was to bulk up and surprised him by paying for six months at a community gym.
The gym changed his life forever. Within six months of joining it he was using steroids every days and hanging out with an assortment of criminals. The guys at the gym seemed so cool to Lewis, they had a swagger and a confidence he thought he would never have himself. One of the guys in the gym, a young guy who went by the name of Jaunty introduced him to steroids and hooked him up with a couple of free months. Once Lewis st
arted to bulk up and his stash of steroids was running low Jaunty was more than happy to keep him supplied if he would provide some muscle while Jaunty made a couple of visits to collect from the tower blocks.
Lewis barely even thought about it and those runs with Jaunty turned into bigger and better things and set him firmly on the path which eventually lead him to his current place. Lewis had been on death row for three years for the murder of a young family in a bank heist gone wrong. He had been hopped up on a cornucopia of drugs and steroids at the time. A guy named Frank Cash who Lewis had never liked was part of the job. Cash was legendary for his appetites, he had to have more booze,more pussy and more drugs than anyone who hung out with him. Everything was a dick measuring contest to him and if someone couldn't keep up with him he was deemed as weak. Frank Cash was a last minute addition to the heist after another member got busted in a vice sweep of a famous flophouse. They needed someone for crowd control and Cash had a reputation and so got the job.
Halfway through the heist Cash snapped. He was hopped up on a cocktail of drugs from days of partying before the job. “Are you fucking looking at me?” he shouted to a woman cowering on the floor and clearly looking at nothing but the marble she was pressed against. “Hey did you see that,” Cash shouted in his high pitched voice. “This bitch was looking at me,” he said pointing the shotgun in her direction.
The woman was shaking on the floor and moaning,”No,no no.”
“Hey Lewis I think this bitch knows me, probably an old girlfriend,” Cash said grinning.
“Eyes on the prize,” Lewis said, “we’ll be out of here in less then sixty,” he said hoping to refocus Cash’s attention.
The noise of the shotgun blast reverberated around the bank, it was if someone had opened an airlock on a space station and all the air was sucked out. The woman lay dead on the floor from a shot to the back of the head from point blank range. Lewis pivoted towards Cash raising his gun. The woman’s husband who was lying close beside her began to crawl towards her body. Cash turned the gun towards the husband. Lewis could hear his breathing and nothing else. He pulled the trigger as Cash blasted the husband in the base of the spine. Lewis's first bullet whizzed by Cash's ear and he spun on his heals to fire back at Lewis.
