Shapeless

by Glenn Bullion

  Brady smiled at her, which was his best feature, according to her. He lifted the soda to his lips.

  The refreshing beverage never quite made it.

  A new experience made him freeze. Something was wrong with his head. A pain struck him. He was no stranger to pain. His body was different, but changing shape too fast, too often, brought him discomfort and pain. If he cut himself, before willing his flesh to mend, there was pain. He'd had his share of beatings.

  But this was different.

  He knew headaches were very common in the world he lived in. People spent billions on simple medicines to get rid of them, keep them at bay. But Brady had never experienced a headache. He never had to take a pill, lay in the dark, place a cool rag over his head. Whatever it was that made him different, he didn't get sick, nauseous, or vomit.

  But as he sat at the food court in the middle of the mall, his head throbbed in agony, and wouldn't go away.

  He set his cup down and reached for his head. His arm froze, refusing to obey him. He struggled against the sudden refusal of his muscles to work, but the effort only brought more pain.

  Brady couldn't move.

  He tried to stand. When that didn't work, he settled on simply wiggling a toe. Nothing. He tried to call for help, but his mouth wouldn't open. The pain moved from his head to the rest of his body. His senses still worked. He could hear the people eating and talking around him, could smell the food. He felt the single tear run down his face.

  A voice spoke behind him.

  "Just be still, son. It'll only hurt worse if you resist."

  His eyes still worked, with some discomfort. He tried to follow the voice, look to the side. A man stepped into Brady's field of vision and sat across the table. Older, maybe close to sixty, with gray hair at the temples. He was dressed in a suit and tie, with an expensive-looking watch on his wrist.

  Brady and the mysterious man simply stared at one another for nearly a minute. Brady tried to speak, but his mouth still wouldn't obey him. The pain was steady and dull, with an occasional sharp stab when he tried to move.

  The man studied him, just like Brady did with him.

  "My name's Donovan. My friends call me Donnie." The well-dressed man let out a frown. "But I don't think you'll be calling me Donnie."

  Donovan reached out and grabbed a fry. Brady tried to speak once again. His mouth moved, half an inch, and the pain attacked.

  "Brady, stop," he said. "This doesn't have to be painful. The tech we're using, it's pretty intense. It's designed just for you, to keep you from bending that body of yours. No one around us is affected. But, as I'm sure you can tell by now, you can't move."

  Another tear. Brady glanced around with the little movement he had in his eyes. He tried to gaze at anyone passing by, make contact. Beg for help with a look. No one even looked his way.

  "I just wanted to talk to you first," he said. "I want you to know. I really don't want to kill you. It's not personal at all. I take no pleasure in this. I figure we owed you that much."

  Tech. What were they using to hurt him? Where was it? Did Donovan have something in his pocket?

  A familiar voice joined in.

  "Brady?"

  It was Lily, carrying her purse and shopping bag with Sharon's clothes and his newly purchased phone. Her expression was one of horror, fear. Donovan looked over his shoulder toward her, not a care in the world. He was talking about murder as if it were a mundane part of conversation.

  "Ah. Lilian Ferguson. Please, have a seat."

  Lily didn't move. She glanced back and forth between Donovan and Brady. She could see Brady was hurt.

  "Lily," Donovan said again. "Sit down. Now. If you try to run or scream, I will kill you both."

  Moving toward him, Lily held out her hand, wanting to touch Brady. Donovan snatched her arm and held her still.

  "No. Next to me, please. Let's leave Brady alone. Touching him right now would actually hurt him."

  "What did you do to him?"

  "Nothing for you to worry about." He turned to face her, not worried about Brady in the least. "We're not interested in you at all. You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You're free to go."

  "I'm not leaving Brady."

  Donovan smiled.

  "I thought you'd say that. You don't have a choice, really. One of my associates will drive you back to your apartment. Whatever you do after that, it's up to you. Now, if you resist, try to make a scene, he dies first, so you can watch. Then I kill you."

  "What are you going to do with him?"

  "Better worry about yourself right now, dear."

  Lily cried. Not for herself, but because she saw the agony on Brady's face. Another man in a suit approached. This one was younger, wearing sunglasses. He hovered over Lily, his posture threatening.

  "Miss Ferguson," he said, his voice deadly with fake sweetness. "If you'd come this way, please."

  She reached for Brady's hand and touched him. His skin felt like it was on fire. Donovan removed her hand while his associate grabbed Lily by the arm.

  "Please, come with me."

  Lily reluctantly obeyed. She turned back constantly, trying to see Brady. The man continued to lead her away. The look on her face tore at him. He struggled against the pain, struggled to move.

  "That is an amazing woman," Donovan said. "Reminds me a lot of my own daughter. Very strong willed. And you can see she cares about you."

  He tried to move his arm. He focused on breathing, trying to fight through the pain.

  "I'm glad you found someone, even if it was only for a little while. I tried not to think about you over the years. Way too painful. But of course, I did, and I wondered what kind of life you'd build for yourself, if you were still alive." He gestured over his shoulder. "She's very beautiful. Not a big fan of tattoos, but she somehow makes it work."

  Brady thought back to his upbringing. The beatings, the abuse. Never knowing what waited for him when he got home from school. Sometimes the fear of being beat was worse than the actual beating.

  "You and I will have to leave in a minute." He gestured behind him, referring to Lily. "With your girlfriend, I promise it will be quick. She won't feel a thing, won't see it coming."

  His eyes shot open.

  The pain was still there. But it didn't compare to the rage he felt.

  He managed to move his lips.

  "…Liar…."

  Donovan leaned back, surprised at the single spoken word. He leaned close to his collar.

  "We're not ready for transport yet," he said. "Leave the frequency where it is."

  Whatever voice was speaking to him, Brady could see Donovan didn't like what he heard. Brady focused on Lily. She was in danger. They wanted to hurt her. Kill her.

  "Increase the frequency," Donovan told his collar. "Just a little."

  The pain came back.

  Brady didn't care.

  He concentrated on changing shape. The pain slowly subsided. He was handling it, pushing through it. It was no different than when he was younger. The beatings were bad at first, but he'd gotten used to them.

  He focused, watched his hand slowly turn to gelatin.

  His body was his own once again.

  The table turned over, sending food and soda everywhere, as he sprung to his feet. Donovan fell backwards and tried to scoot away. He spoke to his collar, but Brady no longer listened. He grew, and grew. Seven feet tall, large and powerful. A form that matched his anger.

  Brady turned into a bear.

  He fell forward, landing on his front two paws. The patrons five tables over thought the scene was a gag of some kind, and laughed as they pulled out their phones. The laughter died quickly when Brady slapped the overturned table aside and pounced on Donovan.

  He clamped down on his shoulder, not stopping until he felt his teeth touch.

  Donovan howled as the chaos started. The shoppers in the food court ran as fast as they could, tripping over each other. Brady hoped the agony matched wh
at the shadowy man just inflicted on him. He shook his head violently, ripping flesh and muscle. Releasing his hold, he swiped with a powerful claw, catching Donovan across the face. Blood sprayed onto the floor. Donovan's face was a mangled mess. His eyes were wide as he tried to escape.

  Brady saw movement. He looked up to see other men in suits approaching. He couldn't count how many. One came out of the phone store. Two more approached from the children's play area. They were everywhere.

  Four of them pulled guns from under their coats.

  He shifted again, not bothering to assume another solid form. He slithered and flowed across the floor, deeper into the food court. He heard the bullets, felt them, as they hit his mass. The tables and chairs provided cover. He even split his form, moving around a support beam and garbage can, to make himself more difficult to track.

  The pain moved in and out as he found a safe spot near the noodle shop. He shifted once again, as fast as he could, taking on another form. Focusing his hearing and sight, he took in his surroundings. Donovan breathed heavily as he sat in a pool of his own blood. A suited man tended to him, examining his face and shoulder. Five others moved about the food court, pushing aside tables and looking behind counters. Brady would have laughed if he could. Sometimes the best hiding place was right in the open.

  The men shouted as they searched.

  "Did you see him?"

  "No. I'm clear on this side."

  "You're not clear. Did you forget who we're dealing with?"

  "The frequency is at max," Donovan struggled to shout. "He can't hold a shape long like that. Find him."

  Donovan was wrong. Brady hurt like he never had before. It was difficult to concentrate, to even move.

  But he wouldn't let them beat him.

  He thought of Lily. Once before she weathered a headache at his apartment. She lay on the couch with her bare feet across his lap. They listened quietly to Pandora with the lights out. She spent the night, and the next morning she was better.

  Lily. He needed to help Lily.

  He was running out of time.

  Brady changed from the food court table he'd mimicked. One of the men was only five feet away, and Brady pounced. Wrapping his mass around his legs, he easily took the man to the ground. The gun fell and slid away as he shouted.

  Donovan spotted him and pointed.

  "There!"

  Before they could react, he coiled his form and erupted from under a nearby table. It flew across the open space and struck another in the chest, sending him sprawling.

  A voice interrupted before the others could gather their bearings.

  "No one move!"

  Brady shifted his vision to see Paula. Standing near the entrance to the shoe store, she held one hand up, like she was trying to encourage peace.

  "Everybody calm down," she said. "I've called the police. They're on their way. Whatever is going on here, it's over."

  One of Donovan's men spoke up. He unsheathed his weapon, but kept it at his side.

  "This is a matter of national security. Turn around and walk away."

  "If that's true, you won't mind showing me—"

  He raised his gun toward Paula and fired. Two shots, striking her in the leg and shoulder. She collapsed.

  Brady wanted to shout, but his normal shape wasn't complete. The pain of whatever they were using still slowed him down. His cry of anger came out twisted and garbled.

  Three men turned toward him and trained their weapons, but he was already moving. He dove forward, rolling over his head, and changed mid-turn. His body shrank into a circular shape, the momentum carrying him onward.

  Donovan was halfway to his feet when the tire rolled across the floor. They fired several times, one striking the side, but did nothing. Donovan held his hand up. He knew it was useless to shoot a tire.

  Brady reached Paula and melted over top of her. He scooped her into his liquid mass and shot toward the shoe store. He didn't bother molding a complete form. As soon as he crossed the threshold a hook shot from him, latching onto the security gate above. The men sprinted toward him, with Donovan stumbling close behind, but they were too late. Brady slammed the gate home and slid the latch into place.

  They reached the gate, trying to lift it and raising their weapons. Brady was already sliding Paula behind the counter.

  "There's another way in," Donovan said. "Find it." He spoke into his collar. "Whatever is wrong with the box, fix it. Now."

  Paula wasn't moving. Her eyes were closed. He gently slapped her face as he regained his normal form, not knowing what else to do. Blood leaked from her wounds onto Brady and the floor.

  His pain came and went. He could almost imagine one of Donovan's men in a corner somewhere, playing with whatever tech they were using to hurt him. At its worst, it was manageable.

  But he was exhausted.

  "Paula," he said. "Paula, can you hear me?"

  She frowned and moaned in discomfort, turning her head from side to side.

  "Shit," she said. "Brady, the police aren't coming."

  He blinked in surprise.

  "But you said—"

  "They're using something that's stopping calls. I couldn't even dial out with the land line in the office. Everyone's phones going out, that's what made me notice. So, they finally found you."

  Brady's jaw dropped as he stared at his boss. Questions popped into his head, one after another, but one stood out above the rest.

  What is going on?

  "The cat's out of the bag," she said. Her eyes finally opened, looking into his. "You'd better turn into something and go get your friend. I saw one of them with her, heading toward the south entrance."

  He wanted to save Lily, needed to save her. But he couldn't just leave Paula. She was hurt.

  "Paula, I can't—"

  "Just go," she said, squeezing his arm. "Believe me, they don't want me. I'll be fine."

  He nodded and carefully peeked from behind the counter. Donovan was alone, and barely recognizable. He would need a ton of surgery before he looked right again. Brady ran forward, toward the gate. Donovan spoke into his collar while taking a step back. Brady leapt and changed.

  His form split, and hundreds of marbles peppered Donovan through the gate. He cursed while shielding his eyes. His foot slipped on several of Brady, and he fell hard to the floor. The marbles moved and joined, forming together. Brady assumed his familiar hawk form and spread his wings. Donovan's agents emerged from the neighboring store. They fired, but Brady was airborne and too far ahead.

  Brady flew toward the south entrance. The mall was still full of people either running for the exits or completely unaware of what was going on. Several tried to call out with their phones. They held their technology high above them, fruitlessly searching for a signal.

  His hopes dwindled as he soared. He searched the faces around him, and tried to push aside the panic. If he didn't find Lily, he would never see her again. They were going to murder her, for no other reason than she knew him.

  A fight near the restroom caught his attention. He recognized the man that escorted Lily away. The man had a woman pinned to the ground. Brady couldn't see her face, but recognized the ripped jeans and purple hair. Lily had used the rampaging mall shoppers as a distraction, and tried to make a run for it.

  Brady pulled his wings in and let gravity take over. He shifted during the fall, assuming his normal shape. Colliding with Donovan's man, the two slammed into the wall next to the water fountain. The agent took the brunt of the hit, and didn't move when he hit the floor.

  It was difficult to breathe. The pain subsided, but hadn't gone completely away. Brady wasn't sure how much shape-shifting he had left in him. He needed rest. He tried to stand, but only managed to sit before he had to stop. The mall spun around him, and he nearly slipped back to the floor when a hand caught his wrist.

  "Brady?"

  Lily dropped to her knees and held him. All Brady could do was lean his head on her shoulder. He needed ten, m
aybe fifteen seconds. His thoughts were scrambled. All he could think about was how nice Lily smelled. How was that possible? She'd used perfume before, but he didn't have any at his apartment.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Sure," he said. Using the wall, he managed to stand. "We have to get out of here."

  "Why is everybody running?"

  "Apparently, a bear got loose in the food court."

  She looked him up and down.

  "You…you're hurt."

  "No. I don't bleed."

  "That doesn't mean you're not hurt. Let's go."

  It took a moment to regain his gait, but he managed to walk steadily next to Lily. She tried to run, but Brady held her back, matching the pace of a group of nearby teens. Sprinting would make them stand out, and he wasn't sure if he could run, even if he wanted to.

  The glass doors exiting the mall were just ahead. The sun beckoned them, pushing him forward. If they could just make it to the car everything would be okay. They could figure out what was going on, what to do next.

  Brady felt the sun hit his face as they approached the doors. People were running to their cars, with several nearly hitting each other. Children were crying, adults were panicking. He shoved the doors open, Lily just behind him.

  He felt the pain first before registering that he'd been shot. His chest felt like he'd been punched. Then his stomach followed. Someone was screaming. Was it Lily, or himself? He couldn't tell. The glass in the door next to him shattered as another shot barely missed his head. More screaming, this time coming from the people in the parking lot.

  "Brady!"

  It was Lily, calling for him. Where was she? Where was he? He stared up at the ceiling above, where banners advertising an upcoming event hung from the rafters. When did he fall? He didn't remember.

  A familiar pair of hands hooked him under the arms and pulled. More shots fired, and more glass shattered around them. The doors disappeared as they rounded the corner. Lily collapsed under him, but continued to push with her feet. She cradled his head in her lap. Her thighs were comfortable. He could think of worse places to die.

  "Help!" she shouted. "Someone help us!"

  No one stopped. The people still leaving the mall barely gave them a second look.