by Smith, S. E.
His back hit the softly packed snow, and he and the human in his arms rolled several times. He immediately shielded the human with his body and lifted his weapon again. Both men had taken refuge behind the panels they had removed. The machine the human had been riding slid to the side and disappeared between two trees.
Walkyr released the human, pressed his hand against the device on his wrist, and held out his arm. Pallu had given him new adaptive defense technology. The glow of a circular protective shield flared up in front of him, lighting up as blasts from the two men’s pistols struck it. He kept low to the ground and in front of the smaller human.
“Do you understand me?” Walkyr growled, using the language Riley and Tina had taught him.
“Y…yes,” the squeaky, frightened voice replied.
“You are in danger. You must get on your transport and escape. I will cover you,” he instructed, lifting his arm and firing.
“Who… who are you? Is… is that a… a spaceship?” the young boy asked in an incredulous tone.
Walkyr gritted his teeth. “Yes, that is a spaceship and if you haven’t noticed, we are being fired upon. I suggest that you run. I will protect you,” he replied.
“Oh, okay… but, who are you?” the boy asked, still unmoving.
Walkyr grimaced when he felt the blows to the shield. A soft beep on the screen showed the power had been reduced to seventy percent—and it was dropping rapidly. If he didn’t get the human out of here soon, they would both end up dead.
“I’m an alien warrior who is trying to save your life. Will you please run to your transport?” he snapped in a harsher tone than he’d intended.
The boy’s eyes widened behind the yellowish tint of his goggles, and he nodded. Scrambling backwards on his hands and feet, he twisted and pushed to his feet. The boy stumbled and looked over his shoulder. Walkyr growled again at the boy to run. The shield had dropped down to thirty percent.
The moment the boy disappeared into the woods where his transport had vanished, Walkyr opened up rapid bursts of laser fire at the traitors. He holstered his pistol when the power level flashed red. Pulling a small round disk from his waist, he threw it and turned.
Walkyr took off running toward the woods after the boy, shape-shifting as he ran. The sleek body of his cat cut across the snow-covered ground. Ahead of him, he could hear the motor of the transport revving up.
He bent his head when a blast of snow hit him in the face, kicked up by the progress of the machine. The back end of the transport weaved drunkenly for a moment before the boy leaned forward and took off at a rapid pace.
The boy was a good hundred yards ahead of him when the force of the blast snapped the trees behind Walkyr and sent him tumbling over the small embankment. He rolled to his feet and shook his massive head.
A sound behind him warned him that he was not out of danger yet. Turning his head, he snarled savagely when he realized the explosion had started an avalanche. Massive amounts of snow on the steep hill began to roar down the side of the mountain.
Have to protect human child, his cat warned.
I know! Walkyr harshly replied.
He took off after the boy who had taken his warning to heart. The transport was speeding away from the scene. Walkyr needed to catch up with the boy, keep him safe, and somehow convince the human not to reveal what he had seen. This mission was becoming more hazardous with every second.
Must run faster, he told his cat.
His cat responded by spreading his toes further apart to better avoid sinking into the snow and lengthening his stride as he ran. He jumped over a fallen tree before swerving around another. The rumble behind him grew.
Hope filled him when he saw that the ground was rising. The transport ahead of him weaved back and forth, struggling to get up the steep incline. The boy looked over his shoulder as he crested the hill, then he focused ahead of him, pausing for a moment before he gunned the transport and disappeared over the other side. Walkyr lengthened his stride even more, running as fast as he could as the cascade of snow crashed to the ground behind him, showering him in a blinding tidal wave of ice, snow, and debris.
Walkyr crested the rise and looked back over his shoulder to assess whether the two men had survived. Before he registered what he was seeing, he heard a deep, blaring noise. He cursed when he realized why the boy had paused at the top of the rise. There was a road, and a massive transport was barreling toward him. His cat tensed and sprang out of the transport’s path.
The large transport missed him, but the one heading in the opposite direction did not. The impact was excruciating. He rolled over the hood, smashed into the windshield, and tumbled to the ground, rolling several times before he came to a stop.
Walkyr’s cat painfully struggled to stand up but fell onto his side. Walkyr lifted his head and hazily searched for the boy. He vaguely recognized the tracks from the boy’s transport before the black spots blotted out too much of his vision and his mind clouded.
In the background, were the sounds of vehicle doors opening and slamming shut. The loud, excited voices of humans reached him. He knew he needed to get up. He needed to escape into the woods, but his cat’s pain was overwhelming. He dared not shape-shift. He would heal faster in his cat form than in his two-legged one.
“What the hell is that? It came out of nowhere!” a deep voice exclaimed.
“I’m shocked it didn’t total your truck. I’ve never seen a cat like that before,” another voice said.
He lifted his head and opened his eyes when he felt a hand reach down to touch him. He could make out a blurry man in a uniform. The man jerked back when Walkyr’s cat moved. Unable to resist the darkness that pulled him down into its greedy claws, he laid his head back down and sighed deeply.
“Is he dead?” the deep voice asked.
“No. Help me get him into the back of my truck. I’ll take him to the rescue center,” another male voice said.
“You work there. Do you know what kind of cat this is?” the deep-voiced man asked.
“No, but someone there is bound to,” the uniformed man replied.
Pain dragged Walkyr back to consciousness a few minutes later when the men rolled him onto something smooth and dry. He winced and groaned but didn’t resist. He heard the men count to three before a wave of dizziness washed through him as they lifted him into the air.
Another pain-filled moan escaped him when they gently laid him in the back of the truck. He tried to lift his head when two of the men jumped over the side of the vehicle. The slamming of the tailgate reverberated through his head, sending another shaft of pain through it. He plummeted back into the blissful insulation of darkness.
Chapter Six
Big Cypress Reservation, Florida
Trescina grimaced as another mosquito buzzed around her. Despite the light, chilly breeze, the little blood-sucking vampires were looking for their next victim. She pulled up the hood of her windbreaker jacket and waved her hand to shoo the pest away.
It was hard to believe it was January already. Her short vacation to visit an old friend had flown by. She waved to a couple of young teens on horseback and grinned when she saw their wide eyes follow her as she carefully skirted them in order not to scare their mounts.
“How does she do that?” Joe Billie said in awe.
Josie Tiger shrugged. “Grandfather says they are her animal spirits,” she replied, tapping her heels to the side of her mount.
“Why can’t I have a cool animal spirit like that? My dad said mine is the old hound dog that I found eating out of the trash can,” Joe complained.
Trescina chuckled and wiggled her fingers in Cinnamon’s coarse hair. She looked down at the white female Siberian tiger when Cinnamon looked up at her. It was nice to be in an area where the cats could walk freely without being feared.
“Animal spirit, huh? They’d really be shocked if they knew the truth,” she murmured.
Hearing a loud sneeze, she chuckled and looked down at Sp
ice. The white male Siberian tiger appeared to be grinning.
“You know, I don’t care how often I’ve seen this, it is still unbelievable,” an amused voice informed her.
Trescina looked up. Her gaze softened when she saw Willie Johns sitting on a bench in front of the small general store his daughter and son-in-law owned. The old Seminole Indian was leaning forward on his cane, soaking up the sun. He was the reason she was here.
“Hey, Willie,” Trescina greeted him with an affectionate smile.
“You have checked on the panther?” Willie asked.
She climbed the steps onto the wide porch. The two tigers bounded up the steps in one leap and trotted over to Willie for their morning scratch before padding to the end of the porch that was completely in the sun. Willie’s gaze followed the two large tigers.
She nodded and sat down on the bench next to him. “Yes, the ribs that were cracked by the python’s grip are healing. John said he is going to tag and release her sometime next week. She’s only been on her own for a year. I think she will be a little more careful about what she messes with next time,” Trescina replied with a contented sigh.
Willie raised a bushy eyebrow. “It was fortunate that you heard her cry and were able to save her, especially since it was dark out. You could have just as easily been attacked by either the python or the panther,” he commented with a stern look of reproach.
“Yes,” she said, not expanding on her response.
She didn’t bother explaining to Willie that she was the most dangerous creature out in the Everglades. Instead, she sat back and listened to Willie as he chatted about his day. A small nagging feeling drew her attention to Spice. He was still lying down, but she could tell from his stiff posture that something was bothering him.
What is it? she asked, reaching out to the white tiger.
Spice turned to look at her. His demeanor was wary. Trescina opened herself to the Siberian tiger. With all cats, she was empathic physically and emotionally. She could also communicate telepathically in a manner similar to the way that she talked with her own cat.
The difference was the big cats couldn’t speak to her the way her cat could. Instead, they communicated with her through images. At the moment, Spice was sending her a mixed message. He sensed something wasn’t quite right, but couldn’t actually pinpoint why.
She slowly scanned the scenic tropical foliage. The street was lined with cars. Occasionally, a car passed, slowing down to stare at the tigers before continuing on its way. Palm trees, palmettos, and pine trees dotted the landscape behind the rows of houses.
Trescina felt another wave of uneasiness wash through her. She wasn’t sure if the unease originated from her or her cat this time. Her cat had been feeling edgy off and on for a while, but now it was spreading to the tigers. Trescina kept her head turned away from Willie as she reached deep inside. She had learned a long time ago to listen to her other half.
What is it? Is there a threat? she silently asked.
Yes, sense… danger, her cat fretted.
Is it anyone we’ve met here? Trescina asked.
Her eyes moved to two men walking toward the small general store. They were quietly talking. She knew one of the men. He was Willie’s son-in-law, Thomas. The other man was Ron Belcher. He had been introduced as Thomas’ best friend from college. Both men were in their late twenties, if she had to guess, and neither man had caused her to feel threatened when she met them a couple of days earlier.
No… something comes, her cat grunted, pacing back and forth inside her.
You’ve been saying the same thing for weeks now. Keep alert, she soothed.
Trescina jerked when her phone suddenly vibrated in her pocket. She reached for it, planning to turn it off when she noticed the name. She shot Willie an apologetic look.
“I need to take this,” she said.
Willie smiled. “I need to speak with Thomas anyway,” he said, slowly rising to his feet.
Willie waved to Thomas, and Trescina slid her finger across the screen of her cell phone and lifted it to her ear. She stood and walked down to Cinnamon and Spice where they were relaxing in the sun.
“This is Trescina,” she greeted.
“Trescina, this is Heather at the Wyoming Wildlife Rescue Center,” Heather Arnold replied.
“Hi, Heather, how are you doing?” Trescina politely responded.
“Good, thank you. Listen, I was wondering if you were near here. We have a big cat that was brought in this morning by one of our volunteers after it was injured in a car accident, and we could really use your help,” Heather explained.
Trescina’s gut twisted. She touched her stomach and rubbed her abdomen. Her cat was clawing at her.
“I’m not home at the moment. I’m down in the Everglades. It would take me four, maybe five days to drive out there,” she said, calculating the distance from South Florida to Wyoming.
She listened as Heather spoke to someone in the background in a worried voice faintly laced with desperation. The tension inside Trescina grew until she felt like it was an over-inflated balloon that would pop with the next breath. She refocused when Heather gave an uneasy sigh laced with worry and spoke again.
“Listen, we have permission to charter a plane for you. Can you get to the Dade-Collier Airport by… eight o’clock this evening?” Heather asked.
Trescina frowned. “I have my truck and fifth-wheel here,” she started to protest when a new voice came into the conversation.
“Miss Bukov, this is Chad Morrison. I am representing the primary benefactor of the Wildlife Rescue Center,” Chad introduced himself.
Trescina blinked in surprise. She knew who the primary benefactor was—Paul Grove. She had never met the man, but she had heard a lot about him and his daughter, Trisha, from the locals in the Wyoming town nearby. Many of the residents thought Paul had gone off the deep end and become a recluse when his daughter disappeared.
From the little she had pieced together from conversations and Internet searches, there was some suspicion that Trisha Grove and several other women she had been traveling with had met a grisly death at the hands of a serial killer who was never located. Some residents speculated that Paul Grove might have met the same fate after he disappeared a few years ago, while others believed the recluse theory. Personally, Trescina didn’t know and didn’t have the time to care. She had learned to stay out of other people’s business.
“Miss Bukov, are you still there?” Chad asked, drawing her attention back to the present.
“Yes… yes, I know that Paul Grove supports the rescue center. I’ve had the pleasure of recommending big cats to them over the last four years and was pleased when they built their new facility near his ranch this past year. It is one of the reasons that I moved to Wyoming six months ago,” Trescina admitted.
“Ah, yes. You are renting my sister’s old house,” Chad commented.
“Yes,” Trescina answered.
It was a small, yellow house that suited Trescina well. It was remote and bordered both the Grove Ranch and the National Forest. She and the tigers could run without fear of being caught.
Trescina and Chad had never met in person. The rental had been set up by a realtor. She remembered the realtor mentioning that Sandy—at least she thought Chad’s sister was named Sandy—had met a man and moved away.
“Then you understand the importance of the work the rescue center does. This injured animal is no ordinary cat. We need your skills to calm him so that we can assess how badly he is hurt. At the moment, no one can get near him,” Chad explained.
Trescina pushed the hood of her jacket off of her head to rub her faintly throbbing temple.
“Why hasn’t he been sedated? Surely the vet can sedate him so that he can be assessed,” she suggested.
“The darts bounce off his coat,” Heather said, speaking on a second line.
Trescina froze in mid-motion. “’Bounce off his coat’,” she repeated.
“Trescina, I�
��ve never seen a cat like this. He’s big—huge! I’d send you a photo, but… well, Chad said that for security purposes, it was best if we kept this quiet. I told him and Doc that you are the only one I know who would even have a clue about the species of this cat. You’re the only hope we have to calm him down enough to help him. He’s losing a lot of blood from a wound in his side. He could collapse at any moment, and I’m afraid it will be too late to save him,” Heather urgently explained.
“I’ll have a pilot and a private plane waiting for you,” Chad said.
“I’ll come… I… have two tigers with me…,” she started to warn.
“I’ll let the pilot know. Trust me, Mason won’t be in the least bit surprised,” Chad promised.
“I’ll be there. You said eight o’clock, correct?” Trescina murmured.
“Yes,” Chad replied.
“I’ll be there,” Trescina repeated.
“Thank you, Trescina. You… you aren’t going to believe this big guy when you see him,” Heather swore.
“I believe you,” Trescina replied with a strained laugh. “I need to make a few arrangements for my truck and fifth wheel. I’ll see you soon.”
Trescina hung up the phone and clutched it in her hand. This was it. Somehow, she knew it. This was what her cat had told her was coming. For a moment, the fear rising inside of her felt like it would choke her.
The strange feelings had all started when she’d pulled her mother’s necklace out again. For years, she had kept the pendant hidden, but six months ago, when she moved, she had removed the delicate gem from the protective box that her father had given her and polished it until it glowed. She had worn the necklace for a week—the time it took for her to move to her new home in Wyoming.
After a week, the glow of the necklace had become so bright and persistent that she feared it would attract attention. What was even stranger was she would swear it also had a faint hum to it, almost like the low pitch of a tuning fork. Unsure of what to do, she had placed it back in the metal box. Her father had made her swear to always keep the gem safe.
