Shifter Nation- East Coast Bears Collection

by Meg Ripley

“Don’t worry about her; she’s just very invested in the project. She’ll be giving you your orders as well, so if anything happens, go to her first. I’m sure she’ll acquaint herself with you more on the plane. For now, though, she asked that I not reveal her identity until she felt she could trust you,” Eric informed, shaking my hand and motioning me towards the door. “You’d better get home and start packing.”

  I thanked him for the opportunity and sprinted towards the elevator, noticing the woman was nowhere in sight.

  It’ll take me ten minutes to get home and at least half an hour to pack, so hopefully, I have at least an hour. Boy, this will be interesting, I sighed.

  2

  Ramon

  “Well, amigo, it’s just you and me now.”

  I was staring down at a dead body. The shifter that had been infected with the mutated rabies virus that had killed Danielle Peterson was now lying on my autopsy table.

  I had watched his health deteriorate and his behavior become even more aggressive—if at all possible—since his capture. It had gotten to the point where he was permanently in bear form and seemed unable or unwilling to change back. The last day, he was just lying on the floor of his cell, his breath ragged and labored. I had known he would die soon. I had been intrigued to see if the virus also affected whether he would shift back to human form after his death, which usually happened in healthy shifters. Or would he remain in bear form because the virus had taken over so much?

  My question had been answered by his naked human frame lying before me. I already knew the cause of death, so a forensic autopsy was not necessary, but a clinical one was imperative to figuring out what the virus had done to this man’s insides. I never had to do an autopsy while working at the national park in Mexico, but I had the training and knew what I was doing.

  “¡Empecemos!” I exclaimed, grabbing my knife. The first thing I noticed, was that the body was covered in bug bites. The shifter had been out in the wild for who knows how long with no clothes on and I couldn’t be sure he hadn’t brought any with him into his cell where they continued to feast on him.

  “Maybe that’s why he was always in such a bad mood,” I laughed to myself.

  I made the first incision going straight down from his chest to his pubic bone. The shifter bled black, but I had been expecting that. His blood had gotten darker and darker each time I drew it for testing.

  The body didn’t have much fat tissue, so it was a little tough to cut through the muscle to get to the ribs, but I finally managed. I cut through the rib cage as well, cracking it open so his organs were fully exposed, and I was completely shocked by what I saw.

  “It looks exactly the same,” I spoke aloud, regarding each organ in my hands. The shifter’s stomach was small and empty. He wouldn’t eat anything, no matter how hard I had tried to get him to. His intestines were barren. His liver was intact, and his lungs were perfect.

  Then, I saw the heart.

  It had to be the heart; it just didn’t look like one anymore. Now, it resembled a giant piece of coal, hardened and completely black.

  “Huh…interesante…” I examined it a bit longer and set it aside, picking up the camera to snap a photo of it, along with the other internal organs to document how the virus had seemingly not affected anything else.

  That seems nearly impossible. With the virus taking over the blood cells, what was fueling bodily organs to continue to function? There was no way the virus was smart enough to be able to allow them to function like blood could. Maybe the organs shut down once the virus took over completely?

  This virus had me doubting almost everything I knew about science.

  I decided to examine the brain next, cutting along the shifter’s hairline and pulling his scalp back, exposing his skull with a noticeable crack in it.

  “¿Que demonios?” A crack in the skull would have caused a massive bleed out to the brain and the shifter would have died. I could tell that it had been there for a while; it was not a fresh injury. Why was his skull cracked in the first place?

  I used my medical saw to cut through the skull and make an opening big enough where I could remove the brain.

  “¡Dios mio!” I exclaimed after almost cutting straight into the brain.

  Why is it so close to the skull? It shouldn’t be… I thought, removing the window of bone I cut out and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  The shifter’s brain had swollen to the point where it had almost taken up the entire skull. Removing the piece had only caused the swelling to bulge out from the opening.

  How long has this guy’s brain been like this? Any human would have died instantly from brain swelling of this magnitude…

  I had to break the cranium completely open to extract the brain. Other than the massive swelling, it was perfectly normal.

  “Ah!” I shrieked, dropping the brain onto the table and grabbing my shoulder. I opened my lab coat and pulled the sleeve of my shirt up to see a small bug bite.

  “And now you’ve brought them with you? Come on! I didn’t even see anything!” I cursed, checking the area. I still didn’t see an insect, so I just assumed I had killed it when I grabbed my shoulder. Nevertheless, it made me want a shower. Badly.

  I decided to wrap up the autopsy; there wasn’t much more I could do anyway, so I took a few more shots of the enlarged brain and stitched up the body.

  Hey, man. Still locked up with your boyfriend? I heard Trent’s voice calling out in my head and rolled my eyes. I had been spending so much time on research regarding the shifter, Trent kept making jokes about the number of hours and effort I was putting into it. The guy is dead, you can move on now!

  I focused my thoughts to telepathically respond. Well, someone has to figure out how he might have picked up the virus from the environment and how it affected his body. Just in case we encounter it again.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. You’re all work and no play these days, man. You need a break.

  I’ll take a break when I feel like I have done all I can and found out everything there is to know about this.

  Did you finish the autopsy? Knox’s voice joined their channel.

  Yes, sir. I have the pictures of all the abnormalities. I was going to head home and shower and then request a meeting with you to discuss my findings.

  That can wait until tomorrow morning. When you get home, you can still shower and get dressed, but Trent and I will be by to pick you when you’re done.

  Pick me up for what?

  We’re having a bros’ night out, man! Going to Leary’s for a few drinks! Trent sounded loud and excited.

  Yo no se…It’s pretty late guys…

  What are you? An old man? It’s only 9pm!

  Don’t make me have to order you. Knox’s voice was stern. I sure as hell didn’t want to get our Alpha all riled up, so I finally gave in.

  Fine. I’ll need at least an hour to get ready, though.

  No one said anything else, and I imagined they were just happy I finally caved.

  I loved going out for beers with Trent and Knox, but I just hadn’t felt like it that night. Not like I had a choice anymore, though. I removed my lab coat, pulled on my hoodie, and headed out into the chilly spring night.

  * * *

  When I got back to my place, I felt a headache setting in and I was feeling a bit nauseous. I pounded a glass of water, which was helping, but not enough to make it completely disappear.

  Just as I was turning off my shower, I heard a banging at my door.

  “Aye, man! You ready yet?” I heard Trent’s voice booming through my lodge and rolled my eyes. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist and went to open the door.

  “Of course, I’m not ready yet. That was hardly even a half hour,” I groaned. They always rushed me when it came to going out. I mean, yes, I was always the last one ready, but that was mainly because I was usually the last one to know about our bros’ nights out in the first place.

  “You really need to cut down
on your prep time, man. You’re a guy. Guys are supposed to get ready quickly.”

  “Yeah well, I’m not feeling too good all of a sudden. I have a headache and my stomach’s a little queasy.”

  “You’re just saying that to try and get out of going.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “It’s supposed to be chicks like Hannah and Blanca who take forever to get ready.” Trent rolled his eyes, ignoring my statement, and plopped himself onto my couch.

  “Speaking of Hannah and Blanca, what are they going to be up to tonight?” I asked, heading back to my room to get dressed. Hannah was Knox’s girlfriend and Blanca was Trent’s, and they were just as good of friends as Trent and Knox were to me.

  “Chick flick movie marathon or something. They practically threw us out.” Trent laughed. “Hey! Make sure you wear something presentable!”

  “Why?” I yelled from my room, examining a grey short-sleeved shirt. I heard Trent come into the room, followed by Knox; good thing I already had my boxers on. I laid the grey shirt on the bed and towel dried my cropped deep brown hair.

  “Because we are going to find you a lady tonight!” Trent proclaimed.

  “Oh no. Not another one of those nights!” I complained. Trent liked to set up these bro nights to try to get me to approach women. I always felt so much pressure that I’d up saying something awkward, or I’d be a complete clutz. And then they’d ultimately laugh at any of my dismal attempts to recover and never let me live down any of my mishaps.

  “Oh, come on, last time was hardly a try. You slipped on a spilled drink before you even got to the last girl,” Trent said with a smirk.

  Here we go…

  “And there was no way for us to tell that the first girl was waiting for her boyfriend to come meet her. Who goes to the bar to meet their boyfriend, anyway? And the other girl? Well, she just wasn’t all that hot, honestly. Must have been a case of beer goggles in the first place.”

  “I’d really rather not have another night of misfortune, hombres. If there happen to be any girls there that catch my eye, let me handle it,” I warned, pulling the grey shirt over my head and grabbing a blue and red flannel to wear over it. I decided it would be enough to keep me warm in the forty-degree March weather, and besides, we’d be in Knox’s Jeep—not to mention, shifters had higher body temperature than humans. I still liked to pretend I would be cold, so I didn’t get weird looks walking around in frigid temperatures with a tank top on.

  “Alright, fine, I’ll stop giving you advice. I’m just happy your coming out, honestly. But for real, you need to find a girlfriend. You’re the only one of us who hasn’t settled down yet and even Knox is getting a little worried about you.” Trent pointed at Knox who nodded in agreement.

  “You’re drowning yourself in your job, leaving no time for yourself, Ramon. You have an amazing work ethic, but you also need to stop and enjoy the simple things in life.”

  “Like a woman!” Trent exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes. Sometimes, he acted like such a frat boy, just like the stereotypes played out on TV and in movies. Trent would be the one chugging a beer keg and getting wasted every night, failing all his classes except anything that involved physical activity. Knox would probably have been in the ROTC program. I don’t even think we would all have been friends if we had gone to the same college.

  “I just don’t like to rush things like that. If there is a woman out there for me, she’ll come. I’d rather not force the universe. It all worked out for you guys in ways I’m sure you least expected.” Knox and Trent looked at each other and both nodded in agreement. “Maybe the same will happen for me.”

  After saying those optimistic things, I really believed them. It wasn’t like I didn’t want a girlfriend or anything. I did. But, I would know when there was a girl who was worth it. I just hadn’t found her yet. I couldn’t say I was optimistic that tonight would be the night that I would find her, but who knew? The night was still young, after all.

  “Hurry up, man!” Trent and Knox had headed back into the living room and I sighed, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.

  It’ll do. I didn’t look particularly well put together or anything, but whatever. We were going to a bar and I doubted the girl of my dreams would be found at a lowly pub.

  3

  Min

  Our flight arrived at 8pm and had been three hours long. The woman next to me hardly said a word; when I asked her to tell me about the park, “You’ll see it when you get there,” was her tight-lipped response.

  She wasn’t a very chatty—or friendly—so, I decided to get a little shut eye for the rest of the flight. And when I woke up, I felt great. I wasn’t sure if it was such a good thing, because I realized I would probably be awake all night because of it.

  “When we get outside, there will be a car waiting for you. It’ll be yours for the duration of your stay, so you’ll have a means for getting to and from the park,” the woman said as we disembarked from the plane.

  “So, where will I be staying?”

  God, I hope it’s not some shitty motel or something, I thought, grabbing my forest green suitcase as it finally came down the conveyor belt. She didn’t have any luggage, so when I grabbed mine, she started walking toward the exit and didn’t answer my question. When we got to the street, she led me to a sleek black car.

  “An Audi?”

  “2016 A8. I don’t need to remind you that this is a classified mission. You can disclose to people what your job at the CDC is, but nothing about the mission or the information that was revealed to you. You can disclose that this is a government vehicle being loaned to you for your job. If anyone asks why you are visiting Acadia, however, you are to say that you are there to collect the aquatic insect data that’s supposed to be recorded every 5-10 years. We are within the time frame, so it will make for a valid excuse.” She handed me a folder. “Here’s some paperwork to validate this if anyone needs further confirmation. In there are also some pages that you’ll have to fill out, indicating when the ticks were released and if you see anything out of the ordinary happen afterward.”

  This just seems weird. Why are we keeping this such a secret if we’re supposed to be helping these people? Can’t we just reveal that we know about them and offer our help? I thought, but then I wondered how open these shifters were to being known. They might have a completely negative reaction to the government knowing of their existence and go into hiding or reject the help. I guess it might be best to just handle it without their knowledge…

  “There’s a black suitcase that was already placed in your trunk that contains a case of the ticks. Oh, and to answer your question, you will be staying at the Bass Cottage Inn, here in Bar Harbor. The address is already plugged into the GPS in your car; all you have to do is follow its directions.”

  A man got out of the driver’s seat, grabbed my bag and hoisted it into the trunk. “She’s all yours,” he said, just before he and the woman walked off together.

  I squealed in excitement as I took another look at the car. The shit box I was driving back home was a 2016 silver Chrysler 200, which was probably the lowest rated sedan in all the US at the time. But, it was all I could afford when I started my big government job and I thought I would get a better car once I started racking up paychecks. Chrissy, as I called her, ended up growing on me after all, so, until she died, I drove her. But, I couldn’t say I wasn’t thrilled to drive an Audi.

  I practically ran to the driver’s side of the car, eager to get in. Once I sat and closed the door, I examined the insides.

  A sunroof, back up cam, button to heat the seats, built in GPS, Bluetooth, and USB ports? This is amazing! I immediately plugged in my phone and started singing along to New Order.

  “Every time I see you falling / I get down on my knees and pray / I'm waiting for that final moment / You say the words that I can't say…” I sang aloud, bouncing in my seat a bit. I’m not sure why I was so happy, but the car had put me in a good mood. I revved
the engine as I pulled the car onto the road and hit the start button on the GPS.

  Now, I just need the hotel to be just as awesome and this night will be perfect!

  * * *

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to myself, pulling up to the Inn. The place was practically a mansion. There seemed to be at least three floors and I counted fourteen windows on the second and third floors alone. When I got out of the car, there was a man waiting for me wearing black slacks, a white button-down shirt and a black vest. He was older and bald, with a full white beard.

  “You must be Ms. Dupont. Welcome to Bass Cottage Inn! Let me help you with your bags.” He walked over to the trunk that I had popped open and grabbed my suitcases. “My name is Frank, and I will be showing you to your room.”

  This man was probably the most chipper person I’d ever met in my life.

  “You will be staying in the Verbena room, which is located on the second floor in the left wing,” he said, walking up to the beautiful stained-glass doors. As we passed through the doorway, I peered around the gorgeous foyer as he continued, “To your left and right are several sitting areas for you to enjoy. Feel free to help yourself to any of the books we have on display over here on the left. Look past the shelves and you’ll notice a grand piano. Do you play?”

  “Um, no,” I responded, too caught up in my surroundings. Everything was decorated in rich shades of mahogany and taupe with gorgeous ornate designs; I couldn’t wait to see my room. We climbed one flight of stairs, heading to the left side of the building. He led me past several sets of doors, all the way down to the far end of the corridor.

  “Well, here we are!” he exclaimed, opening the door to the room and setting my luggage on the rack. When I entered, my jaw hit the floor. The room was decorated in the same colors as downstairs, but with navy and slate accents. There was a generously-sized leather sofa, a regal armchair, and a king-sized canopy bed with a gas fireplace next to it.