by Alex Just
~ Island – pacific ~
Tom bounded forward, charging towards a pile of collapsed rubble at the back of the tower. Nearing it he tensed all his muscles, his hind legs bunching, he released the pent up energy and soared at the tower’s wall. He smashed into it, and without delay extracted his razor sharp claws feeling them dig into the concrete. Hauling his body up with all his strength, he was leaping up the vertical wall, underneath one of the windows. His timing had to be perfect. With a last final effort he was at the window. The guard had no idea what hit him as eighty-five kg of pure muscle smashed into him. He was dead on impact, his gun clattering to the ground uselessly.
Landing inside, Tom found himself on the winding staircase that led up to the office. From higher up he could hear the sound of yelling and spent casings dropping to the ground. He continued, rounding another bend when his victim came into sight.
Unexpectedly the man slumped forwards, blood splattering the window frame. He didn’t pause to inspect but careened right past. The stairway twisted on, he’d forgotten just how high the tower was. The next window held two men, one firing an automatic rifle without pause. When he ran out of ammo, the other would step up and keep the string of gunfire going. Both of them had their backs turned to him and couldn’t hear his approach through the noise of the battle.
Tom pounced, both paws held out wide like he was about to embrace the men, his claws glittering dangerously. He swiped his paws down as he impacted against the men, tearing huge gashes into the sides of their heads. Bullets sprayed the walls and window frames causing the concrete to crumble. Tom was lucky that none of them had hit him, but he’d miscalculated the jump and felt himself propelled through the open window. His claws gripping the sides were not strong enough. His front paws cleared the window and his body was hanging half out, his hind legs had just managed to grip onto the concrete and stop him from falling. He was suspended in mid-air looking down onto the area from where he’d started his climb.
From his awkward perch he could just make out Rose, fighting two men. The small fight was over quickly. As he watched though, her head snapped up so quickly he thought she’d been shot. He followed her gaze and saw, to his disbelief, a trap door opening up in the ground. From the trapdoor emerged Ben like the devil himself, to claim his prey. He was flanked by soldiers on either side, their weapons pointing in all directions covering themselves and Ben. Ben himself was armed with a pistol. They spotted the giant cat and the guards were unsure of what to do. It was their hesitation that gave Rose time to get over to them without being shot. It was at that moment a rocket zoomed past them and blasted the tower’s entrance.
Fragments of concrete flew at the group, who tried to huddle down and shield themselves. One of the guards was hit by a large chunk and was thrown off his feet. The other soldiers were torn apart by the frenzied slashing and biting of Rose’s jaws. There were too many of them though, and it wasn’t enough. As Tom watched in horror, he saw Ben fire his gun, the bullet smashing into her shoulder. He knew what the lead would do. With a roar of pain he watched her switch back into human form and fall over, landing on her back. She made direct eye contact with Tom and smiled sadly. Ben was staring in open mouthed awe at what he’d just witnessed.
Rose reached up to her shoulder with one hand and plunged her fingers into the wound, screaming in pain as she did so, and wrenched the bullet out. She wasn’t a second too soon, for as she threw the bullet away she felt her injury close up. She felt herself losing consciousness and the poison taking its toll on her body, she hoped she’d been quick enough. She turned her head and looked up at an advancing Ben who was headed over, gun held out before him, scared she might suddenly turn into something else and attack.
A fury such as he’d never felt before engulfed Tom. He hoped he wasn’t too high up as he leapt off the sill, a grenade blowing up inside. Ben heard the explosion and looked up, momentarily distracted from his kill, to see another panther flying straight towards him, a ball of fire lighting up every detail clearly. Tom landed on all fours a short distance away and pounded forward, smashing into Ben’s body which folded underneath him with the force. His paws pinning the man to the ground he glared into his eyes, and roared. Ben closed his eyes waiting for the end; Tom was about to smash his jaws around his neck when a soldier started coming round, raising himself into half a sitting position. He held out a pistol shakily, trying to aim it straight at Tom but was still too disorientated from the blow to take proper aim. Tom knew he didn’t have much time before the guy would fire off the shot. He tried to leap forwards but felt himself held back by an unimaginable strength. Looking up, expecting to see the barrel of the gun pointed straight at his head, he saw with surprise the guard smile and lower the weapon down, get to his feet clumsily and retreat towards the tower. Confusion clouded Tom’s mind and he spun his head round to see what it was that was holding him back. He looked into the face of his father, his mane-like blonde hair streaked with dirt, who had wrapped his arms around Tom’s body; his feet planted solidly on the ground. Seeing this he redoubled his efforts to get away. An angry roar escaping his mouth as all his muscles strained. He felt himself getting out of the hold. So his father was also a shape shifter. He shouldn’t feel so surprised.
Smith realised that he was going to lose Tom; he reached one hand up to a strange switch on his neck that seemed to belong to something on his body underneath his shirt. Immediately Tom felt weak all over, energy sapping out of him. He tried to resist, giving one final tug and succeeding to break away from his father for a split second.
Giving an angry bellow his father morphed; he grew in height and wings sprouted from his shoulders, his arms turning into sinewy muscles, his face changed; growing longer into a snout, two long straight silver grey horns sprouting out of the back of his head. A thick tail whipped out from behind him, tapering to an arrowhead point. His abdomen became a solid wall of tense muscle and his whole body was covered in pure white scales, cold pale blue eyes smouldering. This time it was Tom’s turn to gape in a mixture of astonishment and fear. His father was no shape shifter. Before him stood a huge dragon, a silver harness strapped to the chest with a small, pulsing grey sphere. That was what the switch was attached to. Smoke curled out of the dragons nostrils, and before Tom could try and get further away, flames burst through a snout full of razor sharp teeth. Tom felt himself losing his shape and in horror saw how his body began to dissolve back into that of a human.
He was vaguely aware of the sound of a helicopter overhead, its blades thrumming through the air. It was a powerful black chopper and it swooped in, the pilot expertly circling the tower, a light flashing brightly in the cockpit showing the pilot’s concentrated face, and a hooded figure standing behind him. A rope with harness was being lowered down, but the cloaked figure shook his head, and it was retracted again. Smith understood and dived onto Tom, snatching him up into his arms and with powerful wing beats lifted into the air carrying the barely conscious Tom up. Higher and higher they rose, until they were beneath the helicopter. The doors had opened and the hooded figure stood waiting, red slits for eyes staring down at the battle scene before him, unblinking. Fighting the choppers downdraft, Smith climbed higher and swoop landed into the helicopters hold. Tom caught a last glimpse of the battle scene before him, and could just make out Julia’s horror stricken face as she watched the doors slide shut.
‘I should’ve realised that cursed woman is one of them, and that my boy of course is too,’ spat Smith.
‘This is not a bad thing Smith. He will of course go to the school. I have the feeling that he will be an extremely valuable fighter to have amongst our ranks. Get us out of here; I want to avoid the full morning sun.’ The voice was quiet, and came out in a raspy drawl. The eyes seemed to glow brightly at the mention of Tom, and the man in the hooded cloak wondered if Tom was the key to the Mayan prophecies. The last thing Tom remembered thinking, as he felt the chopper tilt to the side and pick up spe
ed, was that his dad had never realised the blood lineage that ran in his mother’s side of the family. Then he passed out, relief flooding him as he put the horrible wheezy sick feeling behind him and was lost in blackness.
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