90% Human

by M. C. Berkhousen

  Someone or something was trying to reach me in that same way now, through my thoughts. Maybe I could try to respond the same way—using my thoughts. I stopped in the darkness and focused, trying to listen. The voice was still there.

  Luke, can you hear me? Please help me. I can’t last much longer.

  Where are you? I formed the question in my mind and concentrated on sending it. If I’d heard someone’s thoughts, they’d better be listening for my answer. I sent the thought again. Where are you? Closing my eyes, I waited for a response.

  Woods…across road. Tied. … Hurry.

  The words were weaker, but I heard the message clearly. Someone was in the woods across the road, tied. What did that mean? Was someone tied to a tree? It must be someone who couldn’t shout or cry out. As soon as I was away from the cabins, I started to run. I ran until I reached the road, then hurried across. Stopping, I surveyed the trees. The voice came into my mind again.

  I’m here. Can’t you see me?

  I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone tied to a tree.

  Here, Luke. Walk further. Look down. The voice was very weak now. I could hardly hear it.

  Watching the ground, I walked several more feet into the woods. I stopped short, nearly tripping over it in the dark. What I saw made my heart plummet. Who would do such a thing?

  A huge snapping turtle was turned on its back, with all four legs tied to wooden stakes so it couldn’t get away. It turned its head toward me, opening and closing its mouth as if it was trying to get air. I knelt beside it and took out my jackknife.

  “Were you trying to call me?” I asked. I hadn’t heard any mental messages since I arrived. “I’m going to cut the ties. Don’t be afraid.”

  Working gently, I slid the knife under the tie with the sharp side pointed up. As I freed each leg, the turtle tried to move it. When all four legs were free, the turtle stretched them out, flailing against the air. It was trying to turn over. It rocked first one way then the other, getting almost to the edge of its shell and then falling back again. The turtle was too weak to turn itself right side up.

  “I’m going to turn you over,” I said. “Please don’t bite me.” The turtle’s head fell back against the ground, eyes closed. Was I too late? Was it dying? “Please don’t die,” I whispered. “I’m going to help you.”

  Gingerly, I picked up the big turtle and turned it over. It was heavy—heavier than a ten-pound bag of flour. There was a note taped to its shell. I pulled it off and read it.

  No animal will make a fool out of me.

  The words seemed familiar, as if I’d heard them somewhere before.

  The turtle was breathing raggedly. How long had it been tied up like that? It must be hungry, or thirsty. I touched its front leg. The skin was dry and cold. Reptiles are cold-blooded and rely on their surroundings for warmth. It was a cool night. I took off my jacket and spread it over the turtle, then sat back on my heels to watch. I didn’t know what else to do to help it.

  After a few seconds the jacket began to move. It rose up from the ground a couple of inches, then flopped back down. The jacket’s sleeves moved through the wet grass. I heard a sneeze. I’d never heard a turtle sneeze before. Two long legs kicked out from one side of the jacket. A mop of red hair emerged from the other side. Megan sat up. She sneezed again.

  “It’s….it’s you!” I stuttered. “I didn’t know you could change into a turtle!”

  “Austin told me to try something smaller,” said Megan. She put her arms through the sleeves of my jacket and pulled it on. She was shivering. “So I chose this form. I figured I would skip dinner and the movie to practice. I was swimming along nicely when Jake grabbed me with a big net.”

  “How did he know it was you?”

  “I’m not sure he does,” said Megan. “He could just be getting revenge against the turtle that bit him.”

  I nodded. “That might be. All turtles probably look alike to him.”

  “He’s crazy,” said Megan. “He could have killed me. He left me there to die.”

  “You said he might not know it was you.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference. He was torturing a poor, helpless animal.” Her eyes blazed with anger.

  I didn’t blame her. I was angry, too. “Why couldn’t you change back?” I asked, helping her up. She was still wobbly.

  “I panicked and tried to change back, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t concentrate because I was so scared.”

  We walked single file on the path that led back to the Tracker camp. When we reached the place where the path divided, we stopped. Megan took off my jacket and handed it to me. Her hair was damp and slicked down to her head. Her face was pale, and there were streaks of mud on her cheeks. She was still shivering.

  “You’d better get back to your cabin and get warm. Won’t your counselors be out looking for you?”

  “I told them Uncle Roy was picking me up for a family funeral, and I’d be back late.” She smiled at me. “Thanks, Luke. You saved my life. Again.” She turned and ran for the Tracker cabins. I watched until she was out of sight, then headed back toward the Warrior camp.

  I’d gone about twenty yards when Jim stepped out of the shadows. I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to follow me when I go back to school?”

  “I didn’t interfere, did I? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “How much did you see?”

  Jim grinned. “I watched a big ugly snapping turtle turn into that cute redhead. So she’s part of this too?”

  “Unfortunately for her, yes.” We were near the cabin now, and neither of us spoke again. We slipped noiselessly into the cabin and then into our beds. Once again I heard the crinkling of paper overhead. I poked the underside of the mattress over my head, and a few seconds later a small candy bar hit me in the face. “Thanks, buddy,” I whispered into the darkness. I peeked at the wristwatch I’d shoved under my pillow. It was almost midnight. I was so tired I could hardly move. Closing my eyes, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

  My sleep was disturbed by nightmares. A giant Komodo was chasing me. I felt his hot breath and then the cold, scaly flesh. He knocked me down and pounced on me. I pushed him away with all my strength and sat up, my head bumping Jim’s bunk. I rubbed the sore spot on my head, pushing the nightmare away.

  The cabin was dark and quiet except for a couple of snores. I swung my legs off my bunk and sat there a minute, taking deep breaths and trying to slow my heartbeat. Taking my wristwatch out from under my pillow, I saw that it was now one o’clock in the morning. Everyone was tucked under their blankets except for one. Jake’s bunk was empty. Where was he?

  A beam of light danced across the screened windows. I ducked just in time. The light wandered to the other side of the cabin and then back toward me. I flattened myself on the bunk and closed my eyes. In a few seconds the light went off, and I heard the sound of footsteps moving away from the cabin. Maybe Jake was just going to the bathroom, but I didn’t think so.

  Sliding into my shoes, I picked up my flashlight and let myself out of the cabin for the second time that night. Jake was about thirty yards ahead of me. I could see his outline clearly. He wasn’t heading toward the bathhouse. He was heading toward the front entrance of the camp. His head was down and he walked quickly, as though he had to get there in a hurry. I stayed well back, keeping him in sight. He had almost reached the road when I saw the headlights of a car flash onto the two stone pillars that marked the camp’s entrance. The car slid to a stop. I squatted behind some bushes and stayed still.

  As Jake approached the car, someone rolled down the front driver’s side window. I could hear the murmuring of voices. The person driving the car was male. He asked Jake if anyone had followed him.

  “No,” said Jake. He twisted back in my direction. He couldn’t see me, since I was hidden by the hedge. The person in the car handed him a package about as big as two shoeboxes, then another the same size. I eased backwards so he wouldn’t see me and bumped into
two strong arms. I almost yelped, but in the next second I knew it was Jim.

  “Let’s get back to the cabin before he finds us gone,” I whispered.

  We crept back, Jim moving almost noiselessly in front of me.

  “What do you think is in those packages?” he asked quietly.

  “Don’t know.”

  We didn’t speak again. Jim soundlessly opened the cabin door. We tiptoed inside, climbed into our bunks, and pulled up the covers. None of the other guys had moved. Bill was snoring, and the others breathed evenly and quietly in their bunks.

  It was almost ten minutes before Jake came back, empty-handed. He must have hidden the packages somewhere between the road and the cabin. What was in them? It had to be something he wasn’t supposed to have at camp, or it wouldn’t have been delivered at one in the morning by someone old enough to drive a car—and it was a nice car from what I could see, not a rusted heap.

  Jake climbed into bed. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing regular. A few minutes later, Jake started to snore.

  Opening my eyes, I stared at the patterned mattress bulging through the springs of the bunk above me. There was a tiny sound of paper ripping. Then came the smack of lips and an almost silent crunch. I poked the mattress. Jim’s arm swung down from the upper bunk and tossed another small, wrapped candy bar onto my chest. I unwrapped it carefully so the paper wouldn’t make any noise, then slid the chocolate into my mouth and let it melt. If there was chocolate in Jake’s mysterious packages, he’d be the most popular guy at camp. If he shared it, that is, which he probably wouldn’t.

  As tired as I was, I couldn’t get back to sleep. What was in those packages? Probably something illegal. Was it drugs? Alcohol? I hadn’t heard any bottles clinking. What else would fit in two packages about the size of boot boxes? It was sure to be something that would cause problems, hurt somebody, or get our cabin in trouble. If I got to the packages first, I could turn them in to one of the counselors and say I found them. That would stop whatever trouble Jake planned to cause.

  I rolled on my side and pretended to be asleep. Squinting into the darkness, I peered at the other bunks. Sounds of breathing, hushed and rhythmic, were broken by an occasional snort. Bill, in the bunk above Jake, muttered something and turned over. Bill talked in his sleep, so I wasn’t worried. Jake was still snoring. He snorted once, then shifted so his back to me. He was still asleep. I slipped out of my bunk, picked up my shoes and my flashlight, and once again eased carefully outside.

  Sitting on a log, I slipped on my shoes. A mosquito landed on my arm. I brushed it away, not wanting to make noise by slapping it. The cabin door open noiselessly and Jim came out, carrying his sneakers. We didn’t speak. He handed me packet of mosquito repellent and bent to tie his shoes. We headed toward the road, walking so quietly we couldn’t hear our own steps. It was hard to see. The tall trees blocked out most of the moonlight, and the dense brush hid the safety lights.

  “How do you think we should do this?” I whispered, when we were about fifty yards away from the cabin. “There are a lot of places he could have hidden those packages.”

  “Not really.” Jim spoke softly. “He was only a few minutes behind us. So he must have hidden them close to the path. Look in hollow logs, behind patches of brush, places like that.”

  “Okay. You take the left side and I’ll take the right. Go in about ten yards. If we don’t see anything, we can go further away from the path on the way back.”

  Jim nodded and crossed to the left. The circles of light from our flashlights skimmed the ground, then skipped in the brush and up onto the trees. The circles danced up and down, back and forth, growing larger, smaller, and then larger again as we searched for likely hiding places. Chipmunks scattered, chattering angrily at being awakened. Though we tried to be quiet, our footsteps sounded like clomping in the still, dark night.

  A twig snapped somewhere ahead of us, followed by the tiniest sound of movement. Jim and I froze, listening. Another snap, and crunching underfoot. The noise was ahead of us. It seemed to be coming from an area about twenty yards away. My mouth went dry. Even the insects had gone quiet. Something was definitely out there. Or someone.

  Jim picked up a stone and hurled it into the woods. Something dashed through the trees, scattering leaves and snapping twigs as it ran. A brown blur flew past us and disappeared in the direction of the bathhouse.

  “A buck,” whispered Jim. “Looked like a ten-pointer.”

  I’d noticed the antlers too, but my heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t speak, let alone count the points. I nodded and focused my quivering circle of light back on the woods.

  We left the path and checked out an area about twenty yards in diameter, about fifty yards from the mess hall.

  “Here’s a likely spot.” Jim stopped, aiming his flashlight into a tree. In the tree’s trunk, close to the ground, was a large opening about a foot high and two feet wide. He stepped back, moving the beam of his light away from the hole. “Could be an animal in there.”

  “Or a snake.” I sniffed the air, then froze. “Smell that?”

  Jim sniffed. “Yup. That’s the odor of a big cat. Let’s see if there are any tracks near the tree.”

  The beam of Jim’s flashlight scoured the ground, then came to an abrupt halt. I went to his side and looked down. Tracks. Cat tracks. Very large cat tracks. The cougar was back!

  “These tracks are fresh,” whispered Jim. “It was probably stalking that deer. It could be watching us right now.”

  I shivered, remembering the cougar, large and tawny, padding silently along the tree limb over Megan’s head three days ago.

  I aimed my light up into the trees, checking nearby branches. Pushing aside leaves and twigs, Jim uncovered several more tracks. They led deeper into the woods, away from the path.

  “I think it’s headed away from the road,” said Jim.

  “These tracks are fresh,” I whispered. “It’s close. We should let somebody know.”

  Jim stood up, and we started down the path toward our camp.

  “Don’t run,” said Jim. “If it’s watching it might get the idea to chase us.”

  We walked as fast as we could, hurrying away from the woods and back toward our cabin. My heart was pounding. I could almost feel the stab of the big cat’s claws as he landed on my back. I could protect myself if I had to. I could protect Jim, too. If I had to go Komodo, I would.

  “They’re going to ask what we were doing out here,” I said, as we neared Terry and Levi’s tent. “We might lose swim privileges or something.”

  Jim shrugged. “There’s nothing else we can do.” We were thinking the same thing. Even if we got into trouble, we had to tell the counselors the cougar was back. Everyone’s safety was at stake.

  Standing outside the tent, we could hear Levi and Terry snoring peacefully.

  “Levi,” I whispered. No one answered. I raised my voice a little. “Levi, Terry, wake up.” Still no answer. Finally, I poked my head inside the tent and spoke in a low voice. “Terry? Levi? Sorry to wake you up.”

  Levi lifted his head and stared at me. “Luke? What’s wrong?”

  “The cougar is back. Jim and I just saw fresh tracks. I could smell it, so we know it’s close by. The tracks are in front of a tree, about fifty yards from the mess hall.”

  Levi swung his legs over the edge of his cot, then reached over to shake Terry.

  “What?” Terry’s voice was grumpy.

  “Luke and Jim found some fresh cougar tracks,” said Levi. “Bring a light.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us before we went to bed?” asked Terry. He fumbled in the crate he used as a dresser and found a lantern. He pushed back the flap and stepped out into the cool night air. Levi followed him, carrying his phone and a large flashlight.

  “This way,” I said, waving for them to follow.

  We walked quietly for a few minutes until we came to the place where we’d seen the tracks. Jim found them again, brushing away more
leaves. Levi flashed his light onto the tracks, then squatted to look more closely. Terry aimed his light into the trees on the far side of the road.

  “The tracks look about the same size as the ones we saw a couple of days ago,” said Levi. He stood up, brushing dirt from his hands.

  “These tracks are fresh,” said Jim. “That’s why we woke you guys up.”

  “I guess we’ll have to call the director,” said Levi. “That cat could be anywhere.”

  “It’s not far away,” I said. “I can smell it.”

  Levi sniffed the air. “Smells like it’s right around the corner.”

  “Or closer,” said Jim.

  I shuddered at the thought. “Let’s go back to our camp to talk,” I said. “We need to get away from this area.”

  “Mrs. Harris will probably want all the kids brought into the hall,” said Terry, as we walked back toward Warrior camp. When we’d gone about a hundred yards, Terry stopped and turned around. He put his hands on his hips and stared at us as though the whole thing was our fault. “Everyone is going to hate being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.”

  “What if we had all the counselors make a fire?” I suggested. “Then maybe you wouldn’t have to get all the kids up.”

  “Some of the campfire pits are pretty far from the cabins,” said Levi. “That might not be close enough to keep the cat away from them. The screen doors and windows aren’t much protection, either.” He punched some numbers into his phone and spoke into it, giving his name and the location of the tracks. He listened, glancing at us. “No, I don’t know what the campers were doing out there this time of night. We’ll talk to them tomorrow. Right now we need to know what you want done.” He listened again, then put the phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants.

  “To the hall with sleeping bags,” he announced. “No exceptions. She’s notifying the other counselors now.”

  “So she thinks that’s safer than just letting the kids stay in their cabins?” said Terry.