by T. S. Ryder
He slammed the door behind him so the room would be in complete darkness, and dove behind the steel frame of a forklift. Shots rang out in the room and bright light exploded in Thomas’s vision as the two men burst out from the office door, not forty feet away from Thomas’s position.
The bullets didn’t catch home, but one of them did ricochet off of the forklift, throwing sparks into the air over Thomas’s right shoulder. Thomas didn’t have time to think. He didn’t have time to reason. Through every fault of his own, he was in the middle of a gunfight in the city’s worst den of nihilistic shitheads.
“Who the fuck is that!” a voice rang out in the darkness.
“Bernard? Are you ok?” said another.
Both voices were strained with fear and had an edge of hysteria to them. Thomas sighed in relief.
“Probably strung out…” he reasoned, “otherwise, they would have shifted by now. Good thing for me I guess…”
Thomas heard footsteps running for cover while a small LED light lit up an eerie glow in the corner of the warehouse.
“Fuck,” Thomas cursed, realizing he was nearly caught.
Knowing that he had only seconds before the phone call connected and the entire Triage hive was on his ass, Thomas dove out from behind the forklift, executing a sloppy, but effective shoulder roll. Knowing he had only a moment to aim, he took a deep breath and fired two shots.
One bullet sank into one of the red forms in his vision, somewhere around the shoulder. The form fell to the ground, yelling loudly. The other bullet flew stray, as the man with the phone ducked out behind a large metal pillar.
“Boss,” the man breathed heavily into the phone. “We’ve got a problem!”
Thomas sprinted to the far end of the hideout. It was a mad and desperate attempt to intercept the caller before he brought all hell down on Thomas, but it was too late. The call had connected and Thomas knew he was likely a dead man within an hour.
More shots rang off, in a deafening blast in the warehouse, but the bullets did not connect. The shots were fired by the man with the cell phone. He knew that someone was approaching due to the sound of Thomas’s boots on the concrete, but he couldn’t aim properly in the darkness of the warehouse.
Thomas saw his target clearly though he had to adjust his course slightly in order to make full contact. There was a wall to the left of the man with the cell phone that formed a small corner in the office section of the warehouse where the men had just exited. Instead of running straight for the man, he sprinted toward the corner.
Adrenaline coursed through his body and he could feel his muscles involuntarily bulging. He knew that if he didn’t resolve this issue NOW, he would shift. God knows when he would transform again. A shift that took place under duress had more potency than one which was voluntarily engaged in. Thomas had already given his eyes to the spirit inside of him. He knew the portal was open and soon his entire body might be possessed.
The sound of the boss’s voice on the other end of the line came clear and he was outraged. The voice didn’t address the caller but instead barked orders to some of the other men in the boss’s present company.
“Pull back! Looks like they caught us off guard…” said the voice on the other end of the line.
Thomas’s boot connected with the first wall, in a leap and then the second. He knew his maneuver was a form of prayer, but he committed fully to the action. Before he knew it, his entire body connected with the man who was taking refuge behind the pillar. The impact slammed the man’s head into the metal frame and he passed out cold —the phone and pistol falling from the man’s grip.
Breathing heavily now and his eyes wild —Thomas knelt down to grab the collar of the man who had taken a bullet in the shoulder. He got in the man’s face and growled at him.
“Where’s the supply?” Thomas demanded.
The man laughed.
Thomas’s grip increased, tightening around the man’s shirt, practically choking him.
The man’s laughter did not stop but turned into a hoarse, breathless kind of gasp. His eyes shifted, temporarily and Thomas could see an inner glow inside of the man flicker and die as the man’s own inner beast was struggling to fight the drugs in his system.
Thomas punched him in the face, knocking his head back into the concrete floor. Thomas’s fist was red and the man’s nose was obviously broken. The man spit to the side and whispered.
“Thomas…!” the man said, then giggled, “You fucked up this time…You’re a dead man.”
Thomas stared at the man in anger, not sure whether or not he wanted to run or to snuff the life out of him. Then the man lifted his finger in front of Thomas’s face. The man’s finger held no threat to Thomas directly but instead pointed behind Thomas’s right shoulder. Turning slightly, while holding the man’s neck down with his hand, Thomas looked over his shoulder to see what the man was pointing toward.
The cell phone still lit up that tiny portion of the warehouse. On the other end of the line, a very frightening man still waited, connected…gathering all of the information he would need to exact retribution on whoever had the audacity, and idiocy (likely both) to attack his warehouse while he was away on business.
Thomas looked over at the phone and realized exactly how dire his situation had gotten. It was common knowledge that Thomas was a shifter. Shifters are somewhat rare within the slums and most shifters were tracked by the members of the gang communities. As high-power players, with a proclivity toward substance abuse, inner slum shifters were a target market for Triage.
Marcel, the boss of the gang, was the leader of the historical assault on Oak Street. Marcel killed Clarice’s father. For the longest time, Thomas felt as though the past was the past. Thomas knew that the Triage were dark people. He managed to ignore these facts in service of his own habit.
Alone in the dark, next to a dying man, Thomas made a decision. He couldn’t afford to betray his allegiances any longer. The stakes were too high.
Thomas raised his pistol once more and whipped the man in the face, knocking him out cold. He turned around then and fired a single shot into the phone. The tiny piece of tech shattered into pieces, each flying off in different directions away from the point of impact.
Thomas was fucked.
A quick evaluation of his position informed him that there was no longer any opportunity for him to indulge himself on the numbness of splin. He wanted to —more than anything else right now, he wanted to. But Thomas knew who was on the other end of that line. He knew what that meant for him and Clarice.
Taking a risk was the only thing that he felt up to doing at the moment. A tiny, selfish part of his soul wanted nothing more than to steal a few minutes of joy and perhaps OD on the supply of these two assholes that had just tried to kill him. Perhaps, he could steal away some and then hide in some place nearby, blissed out until…
Until he was discovered, turned in and then murdered within 24 hours. Nope, that wasn’t going to work. Whether by stupidity or dumb luck, he had inadvertently brought terror down on the only person he had ever truly loved —and she had no idea what was about to happen.
“I’ve got to warn her,” Thomas thought, after a rapid assessment of his situation.
He pocketed the other two pistols and sprinted to the exit of the warehouse. He knew that he didn’t have much time. The little time that he had, needed to be used correctly if he was going to make it out of this alive. Without even the time to berate himself, Thomas ran toward Oak St.
Chapter Six: Hesitation Means Indifference
Most of the time, Thomas didn’t have to work very hard to make ends meet. For Thomas, hustle usually meant a smooth gesture or some fast words. With his life on the line, the word took on a very different connotation. The most commonly traveled route between the inner slums and Oak Street involved the main thoroughfare, complete with the only working set of traffic lights in the slums. Most people used them as “caution lights”. That means that if Thomas had a
ny hope of getting to the Oak Street Church in time, he would have to cut through some of the broken down houses between here and there.
After hopping a few fences and dealing with a couple of disgruntled dogs, Thomas had enough. Typically, a shifter seen in broad daylight in his animal form warranted the use of a shotgun in the slums, but Thomas no longer had any choice. He knew that his bear form could run at least four times faster than he ever could in his human form. Pausing next to a dilapidated house right in front of a family’s pit bull, he made the shift.
The transformation took only half a minute to transition fully, but the dog’s attitude soon changed from aggressively latching onto Thomas’s leg, to cowering in fear in the corner of the yard. Thomas let out a roar, turned his head toward the dog offering a vicious growl and a wary eye. He then bowled through the meager fencing which separated that house from the next.
His heart hurt and his lungs were on fire, but he knew that in order to finish this race, he would have to barrel forward. Essentially he would destroy all obstacles in his path until he reached his final goal. His mind had contracted, so he wasn’t able to think as clearly as he had been before. His senses were heightened and his strength overwhelmed the barriers in his path.
Soon, the remaining distance between himself and the Oak Street Church had closed. With a roar and a final leap through the tall hedges that separated the rear side of the Oak Street Church from a vacant field, Thomas arrived at his destination.
Once within the grove, Thomas settled into his form and scanned the property for any signs of life. One form was inside of the cottage still, while another had just exited the building and was coming outside. Thomas had nothing to offer except himself, as any firearms he had kept on his person were now in the backyard of some family’s home —a welcome addition to their no doubt small personal collection.
Menora was the first to witness his arrival.
When Menora heard the sound of Thomas crashing through the underbrush, she snapped out of her meditations and became immediately aware that something was wrong. She was in constant communication with her husband through a psychic connection that the two of them maintained even beyond death. He had shown her blood and violence - similar to the trials which had led to his own death and warned her that she must not be afraid —that help would arrive for her and Clarice.
Fearlessly, she strode out of the cabin in order to confront the beast which had arrived on her property. Offering a silent prayer to her husband, she asked for guidance. Instead of receiving that guidance herself, her husband appeared to Thomas in a vision. The image appeared within Thomas’s own mind, blocking out all of his other senses, except for the extra-sensory awareness which is privy to all shifters and their mates. Thomas witnessed a man standing before him, whom he had not seen since childhood. The eyes of the man glowed yellow, indicating that inside of the man’s soul, another creature lived who shared a kindred spirit with Thomas’s own kind —The Clan of the Bear.
“You have brought danger onto my family, through your carelessness,” the spirit began, “Though your arrival here means much to me, because I know that you are someone who will make good on his word even unto death.”
The image paused before Thomas, wavering somewhat as its essence was directed to him from through the realm of dreams.
“Those who have followed you here, seek to destroy that which I have given my life to protect,” the spirit continued. “Though the chaos to come is clear to me and I am certain that not all will survive, I cannot yet see who will live and who will die. I only ask that you protect my family at all costs. As you will undoubtedly find out, your soul is linked to the soul of my daughter. Perhaps you will find a way to redeem your selfishness and be born again.”
During the course of the message, Thomas was not able to move, see, think or respond in any way. When the message had reached its conclusion, Thomas knew that there would only be one way out of this dangerous engagement which he had unwittingly catalyzed —he would have to give himself completely to the task at hand, or risk facing eternal grief in the next life.
Thomas bowed then, kneeling his great snout to the ground of the oak grove. He cast a glance at Menora and at Clarice who had come out from the inside of the cabin to find out what her mother had been so concerned about. His eyes glinted and the two of them saw the light present within his soul —a light which didn’t commonly show itself - yet in that moment, was as clear as the stars within the shade of the grove.
Growling at them and narrowing his eyes meaningfully, he commanded them to get back into the cabin and protect themselves. After issuing his non-verbal command, he stalked out toward the entrance to the grove, intent on intercepting his aggressors.
Chapter Seven: The Light at the End of the Tunnel
It wasn’t long before a small group of cars showed up in front of the Oak Street Church. Impending images flashed through Thomas’s mind and he saw blood pouring into the ground. Knowing that surprise might be his only advantage, Thomas struck first, running at full speed into the final car to arrive. Thomas knew that this one held the leader because the man who sought his death was a notorious coward, who always let others do his dirty work for him.
The cars had yet to roll to a stop when Thomas hit the rear car with all of his force. He made a large, sweeping motion with his forepaws as the car halted. He managed to flip it up on its axels with his strength. The car was small, but still no small feat for a shifter of Thomas’s age. The car skidded on its wheels into the rear end of the next car, finally toppling with one final leap onto the top of the vehicle.
Glass crunched and harsh voices shouted curses into the atmosphere. Neighbors began to peek through windows, some of them armed with weapons of their own. They all remembered what had happened on that day, so many years ago. They were determined that no wrong should ever come to the Grove again.
The doors opened initially on the street side, as henchmen struggled to get out of the vehicle. But they were pushed back into the car by gunfire from the nearby neighbors. The supportive fire from the neighborhood didn’t reach Thomas though. Something within the intuition of each neighborhood militia member told them that his fight was a righteous one.
Thomas leaped out of the car and tackled a man, tearing a single claw through his throat and pouring his life blood out onto the soil.
“A prophecy has been fulfilled,” the voice rang clearly in his head.
Feeling empowered by the knowledge that he was in contact with Clarice’s father, Thomas batted the open door of the second car against one of the thugs, causing him to fly back into another non-shifter. When a mass of force hit Thomas from behind, he knew that things were changing and he was in trouble.
An oversized wolf, with a gnarl in its lip, growled in Thomas’s ear, barking sharply, before firmly latching its teeth into Thomas’s thick neck. The wolf tore down, attempting to break the skin of the bear and it succeeded. Blood flowed out from Thomas’s neck and try as he might, he could not flip the beast over his shoulder. The wolf was quick and though initially there was only one wolf, soon there were two, then three.
The pain was unbearable, and Thomas roared in frustration while the three wolves began to yip at his heels, tackling him by seizing him around the neck with their teeth. Due to the fact that there were now three wolves, Thomas had little trouble giving one of them a solid swipe during each attack. His powerful paws always connected, sometimes breaking ribs and tearing huge holes in the sides of the wolves flesh. Unfortunately, the victories were not at a cost.
Instead of tumbling into the Oak Grove, the four beasts crushed the remaining cars and mangled any thugs foolish enough to stay in their path. Shots were fired from the sides of the streets, but when shooting into the melee, each militia member had as solid of a chance hitting one as the other.
Things looked grim for Thomas, but he remembered Clarice’s face and the sincere faith that he had seen in Menora’s eyes. When he thought of them, a new strength p
ossessed him, and his eyes switched colors, one golden and one as orange as a flame. His paws began to move in ways that he had never imagined moving before, though the dance felt completely natural. He anticipated the movements of the wolves, no longer felt overwhelmed by their maneuvers.
With one solid connecting swipe, he managed to gouge out the eyes of one of the wolves and slit open the entire belly of another. He wasn’t even thinking about his strikes. His movements formed abstract shapes and it felt as though there was some force in his very soul that was channeling a power he had never known before.
As graceful as a bleeding bear can be, Thomas executed his final maneuver. It was a brilliant turn to catch the last wolf by the neck as it dove from the back of the pack, seeking to catch Thomas by the neck once more. Thomas did not thrash the wolf or bite down any harder than was necessary to keep the canine firmly between his jaws. He did, however, allow the arc of the wolf to move forward in the air, bringing the body down head first to the ground in front of Thomas’s form. The wolf’s neck snapped and in its death, the body transitioned into the mangled corpse of the Triage’s leader.
With the threat now absent, Thomas himself shifted, his wounds internalizing to be carried by his soul until they could be healed by the passing of time. Weakened, but firm in his resolve, Thomas walked over to the Oak Street Grove and met with Clarice outside of the cottage.
She stood there, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She could have lost him. There was something about seeing him almost die, almost kill himself trying to protect them that triggered a flood of emotions in her. The old feelings she had buried so deep inside of her came rushing back to her. This might have been the last she saw of him without her ever having the chance to introduce him to his daughter.