by M. L. Ryan
He glanced over at one of the goats, happily munching some hay on the other side of the barn. “Let’s see if you can transmit ideas to animals, or if today’s incident was just coincidence. Try asking her to do something.”
With the jaguar, I “requested” an action well within its nature. Aside from eating and bleating, the only other goat behavior I was aware of was kicking. There was a short, wooden stool behind the animal, and I wondered what might happen if the goat knocked it over. Without interrupting her meal, both hind legs shot out and she punted the seat into the next enclosure.
Alex nodded in approval. “How about the mule?”
I tried getting her to kick something as well, but the donkey-horse hybrid wasn’t as cooperative, and my prompts ended up making her agitated.
“I hope whatever it is I’m doing isn’t confined to just jaguars and goats,” I remarked as I easily compelled the billy to tap his horns on a wooden rail, mimicking the iconic drum riff from Phil Collins’, In the Air Tonight. “If I can request the chickens to lay more eggs, this might be a useful trick.”
“More eggs would be nice,” Alex muttered, and then grew silent. He flipped onto his back, crossing his arms beneath his head. After staring out toward our livestock roomies for a bit, he asked, without changing his position, “Is there a reason you waited so long to tell me about this?”
I considered making something up to avoid unleashing any hurt feelings he might still harbor, but ultimately, I went with a mature, well-adjusted choice instead. Besides learning when a man paid uncharacteristic attention to his appearance, he was likely cheating, the most important lesson gleaned from my disastrous marriage was trust and honesty were as important as love in a healthy relationship.
“You seemed upset you couldn’t use your magic to overtake Tom, and I worried you might feel worse if you knew I used mine.”
Alex turned his head to peer directly at me. “You thought I would be jealous?”
“No, but you were all macho and territorial out there, and I figured you’d take the information better once you settled down.” The intensity in his eyes made me hope I hadn’t miscalculated the amount of time he’d need, and I said gently, “You were a little scary.”
His expression relaxed, and he let out a sigh. “I didn’t intend to frighten you, carisa, but my own fear for your safety manifested itself as over cautiousness.” He scooted over and enveloped me in his arms. “And, apparently, a bit of male posturing.”
“It could have been worse,” I teased. “At least you didn’t beat your chest or scent mark.”
“Actually, I planned to drag you off by your hair, but I thought we’d make better time if I let you remain ambulatory.”
“Good call, Blondie. I’m not sure you can pull off caveman.”
“Perhaps not,” Alex said with a laugh. He pulled me in tighter and kissed the top of my head. “You know, it’s not that I couldn’t use magic, I just wasn’t confident in my precision.”
With my face tucked into his chest, he couldn’t see my smile. Maybe there was a little more Neanderthal in Alex than I thought.
We remained entwined until we heard Sebastian and Ulut enter the barn. As they got ready for bed—which in a stable, amounted to removing their shoes and fluffing the straw—Alex regaled them with tales of my ability to communicate with other species.
As the donor of my transplanted magic, Sebastian took great pride in my accomplishments and his eyes gleamed when he realized I picked up a new skill.
“We might have to begin calling you Dr. Doolittle, my dear.”
“He didn’t just talk to the animals, they talked back to him,” I clarified. “I wish I was that lucky.”
Ulut disagreed. “Having been one for so long, I can’t think of anything less interesting. Ninety percent of my dog-thoughts revolved around eating. The other ten was split between deciding where to nap and dreaming about eating.”
I gave my favorite goat, now lying down with her legs tucked beneath her, a once-over and wondered what might be going through her ovine brain. Probably not much, I decided. Her basic needs were taken care of—she had room to graze during the day, a comfy spot in the barn at night, and twice a day, someone stroked her boobs.
“Maybe wild animals have more on their minds,” I opined.
“I doubt it,” Ulut said, shaking his head. “All except the top predators would add worrying about being eaten themselves, but what else is there to think about other than survival?”
“Sex,” Sebastian offered.
I almost chastised him for lowering the discussion to its basest level, but then I remembered what I’d just been thinking about the goat’s udder. “He may be right, Ulut. You said sometimes you were overwhelmed with the desire to get some.”
Ulut let out an exasperated breath. “Passing on one’s genes is a form of survival; it’s just not as pressing as food or water.”
A wicked grin blossomed across Sebastian’s face. “It is if you are doing it correctly.”
The next days were filled with our usual chores, but now tension clouded everything. There was no sign of Tom, yet I found myself questioning every odd noise or unexplained movement in the trees. Ulut, Z, Agnes, and Sebastian hiked to the stream, and Ulut even transformed to use his ultra-sensitive doggie nose, but all he could smell was the pungent scent of cat. Not that I expected Tom to be lurking in the same spot two days later, but it would have been nice if they happened to apprehend him, or at the very least found evidence that he wouldn’t be bothering us anymore, like a blood trail or a stray appendage.
Spurred on by the possibility of danger, the magically disposed in our group began testing their abilities in earnest to get a better idea of what we could and could not do in Dekankara. Unfortunately, there was no discernible pattern. Only Sebastian retained his healing powers, but the rest of his repertoire was like Alex’s, often hit or miss, sometimes literally—he almost annihilated the chicken coop while attempting to make himself invisible. Bex’s precision was the same as in Courso, but the intensity was off, V’s magic seemed normal, but she never had a lot to begin with, and W, Z, and T were capable of almost everything they could muster back home, with the disappointing exception of defensive skills and mild-altering. As for me, my prediction proved correct—once the grunge layer reestablished itself, I attracted few wild critters.
Through it all, the clear skies persisted. One of the many reasons I loved living in Tucson was the 284 days of sunshine, but in Dekanzona, all I wanted was a nice, big, hellacious storm. To add to my frustration over the uncooperative weather, any initial interest in experiencing a new dimension had waned. At first, the novelty of no modern conveniences and living off the land was exciting, but I’d grown weary of milking, slopping, and outhouses, and now we had to worry about a potential stalker. Adding to my funk, I’d never gone more than a week without transforming, but I didn’t want to get stuck in animal form like Ulut had when out of dimension. That alone darkened my mood; everything together made me short tempered and cranky. Even the normally affable Jyryxahal seemed to tread lightly when around me.
Worse, for the first time since we arrived, I worried we might never get back. If our stay was permanent, I’d never make things right with Rachel, and she’d hate me forever. Surely, Aiden and Cortez knew something went wrong, and the Xyzok would do everything possible to help us. But my human friends and family, they’d think I’d just disappeared without a trace, without any explanation. No closure, just me, gone.
I kept those misgivings—and to the best of my ability, my irascibility—hidden, even from Alex. In reality, I secretly feared he would voice the same concerns, and as long as I could make myself believe mine might be unfounded, I didn’t have to freak out. Not yet, anyway.
However, I did discuss the consequences of not getting feathery with the one person likely to understand my difficulties—Ulut. He often helped me yank the seemingly endless supply of weeds from the garden, and the daily hour together provided th
e perfect opportunity to vent.
“I feel like I might blow my stack at the slightest provocation; just looking at Agnes makes we want to smack her,” I confessed. “And yesterday, I saw a quail near the barn and if Gera hadn’t walked by, I’d have transformed right then and there. Even afterward, I had a taste for raw meat.”
Ulut tugged unsuccessfully on a particularly tenacious vine and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I know, the longer it goes, the harder tamping down those animalistic tendencies become. I had the opposite problem while in your dimension; human activities that I could not participate in as a dog became an obsession.”
I wracked my brain, but I couldn’t come up with any instance where I recalled Ulut acting human. “Like what?”
“Like an overwhelming desire to wear clothes. Once, I stole a shirt from your closet and hid it in the garage. I even tried a couple of times to put it on before I came to my senses. The best I could do was getting it over my head.”
“The turquoise one?” I’d spent days searching for my favorite tank top.
He acknowledged his involvement with a sheepish nod. “Also, I tried many times to walk on two feet. I looked ridiculous hopping on my hind legs, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying.”
A picture of a cross-dressing, dancing canine came to mind, and I had to suppress a giggle. “I suppose that’s no worse than fantasizing about ripping into a live bird.”
“Actually, I think it was my subconscious trying to force me to transform into my real self, as yours is compelling you to bend into a hawk.” He went back to removing the long, trailing weed wrapped around a squash plant. “Perhaps you should allow yourself to engage in some avian activities to take the edge off. I found typing on the pawboard eased some of my cravings.”
“I don’t think Gera would appreciate me eviscerating one of his chickens with my teeth,” I joked.
If he caught my jest, he didn’t show it. “I have a better idea,” he said, handing me his pile of debris. “I’ll see you later.”
When he returned, accompanied by Alex and Sebastian, it was late afternoon. They all carried packs and escorted me up a small hill toward the edge of Gera’s property into an area with a number of tall cottonwoods. When we reached a clearing, they stopped and huge grins spread on each of their satisfied faces. If we were in a slasher film, this would be the part where the deranged killer revved up the chainsaw.
“Okay, I don’t get it. What’s so amusing?”
Ulut pointed at the tree to my left. A rope ladder hung down, and as I followed its rungs upward, I noticed many freshly cut branches, leaving perhaps twenty-five feet of trunk foliage-free. At the top, a small, wooden platform jutted out with another rope strung above the stand, across the clearing to a similarly groomed second tree with another landing.
Alex pulled Ulut’s climbing harness from his knapsack and fastened it around me. As he attached the last snap, I said, “Not that I have anything against a little bondage, but if you wanted to tie me up, I’d prefer not to have an audience.”
This elicited a chuckle from Alex and a wry smile from Sebastian.
“Up you go,” Alex ordered and I complied, still confused but also intrigued. Alex followed up the ladder, and when we arrived at the top, I could see the platform on the opposite side was slightly lower than the one on which we stood.
“You guys spent all afternoon creating a zip line between two trees?”
Sebastian called up from the clearing. “It was Ulut’s idea. A brilliant one, I might add. This will allow you some semblance of flight whilst you cannot transform.”
“I know it doesn’t replicate flying,” Ulut said from below, “and I wish it could be higher, but it’s the best we could do under the circumstances.”
I’d used a zip line once on a team-bonding weekend with fellow workers during my short-lived career as a pet-food taster. It was never fully explained why the company chose people instead of dogs to rate the relative yumminess of their kibble, and I was soon fired for my inability to report the subtle nuances in flavor required for the job. It all tasted like meaty sawdust to me. I lasted long enough, however, to partake in the Aerial Adventure at the posh Canyon Ranch Spa. The setup here was nothing like that, no comfy straps surrounding my legs and supporting my butt and no heavy leather gloves. Just a lanyard on the back of the harness attached to a pulley resting on the expanse of rope.
I recognized most of the equipment as climbing gear we’d brought for our Babo ascent, but I wasn’t convinced what they’d rigged was going to work.
“Isn’t this supposed to be hooked onto the front?” I inquired, reaching around to point at the strap connecting me to the line.
“Nope,” Alex instructed, “push off, straighten your legs behind you, and go. Like flying.”
My brows knitted with skepticism. “Do I flap my arms too?”
“That would be somewhat counterproductive, I believe.” Alex grinned. “Just tuck them against your sides.”
While I managed to make it up the ladder, now that I teetered on edge of the platform, my fear of heights kicked in and I was uncertain if I could make the leap. At my previous foray on the “death slide,” as my former colleagues called it, my manager had to shove me and I screamed like a wounded raccoon the whole way. Once I got canned, any embarrassment was soon tempered by the fact that I’d never lay eyes on those people again. However, I cared what Alex, Sebastian, and Ulut thought of me. I took a deep breath and visualized a shriek-free passage to the other side.
Alex leaned in and whispered, “Ready?”
I nodded and flung myself off the platform.
17
Gravity forced my legs down, and pain radiated through my upper torso as the harness snapped into my armpits.
“Pull your legs out straight behind you,” Ulut hollered from below, reinforcing Alex’s directions that I’d promptly forgotten. Easier said than done, I thought glumly, but all the months working on my core finally paid off as I used my newly strengthened abs to flatten myself. Immediately, the discomfort subsided and the wind cascaded across my cheeks. Compelled by some unknown urgency, I extended my arms away from my body, and when I closed my eyes, I imagined they were wings and I was soaring through the clouds. It wasn’t exactly like flying, but damn, it felt good.
Shouting interrupted my aerial reverie just in time to avoid smacking head first into the trunk of the other tree. As I alighted on the opposite platform, Sebastian admonished me for my carelessness.
“Pay attention next time. We did not invest all this time and effort to have you knocked unconscious on the first go.”
I was about to berate him for his negativity when I noticed he wasn’t grimacing, rather, his face was lit up with a huge smile. “So, my dear, how was it?”
“It was fantastic,” I replied. “Absolutely fantastic. I want to go again.”
I had to wait for Ulut to climb up and detach me, but as soon as I was free, I scampered down the ladder, ran across the clearing, and practically leapt up to Alex’s platform.
“I guess you really liked it,” he beamed, clipping me to another pulley-like thingy.
As I launched off the stand, I whooped, “Damn straight, Blondie,” and repeated the avigation. It was even better the second time. By the fifth attempt, the guys’ joy over my enthusiasm petered out, and all they wanted was to go back to Gera’s. Like a toddler in a fast-food ball pit, I begged for one last leap, which they begrudgingly allowed.
Alex helped me remove the harness, and then draped an arm over my shoulders. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, carisa. But I think we’ve created a monster,” he teased.
“Better a zip-line junkie than an unintentional bend. This just might actually keep me from becoming a monster.” Literally and figuratively. My concern about getting stuck as a hawk was infinitesimal compared with the prospect of being forced to spend life in Dekankara in my freaky dragon form. I had no reason to think that if I transformed that was what would happen, but the only time I�
��d turned into Birdzilla was in Keem’s third dimension-simulator hideout. I’d be a fool not to consider the possibility I might bend into something not easily explained to the locals.
After dinner that night, Ulut translated as Gera told us the story of his life. His family had lived on the property for five generations, managing throughout the years to avoid any nasty confrontations with the oft-changing leaders, most of who were best avoided. He paid his “taxes”—monies or goods extorted by the warlords—in a timely manner, didn’t make waves, and for the most part, was left alone. His first wife, a girl from a neighboring village he met at a festival, died in childbirth. Not able to attend to the farm and raise the boy, he sent the baby to a childless sister who lived far away, and hadn’t laid eyes on him since. A year later, he married the widow of a close friend. Their marriage produced three children—all girls—and lasted almost twenty-five years until the previous winter, when she succumbed to a flu-like illness that ravaged the area. Since then, he’d worked the land himself, barely managing to make ends meet. His daughters, grown with families and homesteads of their own, pleaded with him to move in with one of them, but he vowed to remain in the home of his father, and the fathers before him. Gera knew his luck changed when we showed up and offered to help him in exchange for room and board.
Because the Jyryxahal spoke neither Dekankaran nor English, Alex recounted the narrative for them in Courso. The tale elicited much discussion between my minions, which included their favorite words, ovhailey—the Hailey—and “fucked up” interspersed throughout.
“What are they saying?” I inquired, not certain I really wanted to know.
Alex stopped to consider my question. “It’s a bit convoluted, but they are convinced that you led us here to answer Gera’s prayers.”
“How the hell did they come up with that conclusion? It’s not like I was in charge of directions.”