Earning My Spots

by Eastburn, Mark;

  Security was heavy, and our stuff was checked, but the officers didn’t find anything that caused concern. Balam hadn’t packed any weapons, although I figured he didn’t need any after getting a good look at his claws and teeth back in the tunnel.

  “We have five minutes until we board, and our gate is down that way,” Balam said while double-checking his boarding pass. He didn’t look worried one bit.

  I, on the other hand, was completely freaked out—probably because I’d never flown before—but I quickly found a distraction. There was a smell in the air that set me on edge, even more than the thought of traveling in a winged, metal tube at hundreds of miles per hour far above the Earth’s surface.

  Where was the strange odor coming from?

  When we got in line, I found my answer, because there were other shape shifters boarding. One of the scents was familiar. I was standing close to a werewolf. The other scent was more like Manny or Balam, although it burned in my nose like hot pepper.

  I leaned close to Manny and asked if he’d noticed anything. When our eyes met, his expression told me everything I needed to know.

  He’d smelled them, too.

  “At this moment, we are only taking first-class passengers,” a flight attendant said over the loudspeaker. A passenger had forced her to switch from Spanish.

  “We are first class,” a deep voice insisted. When I turned to see who’d spoken, I saw an enormous man with dark skin and dressed in colorful robes. If I had to guess based on appearance alone, I’d say he came from some country in Africa, and his accent suggested the same.

  After a sniff of the air, I also knew he was feline.

  A lion, no doubt.

  The man next to him was thinner and not quite so tall. His skin was pale, his features were dainty, and he was dressed in a tailored suit. His hair was perfectly styled, with grayish undertones.

  That one was a wolf.

  Several others were also disguised as humans: a few were female lions, along with a whole pack of wolves. Before long, they’d turned eyes on me. When I tried to ignore them, their stares held on.

  “You think we’re safe?” I whispered to Balam.

  “They can’t do anything to us,” he said confidently. “Not while we’re on the plane.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Without a hint of worry, he said, “If they attack us, the plane gets diverted and never makes it to Brazil, which is where they all want to go.”

  His words weren’t much relief, although new urges were raging inside of me, impulses that didn’t come from my human nature—these were purely animal. Once we’d boarded the plane, I wanted those dogs and cats to know who I was and that they didn’t scare me. I needed to make clear that I was one of the world’s toughest hunters, that I was proud to be a hyena.

  So once on board, I decided to head for the bathroom and mark some territory, especially after an announcement said that our flight would be delayed.

  When I passed the white guy in his tailored suit, his hand grabbed my arm.

  I giggled fiercely in response.

  The wolf-man sniffed the air. “What are you doing here, hyena boy?” he asked quietly, at a volume that no-tails couldn’t hear.

  “Why should you care?” I snapped.

  The wolf tilted his head at the werelion, who maintained a death glare on me. Under his brimless, multicolored hat, beads of sweat were forming on his skin.

  “My friend doesn’t like you,” said the werewolf. His accent was definitely British, like a person from London or something.

  I felt my lips curl, baring my teeth. “Maybe I don’t like him, either.”

  “You have no respect,” snapped the werelion.

  “Do you deserve it?” I sneered, both to him and the wolf. Those scenes Queen Ayaba showed me of lions killing hyenas blazed through my mind.

  The werewolf maintained his grip on my arm, and I could feel claws digging through my shirt.

  “Perhaps you should get off this plane,” he suggested.

  I took one glimpse at the door, wondering if it might be my only chance for survival.

  Nah, I decided. I needed to keep going. I needed to save my family. That was the most important thing, and this was the only way to do it. Mom, Dad, and Lauren were counting on me.

  Balam rose from his seat. “Is there a problem here?” he asked the wolf. Everyone was now speaking loud enough for no-tails to hear, which wasn’t smart, but our animal natures were boiling over.

  “Problem?” the werewolf shot back. “The only problem is you.”

  “Me?” He placed a hand to his chest.

  “And your hyena,” said the wolf.

  “You are headed for jaguar territory,” Balam warned. “Our kind is strong in Brazil.”

  “As strong as the lion?” the African man scoffed. “That cannot be true.”

  “Strong as the lion?” I said mockingly. “All you males ever do is lie around and let your females do the hunting.” I’d read that somewhere, I thought.

  By this point, our discussion was attracting attention. Nearly everyone in the cabin was watching.

  The werelion laughed heartily. “At least we keep our females in their place. They don’t rule our lives like they do in hyena society.”

  Twisting my arm from the werewolf’s clutches, I thrust a finger at the lion and raged, “You have no business criticizing anybody. Whether we’re male or female, hyenas are better hunters than lions, and you know it!” I wanted more than anything to shift form, point my head toward the ground, and let out a powerful whoop.

  The enormous werelion leaned back in his seat and said confidently, “We shall see who the best hunters are.”

  Standing in the aisle, Balam held his ground.

  A flight attendant muscled her way into our cluster and said, “I’m sorry, but whatever is happening here needs to stop immediately.”

  Since she was clearly a no-tail, my human side took over, and I realized how careless we’d been. Desperate for a cover story, I said, “We’re just … um … practicing for a play.” I thought I’d heard that The Lion King was now a musical or something, and I was pretty sure I’d seen a video of actors singing songs from it on a plane.

  “I understand,” said the attendant, “but everyone must return to their seats.”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, determined to keep with my original plan.

  “Please make it quick,” she said, a fake smile on her face.

  The door to the airplane bathroom was confusing, because it had a hinge in the middle and a slide lock. Figuring out how to keep it closed took several tries, but once it finally held and the inside light came on, I knew this was a chance to leave my mark. With animal instincts in full gear, I shimmied down my pants and rubbed several different spots with my backside. Now maybe a no-tail would find that disgusting, but it’s what hyenas do. I even peed in each of the corners, just to make sure the wolves and lions knew where I’d been. Besides, it would be a real insult if they needed to use facilities that a hyena had already claimed.

  Upon exiting the bathroom, I passed the werewolf and saw him flash a cruel smile, probably because he had the lions as backup. I wasn’t sure why they’d formed this partnership, unless they’d united against a common enemy—just like they’d done in Queen Ayaba’s visions.

  Except now, they had a new enemy …

  And that enemy was me.

  Roiled by the presence of these other shape shifters, I barely noticed takeoff, although we were definitely flying when the werewolf sauntered up to my seat.

  “King Subu would like to speak with you,” he said.

  “King who?” I shot back.

  The werewolf nodded in the direction of the lion.

  “He’s a king?” I asked.

  “Of course.” The wolf-man nodded. “The lion is the king of beasts.”

  “Oh, please.” I giggled. “We both know that’s not true.”

  Ignoring my comment, he repeated, “The k
ing would like to speak with you.”

  I glanced back and saw the hulking lion-man in the aisle. He chuckled when our eyes met.

  “Actually,” the lion-man said, “I would like to speak with you about a temporary arrangement.”

  “Huh?”

  “A cessation of hostilities. A truce.”

  “A truce?” I stood and stepped into the aisle, making myself as tall as possible. “No way. Not in a million years.” We were all speaking too loudly again.

  The wolf cleared his throat. “I don’t think you understand the importance of coming to an agreement. For your sake, especially.”

  “Oh, I do,” I assured. “Your cat ruler thinks he can push around anybody he wants. But let me tell you this—hyenas are the truest predators in all of Africa. That’s why lions tried to wipe us out. I learned about that, you know—all that stuff you did in our homeland.” Raising my voice even more forcefully, I added, “Lions aren’t even worthy to scavenge from our kills.” I can’t really explain what came over me, but an intense fury charged my words. Perhaps the spirits of my ancestors had taken over?

  King Subu’s eyes widened in fury, so wide that I saw whites all around. He thrust his foot into the floor and spat, “Nobody speaks like that to me.”

  Something probably would’ve happened right there, except the flight attendant returned. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said forcefully. “For safety reasons, we like to keep these aisles clear. Can’t you practice these lines once we land?” Her gaze shifted between me, the werewolf, and the hulking werelion.

  Another passenger, a no-tail near the back of the first-class section, stood with a hand to his side, as if he were carrying a gun. I’d heard about sky police before—they were called air marshals or something—and he must’ve been one.

  Flashing a wide grin, King Subu said to the flight attendant, “Of course, my dear.”

  “Yeah,” I chimed in. “It’s just that … we have a big performance tonight.” Thankfully, my cover for our conversation appeared to be holding.

  “Well,” she said, “we also need to consider the safety of our passengers, so please return to your seats.”

  The werelion kept eyes fixed on me, and I saw a flash of yellow in them. “Yes, we will talk more on solid ground.”

  Holding his glare defiantly, I could only wonder if he actually planned to speak to me once we landed.

  Gnawing our flesh seemed more likely.

  OUR FLIGHT WAS AN OVERNIGHT ONE, BUT I HAD NO PLANS to sleep. The lions did get some shut-eye, while the wolves watched over them, and I noticed that the head werewolf kept tabs on us.

  We landed for a few hours in Panama to refuel, but none of us exited the plane. A few more shape shifters boarded there, and they all appeared to be lions.

  Our chances for survival after landing shrunk.

  The plane took off again, dawn broke, and I first saw nothing more than a vast expanse of mist. Later on, the whole landscape below us turned green. We were too high to see individual trees, but I knew we were over dense forest. This was completely unspoiled habitat, with only a network of rivers dividing the terrain.

  “That is the Amazon rain forest,” Balam whispered, glancing back at the lions.

  Manny rose from his chair and craned his neck over me to peer out the window.

  “There aren’t any people down there, are there?” he asked.

  “Not many,” said Balam. “Only a couple of tribes that honor jaguars like gods.”

  “It must be paradise,” Manny said longingly. “I wish all no-tails thought that way.”

  “That jaguars are gods?” I asked him.

  Manny shrugged. “It’s better than thinking we’re just savage beasts.”

  Balam said, “In places where we are honored, our habitat is protected. In other parts of the rain forest, where we do not have respect, rivers are poisoned and trees get cut down.”

  “Yeah …” I thought for a moment. “But isn’t claiming you’re gods a little bit extreme?”

  “Being extreme gets results,” said Balam.

  My brain raced for a counterargument, but the right words were hard to find. I understood that many predators were in desperate situations because of no-tails, but starting wars and pretending to be gods couldn’t be the best ways to solve our problems.

  I didn’t have long to think, though—flaps on the plane’s wings soon slid with an electronic whine, and a whoosh of air signaled our gradual descent. The sign to fasten seat belts came on, and a flight attendant made an announcement about our approach into Manaus in Spanish, English, and Portuguese.

  “Here we go,” said Balam. Right after he spoke, his gaze rolled to the seats behind us.

  When my eyes followed, my worst fear was confirmed.

  The lions were awake.

  And they were all staring at me.

  The plane dipped toward the ground. A river with water darker than motor oil passed beneath us in the early morning light.

  “That is the Río Negro. The Black River,” said Balam.

  “Why’s it so dark?” asked Manny.

  Ignoring Balam’s answer, my mind focused on a more immediate concern. In the hours since our last confrontation with the other shape shifters on board, I’d gotten a full tally of the lions and wolves. Including those passengers who’d boarded in Panama, there were twenty-three: nine lions, fourteen wolves—and none of them seemed pleased with my earlier antics in the bathroom. I heard several insist on using the toilet in the economy section rather than deal with my scent in the bathroom at the front of the plane. The flight attendant also got pretty steamed when somebody reported pee in the corners of the restroom, and I gathered that I was the prime suspect.

  Clusters of small huts soon appeared in the countryside below, surrounded by swaths of bare earth. Several patches were blackened with soot, others were smoldering, while some looked like brown gashes through the green. We must’ve been over a region where jaguars weren’t respected, and the landscape was under assault.

  The left side of our plane dipped, and we turned in a wide arc over The Black River, plus another river that looked like chocolate milk.

  A city appeared farther in the distance, bordering a few remaining stands of rain forest. Homes in the outskirts sat on flattened stretches of reddish-orange soil. I didn’t see much growing there from overhead.

  The plane turned, and I caught a glimpse of a broad stretch of concrete.

  It was the runway. We were about to land.

  Time was growing short for us. We needed a plan of escape; otherwise, I feared we’d be torn to shreds.

  Now I suppose I could’ve begged King Subu for forgiveness and pledged loyalty to him or whatever, but he still might’ve snapped my neck in two. After I’d made the comment that lions weren’t fit to scavenge from our kills, I knew I’d gone too far. Not that I didn’t believe what I was saying; I just knew it wasn’t smart to insult that so-called “lion king” when we were outnumbered.

  By the time the plane’s landing gear skidded on the runway, and the engines roared in reverse, I’d worked out a plan for escape. Recalling the air marshal, and how he’d focused on the lions and wolves for most of the trip, I figured he’d pull his gun if I could make them upset enough to act out (especially if they transformed). That part wouldn’t be too hard, since everybody was near the point of shifting anyway; I could sense that each one’s inner animal was straining to break free. The wolves and lions were also seated behind us, so if they stood up and caused a commotion, we’d be protected from the air marshal’s view. Then we’d run. We’d have to change form, of course, and since there wouldn’t be any reason to hold onto our clothing, I slipped off my shoes and clutched one in each hand while our aircraft taxied to the gate.

  When the seat belt sign flicked off, everyone started moving. Fortunately, a couple of hurried no-tails entered the aisle before King Subu and his wolf companion could pounce on us. The commotion also blocked our position from the air marshal’s sight
.

  That was my moment for action. I hurled my shoes at the wolves and lions, then spun without checking what I’d hit.

  What I heard were two slaps, followed by a howl and a roar.

  My antics caught Manny and Balam by surprise. The instant my eyes met their startled expressions, I whooped the word, “Run!”

  We pushed our way into the aisle.

  Wolf barks and lion snarls grabbed the air marshal’s attention, and before our opponents could reach us, the marshal had drawn his weapon and shouted, “Freeze!”

  Certain that King Subu’s massive frame would block any bullets headed in my direction, I shifted without a second’s delay. No-tails screamed (not surprisingly), especially once Manny and Balam changed into their jaguar forms.

  The flight attendant had already opened the door, so now was our chance to bolt. Screaming and scrambling in horror, people cleared the aisle ahead of us, and seconds later we were tearing along the hallway connecting the plane to the arrival gate.

  A couple of muffled gunshots echoed in my ears, along with more shrieks and screams, but I knew we were still being pursued due to the roars and barks I heard in the near distance.

  Even I wasn’t prepared for what followed: a mad dash through the Eduardo Gomes Airport terminal, a frantic charge through security, and a desperate sprint for the exit. Several officers at the security section were armed with automatic rifles, and I heard a couple of pops from their weapons, but, fortunately, the bullets whizzed past us without hitting their mark.

  Manny and Balam matched my pace, but the lions kept close on our tails, as did the wolves. I only checked over my shoulder once, and it seemed King Subu and company were gaining—especially the canines. Their bodies were built for endurance, a fact I knew plenty about from my life in Vermont.

  Manny, Balam, and I charged out of the airport and into the daylight, which was broken by the shade of palm trees. The heat and humidity felt like an impenetrable wall. It couldn’t stop us, though; we had to keep running. We knocked over startled passengers at the luggage drop-off, tore between cars in the parking lot, and headed for an exit road where the asphalt was hot enough to make our footpads burn.