* * *
Friday came, and Gray packed a small duffle full of t-shirts and shorts to keep up the illusion that they were going to a running camp. He met Leslie outside her room, and they headed downstairs to the kitchen. Matheson and Savannah were waiting for them.
“Do you want me to drop you off at the school?” asked Matheson.
Leslie shook her head. “I’ll drive us. My car will be fine in the school parking lot.”
Savannah scowled, but she got up and hugged Leslie tight. “You’re planning something, and you left me out,” Gray heard her whisper as they hugged. “Don’t blame me if things go wrong.”
“I love you too, Savannah,” Leslie said. She pushed her sister away.
“Don’t I get a hug?” said Matheson.
Leslie smiled and hugged her father. Gray watched from the side, and he saw her smile fade as she bit her lower lip.
When he let his daughter go, Matheson turned to Gray. “Keep Leslie safe, okay?” he asked, shaking Gray’s hand.
“Yes sir. I’ll do my best,” Gray responded. He wished Matheson would talk a little softer. Gray could hear everything—Matheson’s voice, the humming of the refrigerator and the lights, everyone’s heartbeat. His head pounded from all the noise.
Matheson clapped his hand loudly on Gray’s back, and it took everything for Gray not to flinch away from the noise. “You kids have fun. Do you have any idea what time you’ll be home tomorrow?”
Leslie shook her head. “Probably late.”
“Well then, I’ll wait up for you.”
Gray and Leslie smiled, and they left through the garage. They tossed their luggage into Leslie’s little blue car, and Leslie climbed into the driver’s seat. Gray bent down slowly, his muscles and joints aching, as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. With the noise and the pain, Gray didn’t know how long he could continue before going mad. No wonder so many people in his village went insane before dying from this plague.
When Leslie started her car the roar of the engine sent a spear of pain through Gray’s skull. He cried out.
“That bad, huh?” said Leslie. Gray nodded. Leslie twisted around in her seat and dragged her parcel bag onto her lap. She fished out two cylindrical pieces of foam. “Here,” she said, tossing them to Gray, “these should help. Put them in your ears.”
Gray did, and the sound of the engine was instantly muffled. “What are these?” he asked. His voice sounded strange—loud and distorted.
“Earplugs,” she said. “We’d better hurry. It takes half an hour to get to the shopping center.”
They drove in silence, for which Gray was grateful. He settled his head back on the seat’s headrest and closed his eyes. He was exhausted—the pain felt completely different from before. It drained him, and he wondered if this was the beginning of the end.
Gray must have dozed off. When Leslie shook his shoulder it didn’t feel as if half an hour had passed. He blinked his eyes against the dim light. “Is it night?” he asked.
“No,” said Leslie. He could hear her perfectly despite the earplugs. “We’re in a parking garage under the shopping center. Come on, we still have enough time to scope out the place before we meet Professor Brown.” She handed him one of the pair of Pringles containers she was holding. Gray opened it. Inside was the scroll’s cylindrical container.
Leslie led the way to a pair of steel doors. She pressed a button to the side of them, and the doors opened, revealing a small windowless room. She stepped inside the room, turned around, and waited for Gray to enter. “Well?” she asked. “Are you coming?”
Gray poked his head inside the small room. It felt like a cage. “What is it?”
“It’s an elevator,” explained Leslie. “It’ll take us up to the surface.”
“Is it safe?” he asked. Even with just his head inside Gray started to feel claustrophobic. His muscles tensed.
Leslie laughed. “Of course it is. Now come inside—just keep your hands away from the doors as they close.”
Cautiously, Gray tiptoed into the elevator. As he cleared the doors, they slammed shut behind him. Gray jumped and spun around. Leslie pressed a button, and the small room shuddered and began to move upwards. Frantically, Gray glanced around, examining the elevator. It was small, made of shiny metal, with lights steaming down from the ceiling, and nothing to break the monotony but a screen with ticking red symbols: P3, P2, P1. Gray’s breath came out in sharp gasps, and he pressed his hands against the wall in front of him. The metal was cold, unyielding. He had to get out, but there was no way out. There was no way out!
There was the sharp ting of a tiny bell, and the cold steel doors slid open. Gray dashed out of the cage and leaned against a warm white wall next to the steel doors. He panted and slid to the floor.
Leslie calmly walked out of the elevator and stared at Gray. “Next time we’re taking the stairs,” she said, helping him to his feet. “I don’t want you having another panic attack.”
Gray took several deep breaths before attempting a smile. “What panic attack?” he joked, but Leslie only pressed her lips together and turned away, beckoning for him to follow. Gray started to follow, but paused, noticing his surroundings for the first time.
They were in a store, one much larger than the one where Matheson had taken him to buy his clothes and school supplies. Hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of articles of clothing hung on racks, lay on tables and shelves, and were displayed on mannequins. Jewelry glittered in glass displays, and countless rows of shoes gleamed. Glaringly bright lights shone everywhere from every possible angle, so much so that Gray began to feel lightheaded. Shiny posters of men and women accosted Gray from every angle. The men glowered off to the right or the left, seeking to portray ultimate masculinity. Some of the women were modestly dressed, smiling and laughing, while others stared straight at their viewers, their clothes and positions so sensual and alluring that Gray blushed and covered his eyes. He walked straight forward, hoping to pass the posters of scantily-clad women, but each time he uncovered his eyes another one was waiting for him.
“Gray, what are you doing?” It was Leslie’s voice. She’d come to save him.
“I—I.” Gray couldn’t say it. It was too embarrassing. Finally, he blurted out, “The women! The women in the posters!”
Leslie sighed and took his hand. “You really are Amish sometimes—not that it’s a bad thing. Look at the ground. I’ll lead you out of the store.”
Gray clung to her hand and watched the blindingly white tiles go by as they walked. His ears still burned. Leslie walked quickly through the store—fast enough that Gray’s lungs started to burn for air, but he wasn’t about to ask her to slow down.
They walked through a doorway, and the tiles under Gray’s feet gave way to cement. A cool breeze ruffled Gray’s hair and tickled his face. He looked up. They were outside. A walkway bordered by tropical trees, bushes, and flowers wound between rows of stores. The smell of barbecuing meat wafted from a nearby steakhouse, making Gray’s mouth water.
“Better?” Leslie asked. She looked up at Gray, and a small smile played across her lips.
Nodding, Gray smiled back. “Yes, thank you.”
Leslie slipped her hand out of Gray’s and adjusted the shoulder strap on her parcel bag. Gray suddenly felt the desire to grab her hand again, but he respected Leslie’s wishes and slipped his hand in his pocket instead. He found himself looking at her hand and forced himself to look at her face.
After pushing a few stray strands of hair underneath her pink bandana, Leslie looked at Gray and smiled. “Come on, let’s look around before heading to Jamba Juice. I’ll steer you clear of Victoria’s Secret. If those posters inside Macys made you cover your eyes, Victoria’s Secret will make you fain.”
Gray blushed again as his imagination tried to fill in the gaps. He struck the scroll sharply against his leg to dispel such wicked thoughts and followed Leslie through the shopping center. The store fronts to either side boasted their wares with brightly colored signs and displays, some garish and some stylish. A children’s store had pastel-colored animals and children painted in the windows. Even though it was still a good hour or so before dusk, lights gleamed at the tops of lamp posts and at the bases of trees and bushes. It was a busy Friday night, and crowds of people bustled to and fro, some laden with shopping bags.
Leslie peered through the crowds. “I don’t see anyone suspicious, do you?”
Gray started to shake his head when the same feeling he’d had when he saw the woman standing on the beach—the feeling that someone like him was nearby—crept over him. He looked around.
A teenaged boy stared at Gray, looking as surprised to see Gray as Gray was to see him. The boy had black eyes and black hair cut just lower than his jaw line, with skin the color of polished bronze. He looked like a member of the Ohlone tribe that lived near the sea in Gray’s homeland. Though he was dressed like a typical teenager, Gray couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy was a shifter like himself.
The boy’s eyes flicked to the Pringles container in Gray’s hand. Gray tightened his grip on the container. Leslie sensed Gray’s tension and, catching sight of the Ohlone boy, shifted her stance so that she stood partly in front of Gray.
Suddenly, the Ohlone boy dashed forward, pushing past Leslie. He grabbed at the scroll, and Gray wrestled it from the boy. The boy struck out, punching Gray in the stomach. Pain blossomed inside Gray, forcing him to his knees. The boy snatched the scroll from Gray and ran away.
“Hey!” yelled Leslie. She sprinted after the boy, weaving her way through the crowd. “Stop him! He stole the—my wallet!”
Grimacing in pain, Gray pushed himself to his feet. He ran after Leslie, but the pain increased with every step. His lungs ached, his legs ached, and his heart pounded in his chest, his pulse reverberating throughout his body. Finally, his muscles seized up, and he stumbled to a halt.
“I can’t lose the scroll,” Gray gasped. “Not now.” Not when he was so close to reaching Professor Brown. Not when the cure to this disease was nearly in his grasp.
Most of the people were watching Leslie chase after the Ohlone boy. Gray slipped into some bushes and crouched down. He stripped out of his outer layer of clothes and kicked off his shoes and socks. He shifted, the familiar tingling sensation revitalizing his body. The earplugs fell out as he did so, and a barrage of sound nearly made him shrink back further into the bushes. There was so much noise. It was bad—worse than when he was a human. Gray struggled to block out the sounds and leaped out of the bushes.
Gray landed in the middle of the walkway, his tail whipping back and forth. Some women shrieked, pointing at him. Gray ignored them and leaped forward. He wriggled between the bodies of people in his way.
The people Gray touched looked down and screamed. They scrambled out of his way, seeking the closest store for safety. Others turned their heads and peered around in confusion, but few could see Gray. He couldn’t push through the crowd, and it was taking too long to clear, so he did the only thing he could think of. He roared.
The crowd scattered, screaming. Gray ran through the parting crowd amidst screams of “Lion!” “Tiger!” and “Don’t eat me!” He kept his head low to the ground, searching for any traces of Leslie’s scent. He caught a whiff of her cinnamon-scented hair and sped down an adjoining path.
As Gray maneuvered past the feet of the screaming throng, the crowd thinned, and he saw Leslie and the boy still running. Leslie reached out her hand and grabbed the boy’s shirt, pulling him back. They both fell back, lost their balance, and tumbled together in a heap.
Gray sprinted forward, ready to make the final leap to pin the boy to the ground, when a mother hurrying towards the nearest store lost her grip on her son. The toddler bumped into Gray’s side, and Gray skidded to a halt. He spun around and stared at the toddler.
The crowd watched, frozen in morbid fascination, as the eighteen-month-old approached the black panther. Gray fought against the desire to snap at the child. The toddler gazed at Gray with his large blue eyes. “Doggy!”
I’m no doggy, Gray thought bitterly. His entire body trembled. His instincts told him the toddler was perfect prey, that it would be easy to snatch the child in his jaws and run away. He was afraid if he budged an inch, if he so much as growled at the child, the panther would take over and he’d do something unforgivable.
The toddler patted Gray’s face and neck. “Good doggy.” His grasping hand clutched at Gray’s soul binder.
“Jeffrey, no!” The toddler’s mother jerked out of her stupor. She grabbed her son and wrenched him away from Gray. The child’s hand kept hold of the soul binder, and he tore it from Gray’s body.
Pain screamed through Gray’s body. It was like a bubble protecting Gray burst, and sounds, smells, feelings flooded over him. Screams, pattering heartbeats, a crash as the toddler dropped his soul binder on the ground, the smell of grease, meat, flowers, fruit, body odor, perfumes and colognes, light coursed over Gray, blinding him, immobilizing him. Pain tore through his body, every muscle aching, every heartbeat feeling like a hammer in his chest.
Gray moaned and mewled, swaying back and forth. He was in danger. Everywhere he turned eyes watched him. He had to get away. The world spun, and he rubbed his head against the ground, against his paws. Finally, he spied an opening and ran drunkenly towards it. A sharp pain in his neck made him cry out, and he crashed into the bushes.
* * *
Leslie and the boy stopped fighting long enough to watch as the toddler approached Gray. Even from where they sat Leslie could see Gray’s body shaking. Stay yourself, Leslie pleaded silently. Don’t hurt that little boy.
The toddler’s mother snatched him away, and Gray’s soul binder fell from the toddler’s pudgy hand. Leslie and the boy leaned forward apprehensively.
Suddenly, Gray started moaning and yowling. He staggered back and forth and rubbed his head against the ground.
Panic began to rise in Leslie’s chest, but she pushed it down. She turned back to the boy and knocked the scroll out of his grasp. He turned, and she pushed him to the ground, pinning him beneath her.
“Who sent you?” Leslie demanded. “Why do you want the scroll?”
The boy glared at her, then his features blurred. He melted away, transforming into a wriggling rattlesnake. Leslie shrieked and threw the snake. It landed on the cement and wriggled through the crowds, escaping.
Gray’s moans increased. He wailed as he thrashed back and forth, stumbling over his paws. Suddenly, he dashed to the side, crashing into the bushes. Leslie saw him stumble and fall just past the bushes’ edge.
Leslie snatched up the scroll and ran after Gray, stooping to pick up his soul binder as she went. Everyone else was too busy screaming and running to care about what she was doing. She scrambled into the bushes.
Gray lay sprawled on the ground in his panther form. Leslie knelt next to him and cradled his head in her lap. He looked up at her with his yellow eyes. Shivers shook his body.
“Don’t worry,” Leslie whispered. “I’m here.” She stroked his head.
Leslie’s hand brushed against something hard on Gray’s neck. She pulled it off and held it up to the light. It looked like the tip of an arrow. “What’s this?”
There was some rustling in the bushes, and an old man forced his way in. Leslie gasped and looked up, pocketing the arrowhead as she did so. She shielded Gray’s body with her own.
The man wore a fedora and a pin-striped brown suit and tie and carried a silver-headed cane. He pushed the fedora up off his forehead, revealing silver-grey hair. “Well now, you must be Leslie. I’m Professor Alistair Brown. Pleased to meet you.”
Leslie glanced from Professor Brown to Gray. The panther’s yellow eyes fluttered closed, and slowly its features melted, stretched, and reformed until Gray was human. He lay unconscious under Leslie’s hands.
“I take it that’s Gray?” said Alistair, nodding his head towards Gray’s unconscious form.
“Yes,” said Leslie softly. She looked down at Gray. He was pale, and his breathing came out in short gasps. Tears pricked the corners of Leslie’s eyes. “He’s dying, just like the people in his village. You have to help him. Please.”
Alistair Brown put his hand on Leslie’s shoulder. She looked up. The professor gave her a comforting smile. “I’ll do what I can. Come, let’s get Gray to my care before the authorities arrive. Have you ever done a firefighter’s carry?”
Leslie grabbed the scroll and slipped it inside her purse before helping Professor Brown lift Gray. They slipped through the crowd with relative ease. Among all the confusion, no one noticed them pass.
* * *
The young man watched as the girl and the old man carried the unconscious shifter away. His sharp eyes followed them until they turned a corner. Finally, he took his blowgun off his lap and slipped it inside his backpack. He stood, fingering the falcon-headed gem embedded in his wrist.
I have done what you wished, Master, the man thought as he climbed down the ladder to get off the building’s roof. Though I never actually thought I would have to subdue that shifter. That Ohlone boy really made a mess of things.
But no matter, he thought as he disappeared into the crowd. I shall leave the rest to you and wait for my master’s call.
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