Skinshift Page 3

  Mad with hunger, Dominic clamped his jaws onto the rabbit, killing it instantly. Its blood seeped into his mouth, driving him further into a mindless feeding frenzy. He tore into the rabbit’s body, crunching bones along with flesh, devouring the entire animal within minutes.

  When he had finished, he licked the blood from his paws as the frenzy slowly loosened its hold on him. His hunger satisfied for now, he trotted back to his shack for the night.

  12

  Dominic opened his eyes and saw early morning light filtered through the dusty, cracked window of his shack. He raised his arms over his head and stretched on his bare-springed cot, feeling oddly comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. His right forearm hurt. He looked at it—scrapes and a few puncture wounds crisscrossed the flesh, though the blood appeared to have dried hours ago. He dimly remembered being attacked, but there was more. He was sore in his haunches and shoulders, as if he’d expended some great effort.

  And he was no longer hungry. In fact, he felt quite satisfied, as if he’d eaten a huge dinner last night. Confused, he frowned and rose from his cot, then walked outside into the still-cool, fresh desert air.

  The coyote’s body still lay on the ground where he’d left it. He went over and knelt in the sand beside it. He ran a hand along its matted fur, stopping at the hind leg where he’d fed. Then he bent down and looked more closely, noticing he’d only taken a couple of bites out of it. No way did he eat enough of that coyote to feel so satiated now.

  Then it came back to him, like remembering a dream. He’d taken its shape, its skills, and gone hunting. He played it over in his mind—never would he have believed such a thing possible. A slow smile spread across his face. He liked being able to hunt using himself as a weapon. He liked it a lot.

  Dominic regarded the coyote’s corpse with a sort of gratitude, and wanted somehow to honor it. He went inside the shack, grabbed a couple of nails and the remnants of the rusty knife and returned to the coyote. Carefully, so as not to destroy the knife, he severed its head and tried to clean off the skull. But the knife was too fragile; he barely managed to separate the head with it.

  He went over to a particularly large Joshua tree beside the vehicle trail and pounded one nail into it with a rock. Then he checked his watch and carved yesterday’s date a little beneath it with the other nail. Satisfied, he hung the skull up on the tree.

  Then he sat down in the sand several feet away from his display and gazed up at it. The glazed, dead eyes of the coyote seemed to stare back down at him in a sort of primitive blessing—and he returned the look.

  Dominic thought again of his first hunt, made possible by the coyote. It had tried to kill him, but when he’d won, and partaken of its flesh, it had granted him the ability to hunt and fend for himself.

  For that, it deserved a shrine and his gratitude. It had enabled him to save his own life.

  And perhaps it had enabled him to do even more than that. Dominic couldn’t wait to find out.

  13

  The next night, Dominic again sat with his back to the side of his shack and watched the late-day sun spread its colors over the horizon. The light played in such a way as to accentuate the machine-made carvings in the sides of the mine-scarred hills. He idly wondered how long ago the mining there was abandoned, and what toxic waste had been left behind. Tailings might be responsible for the taste of the stream water. And maybe for more than just the taste. That water might be dangerous and there was nothing he could do about it. The thought rekindled his rage against those who’d beaten him and left him here to die.

  For the moment, though, hunger overshadowed rage, and he wanted to hunt again. He hoped he could deliberately take the coyote’s form when he chose, that it wasn’t a one-time thing outside his control.

  Dominic stood and went over to where he had posted the animal’s skull. He sat before it like a supplicant and gazed up at it in the waning light.

  The desert sun had already begun to dry the remaining skin and flesh, curling the edges away from the skull in places. The exposed bone cast an eerie, slightly greenish glow. As he sat focused on the skull, Dominic felt like he was going to black out. He swayed a little, his peripheral vision cutting off, his eyes losing focus.

  He reemerged into full consciousness, aware he had again taken the coyote’s form. He sniffed the air, then turned the other way and sniffed again. He smelled humans, but he could tell they were far off. He started off in the direction of the scent, his paws sure and swift in the desert sand.

  Eventually, he reached a rocky outcropping and stopped there, sitting on his haunches. The smell of humans grew stronger, closer. He gazed down and saw a cleared area below, shaped like a loop. A campsite. There was only one tent, this being the hot, unpleasant time of year to camp in the high desert. Two people sat in the glow of a small campfire. The smell of cooking meat wafted up.

  Dominic’s stomach rumbled as he considered how best to approach the site—or whether he could even get down there without finding some other way. It lay quite some distance below and away from where he stood.

  He marveled at how his body—this body—was so perfectly suited for the desert. He’d traversed a fair distance without tiring, his legs and paws designed to cover the desert terrain with ease. Scaling a rock wall down to the campsite presented a different challenge, though.

  Suddenly, he noticed a new scent, familiar and not familiar. Almost as if his nose understood it, but his mind did not. He got to his feet and looked about as the smell grew stronger. Adrenaline coursed through him, nudging his heart into a higher gear. He knew enough to fear, but he didn’t yet know what.

  A small skittering of stones drew his attention to his right. He turned toward the sound. A bobcat stood only a few yards away, its ears flattened against its head, its body tight and crouched. It hissed when they made eye contact and leaped toward him.

  Dominic felt the knowledge stored in his borrowed body take over for him. Without conscious thought, he somehow knew his adversary was too close for him to escape, and that he had to meet it head-on. He charged, and their bodies slammed together, knocking some of the air from his lungs.

  The bobcat seized him in its claws and tried to bite his neck. It was an older animal, not as fast as it surely would have been in its prime. He avoided its teeth—barely—and fought to sink his own teeth into its neck. Their bodies locked together into one spinning, struggling whirlwind as they battled in the loose sand and rocks.

  Dominic kept trying to get a clear shot at its neck, but the bobcat slipped aside each time. Everything was moving so fast, he no longer knew up from down—and he no longer cared. He knew the cat must be inflicting some deep gouges with its claws, but he somehow blocked the immediate pain and stayed focused on his opponent.

  They kept fighting, rolling in the sand, each trying to inflict the mortal wound. Dominic could tell the old cat was getting winded, and he pushed his advantage when he had the opportunity. The bobcat lost focus for an instant, just enough time for Dominic to make his move. He clamped his powerful jaws down on the cat’s neck and crushed, crushed for interminable minutes until the cat stopped struggling, stopped breathing.

  Dominic released his grip and rested for a few minutes. His heartbeat slowed to normal, and he began to notice the pain from his wounds. More hungry and tired than ever, he considered what to do next as he caught his breath. He glanced over the outcropping at the humans in their campsite. The smell of cooking meat made him salivate. But as delicious as that smelled, he had the makings of several meals lying right next to him.

  He turned back to the bobcat’s corpse, settled down in the sand, and began to feed.

  14

  Dominic checked his watch for the date and carved it into the Joshua tree with a rusty nail right below where he’d hung the bobcat’s skull. He stepped back and admired his work. He’d arranged the coyote and bobcat skulls vertically on the tree, each with its date of death inscribed below it.

  He leaned towar
d the display again to pick more of the dried flesh off the coyote skull. He wished he had the tools to do the job right the first time, but the coyote skull was nearly clean now, thanks to the baking desert sun. The bobcat’s hide still covered its skull, but soon the desert would do his work for him and expose the bone beneath.

  Dominic sat cross-legged in the sand and gazed up, wondering. He’d been able to summon the shape of the coyote. Would it be the same for the bobcat? Could he simply choose which form to take for hunting, depending on his mood and what he wanted to kill?

  Right now, he felt satisfied. Feeding while in the form of the coyote apparently fed his human body just fine. He admired the coyote’s hunting and killing capabilities, and was grateful he could assume its form. Without it, he would have died or been close to death by now, left with nothing as he had been by those fuckers.

  Somehow, even drinking that horrible water was no problem when he was in the coyote’s form. It must have developed a better tolerance to the stuff while it had been alive. If that water was indeed contaminated with mine waste, he wondered what effect it might have had on the plants and animals that relied on it. Could it be responsible for the odd glow the skulls gave off? He shrugged. Nothing he could do about it anyway.

  Dominic squinted off into the distance as he considered how his newfound abilities might help him out of this predicament. And how they might help him get the vengeance he wanted and deserved.

  15

  When the sun at last slipped behind the hills and took its oppressive heat with it, Dominic felt like a physical weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Today had been the hottest day yet since he’d been dumped here to die. He’d stayed inside the shack the entire day, but he wasn’t sure if it was cooler for the shade inside there or hotter for being enclosed. At least he wouldn’t get more of a sunburn if he stayed inside when the sun was at its most punishing.

  He stood, stretched his limbs, and stepped outside. The aroma of sage rose up as if the sage, too, were relieved by the sun’s daily exit. But the smell reminded him of food and made him hungry. He gazed into the distance as he listened to the first soft rumbles of his empty stomach.

  Motion in the distance caught his attention. He squinted to try to see it better. Large animals, several moving together—slowly, as if grazing in the scrub. Dominic glanced toward his skulls, and was surprised to see in the waning light that their odd glow seemed to have intensified over time.

  He moved toward them for a better look and confirmed it wasn’t a trick of the light. A pronounced greenish glow surrounded both of the skulls. The effect had been much more subtle at first, with only a soft glow coming from exposed bone. Now the glow was strong enough to cast soft shadows beneath the display. He could think of no logical explanation.

  Despite being anything but a religious man, Dominic felt for the first time what it must be like to be in the presence of something more powerful than himself. He took a deep breath, blinked his eyes, and looked again. The glow remained.

  His stomach growled, drawing his attention back to the present problem. He needed to eat, and there were grazing animals in the distance. The bobcat would be the better choice to bring such an animal down with its claws and fangs.

  Dominic focused on the bobcat’s skull, then willed himself to become. His peripheral vision narrowed, and he knelt in the sand to avoid falling. Moments passed, and he began to feel the transformation, the change in his jaw, his stance, his very muscles. He stretched and felt his claws extend from his large paws.

  When he sensed the change was complete, he opened his eyes and refocused. His vision was even better in this body. He glanced toward the small herd and could see it consisted of several adult bighorn sheep. He trotted out toward the herd until he got close enough to where they might be able to catch his scent. Then he positioned himself downwind of the sheep and crouched amid the scrub.

  His predatory eyes fixed on one member of the herd in particular: an older female, moving with difficulty, perhaps with age, perhaps with an old injury. No matter, she would be an easy mark for him tonight.

  From the downwind side, Dominic crept closer to her, quiet as death, and tensed for several minutes while preparing himself. When he lunged, the herd scattered in terror. His mark stumbled and could not recover in time to avoid his attack. He leapt upon her and, using the muscle memory of the bobcat’s body, gripped her throat tight in his fangs. The weight of his body combined with the animal’s own frantic movements served to hasten her death as he tore open her throat with ease.

  Alone with the sheep’s body, Dominic settled down in the sand and fed until he was satisfied.

  16

  Dominic checked the date on his watch with a certain bitter satisfaction. He’d survived nearly a week on his own, left with nothing in the unforgiving Mojave Desert at the height of summer. If he could survive that, he could do anything—and he damned well would.

  He bent low and carved the date into the Joshua tree’s base with one of the nails. No way would the bighorn sheep’s skull, with its bulky curved horns, hang from a lousy three-inch nail. He cleared away the bits of bark from his carving and placed the skull on the ground alongside the tree.

  He stepped back a few feet, then sat in the sand cross-legged and admired his shrine of skulls. He’d killed and partaken of each animal—and in doing so, he’d taken from each the power to become that animal whenever he wished. He once again wondered why the skulls glowed a faint green, even in the full light of the angry sun. Maybe it had to do with pollution from the old mine after all—or maybe it had to do with the power they conferred.

  Whatever it was, he was still alive thanks to these animals and the powers they’d given him. But now what? He’d proven he could survive here indefinitely, but it was a hard and brutal existence, without mercy, without luxury.

  And without the revenge he craved.

  Dominic gazed off into the distance as he tried to think of how he could somehow get back to town and even the score with those two for what they’d done to him. He hadn’t so much as heard a car in the distance, so the chances of hitching or jacking were slim to none—heavy on the none.

  A shadow flitted across his field of view, and he glanced up in time to see a raven swoop by. It was an especially large specimen, its wings spread wide as it flew with the sort of arrogance unique to ravens. Silhouetted against the desert sun, its blackness was so complete it seemed to blot out all light as it passed.

  Dominic smiled, heedless of the blood oozing from his cracked, sunburned lips.

  17

  Dominic would be the first to admit no one would ever accuse him of being a patient man. When he wanted something, he wanted it now—even if he had to take it from someone else. And even if that involved violence.

  In the guise of the bobcat, he bent down and lapped some of the vile water from the stream. Several unsuccessful chases beneath the relentless sun had only served to goad his thirst. Thirst slaked for the moment, he lay down in a postage stamp’s worth of scrub brush shade and reconsidered his strategy.

  Fast as it was, his bobcat body wasn’t fast enough to simply chase and catch birds. But he had to find a way to make it work. He could see no other way to do what he needed to do. Hoping to spot something that would trigger an idea, he squinted against the sun and gazed at his surroundings.

  He noticed a low rock formation jutting up from the desert sand. Light and sharp shadows traced over crannies large enough to let him escape the sun—and hide. He stood and sauntered over, his wide cat paws snowshoeing through the loose sand.

  As he stood at the base of the formation, he would have smiled had he been in his own body. The rocks formed several shady ledges that could conceal him from casual observation, just as he wanted. But he needed one more thing to put his plan into action.

  Dominic circled around, searching the ground for what he needed. Several yards away, he found a burrow typical of a small desert rodent. He sniffed just outside the hole and was pl
eased to detect the telltale scent of the little animal inside. He hunkered down directly in front of the opening, readied himself, then sprang into action.

  He clawed at the hole and tore it open. A desert rat cowered at the bottom of the burrow, frozen in terror at the violent intrusion. He smacked it hard with one paw, killing it with a single blow. Then he picked it up in his teeth and turned, searching for just the right setup.

  He trotted over to a spot within easy leaping distance from the rock formation. Before placing it on the ground, he bit into the rodent’s body, just enough to tear the flesh and release the scent of blood and fresh death. Then he bounded over and positioned himself in his chosen cranny to wait for his chance.

  Dominic stared intently at the tiny corpse, willing it to do his bidding. He took care to blink quickly, and only when absolutely necessary. He couldn’t miss his chance. He had to be ready to move fast when the time came.

  The desert quiet seemed to dilate time itself, making the wait feel infinite. Dominic twitched, the tension becoming unbearable. He didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare not stand with his feet under him, ready to jump. At least his perch protected him from the scorching sun while he waited for his chance.

  His eyes at last became dry enough from staring in the hot, dry air that he had to close and paw at them to redistribute the moisture and regain some degree of comfort. Just as he reopened his eyes, he caught a brief glimpse of a fast-moving dark shadow. Angry with himself for letting his attention lapse even for a moment, he rose from his crouched position, then stretched and shook his stiffening legs.

  The rodent’s body looked like it had moved several inches from where he’d left it—or was it his imagination? After all this preparation and waiting, he’d hate for the damned thing to be snatched away and to have to start over. He settled back into his crouch and once again trained his eyes on the spot.