Chimeras, by Shane Stewart

(Please forgive me for any typographical errors.)

Chimeras
By Shane Stewart
Copyright (c) 2004 by Shane Stewart

He was amazed by how much the twins had grown. Eric and Erin were nine all of a sudden. It seemed like only a few days ago they were four years old and begging him to read them a story before bed. Now they were chasing each other around the yard, dodging in and out of the trees and flinging water balloons madly. Erin was a little faster than her brother, but Eric had better aim. Still, they were both equally wet. He felt himself smile, felt his face crack a little as he did. Muscles moved in unfamiliar ways, seeming to creak and groan as they twisted into the unfamiliar shape. His eyes drifted over the yard, before the movement of the sliding glass door caught his attention.

"Molly," he whispered.

She stepped out of the house on long tan legs, the blue swimsuit clinging tightly to her figure. Her hair was short, and seemed to float about her head like a cloud of dark smoke. Even from this distance, he could see the smoothness of her skin, the tightness of her body. He ran a tongue over his lips absently.

"God, honey, you're beautiful," he muttered.

Someone else came out of the house carrying a tray of food. He stood and watched, saw Molly call the twins over to her as the food was set down on the patio table outside. She walked around, lighting smoky torches to ward away mosquitoes and other assorted nuisances as the children disappeared into the house. Molly walked back over to the table, and slipped her arms around the newcomer. He watched her as she kissed the figure quickly, then again, and then once more, slowly. Strong hands caressed her back.

He growled as he watched. His eyes darted around quickly, gauging the distance he would hav to cover. About three hundred feet down the cliff, he thought, and another thousand or so through the trees to the back yard. How fast could I close that distance? Thirty seconds? Less maybe? She broke the kiss and stepped away, heading for the house. Her companion turned and watched her leave, then looked back at the table. His hair was styled differently, and his shape had lost a little of its youthful definition, but the watcher still knew who was looking at.

Himself.

"Welcome home, Carl."

His head snapped around, finally breaking his gaze from the doppelganger below. He sneered at the man walking up behind him.

"Leave me alone, Dixby. I'm going home."

Dixby walked up, looked at the small house. "It looks like you're already there to me.

"That isn't me." Carl took a step back. "That's an imposter."

"Be that as it may," Dixby said, "you can't go down there."

"The hell I can't. You haven't been able to stop me yet."

"True. But tell me Carl, is that ketchup on your shirt?"

He looked down at the soiled tee-shirt. A huge red-brown splotch covered the front. "No, it's...."

"What is it Carl?"

Vague memories drifted through his head, quicksnapshots of moonlight and trees and the moon, hanging low and fat in the sky andstained the color of --

"Blood," Carl said.

"Do you remember what you killed, Carl?"

He clenched his eyes tightly. "A deer. A small deer."

Dixby nodded. "It was three nights ago, Carl. You carried the hindquarters with you and ate on the run. Do you remember that?"

He nodded.

"Do you remember this?"

He looked at the hat. It was a dull black, old and faded. The bill was torn, chewed through almost, and the mesh at the back was caked with dry brown blood. Errant strands of blonde hair still clung to it.

"No."

"Think hard, Carl. It was just last night. Just a little south of here."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and suddenly he could see them. Two teenagers, a boy in a black hat, and a girl in a denim skirt. he had seen them, watched them as they kissed each other in the moonlight. He remembered watching them kiss and touch, rembers aching, hurting, wanting. He remembers needing....

"I saw them." He lickes his lips, dry tongue sending small shocks of pain across the splits and cracks. "I saw them in a clearing, and I thhought of Molly."

"Carl, the boy is dead. Mauled and eaten."

"No, I left them there."

"There's a clean up crew picking pieces of the girl out of the trees, Carl. They don't think they'll find all of her."

"No, no, no. I didn't."

"Carl, there's not much left of either of them." Dixby slipped the hat into a plasic bag. "And there were deer bones there, with teeth marks on them."

"I didn't. I didn't. I left there there. I left them alone."

"Carl," Dixby said, "the last five years have been tough for you. I understand that. First the problems at the lab, and the experiments. The changes. I understand, Carl, I do."

Carl growled at Dixby. His fingers dug into the ground and claws sprang forward from their sheathes.

"You spent years without thinking about who you were, and now that you finally remember things, you want your life back. I understand. I went through the same thing when I was brought into the program. I am here to help you, Carl. That's all I want to do." Dixby took a step back, sighed heavily. "I'm here to help you, Carl."

"My life," Carl spat. He jerked his head toward the house. "Wannt it back."

"It's not possible, Carl. Not just yet. You aren't finished with the program. Soon though."

"Want it now."

"It's not possible, Carl. Not right now."

Carl growled. "Liar."

"Don't do this, Carl."

Carl tensed himself. His heart thundered in his chest, and his ears echoed the blood rushing through his veins. His skin tingled as the fur grew in, pushing against the blood tee-shirt. His feet lengthened, and a dull cracking of bones preceeded the lengthen of his spine.

"Carl, you need to calm down."

Carl growled, low and gravelly. His spine pushed its way down, extending into a long whipping tail. Hard nubs formed on his forehead, and the furry skin split as the horns grew and curled back around his head. Long quills poked through the shirt on his back, and the back of his arms bristled with similar spiky growths. His tail whipped around behind him.

"Last chance, Carl. Calm down and come quietly."

The cat thing snarled, then launched itself forward. Dixby shout out an arm, and suddenly a huge hairy fist knocked Carl back. Carl rolled in mid-air, twisted and landed on his feet, crouching low to leap again.

Bits of torn clothing fell away from Dixby. He leaned forward, bracing his fists on the ground with his long, powerful arms. Thick green scales covered his chest and portions of his arms, and a long flat tail swished behind him slowly. His snout was long, and filled with thick pointed teeth.

Carl growled and launched himself forward. He dropped to the ground quickly, letting Dixby's massive arm swing at empty air, then he sprang forward and raked Dixby across the stomach. Howling in pain, Dixby managed to wrap his fingers around Carl's shoulder and hefted him from the ground. A thick furry tail snaked up and wrapped around Dixby's throat, and CArl dug and raked at the massive hand that held him. Dixby sputtered and gurgled, then latched onto Carl with his other hand.

Pain shot through Carl, and his muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. His tail slacked, and Dixby threw him into a nearby tree. Carl lay for a moment on the ground, his muscles slowly coming back under control. He shot a quick glance toward the tiny house, so far away. His duplicate looked back, calmly. His eyes locked with Carl's perfectly, despite the distance between the two. Behind him, Molly and the twins were just coming out to eat. The duplicate smiled, then turned away. Carl growled. Dixby lumbered over, snarling, and then spun on his feet. CArl watched the wide flat tail arc up and then down toward him, and then the blackness took him.

THE END

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