Rodney breathed deep. He loved the city, and if he stayed out here too long the quiet and the solitude and the smells would get to him. But it did make a nice change. The air was cleaner, the smells were different, and the quiet and solitude would be nice until he started going stir crazy—and he’d be home long before that happened. And really, wasn’t he supposed to be more at home in the woods? The sky was blue, the air was cool, he could hear birds, and the rustling of a rabbit or something in the ground cover nearby.
And the little voice. “Hi, Mr. Wolf!” Rodney started and jumped away, his hand closing on his pistol. He forced it open again and away. It was a kid, a human girl. It wasn’t the first time anybody had ever snuck up on him, but it usually took some skill. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody surprised him by accident, and this kid had approached him openly and spoke to him, so she couldn’t have been sneaking. And she was wearing a bright red jacket! The leaves were starting to turn brown, but everything was still mostly green, and the contrast was sharp. How had he missed her? And where had she come from?
He looked along the trail. It was a straight path for at least 100 feet. If she’d been wandering off the trail she would have had to make a lot of noise. He looked behind him. This was a public trail. They were near the road, and there was a small parking lot. There were two vehicles there, his own truck and one other that had been there when he arrived. Nobody else had pulled in. “Uh. Hey, kid. Whatcha doing out here?”
“I’m on my way to grandmother’s house!” she said brightly, “I have bread and sweets for her.” She held up a woven basket.
Rodney blinked as he looked the kid over and really took her in. She was a very odd child. Very… round. Not fat, just round. She reminded him of a nesting doll. Or maybe a painted egg. Her face was bright and cheerful, and her expression didn’t change at all; it looked almost painted on. She didn’t seem to blink much. And he realized she didn’t have a red jacket after all; she had red shoes, a red skirt, and over a white shirt she wore a hooded red cloak. She looked like she’d stepped out of a book of fairy tales. One fairy tale in particular came to mind as the wolf looked down at the human child in the red hood.
He tore his eyes away from her and looked around the woods. He didn’t see another person. He didn’t see any wires or other signs of electronic equipment. “Am I being punked?” he asked out loud to nobody that he could see.
“I don’t know what that means, Mr. Wolf.”
“Yeah, no, I guess not.” They stared at each other for a moment. Rodney took out his scanner and swept it over the trees on the side of the trail. It detected no devices. Nothing at all. Certainly not any hidden cameras or other bugs. “Right. Okay. So, Red—”
“Wow, Mr. Wolf! How did you know my name?”
“…y’all serious?”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Okay, sure. Red. So Red, what are you doing out here?”
“I already told you, Mr. Wolf,” she said scoldingly, “I’m on my way to my grand—”
“Yeah, yeah I got that. I mean, what are you doing out here by yourself? You shouldn’t be out in the woods alone.”
“You are.”
“I’m a grown-up,” was not the right answer. Rodney had no experience with children, but he knew that much. “No, I’m not,” he said, “I’m meeting my friend and we’re going camping. I wasn’t going in any further than this until he gets here.” Great answer, and it was hardly even a lie. “You shouldn’t go into the woods by yourself in case something bad happens. You need a buddy to go get help, because there isn’t very good phone reception in the woods.”
“Oh, that’s okay Mr. Wolf. I don’t have a phone anyway!"
“Kid, that’s worse.” He shook his head. “And there are wolves out there.”
“Like you?”
“What? No. Not like me. Wolf wolves.”
She stared at him. If her expression ever changed, it might have been a quizzical look.
“Like, the animals. Not beastmin.”
“What’s beastmin?”
“What’s… kid, where’ve you been?” Not that there was any good answer to that question. If she was 80, she might remember a time before beastmin were part of the general population. She was not 80. “Beastmin were a product of experimentation designed to…” Blank look. “Scientists created us by using human DNA and combining it with…” Blank look. “…we’re animal people. I’m kind of like a wolf, but I’m mostly a person, yeah?
“But actual wolves are like big dogs.” No, wait, bad comparison. Abort, abort! “Scary big dogs. Big evil dogs.” Nailed it. “That want to bite you.” She gasped. Good enough! “You don’t want to see wolves if you’re all alone. That’s why you shouldn’t go into the woods all by yourself.”
He stared at the child for another long moment. Honestly, even if she had a buddy, this kid was, what, eight years old? Four? …twelve? Okay, he didn’t know anything about children. Especially human children. But, the point was, too young to be out here all alone. She didn’t need a buddy, she needed an adult. Where the heck were this kid’s parents? “Is your mommy around?”
“Nooooo, Mr. Wolf. I’m here to visit my grand—”
“Or your daddy, then? Your aunt, uncle, granm—no, I guess not. Your grandpa? Big brother or sister?”
“No, no, no, yes, no, no, and no!”
“Wait, which one was yes?”
“My grandmother!”
“…and where is she?”
“She’s in her house in the woods.” He’d walked into that. “That’s where I’m going now!”
They looked at each other for a while longer. Rodney scratched behind his right ear, something canines (or lupines) with hands enjoyed being able to do for themselves. He scanned the woods again, his ears perked up as he listened for any sound, anything at all. He could hear the occasional car pass by, and that rabbit was still foraging. Sorry, bunny. He took a deep breath, then he huffed and he puffed and he… bellowed into the woods as loud as he could. “HEY!” The trees shook as birds scattered. The rabbit was gone. “WHOSE KID IS THIS!?”
He could hear the echoes of his own voice, and that was it other than Red’s voice humming to herself as she skipped further down the trail. “Oh! Wait, hang on!”
This really wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his responsibility. It had nothing to do with him. But as the only responsible adult present, he kind of had to take responsibility. …didn’t he? Nobody else was there to do it, anyway.
He hurried after her, pulling out his phone to send a text to Jared. Message sending… sending… sending… No signal. “Crap.” It’d probably go through eventually, but that’s why they brought radios. But since Jared wasn’t here yet, he’d probably be out of range. “Big Bad to Cottontail, come in Cottontail." Static. "Cottontail, you read?" Nothing. It was possible he was on the road, close enough to pick up the message but not able to get to his radio while he was driving. In that case he might hear it and answer later? “Something weird came up. I’m not in trouble, but I can’t wait for you. Radio me when you get to the woods. Over.”
Red had gotten away from him again. He searched for where she had gone. “Kid, no! Stay on the trail!” He grabbed her by the back of the cloak and dragged her back onto the clear path. “There’s poison ivy there.”
“Oh, you’re silly, Mr. Wolf.” At least she still seemed cheerful, unperturbed that he’d manhandled her. “That’s not poison ivy, that’s asclepias tuberosa!”
“I didn’t mean that plant, specifically, was poison ivy, just that it’s… out… wait, what’d you say?”
“Asclepias tuberosa. It’s a wildflower.”
He turned and looked at the plant she’d been looking at, bright little orange flowers. “…butterfly weed.”
“They call it that, too.”
“Red, how the heck do you know that?”
“I dunno. I just thought I should pick some wildflowers to take to grandmother’s house.” She smiled up at him for a moment longer, then turned abruptly and began skipping down the path once more. He followed her at a distance.
They walked for a while, but before long his ears perked up the sound of chopping wood. Other people! Hopefully the kid’s parents. He squinted into the woods as they drew closer and eventually caught sight of a tent 50 feet from the trail. The chopping sound stopped, and someone made their way towards them. It was a burly woman, human, who of course had an axe in her hands. She looked from Rodney to Red. “Cute costume,” she said, “I guess you’re the Big Bad Wolf?”
“I guess I am.” Rodney felt a little dizzy.
“…honestly not really getting your part of the costume. What’s with the guns?”
“Lady,” he probably shouldn’t admit this, “I do not know this child.”
“What?” She looked between them again.
“Hi Ms. Woodcutter! I’m on my way to grandmother’s house.” Red held up her basket. “I have bread and treats for her. I met Mr. Wolf at the beginning of the trail. He’s following me!”
Ms. Woodcutter looked at him strangely. He tried to look… innocent, probably. “Little Red Riding Hood is heading to her grandmother’s house in the woods with a basket of treats. She met the Big Bad Wolf at the head of the trail and he’s following her.”
“I can’t say that’s wrong,” Rodney squeaked.
“…am I being punked?”
“That’s what I said!”
“Seriously, this is a bit.”
“If it is, I’m not in on it! Look, I met her in the woods, and she was alone. No adults. She wandered off.”
“You let her wander off into the woods and you just followed her?”
“Lady, you’re suspicious of me just for following her. What are you suggesting I should have done? Physically restrain her and force her into my truck? Do nothing at all and let her wander off alone?”
“Well, when you put it that—”
“Holy crap, where’s the kid?” She had continued on, wandering away from them while they were talking. They both hurried after her.
“Look, I get it, but I’m not leaving her at this point,” said Rodney, “I kind of feel responsible now. I’m gonna meet this grandma an’ I’m gonna give ’er a piece of my mind.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong here, but I don’t know you either so I can’t trust you. I’m not ditching her with you.”
“Feeling’s mutual. And you’re the one covered in weapons like a very dangerous Christmas tree.”
“I’m an operative.”
That did not make the woman look less concerned.
“Okay, I get that.” Rodney sighed. “There’s a lot of people that get into my line of work because they’re really into the violence. But look here.” He drew a weapon and held it up, finger well away from the trigger and barrel pointing up into the sky. It resembled a pistol but was lighter and made mostly of plastic.
All the same she held her axe defensively and watched him closely.
“Naw, see, the point is, part of the reason I have so many weapons is to give me more options. So I can do nonlethal takedowns more easily. I just got into a fight with some very bad, very dangerous people who were trying to kill me and my partner. And that’s because we were trying to stop them from, y’know, their original goal of killing a bunch of other people. We arrested both of them alive. Jared did break one of their noses, but the owner of said nose was trying to shoot him when he kicked her. That’s my point. Look.” He showed her the weapon. Then he pointed it at a tree and fired. It made a soft pfft sound. Then a thck as something small stuck in the tree’s trunk, which he pulled out to show her. “Knockout darts. Low dose, too, to make sure I never overdo it. I gotta take down somebody built like… well, like you? Or me? I just pop ’em twice. And I got a taser and pepper spray, a stun gun, baton, cuffs, all that stuff. I got the gun and the knife, I need them, but I’d only have like three weapons if I wasn’t loaded up to be as gentle as possible while still handling dangerous people. Okay? Okay.”
“But why do you have all of it with you right—oh Lord, don’t tell me you’re chasing some dangerous monster or criminal out here right now?”
“Oh! Nah, nah, nothin’ like that. I just feel safer if I have it with me.”
He winced as he realized what he said and saw the woman visibly recoil, looking alarmed.
“Let me rephrase that. Like, legally I’m covered as long as I have it locked up proper in a safe, but I don’ want anybody shootin’ anything up with my guns even if I’m not liable, y’know? People know what I do and they know I was goin’ out of town. My weapons were vulnerable, so I keep ’em with me so nobody else gets their hands on ’em, yeah? And I didn’t bring the big one, anyway. I brought two important components so that even if somebody steals most of it, they won’t be able to get it to fire. I just feel safer knowing there’s no way anybody can get into it, okay?”
The woman hesitated, then swallowed and nodded. “…okay. I guess that’s fair. The kid wasn’t scared of all the hardware?”
Rodney stopped walking for a moment, staring at a tree. He jogged to catch up. “Now that you point that out, that is weird. She never said a word." He shook his head.
“Anyway, look: I’ve already been walking with her for like half an hour.” Rodney checked his watch. “For like almost an hour. If I was gonna hurt her, I would have done it before you were watching me.”
“That’s a good point. It’s valid. I think half the reason this feels so weird is because you’re a wolf man, and that’s not fair. It’s not fair to be suspicious of you because of the kid’s weird outfit. I acknowledge I’m not being fair. I’m still not leaving her with you.”
“Yeah, okay. But I’m not leaving her with you.”
The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then turned to watch the kid. “Crap, Red got away from us again.”
“Her name is seriously Red?”
“That’s what she said. About the only thing I really got out of her. That and that she likes asclepias tuberosa.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“What?”
“Butterfly weed. And I guess she probably knows how to recognize poison ivy.”
They looked at each other again. They both huffed, sounding resigned. They nodded to each other and then turned and trudged after Red together.
“She’s Red. Please don’t tell me you’re named ‘Big Bad.’”
“That is actually my callsign, but it’s supposed to be a joke!” He held out a hand. “Rodney Sweet.”
“Becca Woodman.”
“Y’all serious?”
“Yeah.”
“No, seriously. I’m being punked.”
“No! Not by me, anyway.”
“You are named ‘Woodman,’ and you think I’m the one pulling this?”
Their bickering was cut off by the girl. “Here it is!” Red sang brightly.
Rodney and Becca stopped abruptly. “Huh,” said Rodney, “That’s new. Right near the trail, too. Is that even legal? I thought this was all public property.” It was a small wooden cabin. Old-fashioned but newly built.
He turned to Becca. Her mouth hung open, her axe was slack in her grip, and her eyes stared in the direction of the house but seemed unfocused. She wobbled a little, like she was suffering from nausea or vertigo. “That’s new!” she said.
“Yeah,” Rodney agreed, “I said that. It wasn’t here last time I came through these woods. That was last summer. It’s so close to the trail. I would have noticed that.”
“It wasn’t here last time I came through these woods!” said Becca, her voice high with an edge of distress or panic, “That was last week!”
“The Hell?” Rodney’s fingers brushed the handles of his weapons. Pistol? Tranq darts? He drew his knife. “Not even a weapon,” he mused, “Normal camping tool.”
“Knives for camping are smaller.”
“I bought this as a combat knife. But now I have it, so it’s also a camping knife.”
“Sure. I’ll buy that.”
“You get your normal camping tool that isn’t a weapon ready, too.”
She hefted her axe and nodded. “Where’s the kid gone?”
“Oh crap!” Rodney surveyed the scene, then pointed at the front door. It was ajar. He hurried forward and peered in, Becca behind him with her axe ready.
The door opened into a sitting room that screamed “grandma.” The style was decades out of date if not more, and would have been old-fashioned even then. Everything was soft, rounded, and pastel. Lace and doilies everywhere. Couches, chairs, coffee table, end tables. No entertainment center or TV stand. No TV at all. Rodney didn’t see anything electronic, in fact. And this cabin was in the middle of the woods. Did it even have electricity?
There was a huge window, but with it shaded by the trees the room was still dim. Rodney felt for a light switch, and to his surprise he found one.
With the room lit, he was sure it was empty. There was an open doorway leading into a kitchen, a small open door revealing a small bathroom which was luridly floral, and one more door to the side, which snapped shut as he looked at it. Red must have gone in there.
He stowed his knife. “It’s clear,” he announced, and Becca slipped in after him. “You see a phone in here?”
“Why would she leave her phone in here?”
“Leave—I thought you were the outdoorsy type! Cell signal out here is crap.” That reminder prompted Rodney to check his own phone. He saw that his text had eventually gone through, about 20 minutes ago. That was something. “She’s gotta have a landline,” he finished.
All of the tables in the living room were covered in vases with flowers, old books, and scattered cutesy knickknacks. Rodney poked into the kitchen. He was oddly relieved to see a refrigerator. No microwave, though, or any other electric kitchen equipment—though that could have been stowed in the cupboards. And, “No phone.”
“Why do you want it?”
“I wanna yell at the kid’s parents.”
“Oh. Yeah. Agreed.”
Pointing at the closed door, Rodney asked, “We go in there?”
“Should we?” asked Becca nervously.
“At least I wanna make sure grandma is, like, actually here. And alive.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good call.”
They were silent for a moment. Enough to hear Red’s voice, muffled by the closed door. “Gee Grandma, what red eyes you have!”
Becca pointed at the door. “That is not a coincidence.”
“No,” Rodney agreed.
“She’s saying the lines!”
“I heard it.”
“Someone is setting this up!”
Rodney held up his empty hands. “Let the record show that the Big Bad Wolf is out here, in the living room, with you. I am not in there pretending to be grandma. I have not left your side. Heck, the kid went off to pick flowers on her own accord, and I stopped her so she didn’t get into poison ivy.”
“What?”
“…in the story, the wolf tells the girl to pick flowers for her grandma. That’s how he gets ahead of her.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot that part.”
“Well, I’m not doing it. I’m trying not to even play along. I will be very upset if you try to slice me open with an axe.”
“Duly noted.”
“But grandma,” said the little, muffled voice, “what a deep voice you have!”
“This isn’t real, right?” said Becca, her voice high and strained, “I’m dreaming.”
“So, like... we bust in there when she gets to the teeth, right?” said Rodney vaguely, looking in the direction of the door but not really seeing it anymore, “I feel like we need to do something if she gets to the teeth.”
“But grandma,” said the little, muffled voice, “what long tentacles you have!”
“Yeah, okay, that’s it. I’m going in there. She said the thing about the t… the—she said—the teeeeee…”
“She didn’t say ‘teeth,’” said Becca, “That word wasn’t ‘teeth.’”
“THE BETTER TO TEAR THIS WORLD TO PIECES, MY DEAR!” boomed a different voice.
They stared at each other for a fraction of a second, then Rodney turned and advanced on the door at the far side of the room, drawing his pistol. He huffed, and he puffed, and he kicked the door down.
He was nearly yanked off of his feet. “Oh!” shouted Becca as she fought to keep her balance behind him. They both ducked as one of the throw pillows from one of the couches shot up and flew into the bedroom. The suction, or wind, or gravitational pull was more startling than it was powerful, but Rodney’s stomach lurched as though the world had turned on its side.
The furniture and even the geometry of the bedroom were warped as though everything was being drawn to the center of the opposite wall, to the thing in the bed. It was a deep black void full of whirling white blades, like a black hole with teeth. Writhing streams of inky blackness lashed around the room. Red was suspended by her ankle from one of them, so they had some kind of mass. “Would you call those ‘tentacles’?” Rodney asked, “I’d’ve said, I dunno, ‘tendrils.’ Although I’m probably wrong. Yeah, I think a tendril is more like a plant thing.”
Becca, who apparently did not share his technique of staying calm in a crisis by focusing his mind on one detail at a time, shrieked something at him. He thought he caught the words “WHO CARES!” but her voice was going high enough that it was almost out of lupine hearing range. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?”
“Dunno.” Rodney lowered his gun and fired several shots. “Get the girl, yeah? I’ll cover you.”
He stepped aside. Becca swallowed nervously, but she nodded, her face set and determined. She ran in while he fired again. Though given that he was having no effect whatsoever, he wasn’t sure how he was going to effectively keep his promise.
He squinted at the creature. Among the whirling, gnashing, knifelike teeth were tiny motes of something against the darkness, something with the barest hints of red. “What red eyes you have,” he muttered.
“You say something?” Becca had grabbed Red’s arms but was having difficulty freeing her.
“The kid said—she didn’t say ‘big eyes,’ she said—”
“What?”
“Don’ worry about it.” He narrowed his own eyes and focused on one of the red spots. The kid thought they were eyes. Was she right? Well, they were something anyway. Worth a shot! He hadn’t exactly been aiming carefully, as he couldn’t miss at this range. Now he took a breath, carefully sighted one of the red spots. It was moving so quickly, so he tried to lead it and… bam! The “eye” went out and something red spattered the bedsheets. The thing shrieked a horrible shriek and the flailing only intensified in speed. But the movements weren’t as strong. Becca pulled Red down closer to her level and strained to pull her free. “Use your axe, woman!”
“Oh!” While Rodney shot out a couple more of the red eyes, Becca grabbed her axe from where it had fallen. She swung it at the dark tentacle, and the impact made a sound surprisingly like chopping wood. She hit once, twice, three times and the axe went through. She dropped the weapon as the girl fell into her arms. Rodney fell back a step to let them through, holstering his weapon.
“I’m gonna use a grenade!” He fished frantically in one of his large pockets and pulled out a handful of the small devices. He’d kept his hand steady while he was shooting, but even he could only keep it together for so long. He looked at the explosives in his trembling hands. Two incendiary and one concussive. For several long seconds, he considered which one to use.
“Do it, Sweet!”
Wait, why choose? He snapped all three to prime them and yanked the handles out all at once. He chucked the whole mess into the room, following the trajectory of the thrown pillow.
He turned to run out, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw that Red had gotten away from Becca. “Nooo!” she wailed, “Grandma!” Becca got her hands on the child again, but she really was a rather big, round girl and dragging her out wasn’t going all that fast. And, his heart now in his throat, it hit Rodney that he’d also been standing still for several seconds, which was several seconds longer than was preferable after chucking a handful of grenades only one room away.
“We gotta MOVE!” Aiming at the window, he charged and launched himself at them. Reaching up under Becca’s arms to hold the back of her shoulders, he tried to hold the three of them together as a single mass as much as he could. Becca grunted as her back hit the window, which cracked. The explosion helpfully provided the extra oomph necessary to burst through, launching them out on the ground outside. Becca landed hard on her back, and Rodney lost his grip and flipped over her head to land harder on his back a short distance away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Red roll off of her, but mostly he was focusing on the way the clouds in the sky were spinning like they were caught in a blender.
He closed his eyes and covered his face against the scatter of burning house bits raining down. He didn’t have the energy to call out a warning. Hopefully Becca and Red would have the reflexes to do that, and they wouldn’t be hit by anything too bad if they didn’t.
After a few seconds, or perhaps a few hours, he croaked out, “You alive?”
“I don’t think so,” Becca answered.
“How y’feeling?”
“Like I just broke a window with my back and then fell on the broken glass.”
Ouch. Oh yeah. “Any shards lodged anywhere particularly bad? Y’feel like you’re drowning?”
“I couldn’t breathe for a minute there.”
“Tha’s normal when you fall on your back and get the wind knocked out. Y’feel like it will never come back for a moment. But if you feel like you’re drowning, you might got blood in your lungs.”
“Oh. I don’t think so.”
“Good, good. Any especially sharp pains in your lower back, to the side? The, uh, left, I think? Tha’s… tha’s real bad. Your, uh, kidney or somethin’. I think.”
“Wow, thanks for the detailed diagnosis, doctor.”
“Rude.” She had a point, though. He should probably get better at first aid and injury assessment. “Don’t yank the glass out.” He knew that much. “If there’s a foreign object embedded in a wound, ripping it out can make it worse. You keep it in the wound and keep it still until a doctor or paramedic can take it out proper.”
“How ’bout you? How do you feel?”
“Like my shirt and half the fur on my back got burned off.”
“Still got your skin, though?”
“I think so. Uh, fur’s bad if you get set on fire, but thankfully I landed on my back so my spine might be shattered but if there was any fire it went out. Against a heat blast I think fur’s actually good? Extra layer of insulation.”
“Oh right. Good, good.”
“I only really feel the burn on my back, but if I stand up and my bare ass is hanging out you just gotta, uh, don’t tell me.”
Becca laughed, then choked, then groaned. “Don’t,” she said.
“But if my tail’s gone, you gotta tell me that. Obviously human-shaped people don’t need tails, but if you’re used to it and you lose it, it, uh, throws off your balance or somethin’. I dunno.” He really needed to get better at injury assessment. “Aw, shit.”
“What?”
“I think that’s the first time I swore in front of the kid.”
“Well, you’re up to two, then.”
“Damn it!” Speaking of. “How is the kid? She okay?”
“Uh, I lost her when we landed.”
"You shielded her--and me--from the broken window, though."
"And you shielded her, and me from the explosion. But we might've, uh, squished her. A little. Between us, when you tackled me."
“You good, kid?” Rodney called. There was no answer.
“Red?” said Becca. Suddenly both adults found the strength to sit up.
There she was. She was lying on her side, but she looked the same. Still bright, painted-on smile and everything, as round and red as ever. Rounder even. Her face stretching tighter and tighter. Like an overinflated balloon.
“Uh,” said Rodney uncertainly, “I don’ have a lot of experience with human children, but do they normally swell up like—”
“THAT IS NOT A HUMAN CHILD!” Becca was on her feet, backing away, her eyes wide open and her mouth forming words with no sound.
“Shit, really?” Rodney looked from woman to girl. “Y’don’t think that thing was really her grand—” The bubble popped. Again, Rodney shielded his face, ducking down and turning to the side, covering his head with his arms against the spray. Again, Becca lacked his experience and his reflexes.
“Ugh! Ack, oh God, it’s in my mouth, it’s everywhere, it’s—”
“Confetti.”
“Huh??”
“Like little bits of paper.” Rodney stared at the colorful mess in his hand. “And streamers. And glitter. Ugh, that really is everywhere. You ever try to get glitter out of fur? I’m gonna be sparkly for a year. It’s all down my shirt. How did it get inside my shirt?”
They looked where Red had been sitting. There was a puddle of glitter, though it also looked wet. Rodney took a stick and poked at it. “It’s wet,” he confirmed. They stared at it a little longer.
“Rodney!” shouted a familiar voice, and relief flooded into him. He couldn’t have said what he expected Jared to do to help, but his heart lifted to see his bunny boy. Because, hem, because it would be good to have another trained and experienced operative out here while weird-ass shit was going down. That was the reason, obviously. Becca had risen to the occasion magnificently, but Jared actually knew what he was doing. He didn’t have an axe, but if he had an axe he wouldn’t forget that he had an axe. And he probably did have a first-aid kit, and the know-how to use it.
“There you are!” Short by the standards of his human ancestors, unless you counted the long ears, Jared was astoundingly tall by the standards of his more lagomorphic progenitors. He wore jeans and a Super Mario T-shirt, with a leather jacket. He wasn’t as well-armed as Rodney, but he did have a pistol and several knives on his belt. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Why didn’t you radio? Didn’t you get my text? I said to radio me when you got to the woods.”
“I did! I tried that three times.”
“Huh?” Rodney took his radio off his belt. It was damaged when he fell on it, but it’d probably still work. And that had only just happened, anyway. Except it was switched off. “I didn’t turn it off,” he said, “Why would I turn it off?” He thought back and remembered dragging Red away from the flowers. She could have reached it then. Would she have turned it off? Why?
“Why couldn’t you wait for me, anyway? What happened? Who’s your friend? Uh, is that glitter all over you? You shouldn’t throw glitter around in the woods, Rodney. It’s not biodegradable.”
“Uh, well that’s Becca. And we had to, uh, find grandmother’s house.”
“What?”
“Grandmother’s house. We walked for like three hours.”
“You mean you looped around when you didn’t find it?”
“Huh?”
“You can’t walk for three hours on this trail, Rodney. It’s not long enough. Maybe two if you go slow. It’s a horseshoe shape. It ends back at the parking lot about 50 feet from where you start.”
“That’s right,” said Becca vaguely. She wobbled, looking dazed, “I knew that. I knew that. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Why would there be a house out here anyway?”
“We did wonder that,” Rodney answered, glad to be able to give a clear answer, “but we did find it, after all.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“You found a house in these woods?”
“Yeah.”
“Where did you find a house out here?”
“Right there, Jar!”
“What are you talking about Rodney? You’re not making any sense.”
“That house!” said Rodney, annoyed, “That one right—” he turned to point at the house in the clearing. He didn’t see a house. He didn’t see a clearing. There was a tree a foot from his face.
“You guys sound, like, delirious. Or high. Please tell me you haven’t been eating strange mushrooms you found in the woods, or licking toads or—oh good God, Rod! Your back!” Rodney looked back at Jared, who looked horrorstruck. He took off his backpack and fished out his first aid kit. “You’re all burned!”
Rodney watched as Jared turned to look over Becca appraisingly. “Good Lord, lady, you’re bleeding everywhere! Is that glass? Where did you even get that much glass out here? Oh no, that’s why you two are so out of it. You’re in shock. What happened to you? Let me just—wuh, oof!”
His attention snapping back to Jared, Rodney saw that he’d fallen after tripping over a rock. It was a very large, very distinct rock, green and brown, shiny, with a kind of geometric pattern to it. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it. He was even more surprised that Jared hadn’t noticed it before blundering into it. He was normally light on his feet, acrobatic (which was what the scientists who added rabbit DNA to human were hoping to achieve, after all), and the massive rock was almost up to his waist.
“Oh gosh,” said Jared, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the ground, “I’m sorry ma’am.”
Ma’am? The rock moved. Becca gasped. Rodney’s hand went to his pistol. He didn’t draw it, but he didn’t force his hand away this time, either.
“Whippersnappers rushing about, don’t care how many old ladies they step on,” groused a voice coming from the rock.
“Not at all, ma’am. I just, uh, I didn’t see you there. Somehow.” Jared sounded baffled by that detail himself.
“It’s a turtle,” Rodney said to himself, dumbfounded.
“Rushing about for no reason at all!” she continued
“Hey now, that’s not fair!” Jared’s voice sharpened, the contrite tone abruptly dropped, “I had a reason. They’re injured!”
Becca sidled up to Rodney as they watched the turtle berate Jared. “Is that a beastmin?” she asked him quietly.
“Must be. But she’s weird. I know people focus on the traits that make us different, but we’re almost completely human, y’know. She’s the wrong shape entirely.” The turtle woman pushed herself up onto two feet. “…okay, that helps. Still, I’ve never heard of turtle beastmin.”
“I thought you were all human plus other mammals.”
“Rushing everywhere! I tell you, that’s no way to get anywhere. You’ve got to think out your moves, step slowly but step steady and keep moving forward.”
“Well, I’m trying that, ma’am, so if you’d just let me—"
“The successful experiments were,” said Rodney slowly, turning his attention back to Becca’s question, “They did try reptiles. I didn’t think any of those specimens survived, but, I mean, well, you know.” Rodney scratched his neck, discomfited. “Our makers weren’t terribly forthcoming when they were shut down. They got up to some weird shit. Most of us don’t like to talk about this, y’know.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Nah, it’s fine. ’Snot like I remember it. I’m third generation.”
“Foolish, jumpy hares, never looking where they’re going!” said the turtle woman.
“I’m a rabbit, ma’am. Hare’s a different species. They didn’t make hare beastmin. Too similar, no point to it.”
Becca gasped, suddenly looking alarmed. “That’s not a turtle!” she hissed, grabbing Rodney’s arm. “That’s a tortoise!”
He frowned at her. “What’s the difference?”
“There’s more difference between a turtle and a tortoise than there is between a rabbit and a hare! Or a dog and wolf, for that matter.”
“Sure, I guess.”
The tortoise woman pointed an accusing finger at Jared. “I bet I can get where I need faster than you can, looking before I leap!”
“Sure ma’am, if you say so.” Jared looked exhausted already.
“I challenge you,” the tortoise snarled, as though Jared had been arguing with her, “to a footrace!”
“NOPE!” said Rodney. He didn’t stop to listen to the rest of her challenge. He bounded forward, scooping up Jared under his arm like a football, and leaped over the tortoise. Mostly over her. He may have kicked her in the head a little. She probably fell over. That’s probably what she was screaming her head off about as he ran back up the trail at full speed without looking back, Becca right behind him. They didn’t stop running until they broke free of the woods.
“Your tent’s still out there,” Rodney gasped, “your camping stuff.”
Becca didn’t answer him because her truck was already pulling away.
Weird little surreal horror? Or is it just weird? And do you like these characters and implied setting? Should I write more stories abou tthem?
