That night, I slept under the skeletal canopy, being woken up only by passing helicopters that never came close to seeing me with their searchlights. With other things on my mind, I didn't miss being unable to see the stars.
The next morning I got back to my journey. I trudged over hills and cliffs, between trees and bushes and around clearings, through vines and fallen branches. The search continued, but I never saw anyone, only the odd distant aircraft. Every hour spent unseen was a dramatic boost to the odds I wouldn't be spotted again. My animal disguise sealed the deal. The sense that I was being watched, that I was being followed, kept me going at a decent pace.
At one point, I sat down on an exposed tree root and fished some of my food out of my pockets. Over the past day, I had already eaten some of my supplies and had to navigate around the empty wrappers in my pocket that I refused to let sit on the forest floor. The deer's grain bars were functional. I wasn't a fan but it was edible and probably met at least some of my nutritional requirements, and what's more, either I was getting used to them or I had started to grow a deer's tastes. I had hurried to get back on the move that morning and zoned out as I finally tried to figure out what I might find at the end of my journey. I had no idea. I didn't even know what was on the table. But I was getting close.
Something was breathing nearby and I was forced from my own mind. A large-ish figure was walking up to me. I reached for the gun in my jacket as I hastily wondered if he could see through my disguise. It was wearing a gas mask of some sort, although not like any I'd seen, and while it had antlers, they seemed more like branches it had strapped to its head than like natural formations. It came off as somewhat pathetic. I never had much respect for those who wanted to pretend their body was in perfect shape when it wasn't. I grit my teeth and try to act natural.
"You're very lucky," the figure spoke with a voice that can't have possibly been caused only by the muffling of the mask. "If your pursuers hadn't been in such a hurry, they would have wanted to ask you some questions."
"What the hell are you going on about?" I grumble.
"That costume. It ain't going to fool anyone for long if you don't learn to act like a deer. That thing does more than just change your appearance, you know. As someone who's lived around deer all my life, I can read your face. I can smell your fear." The figure sounds like he's almost enjoying this conversation.
"I'm guessing this charm is yours, then." I dryly suggested.
He cocks his head. "Actually, it's yours. But I'm the one who brought it to you. Good news, it's unspeakably powerful if you learn to use it right. Bad news, it won't last forever. In a day or so, unless you eat someone, that skin will slough off, and you'll be left with your true face and the stench of rotting meat. The fact you won't be able to smell it is just another way you're lucky."
"You don't have to tell me what it means to be without this thing." I say.
"On the contrary. The deer have had bad experiences with humans in centuries past. They have plans for how to deal with your kind." My heart runs cold. I never considered that my dimension-hopping would be normal, or at least common enough to be understood. I watch him intently to see what he does. "Of course, they ain't the ones you should be worried about. Would you like to hear how to survive for at least a few more days?" He asks, suddenly changing intonation and stance. I nod, and he waves at me to follow him as he walks away.
"This magical artifact seems rare, and you ain't trying to kill me on sight. What's the catch? What bullshit have you gotten me into?" I ask as I trail behind. I can sense that he's smiling. I can't see it, but he is.
"You're catching on fast." He comments. "Don't worry, it's good bullshit. We think you can do a lot for us."
"Us."
He turns around as he walks. "Yeah, us. Look around. At all of this. That's who I represent. Who you're going to represent. This planet is sick and you know it. Every day the natural world shrinks to make room for polluters and filth. Now's your chance to do something about it. We just have to know how well you're going to adapt to your environment."
Talk is cheap. I'm not convinced. He points to a chimney in the distance from a cabin and looks at me expectantly. "Guessing you want me to kill everyone there?"
"You ARE getting the hang of it!" He cheers me on.
"I'd rather just leave." I admit.
He chuckles. "Understandable, but bringing you here was difficult. Sending you back is going to be difficult, too. It requires a lot of... materials. You've got supernatural luck, though. You're already on the path. Remember all those deer you've killed so far?"
I do. I'm already starting to feel mentally itchy about fighting for my life and about the animals I've slaughtered. It's so odd, I feel sick when I think about it, but I don't know why. I can't imagine why I feel guilty. Every violent act I've committed was either completely accidental or in self-defense, and what little I know about my victims doesn't give me much reason to think they were model citizens. Really, their willingness to bully anyone they thought they could get away with reminds me of the worst people I knew in my own world.
The creature slaps me on the back. "That's the spirit!" He loudly guffaws. Am I really that expressive? He points to the house, which is only a few dozen yards away now despite it having been so far only a few minutes ago. "Consider this practice. A test. Your objective..." He pauses.
"Kill everyone?"
"Not quite." He waves his finger. "We already get that you can do that, and you're damn good at it, too. What you need to do is talk your way in. Think about it. Actually, here's a cover story you can use: The military around here are a bunch of fucking apes. They rammed your parent's car off the road and into a river, and by the time you made it back to shore alone, you were lost, and you need to spend the night while a friend comes to get you. You're harmless, just a lost child. Once you're eating their food and sleeping in their beds, THEN you can kill them. The forest wants an infiltrator. But that kind of lie will be no trouble for you, will it?" The eyes of his mask are tinted dark, but he knows, or at least he thinks he knows.
"Maybe, maybe not." I replied.
I nervously step forwards towards the door and look back, but he's already fading into the vegetation. I take a deep breath. This is a really, really bad idea, but that guy is the only creature I've met who didn't want me dead. I don't really have much of a choice. I exhale and let my face relax as I take on another's face, not just as another species, but as another mind. I knock on the door and wait. Here I am, being forced to pretend I'm someone I'm not so that I can make a good first impression on people I don't care about because I need their approval. It's just like old times.
did u hear that school is cancelled 2day?
I'm sitting at my desk, tapping away at my phone and silently thanking the human sighting.
ye i did, thank fuck for that. i forgot to do my math homework.
or you just didnt want to do it
maybe :)
Without school, I have nothing else to do all day. It could be time to pick up a hobby, but let's face it, I'm probably going to scroll an assload of ForumSquared. Oh well. I guess once I graduate I'll have to learn to use my spare time properly, but that's a problem for later.
youll never guess what i heard btw. that guy shot a cop and hit someone from madrigal high to start, but theres more. remember how the hoods skipped school yesterday 2 smoke weed or whatev?
I sit up in my chair
no fucking way
yup. The crime rate around school is going 2 crater. 6 of the fuckers got blasted at the old fairground, the last one's been shitting bricks about it ever since
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
holy hell, we ought to give the guy a medal. howd you hear about this, quinciles dad?
quinciles mom by way of quincile by way of barma
also it might be a human and he might be waging a gurilla war against the cops in the woods
but axis might just be fcking with us so take it with a grain of salt
tbh ive been hearing helicopters all night, maybe i should get a bit further away
Argona takes minutes to reply, and I've just turned back to the glow of my PC screen when my phone buzzes.
eh its up to you. ive had the same thing happening here. theyve got so much stuff out scouring the woods that i bet he's already dead
how r u going to spend your day off?
sister i am going to party. one of barmas internet friends hooked me up with the new Artio Cervio album and im going to listen until my ears fall off
what the fuck? but thats not out until next week!
yup ;) u want to listen?
hell yeah i do!
kk, will email u the link in a bit
My digital conversation is interrupted by my mother. "Dear, your boytoy is here!" She calls from the floor below. I stand up, ready to receive my guest as I try and recall who it was I invited before I realize the answer is 'no one'. That's... odd. I leap from my room, eager to see who just ruined my groove.
"If it's another of those HOG deer, tell them to fucking get lost!" I yell, making my annoyance known.
Standing in the door is the culprit. He looks like he got mugged on the way to an airsoft match, but he's about my age, not that lanky, has blue eyes so piercing they could almost be glowing. He's not a hog deer, he's too golden-brown and stacked for it.
I stand uncomfortably at the door, my rifle held close to my side. My talk with the mother was fairly one-sided, I had come in with an idea of what I was going to say but I had been trampled. My brain was still trying to process phrases like "lovely blue eyes and blonde fur", since I had never noticed that my eyes were no longer green in this disguise, or "she usually brings dark bucks", which was just fucking weird.
Her daughter stops when she sees me. Almost imperceptibly, her entire manner shifts from being bothered by my presence to being charmed by it. "Hey," she says. "What brings you here?"
I wave mildly, putting on my best shellshocked voice. "I was in a... car crash... M-my car is totalled and I'm stuck. If I... could borrow you... your phone, then..."
The daughter laughs sociably and points to a landline on the wall. I remember when my house had one and put in my own phone number. There's a null tone on the line, but I start pretending like I'm talking to someone, giving out information about my location, putting in the appropriate pauses as I imagine them responding. The pair of deer-women have retreated into another room and I can hear that they're talking. I find an excuse to finish my phone call and sit down on the couch. This is the living room, and a boxy CRT TV occupies the place of honor. Scattered in front of it are some children's animated movies. I pick one up to pretend like I'm not trying to listen in on the pair's conversation. Normally, when you talk behind someone's back, you don't do it literally right behind them. They're talking about me.
The movie is I guess this world's equivalent to a talking animal cartoon. A group of friendly-looking technicolor insects smile as they ride a raft down a river. At my house I have a well-worn collection of Land Before Time movies and my heart twists painfully as my nascent plan to marathon them self-destructs under the reality of my situation. It's not just that I'm so far away from the DVD's themselves. I know consciously that most of them were bad, and I don't think I could ignore that any longer. Once upon a time I could spend hours immersed in the epic journey of a group of dinosaur comrades. Now the memory is like trying to feel with an amputated hand.
The younger one puts her hand on my back and a recoil in shock. So much for listening in. "Hey, you feeling alright?" She asks softly.
"Yes!" I venomously spit, regretting my lost patience before I'm even done saying it. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Sorry."
"No, I understand. My name's Taiga. What's yours?" She's such a strange creature. Like all the others, she looks as if a deer was stretched over a human. Her coat, well, pelt, is a layer of tannish-brown fur. She has normal hair, too, a collection of lighter brown strands with faint curls that comes down to neck length and shares spots of pure white with her face.
"Uh, Osk." I cringe internally as I put down the children's DVD's that had me so entranced. I suppose I won't be listening in on their conversation.
"That's a nice name." She replies as she stares at me intently. I began to wonder if she knows. It would be even more embarrassing to fail my first mission from that weird forest asshole with the sticks on his head. There is always, however, a lump under my jacket called "plan B", although I still hear the ringing in my ears from when I fired it last night. "So, uh... I hear you're from out of town."
Her mother interjects. "Aww, you two already look so cute together. See, honey? You don't need to hang around with the darkies so much. A nice foreign boy! My prayers have been answered!"
Taiga seizes up at the mention of "darkies". "MOM! Stop being fucking racist around our guest!" She stands up tersely and stomps over, pulling her mother back into the kitchen to share a few more words. She keeps glancing at me from her position in the doorway, looking away every time I catch her. I can't make this conversation out because of its hushed tones, and it ends very quickly. The pair soon return, the younger one carrying a tray hesitantly. Her ears look like the wings of a butterfly with how much they twitch and her teeth are faintly chattering. I hope she's just shy. It would be odd to suddenly be desirable, but it's better than the alternative.
The tray has two bowls of some sort of salad. It's clear that she's offering one to me and I take it. The plants used to make it look familiar, mostly. I'm going to assume they're all close enough to their earth equivalents. It is, however, frozen. "I'm sorry it's not something more interesting, but we, like, weren't expecting guests?" She begins. "We have a bakery in town where we make our good food, you see. I bet it will be pretty busy for the next few days, though. The army is rolling in and their rations taste like wet doorknobs. More money for us, right? But you'd know about the military, wouldn't you?"
The last part sends me into a brief panic until I see she's staring at my rifle. "Oh, yeah. I do. I-" I thank fate that I stammer and stutter like a broken engine, it gives me more time to remember my cover story and figure out my response. For example, instead of saying that I was doing something, I catch myself and instead tell her, "My parents are hunters from a town a few hours away and we got called over to help, uh, hunt the thing in the woods. Then they rammed us off the fucking road while we were showing up to their dumbass assembly." I'm barely acting at that last part, there's a tension that's been building up inside me and it's starting to come out.
"Oh, shit." She whispers. "Are your parents... like..."
"I don't know." I tell her. "I haven't seen them since. I was thrown from the wreck and landed in a river. I survived and I'm mostly okay, I think, so I think they are too, but, uh..."
She sits and stares and picks at her food. "Well, eheh, if you want to start regrowing the family tree..." She shoves her head into her hands. "Fuck! Shit! I shouldn't have said that! I shouldn't have!"
My hands are balled into fists and my teeth are nearly grinding. This is the most uncomfortable I've ever been. The truly horrific part is that she has the mannerisms of a few girls I used to know, but this is a level of pressure that they only ever felt around the burliest and blondest football players. They pretended I didn't exist, if I was lucky. But this one is all over me. A girl. This isn't right. This isn't fucking right. When I was younger, any real problem could be solved by either mom or calling 911, but neither of those are here to help, or would.
I haven't hidden my discomfort well. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you weren't that kind of guy!"
Does she think I'm gay? "No, it's not that, it..." God, I can't wait to kill her. Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm down. It won't be long until you can excuse yourself.
She stares at me nervously. "...You should, like, eat that, though. It's good for you."
"Men like girls who make them hot meals! Not cold ones!" Her mother calls out.
Taiga rolls her eyes. "It's more natural this way!" She yells back. Her mother just points forcefully at the microwave and makes a heart gesture with her hands, and the argument ends. The daughter gets the point and stands up, soon coming back with the same salad but warmer.
I have to admit, it's actually not half-bad when it has a temperature. It's like most of the salads I've had. Taiga stands up. "I'm sorry, I've just made you feel worse, haven't I?" She admits, downcast.
"It's fine, I've seen worse." I say out of habit. I flip through my memories to see if I'm telling the truth, and the "worse" in question came from me.
We eat in silence for a bit before her mother speaks up. "So, Osk. How long until your friend arrives?"
Oh, yeah, they think I have someone coming to pick me up. "It will be, uh, they'll be here tomorrow, or, something... Is it okay if I stay the night?
"Oh, there's no problem." She coos. "Taiga, be a dear and show her to the guest room."
...Wait, she didn't say "be a deer", did she? Because "be a dear" is a normal phrase but these are, like, it could be... whatever. I let Taiga lead me upstairs to a sparsely-furnished bedroom. I thanked her and closed the door, sitting on the mattress and finishing my food. There was a desk where I put the empty bowl, then I curled into the fetal position on the carpet.