003 – Not a Good Girl

Time to Seal: 07:48

There were very few sirens among the background noise. How many calls to 911 were being answered by that Wyrm entity right now, telling people to wait for fiery doom on a rooftop?

While sprinting for my life I checked the ‘Shapeshifting’ menu. Besides ‘House cat’, which had the (daily) marker behind it, it listed three other options.

[‘Crow’ (inherent)

‘Golden retriever’ (daily)

‘Galápagos tortoise’ (daily)]

One of those was not like the other, but none of them would help me survive those demon hounds right now.

Despite my initial impression, they were not constantly beelining for me. Sometimes the dots paused, only to coalesce onto a single nearby point. A sickness spread through my core, one that had nothing to do with the ongoing adrenaline rush.

There had been a commercial district somewhere to the east. Maybe if I could find a department store I could whip something up. Could I improvise chlorine gas? Would it kill them? Weaken them so I could? No, too many moving pieces and I wasn’t certain about the chemistry.

Then I saw the sign, like a beacon of destructive hope against the gloom of the end.

Joe’s Car Repair. Flexible Rates. International Models.

An EV had crashed into the building’s side and had dislodged a small part of the garage door from its rails. Just a small gap, barely large enough for a cat to fit through. The wreck was already burning, which should mean it didn’t risk exploding on me any second. But we could help that process along. At least if that shop was anything like Aunt Olivia’s.

I picked up a garbage can and emptied it onto the flames. There had to be something in there I would be able to use as my lighter. Should’ve kept that zippo when I quit smoking. There was a piece of fabric, which I kicked closer to the flames before I entered Joe’s Car Repair through the now-empty frame of the front door, its glass shattered.

[“Gabriel, you still with me?”] I asked, while I made my way to the shop.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t wish to distract you. You look like you have a plan and I won’t argue it unless absolutely necessary. Decisive action is mandatory; inaction and debate will get you killed.”

“I’d take some reassurance, though,” I said out loud.

“You can do it, Eve. I am fascinated and intrigued by your plan.”

The shop was exactly as cluttered and messy as I had hoped for. Sorry, Joe, I had low expectations and you fulfilled them with perfect grades. The room smelled of oil, solvent, and just a touch of the chemical sweetness of glycol. Memories of teenage summers, earning cash to afford that new computer, flooded back to me.

The red dots were just over one block away. No time to rig anything fancy, but I wouldn’t need to. I dragged the parts washer out of its spot against the wall, its metal legs screeching over the coarse floor, braced myself against a workbench and kicked the thing over. Solvent spilled over the floor, near the entrance, the smell instantly overwhelming anything else in the room.

I eyed the acetylene tank at the welding station, then the approaching red dots, and thought of the raging fire outside. That one would go last. Next was a jerry can, unlabeled, not placed in the strangely dusty safety cabinet. It was half full and I just hoped it was gasoline. I poured a line from the solvent, all the way to the tiny gap in the garage door.

Barks and growls approached. They scratched at the door. If they broke through the garage door here my plan would be fucked. I saw two dots circling away from the others, around the building.

With seconds left I grabbed a wrench off the wall, ignored the ghostly memory of Aunt Olivia, giving me countless lectures on safety procedures, and opened the valve on the acetylene tank—its hiss an ominous promise of imminent doom. There were no more hounds on this side, they were all prowling through the lobby now. I pressed myself against the wall by the gap and tossed the wrench through the gap. Could never know if I wouldn’t need that.

The first hound entered, its head low to the ground, growling. I had expected fur. Something like a wolf or a doberman. But they were entirely naked, black skin taut over obscenely powerful muscle. Its head looked a lot like a wolf, besides the three pairs of red eyes, all fixating on me across the room. Blood covered its jaw.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“What a good boy. You surely don’t want to do this.”

It ignored my pleading and prowled closer. I got the feeling that the mark meant a slower death than what they brought others. The others piled in behind the leader, fanning out.

That was my cue and I mentally clicked the ‘House cat’ option again. This time the transformation was only slightly less confusing. The chemical smell was overwhelming but the angry bark of the rushing demon hound urged me into motion. I dashed through the gap, just as the maw snapped shut behind me. Except I was, again, too slow. It chomped down on my tail and pain ripped through my spine as momentum drove me forward. This shape had a very fluffy tail and that might have saved my life. I slipped free, leaving the hound with a mouth full of fur and my health bar slightly dented.