Taylor slowed cautiously as he ran around the corner. Training and hard experience had taught him that blind corners were dangerous ones. He drew his pistol and lay against the wall, catching his breath, taking time to check behind him. Crouching, he spun around the corner gun first and realized that extra precaution had cost him. He’d lost her in the darkness.
This body has no nose. Why can’t you smell her?
Pointing out crossly that his senses were considerably enhanced for a human, Taylor considered the options. In an instant, Taylor knew exactly where she was heading. The only thing out past this point was where the earthmovers had been parked. What the hell is she running there for? Taking several steps forward confirmed his suspicions. He scented her easily, the hint of fear spiked with adrenaline. He pointed this out rather smugly to the tiger, who only snorted and pointed out the obvious.
I can run faster.
Taylor considered this as he ran. As the cat, he could catch her. But the cat could only kill. To bring her to any kind of trial or justice he needed his hands, his arms, the gun. To change back when he caught up to her meant confronting her naked and unarmed.
I’m gaining on her. He poured his strength into his legs, making up the time spent at the corner of the building. She pelted through the open clearing and barely made it to the copse of trees, Taylor a half-step behind her.
He skidded to a halt when he saw her. She was red-faced, out of breath and shaking. There were two planks that had been laid over the hole into which Batu’s body had been tossed. They had apparently used that as a platform to retrieve the body. She was bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath on one of the planks.
“Mr.....” she gasped. “Mann. You’re not even... winded... Is that typical... of your... kind....?” She swayed and leaned dangerously over the edge of the plank.
Taylor gingerly stepped onto the plank, his gun pointed into the air. He thumbed the safety on. “Doctor, you need to come with us.”
“So sorry.” She smiled and tried to straighten, though she stood slowly and with no small amount of difficulty. She caught herself as the wood creaked dangerously under their weight.
Taylor simply stepped to the other plank. It was more than sufficient for his big frame.
“Thank you!” Melinda said with a bright smile. “That was very kind of you, I don’t do well with heights. Tell me, is compassion possible with your kind? It’s not something often demonstrated in the wild. I have been so wrapped up in finding the medical causes for your change that I have completely overlooked the opportunity to learn about a brand-new species.” Her eyes were bright and shone in the reflected moonlight.
Taylor reached for her, took her arm in his free hand. “Doctor,” he said quietly. “Please. Come with me.”
Melinda looked into the morning sky and sighed. She shifted on the wood, making Taylor tighten his grip to keep her from falling. “My goodness. You know what just occurred to me? You see, your Angelica. Dr. Truman, she was... is... my crowning achievement. She shifted and changed back again. The first to do so. I’m so proud. What we could have learned just by observing, by keeping creatures like you in a stable habitat and just watching you interact. Your mores, your courtships, your death rituals. It just isn’t my line of expertise.” She looked up at him, pleading for understanding. “You know?” Her hand came up. Something glinted in the early morning light.
Taylor took a deep breath and screamed. He brought his hands to his eyes, blinded, in great pain. Melinda lowered the can of pheromones. “I hope you can forgive me for letting so much of the science slip through my fingers.”
As Taylor fell, he instinctively grabbed the edge of the plank as his lower half dangled over the pit below.
DON’T CHANGE!
I CAN’T STOP.
NO! Both man and cat screamed the word, but it came out as a hollow roar. Taylor began to shift, writhing this time, not only in pain but to maintain his balance on the beam across the gulf. He dug his claws into the wood and hung on for dear life.
Melinda hadn’t moved. She’d crouched down on her plank and watched him change. The cat snarled up at her.
She dies.
No! Wait, she can’t...
The plank beneath the cat, while suitable for Taylor, wasn’t built for a 700-+-pound tiger. It splintered under him and the cat yowled as it fell, landing in brackish water and mud. He roared from the improvised trap, still bound up in the clothing he’d worn. His belt and pants nearly killed him before he could tear them off.
I have nothing to change into now.
On the other hand, I’ll probably die first.
“Mr. Mann,” Melinda said, reaching carefully forward and picking something up that lay at her feet. His gun. His own fucking gun. It had to have landed there when he fell. She raised it now, carefully balancing on the board, holding it so hard that her knuckles turned white. “I don’t know if you can understand me the way that Dr. Truman did. Is that species-specific, or the fact that Dr. Truman is better educated? I suppose I may never know that either.” She sighed and shook her head. “I am terrible sorry, Mr. Mann. You were such a fine specimen. I may never find another.”
She pointed the gun at Taylor’s head and pulled the trigger.