Bobcat

1870

Top Hill, Kansas

Henry D.P. Bellows sat on the fence, watching the sheep as they slept. Hundreds of them in the large field, completely trusting and oblivious to danger. Henry watched them for hours, anticipating the attack of a predator. He occasionally drew his revolver to inspect it, mentally preparing himself for what it would feel like to hit a wild beast and protect this innocent flock. Henry watched until his shift ended at midnight, then exchanged a few quick words with Hawthorne as they swapped places.

This was not typically necessary, but something out of the ordinary was afoot in the small town of Top Hill, Kansas. For weeks, livestock at random farms in the area had fallen prey to a mysterious predator. The few glimpses that anybody had seen resembled a bobcat, but glimpses were all that could be seen. The second this creature drew attention, it fled quickly. Rarely even taking more than a couple bites of the fresh meat, this predator seemed to only be interested in the hunt.

This creature was incredibly fast, preventing anybody from attempting a lucky shot. The only way to stop it would be to watch it approach. And thus, all of the farmers in the town had taken shifts for half the night at all of the local farms. Even the grain farmers were chipping in, all working together for the welfare of the community.

◇

Henry awoke to the knocks on his door, before the dawn even had a chance to shine through his windows. He opened it to find Hawthorne, looking haggard and angry.

“Another one, this time all the way at Harry’s,” Hawthorne said.

“Did he see what happened?” Henry asked.

“No, he just woke to the carnage and his dogs barking. Swears they did not bark until after the kill, “ Hawthorne said.

“We tried to tell him.”

“We sure did. I won’t say this is what he gets, but maybe he can finally join in.”

Harry Farenger had refused to chip in time or money for the protection efforts. Swearing his livestock had never met a predator, he was not even sorry as he stormed out of the initial meeting at the saloon. Henry did not feel bad for him now.

“Well, at least the others are safe,” Henry said.

“Yes, but that is not enough. I know we can do something about this. We can put an end to this threat,” Hawthorne said.

“We can, and we will, but daylight is protecting us now. Get some sleep, I will see you tonight.”

“Sure thing, see you,” Hawthorne said.

Henry shut the door and locked it. He waited two minutes for his friend to be a suitable distance away, then he buried his face in his pillow and screamed.

He hated himself, because he had done it again.

◇

Burk's Saloon stood in the exact middle of town, and tonight everyone was there. Voices roared from every corner, as conversation and music intertwined. Both the talking and the singing grew louder as the night wore on. Old Burk smiled, happily serving beer and collecting the money.

Henry looked across the table at Hawthorne, Russell and Jacob “Poke” Tremont. He had been playing every Saturday night with these three for years, plus or minus others that drifted through town and their lives. He was very good at poker, able to bluff through anything. He was used to doing that now, and he was sick of it.

“What are we going to do about this?” Russell asked.

“About your mounting debt to us? Been terrible this month, maybe cut back on the beer,” Hawthorne replied.

“No,” Russell replied, draining the bottom half of his mug and motioning for another. “This stupid cat. I have been hunting all my life. I know what exists around here, and these stories are not the same. I would not believe it if I had not seen the bodies. Slash marks through the neck, most not even bitten. There were ten last night, and the dogs didn't make a sound until it ran away. I don't know what is happening.”

“There was nobody watching, so how can we really say what last night was,” Henry said.

“Okay, pick any night. This town is built on these flocks, we can't let one freak of nature crush us all,” Russell said.

“We will get him, I know we will,” Hawthorne chimed in. “We always get it, and this town chugs along.”

“I'm telling you, there is something different about this. I can't say I'm totally mad, though. I've killed every type of creature in these woods, I needed a new challenge. Well, it found me, and I'm determined to give it hell,” Russell said with a grin.

They all nodded in agreement, and the night went on like always.

◇

Henry rode home on his horse, his mind thankful for the cool air. It was not a long ride back to his lane, but this night felt especially big. The flat landscape seemed to stretch farther as the quiet night weighed heavier. He was more aware of his place in the world, and it was not significant.

The thought pounded at his mind, and he beat it back every time. He would not feel guilt, or anything else. He would suppress this, he would move on, and he would do better.

He would not dwell on the fact that the whole town wanted him dead. Or that Russell, the greatest tracker in Kansas, had adopted a personal vendetta against him. The fact was, they did not actually want him dead. They wanted this other version of himself dead, and it could really barely be called him.

Henry had no control over any of this. He was not consciously aware of any part of his self, he just stalked out into the night. Once he killed, his body morphed into something resembling a bobcat. It was certainly hairy and feline, also fast and running along the ground, but it was not a full transformation. It still bore some resemblance to a man, and that made it even more of a monster.

These memories existed vaguely in the back of Henry's mind. He could not fully remember them, but the braying of the sheep and some pieces of the attack were there if he searched for them. But he did not ever search for them.

This all happened to Henry, it was not a thing he chose to do. Something took over and made him into this monster. What could he possibly do to stop it?

Nothing. He could only stuff it down and try harder to be better.

When Henry reached the crossroads, he obviously knew to turn left to his house. But he felt something else, a pull he had felt for ten years. The pond was ahead. He had a choice here, on whether to visit. He should go home and sleep, but the pond was enticing. Inviting. It was always there, for him to explore.

◇

“Good boy, what do you smell?” Russell said. His dog sniffed the scene of last night’s attack but found nothing. The remains had been cleaned up, along with his best chance of finding some trace of this beast.

“Where are you, huh?” Russell growled into the darkness, raising his lever-action rifle. “Why don’t you attack me and see how this plays out? I’m asking for it, come here.”

The darkness greeted him with silence.

Russell lowered his gun and walked into the woods. His dog may not be a help here, but he could still give it a try. This animal had to be around somewhere, so he would search where it fled. Into the dark woods he walked, straining his ears and hoping for anything.

◇

It was an ungodly shade of green. If the river looked this way, even the cattle would rather die. No moss, grass, or any other living thing existed within twenty feet of the liquid’s edge. Henry had long ago ceased calling it water, because he could not accurately hazard a guess at what this pond was really made of.

At the edge, he knew he had one more chance. He had been doing better, holding himself back. He could continue that progress if he just walked away. But the green called to him, unlike anything else he had ever experienced in life. He dove in.

The rush hit his mind as his face broke the surface. The swirling colors that gave way to visions he could never experience in the real world. One after another, he swam and reveled in them all.

Henry had no idea how long it had been when a branch snapped, bringing his mind back to earth with his physical body. Who was possibly here? He climbed onto shore.

More branches broke, then finally the low singing rang through the woods, “Heeeere kiiitty, are you over heeere?”

Russell.

Henry swore. What now? He could not ride away, his friend would see him. But if he stayed he would also get found, or shot, or both. His head pounded as his body felt paralyzed by indecision, forced to choose the best of the bad options.

The transformation happened without his choice. He fell to the ground and shook as his body shrunk, and wanted to scratch as the fur grew out of every inch of skin. He had no time to reclaim his humanity before the claws and teeth grew. He was a bobcat now.

Another branch broke, and his feline legs carried him away on instinct. He sped straight at his horse, sending it fleeing. Henry moved at a breakneck pace, the very real fear still gripping his cat body.

A crack resounded through the night as branches broke right next to Henry’s back leg. Russell had seen him, and he was close. Henry heard the shouting and swearing as he tore out of the woods and across the fields, hoping his horse could stay ahead long enough to be gone from this place.

◇

Russell ran out of the woods, in a direct line from where he had seen that blur and heard the crash of snapping branches. There were hoof prints starting from exactly where he stood.

“Hallelujah!” he thought as he began to walk them. It did not even register when the first drops hit his face, until they finally snuffed out his lantern. The rain came, and Henry fell to the ground as the tracks and the field all became mud. Pounding his fist against the earth, he wanted to cry.

◇

Henry became a man again, twenty minutes later, and mounted his horse. Riding home, he could not recall if he had attacked any livestock. Either way, he would surely hear the next day.

◇

“I was this close!” Russell yelled between gulps of his eighth beer. He held his fingers indicating a small distance he could not even make out anymore. “I could have saved John that trouble, but I missed by this much!”

“What did it look like?” Henry asked. He had heard this answer, and the whole story, a dozen times now, but this is the game he had to play. John may have lost fifteen sheep, but Russell was losing his pride. Truly a tragic development that deserved care and support.

“A hairy blur. Mind you it was dark, but my lantern caught the brown fur. This is the biggest cat I have ever seen, but it is real and walking on four legs. And faster than the wind.”

Henry watched and listened to the stories and questions the rest of the night. This was not a time for poker, only discussion and bafflement at this fabled monster cat actually being real. Everyone offered more solutions, but they were all empty ideas. Nobody had any clue what to do now, other than hope to get slightly luckier than Russell had been. Henry listened to all of this, and he hated himself. He could not scream, so he had to sit with these feelings and swim in them.

◇

“I have to tell someone,” he told himself as his friends spoke empty words.

“You idiot, who would you tell? Russell? Sure, get yourself killed,” his own mind responded. He set down his beer and tried to be less cruel to himself.

“No, Russell is in too deep. But maybe Hawthorne and Poke would understand. They might at least hear me out, they are removed enough,” he thought.

“It’s your own death warrant, do what you want,” he told himself.

He had no option, and sitting with this alone was not working anymore. He had to do something.

◇

Everyone was too tired to think or speak when they finally left the saloon. Henry waved Russell on, telling him to be careful, and turned to Hawthorne and Poke.

“He is a mess,” Henry began. Moment of truth, he could not back out now. “I had an idea, but it’s too late now. Can you meet me at the ridge cabin tomorrow? Just us three? I think this will work, but I will let Russell try his own thing.”

Both men looked confused, yet also exhausted. “Sure, man, whatever. Any idea is welcome at this point.” They all departed, but Henry smiled his whole trip home. His mind reeled at the thought of coming clean, but a small part deep inside felt warmth. They were his closest friends, they would understand.

◇

Henry sat on the rough cot inside the ridge cabin, the only decoration inside the small wooden structure besides a table, two chairs and a Bible. This cabin was owned by the local church, but not used for any official function. Rather, it was a neutral, solitary place for conversation or quiet time far away from the town. Over the years, it had developed a weight and a reputation - this was hallowed ground, by the standards of their dusty backwoods farming town. If a conversation was requested here, it was serious and it was important. Pregnancies, marriages, divorces and several duels, often related, were addressed in and around this building over the previous twenty years.

Hawthorne and Poke arrived together, making conversation until they opened the door and hit the wall of awkward silence. Henry’s face must have given him away.

“What are we doing out here?” Poke asked. He glanced at the guns on the table, then nervously rubbed his hip next to his own occupied holster.

“I have a confession to make, and I want you to listen to me before you react,” Henry said. Both men stared at him, so he went on, "The pond is magic, and it has done things to me. I have become a feral monster, one I cannot even control, and I have been attacking the livestock. This is all my fault. I turn into a bobcat if I am threatened, so I can run away.”

“Henry,” Poke said. “Do you really expect us to believe that? A magic pond? A man morphing into a bobcat? We have railroads now! This is civilization, and everything just keeps developing. Look at all that man can make, actual technology and innovation, and you expect us to believe in fairy tales and magic? You don’t seem to be joking, so I think something might be in that water. Let’s get you to Doc.”

“I’m not joking! I know it sounds absurd, but I want you to believe me. I am only trusting you because I know you will listen, and you will try to help me.” He stared pleadingly. “Please help me.”

They both nodded slowly. “Okay,” Poke said. “How can we help you.”

“Just tell me I am not a monster,” Henry said. “That is what I need. To be kept away from that evil pond, and to be reminded I am human. I am not the beast that pond has made of me.”

“Of course you’re not a monster,” Hawthorne said. “For the sake of this, I will choose to believe you. But I say with complete sincerity, you are not a monster. We can get you through this.”

Suddenly the door flew open, and Russell walked in pointing his Bignoli lever action rifle straight at Henry’s head. “He is a monster, and he is not lying.”

“Woah!” Everyone responded at once. Hawthorne and Poke both drew their pistols, and pointed them at Russell’s head.

“Drop those, we have the killer right in front of us,” Russell said.

“Calm down, we'll help him,” Poke said.

“His horse. As I rode away last night, and as I laid in bed, all I could think about was that his stupid horse looked familiar. This morning it hit me, the cat was chasing this same horse. It would not have been in those woods unless little Henry here brought it there.”

Henry raised his hands and said, “You’re right, but please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not killing you. I won’t pretend to believe in magic, but I saw something that night and it lines up with what you are saying here.”

Henry stared at his three best friends, long enough for Russell and Poke to turn their guns towards him. His heart dropped. He was so sure he could get away with it and change, but he could not.

It was here, facing the fate he had hoped to avoid, that Henry learned to let go of himself. And find freedom.

◇

Henry sat in the jail cell, reading his sole possession, a Bible he was allowed to take from an old cabin. This was his future, and he was glad to have one at all. When he looked at the wall, he saw the words written there and smiled. Maybe one day he could believe them.

“You are not a monster.”