Catnip (20 page)

“Hey, it’s night time,” a voice said. Harry
abruptly woke up, heart pounding. Anastasia wasn’t there. “Are you
hungry?” the voice repeated.

Doug stood near the freezers. He reached
inside and grabbed a package of what looked like steak. After
tearing through the plastic with his teeth, he pushed his snout
into the plate and quickly gobbled up the contents. “Hey, this is
deer meat!” he exclaimed. “Pretty damn good, if you ask me. Are you
hungry?” he repeated.

His voice had gotten lower and more
indistinctive. In Doug’s case, the changes seemed to be happening
faster than with Anastasia. Harry didn’t know if he could tell him
the results of his tests. Instead, he asked, “Where’s
Anastasia?”

Doug jerked his front foreleg at the door.
“She started twitching before and said she wanted to scout around,”
he answered. “She’ll be back soon.”

Harry went to the refrigerator, found some
cold cuts and a can of soda, and stuffed the food in his mouth
quickly. He didn’t want to take too much time when there was data
waiting to be correlated.

Seating himself at the table, he fired up his
computer and after Doug had finished eating, beckoned him over. The
file came up and Doug stared at the screen. “What am I,” he cleared
his throat again, and this time when his voice came out, it sounded
throatier than ever, “what am I looking at?”

Harry pointed to the screen. “I ran a check
on Anastasia’s DNA before. I was trying to find a way to reverse
the process and take the animal elements out of her. But according
to this,” he lost his voice a moment, “according to this, the
non-human DNA is beginning to overwhelm her system—and yours,
too.”

Doug stared at the data uncomprehendingly,
blinked, and dropped his head as the meaning of the words became
clear. “You mean we’re turning into animals, right?”

“Yeah, you are.” Harry shut down the
computer, his hands shaking. “I don’t know why. It must be the
way…”

“We’ve been programmed or experimented on or
whatever,” Doug finished for him, and a note of unmistakable
bitterness crept into his voice. He took the opportunity to walk
over to the glass case and observe his image. When he returned, his
expression resembled a stone’s. “I don’t want to end up as a dog.
Nothing wrong with animals, but I was someone once.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He couldn’t think of
any way to make things better or say the right words.

Doug swore quietly. With a sigh, he picked
his head up and said, “You didn’t know. I’m not blaming you for
anything.” He stopped to run his tongue around his lips. “Do you
think your girlfriend knows?”

“Maybe she does. I’m not going to tell
her.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Doug asked and
stared at him, his brown eyes penetrating into Harry’s psyche.
“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen how you look at each other. ”

Harry didn’t know if he did or not, but at
the same time, the way he felt around her, the way she moved, how
she touched him…everything they’d gone through together so far…he
didn’t want to be without her. Maybe that was what love meant.
Silly as the concept was of a guy falling for a half-woman-half-cat
in the space of a few days, he decided the silliness could take a
hike. He wanted to be with her and no one else.

“Yeah, I do,” he finally decided. “I guess
there’s a first time for everything.”

His ally blew out a breath and sat down on
his haunches. “Well, at least you found someone. I couldn’t talk
with the other dogs when I arrived in New York. I couldn’t even
talk with people all that much unless I told them I was an actor or
with the circus. My memory’s been wiped clean. All I know is that I
must have liked drinking, because I’ve still got a craving for
beer.”

Doug’s voice caught and he started to cry,
heavy tears dropping from his eyes. He sobbed and sniveled for a
couple of minutes, and then with a massive effort he managed to
stop and heaved in a number of deep breaths. “I’d give my eyeteeth
if I could find out who did this to me. I wouldn’t even kill him.
I’d just bite him all over…and make him change me back.”

Harry felt just as helpless to do anything
for Doug as he had for his girlfriend. Hesitantly, he put his hand
on the other man’s shoulder as a gesture of friendship. “All I can
do is to try,” he said.

“Please don’t make any jokes about man’s best
friend,” Doug said, and gave a sad smile. “I’m still me until the
experiment says I’m not.”

He moved off and sat down near the bed while
Harry went back over the equations. Something about the matrix not
holding…something about protein compounds and transference went
through his mind. He wished mightily that he had the proper
materials with him…but no, he would have to make do with what he
had for the moment, and then wished his girlfriend would hurry
back.

Then he remembered what she’d muttered in her
sleep. “Hey Doug, did you ever hear of a guy named Nurmo or
Nurmlev?”

His traveling companion looked at him, his
face puzzled. “Who told you that name?”

“Anastasia did…she was talking in her
sleep.”

Doug cast his eyes to the floor, his mouth
working over the name. Finally, he shook his head. “I get no
feeling from it,” he said. “Sometimes images of where I was go
through my brain. I see flashes of forests and trees…it hurts when
those images come in…then the next thing I can remember is running
through an alley in New York and meeting you and her. Now, I got
nuthin’.”

He fell silent and Harry pondered the hours
and days left for his girlfriend and canine buddy. Devolving,
though, wasn’t the least of their problems, and neither was the
name of a possible mad scientist. The sound of a fast approaching
vehicle filled the air. Cars had come around before, but they’d
always sounded as if they’d been way off in the distance. This one,
though, was different, and Harry realized that the car was headed
to their cabin. The roar of the engine grew louder and its tires
squealed to a stop.

Doug jumped up and peeked out the door. “Oh,
hell, they’ve found us!” He scurried back and started growling in
anger. “We gotta leave. We’ll pick up your girlfriend on the way to
the forest.”

Harry quickly shut off the computer and
yanked the cord out of the socket. He was too late, however, as the
door suddenly burst open and an enormous fat man stood in the
aperture, a shotgun cradled in one hand and a couple of bloody
paper packages in the other. He stood close to seven feet tall with
a bright red beard and hands smeared with blood. Dressed in a
lumberjack’s shirt and a pair of stained overalls with heavy work
boots, he had to weigh in excess of three hundred pounds and he did
not look friendly at all.

Doug started to move in the man’s direction,
but the guy moved quickly and let loose a shot which missed his
head by less than an inch and buried itself in the wall.

“Don’t move, Fido,” the fat man said. “I’m
faster on the draw than you are.” He chuckled. “You gotta love the
NRA. They’re on the side of gun owners all the way, and I’m glad I
got my rifle with me.” He nodded to himself with total
satisfaction.

“Who are you?” Harry asked and felt pretty
dumb for being oblivious to the obvious.

“The name is Callaghan,” the fat guy
answered. “Thomas Callaghan. I’m the owner of this place and you’re
trespassing.” A smile suddenly lit up his face. “I know who you
are. I saw your picture on the news. You’re Harry Goldman. You’re
the guy that killed all those feds in the city?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

Callaghan laughed. “Yeah, right, sure you
didn’t.” He eyed Harry up and down. “Hard to believe a skinny
little punk like you could cause so much damage, but I’ll tell you
this much—if you screw around with me, you’re gonna be dead in less
than two seconds.”

“What do you want?” Doug asked, cowering in
the far corner of the room.

“What do I want?” Callaghan repeated. “What I
want is for you to tell me who in the hell
you
are. Better
‘fess up quick. I got an itchy trigger finger, and you don’t look
bulletproof.”

Callaghan menaced them back with the gun.
“You, Goldman,” he barked out. “Sit on the floor near the bed!”

Reluctantly, Harry complied. “You’re making a
mistake,” he said.

“Am I now?” the hunter rejoined. “Who’s got
the gun?”

He quickly tied Harry’s hands behind his back
with the twine. Job finished, he put the paper packages in the
fridge and when done, took his time walking over to them.

“I don’t think you’re gonna be going
anywhere,” Callaghan said with satisfaction, a tiny smile on his
face. He then turned his gaze on Doug. “So what’s your excuse? Are
you an alien, a mutant? Tell me now and I promise not to shoot
you.”

Doug growled and started to lunge forward,
but the fat man simply smashed the butt end of the weapon against
his head. Doug staggered, and the owner of the rifle did it again,
harder this time. “Sit, boy. Heel or get dead.”

Doug toppled over on his side and moaned,
then painfully got to his feet—on all four of them this time—and
crept over to where Harry was sitting. The hunter chuckled softly,
went to the sink and rinsed off his hands. He found the two empty
beer bottles on the counter and turned back to them with a look of
indignation crossing his features. “Who the hell drank my
beer?”

Doug belched and winced in pain. In spite of
it, he grinned at the hunter. “Thanks for the drinks. Put ‘em on my
tab.”

The fat man’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Boy…oh, wait, you’re not a boy, are you?” His look of surprise,
though, gave way to one of menace. “Well, whatever you are, you
bought yourself a pack of trouble. Now, is there a reward for your
capture? I can think of a few people who’d want to talk to
you.”

“I’ve already contacted them,” Harry said,
lying through his teeth and hoping the other man would buy it. “The
FBI is looking for me even though I didn’t do it, but if you see a
big bear creature coming in through the door then start shooting.
You might just get lucky.”

Callaghan stared at him for a moment and then
began to chortle. “Kid, I gotta tell you, that is some story!” He
grabbed a bottle, uncapped it, tossed it down his gullet in a
second and wiped his lips. “I’ve shot bears before, along with elk
and caribou on a trip to Canada. They’re about the biggest things
around this continent. Never shot an elephant, though—not
interested, either—but that’s some story about a bear creature.” He
continued laughing.

“Hey, don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Harry
cautioned.

The fat man’s mirth abruptly cut off. After
putting down the bottle, he walked over to the desk, grabbed the
chair, and sat down in front of both his captives. With an air of
pride, he held out the rifle and proceeded to explain the
intricacies of the weapon. Both captives witnessed a sleek,
long-barreled instrument of death with a scope and a fairly heavy
stock carved out of expensive-looking wood.

“See this?” Callaghan asked. “This is the
Protector, top-of-the-line model as voted by
Outdoor
Hunting
. It’s got an accuracy level second to none. It also has
a one-inch range grouping based on six shots, and it was a pretty
good bargain, too. This little baby can target anything up to five
hundred yards away. It’s also got infrared so I can go hunting at
night.”

“You make it sound like a game,” Harry said,
still grimacing from the pain. “You also got some collection over
there.” He indicated the stuffed animals with a nod of his
head.

Callaghan shrugged. “I got those from someone
who lives a few miles from here. I didn’t do it myself…I just
thought it would make the place better looking.”

He then leaned forward. “And for your
information, kid, it
is
a game. I don’t hunt people.” He
cast a look at Doug. “Not yet, I don’t. You’ve seen the other
rifles I carry? They’re the same as this one, just used for
hunting. In case you’re wondering, I don’t get a thrill from a
kill.”

Silence ruled the air for a moment, and then
the sound of rain began. Soft at first, it began with a gentle
spattering of water on the roof and soon intensified to an all-out
rainstorm as the raindrops smashed against the cabin. Callaghan
glanced out the window and murmured, “It sometimes rains up here in
the summer. Takes away the heat and it’s good for the forest.”

Got to buy some time, Harry thought. He
didn’t want his girlfriend walking in on this. Callaghan seemed
calm enough, but he also knew the hunter had to be a good shot and
he had a feeling his captor wouldn’t hesitate to open up on
anything that looked a little out of the ordinary. Anastasia was by
no means ordinary and he hoped she’d gotten away safely. “So why do
you kill animals?” he asked his captor.

Callaghan gave him a smile. “It’s my
business.”

He reached into his breast pocket and took
out a card. Holding it out for Harry to see, he recited from
memory, “Thomas Callaghan of Callaghan’s Fine Meat. Caught and
cured and presented for your dining pleasure.”

He put away the card. “This is what I do for
a living. I have a combination house and factory on the other side
of the mountain, but I come up here to relax. I run the business
with two friends of mine. We hunt fox, bobcat, rabbit and bear, and
we’re pretty good at it. What we shoot, I cut it up and store some
of it at my other place and some of it here. We sell the meat to
the lodges and inns. That’s where I was before, butchering the meat
and taking it around to my customers. I only kill what I need and
no more. So before you think I’m some kind of gun nut think
again.”

“I think the case shows you’re more into
power than just shooting animals,” Doug put in.