Jungle of Creation

Too bright. Why does everything hurt? I bite back a groan as I blearily open my eyes, trying to take in my surroundings. Four walls of white surround me, so I know I’m somewhere in the compound. Is that good or bad? My head aches like no other and there’s a weird prickling sensation in my hands, while my arm muscles burn from exertion of some sort. I blink several times, trying to clear the cobwebs that heavy sleep brings. How did I get here? I can’t remember ever seeing this room before… It’s empty aside from the chair I’m sitting in and a rack beside me. I lift my sore neck from its slumped position and turn to look at the rack, determining its use.

I automatically gasp, yanking my head and arms away from the image but nothing will move. It finally registers that my arms are suspended above my head on the wall behind me. The tingles I noticed in my daze are pins and needles, the aches in my muscles are from holding my arms up for who knows how long. I attempt to kick my legs away only to find that they are bound as well. I’m stuck. I look at the needle jammed into my arm and then back at the rack beside me. I’m stuck with the machine that is sucking my blood away. The contraption beside me looks similar to an IV, but it isn’t giving me vitamins or medicine. No. It’s taking my blood. There are at least two already filled bags shelved away from what I can see. How?

I rack my brain to remember what happened that led to this. I retrace my memories, bitter exhaustion and faintness clouding what should be easy to recall. I go step by step. I saw Dr. Howard, Grant grabbed me and took me back to my room, I snuck out and waited to leave. I struggle through each memory, frustrated with how foggy my brain feels. Aren’t memories supposed to just flood back in situations like these? I can’t help but feel like I got the raw end of the deal. I have to work for my explanation. I continue anyway, moving to when Grant confronted me. My body fills with icy anger at the thought, flooding my face with color. Gritting my teeth, I continue until… Until… Grant! Grant stabbed me with that syringe, a sedative. A growl forms in my throat and forces its way out. Oh, I’m going to kill him. The thought shocks me as soon as it appears. It is a feral, animalistic idea. I can feel the animal within me clawing at my insides to go seek revenge. I clamp down on the urge. No! He may be an emotionless douche, but my morals go farther than that.

I try to pull on my chains with renewed fervor.

They locked me up. I wanted to leave to see my family, and they locked me up.

The binds don’t budge but it doesn’t stop me from trying, from frantically pulling this way and that. I will get out of here. And when I do, they will pay. That survivalistic murmur is back in my ear, urging me to do whatever it takes to live. Shaking my head, I ignore the voice and the calling. I need clear thoughts. Human thoughts. I try to reach my hands with my teeth, missing by only a few inches. The cuffs are made out of thick leather, but if I could just reach them… I need to get out of here. Get to Dad and Lyla.

I crane my neck towards the bindings, doing whatever I can to not think about the obvious. I’m trapped here. I can’t reach it. I’m stretching my neck as far as it can go, but it’s no use.

I growl loudly, taking my anger out on the air, “Dammit!” I add a couple more words for good measure, closing my eyes to block out the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

“Now, now, that’s not a very clean tongue.” My head snaps up. Standing in the open doorway is the one-and-only Miranda Kline, her crisp British accent sending revulsion through me. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the devil incarnate. My green eyes narrow and I growl low, any pretense of respect or kindness is gone from my bones. She doesn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t you undo these chains and I can go rinse my mouth.” I glare harshly at this woman, eyes flashing, as she releases a manufactured dainty laugh. Director Kline looks me up and down, a pleased look in her granite eyes, an ugly smirk playing at her lips.

“No, I don’t think so. I quite like you this way. I can see the family resemblance.” My eyes widen as I scowl, her shark-like grin sharp enough to draw blood. My blood.

“I’m glad she got away from you while she had the chance,” I bark. I don’t blame my mother for running from here anymore. If she saw this side of the supposedly saintly Selva da Criação Incorporated, then I don’t blame her at all.

A flash of anger shoots through Kline’s eyes before sadistic pleasure replaces it. She steps up into my personal space, putting her drawn-on eyebrows in front of mine, filling my senses with her overpowering floral perfume. Before her gray eyes lock on mine, I notice them dart to the bags of blood for a split second. A brief flash of disgust and queasiness shades her expression before her eyes snap back to mine and the emotion is gone. Someone isn’t a fan of blood. Despite her proximity and my fear of her plans for me, I smile darkly, letting her know I saw her weakness.

To my dismay, she smiles back. A rapid, toothy, murderous grin. Okay, so maybe playing with fire isn’t the best idea of mine. Her eyes grow hard as stone as she stays in my face, her breath mixing with mine. Then she whispers.

“Now where did you get a silly idea like that?”

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline, “What?” The terror is spiking through my blood now, sending shivers down my spine. This woman is no joke.

She lets out another laugh, this one hearty and real. She bends over to clasp her knees, and when she gets up she wipes a tear from her eye, “You are in so over your head, Girl.” In the space of a second, the humor is gone, replaced with scorn. She looks a hair’s breadth away from sticking a dagger in my side. “Your mother never got away.” Her smile returns, even fiercer than before. She enjoys this. She enjoys watching me hyperventilate. She enjoys watching my blood pressure rise with this news. She enjoys seeing the raw, child-like panic bursting in my gaze. My eyes are locked on her, unseeing, unhearing.

“You… You…” My mom. They did this. The same thing they’re doing to me, they did to her. “What did you do to her?” My voice is weak. Forlorn, broken. All this time, I thought she left us. Left me. Instead, they took her. They did God knows what to her! They ruined her life. I ask the director what they did, but deep down I know. They chained her up like me. They sucked her dry of her blood until there was nothing left. Just like they’ll do to me.

“Hmm… You may want to ask what we are still doing to her.” My eyes snap to hers, where pure evil resides.

“What? What did you say?” My voice is no longer a whisper. Heck, it’s no longer a voice. Not really. No, it’s a roar. The pure, rabid roar of a wild animal.

“You heard me, Girl.” My eyes blaze into hers. A green fire igniting. My mom is still alive. She’s been stuck here for twelve years and she’s still alive. No wonder Dr. Howard was in denial about Mama’s death. He knew the whole time. I no longer just need to get home. I need to get home with my mom. I need to find her. I so desperately want to set Kline ablaze with my glare right now, make her suffer as much as she’s made my family suffer.

My words come out as a guttural growl, “You will pay.”

She laughs. She laughs. Then she turns around to reach something on the blood rack that I can’t see. Didn’t anyone tell her to never turn your back on a wild animal? Like the waves in the ocean, I’m ready to flood, devour, and destroy anything in my path. I focus on the jungle, the parrots cawing and the snakes slithering among vines. The cicadas deep at night when the outside is peaceful and cool. I imagine myself prowling through the rain forest, stalking the prey I so desire. My muscles bunch up ready to take the leap. Ready to pounce and never look back. My irises burn behind my eyelids, glowing the brightest they’ve ever glowed. I don’t focus on my nails or my hearing or my sight. Instead, I give myself over to the feelings. I let the panther take over. It’s instinctive almost, as if this whole time I knew what I needed to do. It feels like a wall has collapsed. It feels freeing.

Kline turns back around, oblivious to the change that is occurring inside me. She lifts up another syringe, a devious look planted on her face. No. “This should hold you for as long as we have use of you,” she pauses to purse her lips, as if contemplating something important, “I still remember the day your dear mother was in this position, unable to do a thing. I go check on her every now and then, you know? Blissfully ignorant of how she’s helping us. It really is a shame you two couldn’t behave. Like mother, like daughter I suppose. We’ll just make do with what we can.” With that, she finishes her boorish rant and smiles. Glancing at the blood bags for a second, she gags under breath but replaces the smile just as quick. Her eyes dance over me and she doesn’t notice a thing. She doesn’t notice the way my muscles are bunched up tight, or the way my head is tilted as an animal’s would be when hunting its prey. Pathetic. She begins approaching me with that inconsequential needle. Yes. Closer. Almost… The little fearsome whisper in my head leads me on. I’m running on pure instinct, my thoughts only on surviving by using the very abilities gifted to me.

Kline is only one step away. She begins to lift the needle to my neck, as if in slow motion. I look up to meet her gleeful stare and her breath catches. The panther in me rejoices in her fear. Be afraid. Kline’s eyes harden, overriding her trepidation, and she thrusts the syringe so it rests just above my neck. Before she can shift it the last inch, I move quicker than I ever imagined I’d move. I give in to the urges and the animal, my skin stretching and shifting. In the distance, I here a high-pitched scream and a few curses, but my focus is on the process within. I feel my bones snapping and realigning in a new pattern, sleek black fur sprouting across my new form. I’m just a regular old werewolf. Or… were cat? It isn’t painful. Just the opposite. I feel wild and free and peaceful. The feeling of total completeness and comfort is at odds with the situation I’m in. The things I’m about to do.

My inhumane tail swishes behind me as I stalk forward, the binds that once held me now snapped on the tile. My ears flatten against my head and a throaty growl rips out, directed straight at the cowering woman in the corner. Her perfectly curled hair is frizzy and in disarray. Her freshly ironed pantsuit wrinkled and crooked. If I could smile, I would. The high and mighty Miranda Kline has fallen. I settle for baring my teeth and I appreciate the wave of shivers that tear through her. My claws click on the polished tile as I trot over and crouch, ready to pounce on the threat. The voice agrees. Kill her. I continue towards her, smelling her bitter fear on the air while her tremors send vibrations through my paws. I stalk up to her and get in her face, like she did to me. I snarl right there, eyeing the wonderful vulnerable spot where her throat is. It’s time.

I move back, leaning on my back legs when the unexpected happens. The weak woman raises her head to meet my eyes, gray against feline green. I let out a snarl of disgust, but the unexpected thing isn’t her eye contact itself. It’s the reaction the contact draws from me. Through the cloud of rage and wrath, through the overwhelming need to destroy the threat to myself and my family, her eyes reach my humanity. The control is leached from my panther, shifting back to my human side, allowing for my conscience to make a coherent thought. I can’t kill her. I won’t kill her. She may have enslaved my mother for twelve years, deceived me, and almost caused the same fate to befall me, but I will not kill her. I snarl again for good measure, enjoying how Kline trembles. I may not be fully panther anymore, but I still like seeing the famous director knocked off of her pedestal. Then with a last look, I trot off and out the door. The lady didn’t even bother locking it. She won’t make that mistake again.

Exiting the room and leaving the sniveling woman behind, I glance back and forth down the hallway. There’s no one else around. No threats. I feel a growl coming up my throat before I catch myself and swallow it down. I shake my head back and forth, my tail swishing in agitation until these weird primeval urges leave. Something about being in this form sets off my instincts. Snapping my jaw open and shut, I try to get my mind back on track. If I’m going to have any hope of getting out of here I’m going to need all of my wits.

Content that the halls are still silent and empty, I prowl around the corner, choosing a random direction. I’ve never seen this part of the compound before. It’s halls are still white and boring, but the turns are unrecognizable. Just more secrets. I grumble in my panther form. How am I going to get out of this mess? I crouch near a corner for a moment, desperately trying to get my thoughts together. I can’t leave yet. If Mama is here somewhere, then I have to find her. I owe it to her after blaming her for leaving all these years. A wave of guilt flows over me. She’s family. I have to help her.

Mind made up, I keep sneaking around the halls, searching for anything out of the ordinary. I’ve never seen this part of the building, which means it’s probably secret and hidden under lock and key. My best bet of finding Mom is in here. My eyes scan the halls, scrutinizing every crack in the walls and every speck of dirt on the floors. Every now and then there’s a brand new white door, complete with pass code, but nothing jumps out at me. Even the room I was being held in had just an unassuming door. What hope do I have of finding Mama? Despair starts to tug at me from inside out. I continue to trudge along, scanning my surroundings, but this is a short wing of the compound and there are only so many halls to check.

Coming around yet another corner, I turn to the right and nearly jump out of my fur. Scrambling back into the safety of shadows, I peek my head slightly around the corner. I’ve come to the end of this top secret wing, where only a white door waits. This door, though, is lined with several types of security systems, as well as three armed guards complete with their fancy, soul-sucking bandannas. I am so glad I never put one of those darn things on. The door itself looks eerily similar to the freaky one I found on that one hallway while exploring. This must be where the regular compound connects to the ultra-secret compound where voodoo doctors experiment with dolls and blood magic. Ew. I’m glad I finally found the exit, but that also means that I didn’t find Mom’s room. I can’t leave without her. She’s been a prisoner here long enough.

I turn around to retrace my steps and look for anything I might have missed. My tail flicks out behind me as I turn, causing a gasp to sound down the hall.

“Shit! Tell me that’s not what I think it is!” Footsteps race towards me as I whirl back around to face the stupefied guards in front of me. My eyes narrow into glowing slits, my tail swishing frantically. For a second that feels like moments, no one moves. The guards are just as surprised to see a panther in the hallway as I am that they spotted me. I’m willing to bet they know I’m not just your standard panther, though. Their eyes are wide, their mouths gaping. They all look about the same to me, honestly. Brown hair, brown eyes, with the same durable builds and awestruck expressions. This is getting old. I’m growing tired of the staring contest and the feline voice inside me is dying to be let loose, so I let out an annoyed snarl. Just loud enough to shake them in their boots. Unfortunately, they’re aren’t complete idiots, though, because they don’t run. Instead, they grab their pistols from their holsters and click the safety off, eyes never leaving me.

“All right, Kitty Kitty. Let’s just be calm and go back to your cell, why don’t ya?” Disgust fills me to the brim at his condescending tone, and my panther draws up a loud growl in response. I’m not a house cat, you idiot. The guards exchange a look and make a move towards me, obviously done with playing around. Good. So am I. Without warning, I pounce onto the guard closest to me, knocking his pistol from his grip and positioning my mouth over his throat. I look up to make eye contact with the other two, ignoring the wild pleas from the man beneath my teeth. They both have their guns aimed at me, uncertain expressions on their faces. As far as they know, I wouldn’t hesitate to rip his throat out before the bullet killed me. If they care about their friend, they won’t shoot. Or I hope they won’t.

My breath is hot against the guard’s frantic pulse, and he is still desperate to seek mercy and escape my hold. The panther in me wants to exterminate the roach where he lies. The human is appalled that my mouth is near the guy in the first place. My eyes stay focused on the other two, theirs in turn locked on me. After what feels like an eternity, they lower the guns to the ground at their feet, but they make no move to kick them away. I can work with this. Honestly, I’m surprised they put the guns down at all.

Being intimidating is kind of nice.

My muscles bunch inconspicuously, and in an instant I’m on one of the other guard’s, ripping into the flesh of his knee. He screams in pain and collapses, giving me time to skid the guns across the floor before leaping at the other man. I take him down the same way before turning to the last guard: the one on the floor. He’s still on his back, staring at me as if I’m the devil himself, but he has the last gun in his hand. It’s pointed straight at my head, but the man’s fingers are fumbling so badly that he can’t get a firm grip on the trigger. I’m not about to wait for him to shoot, so I bunch up to pounce again when the gun disappears. And the man falls onto his face, losing consciousness.

I tense up and back away from the man, my worries mixing with the metallic taste on my tongue. My head is whipping back and forth, scanning what seems to be an empty hallway. Where the heck did that gun go? One minute it’s aiming at my head, and the next it’s nowhere to be found. The two injured men have also been rendered unconscious, stopping their pleas for mercy. I’m not paying attention to them, though. The smell of the guards’ blood doesn’t satiate my curiosity and anxiety. I sniff the air, searching for a scent that could give something away. The gun vanished. Not even a blur remaining. At first, all I catch is the blood and antiseptic, but then my nose snags on something earthy and fresh. I spin around, locating the source of the scent behind me. But then it’s behind me again. Huh?

As soon as a hand touches my fur, I lunge backward, fully intending to lock my jaws around whoever’s appendage that is. Instead, all I hit is air before the scent is behind me again, followed by a deep chuckle. “Whoa there, Kitty. You just looked like you could use some scratches.” I whirl around to face Cole, his face overtaken by a ridiculous grin and the gun spinning in his grasp. He clicks on the safety and then tosses it away as if it isn’t a loaded weapon. His scent wraps around me and I can do nothing but snarl at his relaxed posture, his cocky expression. He’s going to take me back. I back away slowly, a low growl leaving no doubt that I have no plans of going easily. They are not chaining me up again.

“Now, now. Is that anyway to behave?” Cole holds up his hands and walks slowly towards me, the grin never leaving his face, “I did get that gun away from the big monster, didn’t I?” Another low growl passes my lips but I’ve stopped moving backward. Cole continues to walk in front of me until he’s close enough to touch. He reaches out to pet my head but stops short when I snarl again. A warning. Cole’s smile drops, his lips thinning ever so slightly, before another small, close-lipped smile replaces it. At least that stupid grin is gone.

“Hey, you wanna try and change back? It would a lot easier to have a conversation if both of us could speak English.” A conversation, huh? Maybe he isn’t taking me back… I’m not letting my guard down yet. I suppose he could have just grabbed me if he wanted to, though. He’s fast enough. I glance down at my panther form, checking to see if I’m wearing clothes. Just as I thought. My clothes must have ripped off when I changed forms, because there isn’t a speck of fabric covering me now. If he thinks I’m going to pop up naked in front of him, then he’s got another thing coming.

I shake my head vehemently, in a gesture I hope he will understand. Cole smirks as if he knows exactly why I won’t change back before he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well then. I guess we’ll just make do. You were trying to escape, right?” My eyes widen a little bit at his bluntness before I realize there really is no other explanation for me attacking a bunch of guards. Guess I’m caught red handed. I hesitate before nodding slowly. I discreetly shift my weight onto my hind legs, preparing for a fight that may or may not come.

Cole raises an eyebrow and eyes me suspiciously. I get the feeling he’s able to read my mind or something. Can people have two powers? “Don’t worry. I’m not going to take you back. In fact, I’m going to help you bust out of this joint.” Um… What? Isn’t Cole the guy who brought me here in the first place? Why would he help me leave? I back up so I’m not so close to the liar. He has to be lying, right? Right? I eye him with distrust, curling in on myself in an aggressive stance, all while he pretends to survey his nails like someone would after a fresh manicure. This idiot. I’m beginning to think even if he did help me, I’d be caught sooner than I would have alone.

Finally he looks up to where I’m crouching, that stupid grin on his face again, “Let me guess… You don’t believe me. Well, unfortunately, Kitty, we don’t have all day to squabble. I’d say we’ve got five minutes at best before someone tries to contact the guards and comes looking for them. I may be fast, but even I can’t outrun a mob of fifty S.C. workers forever.” I don’t move from my spot, but the way Cole raises his eyebrows and taps an imaginary watch causes me to relax my posture a little bit. He seems honest enough. I still don’t know why he would even bother, but if he is helping me then I’m not going to take it for granted. I still can’t get out the fancy secure door, and I doubt I could make it past more guards anyway. I look into Cole’s icy eyes and give a small nod. His reply is a huge grin, not a sarcastic one, but a genuine smile. He holds up one finger, telling me to wait, before he zips off and out the special door faster than I can say “Avocado”. He’s back just as fast with a stack of what looks like clothes and even some over sized sneakers—thank you Jesus. He also has a small laptop in his hands, which he tucks under one arm. He quickly sets the clothes in front of me and tells me to change before rounding a corner. With at least a semblance of privacy—I’m not sure how long Cole will stay gone—I once again focus on the jungle and the peace it brings. Instead of letting myself go, though, I reign my instincts in, allowing my senses to dull. Before I know it, I’m crouched on the tile floor, exhausted and completely naked. Grabbing the leggings and T-shirt Cole grabbed, I quickly slip into them, not wasting a second. They don’t fit that great, but anything’s better than nothing.

I make a note to add super-timing to Cole’s list of superpowers because he comes back around the bend not a moment later. He walks back up to the fancy door with a straight face, doing the eye scan, entering the pass code, and completing other assorted security measures. Then he gestures for me to follow him out. I spare a look back towards the hall behind me, towards where I know Mama is waiting. I will be back for you. I promise. I turn back to Cole, who’s wearing a grim smile.

I am convinced this guy is telepathic. That, or he’s just really good at reading people. I raise my chin, staring him straight in the eyes, and then I march forward and out the door with as much dignity as I can muster. I’ve walked not even three steps when I’m grabbed from behind, swung over a shoulder, and raced through the compound faster than the eye can see.