The first time I met the Farmer, I wasn’t looking for a fight. Far from it. I was in Hobson for a spell, finding the surroundings to my liking. A nice place with a sleepy population. The parlance would be a bedroom community. It’s surprisingly busy, being dead, so I needed a break. Even reanimated corpses need relaxation every so often. Wish I knew better that it wasn’t safe. These sort of places draw the farmer.
Cinema has progressed greatly over the last several decades. The addition of sound and color did wonders for the medium, so I find myself seeing a lot of movies. You may find it a bit childish, but I’m fond of the cartoon movies. The work going into animation is a thing of beauty and I have to admire the drive of creators pouring their souls into their work. The advent of computers seems to have done nothing but improve the quality and draw more happy children into the seats. The Hobson Orpheum may not have been big, but two screens was more than enough for the town.
The film that night was a newer one, I believe. The title eludes me, but it was about a family of wolves adopting a pair of squirrels. The plot was all right, what I remember of it. Heartwarming and full of family bonding. My mind was elsewhere. Unsettled, I had an odd premonition. Anyone who’s been around as long as I have gets them. Like someone walked over my grave. My original one. Tried to ignore it and focus on the squirrels, but the feeling made itself comfortable in my head.
After the movie, the kids started filing out. Must have been a birthday party or some other event, because there were not many adults around. Just lots of young ones, laughing and having the time of their lives. Warmed my heart, or would have if it still pumped blood.
Heart almost was beating again. Body gets livelier after enough time’s passed, and I’d been a badger for a couple decades. Liked that body. A lot. Nice and trim with just the right about of muscle. Had a funny, star shaped birthmark in the white fur on my right thigh. Had the nicest blue eyes too. Miss that body.
I walked out of the theatre a little early. Could see the ending coming, so I figured I’d get out to make sure everyone leaving made it safely to their cars. Do that sometimes, especially when I had that uncanny feeling. Turned and headed toward the emergency exit near the bathrooms. Carpet back there was faded, some of the lights out. Dark, but I never mind the lack of light. Woke up in so many coffins and morgues that dark, cramped spaces almost feel comfortable.
It was clear the employees didn’t get back there much. My feet sank into the spongy, ugly carpet with each step. Hideous thing; brown with orange and black spirals dancing all over it. Some reject from the 1970s, the ugliest era I can think of. Cloudy glass cases on the wall held movie posters from the same era. Air smelled like they were waiting until the end of the night to clean the lavatories. Wasn’t strong enough to cover the smell of children, but nothing is.
Saw them filing out in a disorganized line. Lots of short, young people laughing and chatting eagerly about the movie. Seemed to like it, talking about… I don’t even remember. Probably the squirrel kids saying something funny or the wolf dad falling down. Groups of twos, threes, and fours. The only chaperone was an elderly wolf at the front of the line; probably someone’s grandmother.
One of the kids in particular got my attention. A buck that was a little tall for his height with fur a little red for his species. No antlers yet, so couldn’t have even been eight. He was walking all alone. Felt bad for the kid; I didn’t have a lot of friends when I was a boy. There was another chaperone at the end of the line, but he didn’t see me as I slipped through the shadows to follow them. Trailed them outside. Hot for that time of year, I think. Kind of lose track of the days and months when you’ve been around as long as I have, but it seemed too warm. Feeling was stronger than ever, so I kept a close eye on the kids. The little buck wandered off a ways, his attention captured by a flickering in the shadows. Probably a sensitive kid, you can tell the type. Easy to distract and guide. I followed him. Got closer. Smelled like those sour candies you get at the movies, the ones shaped like little people.
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The shadows seemed to snatch him away. Kid just disappeared. You can understand how alarmed I was. I’m a people helper, you see. When I see someone trying to hurt someone else, I run after them to try and stop it. That’s what I did.
I broke into a sprint. I’m pretty quick and can press any body I’m in to its limits. When you don’t need to worry about catching your breath or overtaxing your heart, there’s a lot you can do. Guess I’m something of a superhero. Between my magic and undead body, I’m pretty clever in a fight. Fully capable of besting whatever creature sought to hurt the poor, innocent lad.
The sound of cracking bone should’ve alerted me to something I couldn’t handle. Knew something bad was going on. He was killing the kid, tearing him apart. I looked around, but I couldn’t see him. Nasty creature. Never saw him till he was on me. Felt like someone dropped a truck on me and I’ve been hit by automobiles before. It was like he dropped out of the sky.
I remember his face, though. Almost human, but like he was drawn by someone who’d never seen one. That ugly face with angular lines and a hooked nose. Steel gray eyes that looked right through you. His lips were peeled back into a snarl with blood on his teeth. He’d been eating the kid. I raised my hand to fight him, but I wasn’t fast enough. His fist came down on my face. I felt my muzzle collapse, bones cracking into splinters with enough force to split apart the flesh and fur of my muzzle. It hurt like hell. Even being dead, I can still feel pain. Not as much as when I was alive, but it’s hard to miss having your skull burst like a melon. I was dead.
The detectives took the story in, calmly regarding Thorpe as he finished his tale. No outward signs of being rattled by it, to the panther’s surprise. He had to give them credit for that. Many would have already run away screaming from the sight of his face. Being seasoned did not set off a lot of alarm bells in Thorpe’s head. The world was a strange place and more police officers realized this than they let on. Or maybe they were not paying attention.
“Are you… familiar with these events, detectives?” Thorpe asked.
The sloth nodded. “We heard about Hobson. Happened around spring of last year. Your story checks out, especially about the buck. Found him much like you described. Bones split open and the marrow drained.”
“… He got the theatre employees too. Four of them.” The lion added. “Strangled. Did you happen to see that?”
Thorpe might have, but it seemed unimportant. He shook his head. “No, but I can’t say I was watching them too carefully.”
“They were found near the child. It would have been hard to miss.”
Thorpe felt a vague sense of annoyance course through him, but quelled it. “My focus was on saving the child. If I missed them, my apologies. I may have been occupied having my brain pulverized.”
The lion nodded. “Understandable.” He cleared his throat. “You said you were a badger back then. You clearly aren’t now.”
Thorpe had to chuckle. He was waiting for this to come up. “A complicated problem with a simple answer. While my body can regenerate over time, it does not have infinite capacity to revive itself. I heal at roughly the same rate as a normal person, if not a bit faster.” Faster still if he was well fed, but some details the police did not need to know. Too distasteful. “However, if I am damaged to the point I ‘die’, my soul shifts to another body.”
Both officers looked concerned, he assumed. It was hard to read their expressions because his vision was still cloudy.
“I can tell you are unsettled, but don’t be. I move to empty shells. Bodies where the soul has already passed on. Recently deceased and still intact. All the arms, legs, and parts functioning decently. There’s a larger number than you’d think out there. It’s a condition of mortality that people die. Well, most people.” He smiled at his own joke. The detectives offered pity smiles.
“That must be… jarring.” The sloth commented.
“It does take some getting used to.” Thorpe replied. “But, it’s better than the alternative.”
“I’d rather pass to my reward, frankly.” The lion interjected. “This world’s just a temporary stop.”
Thorpe felt his body stiffen. He passed it off. The less he thought about that, the better. “I have too much to do to pass on. May place is still here.” He tried to avoid looking awkward, but failed.
Thrope straightened up, knowing it best to continue his story. “I’d like to move on, detectives, if that’s all right with you. I have more information to disclose. Three more meetings with the Farmer.”
“By all means, continue. I’ll be back momentarily.” The lion stood up, taking his coffee cup to refill. Thorpe decided it best to wait until he returned.