Duval Dirtbag
The Stray
Chapter 47 - Storm’s A’Brewin’ (What’chu Doin’?)
The sun hadn’t peeked on the horizon the morning after the interrogation of the three old timers but it was making its presence felt. Red tickled the bellies of roiling clouds. The Shil’vati ships were nearly camouflaged by the deep purple of the storm that was headed to meet them on their way to Orlando Beach.
Michael ran his fingers across the shiny studded armor he was commanded to adorn. The sturdy repetition brought him a degree of calm. He, like the weather, was upset. He was wearing the armor of his own design. His neck bent awkwardly under the weight of an unfamiliar helmet. He knew it made him look like a disco ball but he wasn’t going to not wear it after seeing what happened when his armor worked “effectively”, dissipating laser fire from the wearer of the armor as intended. However, in dissipating, it reflected off of the wearer and into Joph’rena’s face.
Speaking of lasers and laser-fire, Michael was also holding a firearm. He had a feeling about it though he wasn’t sure what it was. It’s cool to be given a weapon, He thought as he anxiously checked that the safety was on again. I shouldn’t have this. I haven’t even fired one of these things. He held it aloft in his seat on the ship, looking for some sort of identifying marker. A Marine passed him and he rearranged it so that it looked like he was checking the sights. He squinted at them then looked up with a chuckle, as if he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. They knew he didn’t. But Joph’rena was making him, so he was.
Joph’rena has been revealed to be a high ranking officer in the Shil’vati Imperium, at least as far as the base in Jacksonville was concerned. She had the power to call on and use aerial combat forces at will. This would be the third trip to the Daytona beach area in as many days.
Joph’rena had enough authority to get Michael to put on reflective combat armor, arm himself and get on the ship that was currently flying into a hurricane.
***
Finley sat on the porch of the beach house where he had been secluded since his escape from the Shil’vati prison. He looked across the vast beach in front of him and took in his senses. He heard the crashing of the ocean’s waves on the beach echoed faintly by the sound of thunder in the south. The spray of water and salt barely masked the smells of mold in the dank wood. It was a nice house but it was on the beach, owned and taken care of by aging veterans, someone from the VFW no doubt and no matter their diligence, time was on the ocean’s side. The mere existence of this much water caused the wood to age that much quicker.
Finley gave his coffee mug a swirl and watched the stream rise. Beyond the steam was the storm. Clear blue sky gave way to white wisps of clouds that got thicker, darkening as he looked south.The furthest he could see south, the sky, sea and land combined into a murky dark gray. He saw dark circles form on the sand as he looked toward the darkness. Backing away from the porch railing, he pulled his robe tighter to himself. He heard the rain patter in the distance. The lighting got closer, Finley took a deep whiff of the increasing ozone permeating the salty air. He stepped into the house and closed the door when the rain fell angrily on the roof of the house.
Looking into the living room, Finley took a sip of coffee before smiling at Rachel. She’d made an exquisite breakfast: sausage, eggs, homemade cinnamon rolls with homemade frosting and the coffee which she had ground herself. Life is good, Finley thought to himself.
“Looks like this isn’t going to downgrade from a hurricane to a tropical storm.” Rachel announced casually from the couch. “TV says so.”
Finley smiled and grunted an affirmative. He then looked down at himself disapprovingly. “Not that I want to change anything,” Finley started, “But have we changed clothes since we came here?”
Rachel looked at Finley flirtingly. “We’ve taken these clothes off.”
Finley glowed. “Sure, but I feel like we’ve been wearing these kimonos or whatever they’re called for days.” He walked up to the back of the couch where Rachel was sitting.
Rachel aimed her angelic smile at him then flashed him. “Do you want to take a shower and get some new clothes?”
Finley leaned down and kissed her. “Not a bad idea if I do say so myself.”
***
Three Shil’vati ships floated over Orlando Beach silently. Sensors attuned to heat vision noted that there were two people in the shower. Their position and gyrations gave too much away on the screen in Michael’s opinion. Something in the corner of the screen was a blessed distraction.
“What’s that?” Michael asked the recon officer who was manning the screen.
The Shil’vati recon officer adjusted the view. Just inland of the cabin where Finley and Rachel were living was an odd lump of heat. The view centered on the lump. Michael squinted at the screen as though that would reveal any new information. The officer zoomed out a bit and changed the mode of view. The glowing oranges and yellows disappeared into darkness. The darkness became a shelter. The shelter view revealed a cage. The recon officer scanned the length of the cage. There was a solid rectangle on the part of the cage that met a broad walkway. The officer flipped some switches and turned some dials. The rectangle became more obviously a sign. The sign became clearer.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“What’s a jaguar?” the officer asked.
“It’s a big cat.” Michael answered, still puzzled.
The recon officer quickly flipped the screen back to heat and looked at the lump again. Michael noticed the flicking of a tail this time. “Yep. That’s a cat alright.” Michael confirmed.
The recon officer zoomed out more in this heated vision to the extent that they could see what could safely be assumed to be the property. There were several bright yellow and orange lumps in this view.
“What the fuck is this?” The recon officer was aghast.
While the heat view was open and the screen zoomed out, white streaks of lighting jabbed in the south. Michael chuckled mirthlessly. “This is a big cat ranch.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are people here who…” Michael had to search for the right way to say it. “Are crazy. They keep lions and tigers, jaguars and the like, in a kind of zoo.”
“Why?” The recon officer asked.
“Two reasons, I reckon.” Michael suggested. “One, people love exotic animals, especially furry ones.” Michael and the officer took a passing glance at a Rakiri who was preparing themselves for landing. “Two, Humans are fucking crazy.”
“What’s so crazy about them?” The officer asked. “They seem to be sleeping.”
Michael smiled. “It’s true. They sleep most of the time. When they aren’t they’re hunting. And scary.”
“If they sleep most of the time, wouldn’t that be boring?” The officer asked.
“Yeah, probably so.” Michael glanced at the Rakiri again. “Sometimes they roar.”
The ship lurched. The pilot came on over the loudspeaker. “We need to move before the weather hits us. Prepare to make contact.” Michael clapped the recon officer’s back in thanks then headed to the tailgate.
Clouds swept low in the sky over the ranch. Michael felt like the shiny armor they were wearing wasn’t effective in the dark as any light at all reflected off while they moved. That said, they knew that their targets were occupied in the house. The fear creeping up Michael’s spine now was that the light they were reflecting would catch the attention of the big cats. He tried not to think about it. Not that he was afraid of lions or tigers, but he wasn’t in a hurry to piss them off.
Michael heard the voice of the recon officer in his earpiece. “There’s no obvious traps around the house but we can’t be too careful.” He agreed as he felt individual drops of water fall on him. Dime-sized circles formed on the gravel and sand on the walkway toward the house between the cages. He heard thunder creeping nearer.
The troops also noticed another sound. There was lightning. There was thunder. Then there were other booming noises soon after.
“Are those explosions?” Michael asked.
The troops around him shushed him, then one gestured at a button on their neck. Michael heard Joph’rena’s voice in his earpiece. “Don’t use your voice. Use these.”
Michael looked around in shock. He didn’t know Joph’rena was on this mission as well. He reached up to tap the button at his throat and whispered. “Shit. Sorry! Were those explosions?”
“Yes. I heard you the first time.” Michael could hear the annoyance in Joph’rena’s voice.
“What’s exploding?” Michael whispered back.
“Hard to say at this point, but it’s happening pretty regularly.” The recon officer from his ship responded into their ears.
“How regularly?” Joph’rena’s disembodied voice asked in Michael’s earpiece. He still didn’t see where she was.
“One explosion every thirty seconds.” The recon officer replied. “And from the scope, it seems like it’s happening down the whole coastline.”
Another voice he recognized to be Bel’a chimed in. “This is Orbital 2328. We’re getting a lot of distortion from the hurricane, but can confirm that there have been larger than normal heat indicators along the path of the storm.”
Michael thought mirthfully about how the Pack was dispersed but still together in that they were all on this task. He then spoke the obvious. “This is big.”
Michael cringed at the tone of Joph’rena’s voice that answered him. “No shit.”
“I mean,” Michael tried correcting. “Blowing up a racetrack is a concentrated area.” He paused in thought. “Blowing up an entire coastline is chaos.”
“They’re terrorists.” Joph’rena replied flatly. “This is what they do.” Michael continued to search the faces of the troops around him.
Rain drowned out any more thoughts of conversation from Michael. The sprinkle was now a deluge. A handful of troops had settled on the porch of the house where Finley and Rachel were. Michael joined them. Recon confirmed that the pair were on the couch facing the front door.
Just as they were about to breach the door, there was a loud popping sound and the power went out around them. It didn’t deter the Shil’vati troops from continuing to break down the front door. They spread through the room with guns leveled in the direction of the couch.
They paused.
An unfamiliar female voice whispered into Michael’s earpiece. “Um. Aren’t these terrorists supposed to be Human?”
Joph’rena answered. “One of them is supposed to be. The other is a Rakiri.”
The unfamiliar voice continued. “Yeah. One of them looks kind of like a Rakiri, but he’s not wearing any clothes.” Michael’s imagination ran wild.
Annoyance seemed to be all that came out of Joph’rena’s voice. “Not terribly surprising considering what we saw them doing in the shower.”
“I know that this Human was larger than average.” Michael thought that that was putting it politely. Rachel was a thicker milkshake for sure. The unfamiliar trooper’s voice finished their question, “She also seems hairier than any other human I’ve seen.” Michael thought that this was a real heel-turn from being polite. Rachel isn’t unusually hairy. This seems rude!
Michael braced his rifle in front of him and turned from the outside of the door, into its frame, aiming inside at the couch. He turned pale. He slowly backed himself away from the doorframe and lifted his hand to his throat. “That’s not Rachel.” He whispered.
“What do you mean ‘that’s not Rachel’?” Joph’rena practically growled.
“That’s a wolf and a bear sitting on a couch.” Michael practically whimpered.
“What’s a bear?” Joph’rena asked, then more firmly added, “Where are Finley and Rachel?”