AN: There is no actual "violence" committed in this chapter, but George and Officer Barnes do investigate a violent act that has already been committed, and since "gore" isn't one of the official warnings, I used the "violence" button.
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The few days went by fairly quietly with little or no problem. Molly and I began our regimen of pills. Frustrated still that we had to go to a vet and take pills and medicines designed for mundane animals, but we managed. And the knowledge that a human physician and pharmacy would be unprepared for what possible problems Molly and I could encounter made us accept the changes. We hoped though that in time people would accept our presence and adapt to it. Leona had long ago said there was no cure, and through our own relationship, Molly and I had learned that just because Leona wasn't going to be injecting anyone with the serum, that didn't mean that the numbers of "animal people" would remain low forever.
But that was a long way off yet, still, and Molly and I were going on a day to day basis. And so far, things of that nature had been fairly tame. Beauregard hadn't done anything and the few friends Molly and I had made seemed to be supportive still. The guy at the supermarket seemed excited about my transformation when I went in one evening to pick up a few things on the way home. I was mostly making sure Molly and I had plenty of meat on hand.
"So how did it happen?" he asked curiously.
I noticed a young mother and infant behind me in line. I figured telling him that having sex was the trigger would be inappropriate.
"I don't really know for sure," I told him in a friendly voice, "besides why would you want to be a tiger?"
"It'd be cool... I bet you can dunk," he commented.
"A basketball... yeah... but why would you want to be a tiger just to do that?" I inquired.
"To be cool and strong, and chick magnet," he replied.
That left me puzzled as I never really thought of myself as such, even when I was human. And for the most part, the interactions I'd had with women since my transformation remained strictly platonic, which was the way I preferred it. Molly was the only person I wanted to be with. And many people, of either gender still seemed nervous around me, like I would suddenly turn "man-eater". I didn't think this guy was playing with a full deck, but he seemed friendly, so I wasn't going to try and antagonize him.
"I'm sure you'll get plenty of dates on your own, without my help," I told him.
"I guess," he replied as I paid for the purchases and then made my way out.
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The next day began like any other, and for the most part was fairly quiet. But at about nine in the morning, we got a rather strange call, but one that put my heart in my throat.
"We got a reported animal attack," the dispatch officer reported.
"Animal attack?" Officer Barnes asked back, "wouldn't that be for animal control?"
"The call has described the animal as "wild" and that it's attacking the cattle," the dispatch officer answered, "I've already contacted the state game wardens. They should arrive at the location shortly. Your instructions are to secure the ranch house and get a statement from the owner. You aren't to move after this animal until after the Wardens arrive."
"Alright," Officer Barnes answered and turned the car toward the address that the dispatch officer had given initially.
"Did the caller identify the animal? Or is he/she hearing the noises from a distance?" I asked. Officer Barnes repeated the question for me since I couldn't use the radio from the back seat.
"It's a he," the dispatch officer replied, "and he's described it as a large striped cat attacking his cattle."
"A striped cat?" Officer Barnes questioned glancing back to me for the moment.
My heart was in my throat. I had left Bandhavgarh Cabin before Molly, so I couldn't guarantee that she went to the school, and my mind began to race. Had something happened that she hadn't told me about? Did someone drug her with something and this was only a reaction? I didn't know what, and that frightened me.
"Yes," the dispatch officer replied, "the caller seemed to indicate the attacker was male... but I'd assume that he misidentified the gender..."
"He'd have to..." Officer Barnes commented, "George has been with me all day."
"Molly wouldn't..." I said weakly, fearful that she had, "she couldn't..."
"We don't know who it is," Officer Barnes answered, "for all we know this is a pet from someplace."
We arrived at the ranch to find a middle aged man armed with a high powered rifle accompanied by a younger man armed with an M-16, standing in front of the door to the home. I could faintly hear the sound of something like a "roar" in the distance, but between the siren of the car, I couldn't fully identify the sound. The two men began to approach the car as Officer Barnes parked the vehicle.
"You're a sight for sore eyes, sheriff," the older of the two men spoke as Officer Barnes got out of the car.
"I'm not a sheriff," Officer Barnes corrected, "I'm an officer with the town's police force."
He then turned to open the door to let me out. As I emerged, the younger man panicked and lowered the assault rifle to fire.
"HEY!" Officer Barnes yelled and pushed he weapon's barrel away.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The three shots ricocheted of the dirt and went harmlessly away from where everyone else was, while I leaped up and back in relax, hurdling the truck of the police car.
"What the hell's wrong with you?!" Officer Barnes roared at him.
"That's what attacked our cattle, we saw it plain as day," the older man answered, "I go out to feed 'em, and I watch it kill one of my cows. I had to fire several shots to get it to run off into the hills, and it took us forever to get the herd out of the fields into a corral."
"Officer Wayne didn't attack your cattle," Officer Barnes pointed out.
"How do you know?" the younger man growled, "they ALL look alike."
"He's been with me all day," Officer Barnes answered, "now, out of curiosity, why were you armed with a heavy hunting rifle when you're going out to feed cattle?"
"You got a man-eater with you, and you have to ask me that?" the older man asked back.
"I have eaten NO men," I answered, "and I have no desire to eat "men". OK? Now put your guns down!"
"Put 'em down! My cattle get attacked and you want me to put down my gun!" the older man growled, "it should be the tiger being put down, for killing my cattle."
"And if a tiger did do it, it will be put down," Officer Barnes commented, "but that will be a job for the police and for the state's Game Wardens. Not for you."
"It did, I saw it clear as day," the older man repeated.
With the siren now off, I was able to listen for the "roar" that I could hear. I'm sure Officer Barnes could hear it as well, but I didn't know how well he could identify it.
"How far into the "hills" did you say it went?" I asked.
"It went into a ravine on the northern end of my property," the older man replied, looking agitated at having to answer my questions, "my son and I drug the carcass over to it in the hopes of drawing it out, but we had to come back to get the big guns."
The son then brandished the M-16.
I was about to say something when a large SUV arrived and two armed Game Wardens got out.
"That's him!" the younger man shouted, pointing to me, "shoot him now!"
Both wardens leveled their rifles at me, but unlike the younger ranch member, they were close enough to me that I was able to grab the barrel of each rifle and disarmed both of them.
"Great to see how you respect the law around here," I answered and positioned my chest so that they could see my badge easily.
The two wardens looked at with wide eyes and then looked down for a moment.
"Sorry, officer," the first warden spoke, "all we heard was that a tiger attacked someone's cattle."
"And as soon as an idiot claims I, a UNIFORMED OFFICER, am the attacker, you fire WITHOUT THINKING!?" I berated the two men, who slunk back in embarrassment.
"Sorry, sir," they both said weakly, "we weren't thinking."
It was then that I returned the rifles to the two wardens. The two ranch owners looked increasingly nervous like their plan was going awry.
"Can you lead us to the site of the attack?" the first warden asked the older man.
"What for?" he asked, "we know where it is."
"Mostly for identification," the second warden answered, "we'll give you a break in mistaking the officer here for the attacker as some nervousness, but we must be able to confirm what the attacking animal is."
"I guess," the older man said slowly.
He began to move off with his son behind him.
"Put down your weapons," Officer Barnes ordered, retrieving a shotgun from our squad car, "if the animal is put down, that will be the warden's job. Officer Wayne and I have their back."
"If it is a tiger, I'd rather have Officer Wayne in front," the second warden said nervously, "maybe he'd scare it off."
I only sighed.
"The "roars" don't sound like a tiger, or any one of the big cats for that matter," I sighed.
The two ranchers slowly leaned their weapons against the house and began to lead us on foot into a large open pasture area. The weather was warming up a little, but there was still a fair amount of snow on the ground. After about ten minutes of hiking, we approached an area of blood stained snow. It covered an almost wide area, and then left in a trail headed north.
"This doesn't look like an animal attack," I commented.
"Of course it was, look at the tracks!" the older owner commented.
There were cat like tracks in the area, but, they lacked anything that would make it authentic. More like someone had made a crude wooden stamp and made it look like animal tracks. And to top it off, the prints were wider then my own paws. And what sold them as a fake to me, is that they didn't sink as deeply into the snow as we were. And the wardens didn't miss it either.
"They look cat-like, but I doubt it was a tiger," the first warden commented, "the size is about right, but the depth isn't."
"Depth?" the younger man asked.
"Look how deep Officer Wayne has sunk into the snow," the first warden answered, "the indentation in these tracks would be more in common with the Canadian Lynx then the Tiger, and the pads on the toes and feet aren't visible. These look more like an outline of the foot."
"I saw it!" the older man answered.
"The blood splattering also seems to indicate that a gun was used in the killing of the cow, if a cow was even killed," Officer Barnes commented, "I've investigated one "shooting" case before. A firearm is the only thing that could do enough damage to make blood fly this far."
"I shot at the tiger to drive it off!" the older man insisted.
"It could have struck the cow with a lot of force," the younger man added, "they have to be strong to tackle cattle with teeth and claws."
"Maybe but Officer Barnes is right," the second warden commented, "the blood has gone too far away from where the cow was standing. The only possible way you could get blood this far out from an animal attack would be for the attacker to slash at the throat with its claws and goes under it. In doing so, blood would trickle off of the attacker, leaving a faint blood trail, and the bulk of it would be at the sight of the animal... and if it wasn't killed instantly, it would follow in a short trail that the animal ran."
"So?" the younger man questioned.
"The blood "splattering" is too thick here," the second warden commented, "and it doesn't look like it dripped off another animal. And while there is another trail of blood, it is not that the animal ran. It looks more like it was dragged by you and your father."
"We did drag it to draw it out of hiding," the older man growled.
"I'm beginning to think there never was an attack," Officer Barnes commented, "I'm beginning to think you shot the cow and claimed it was a tiger attack."
"Bet we can find the spent shells in the snow somewhere," I commented, "unless they've already packed the snow over where they landed."
"We did no such thing," the older man growled again, though sounding weaker, "I saw it!"
"We'll still need to see the carcass to confirm that," the first warden commented, "and we will need to something about whatever is roaring in the distance."
I wasn't so sure it was a roar, but at the moment, I couldn't confirm how far away it was. But for the moment, it looked as though this was entirely a hoax. Still, we began following the trail that the two ranchers had drug the dead cow over.
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We found the carcass of the cow about ten minutes later. Both ranchers looked increasingly nervous as we did so. The sound of the "animal" was louder now, but it still didn't sound like a roar, either Molly's or mine.
"See, can't you hear it? It's in that ravine," the older man spoke.
"It doesn't sound like a tiger," I answered.
"How would you know?" the younger man challenged without thinking.
Nearly everyone looked at him.
"I don't know how my own roars sound like?" I inquired. When he shrugged, I continued, "that isn't a tiger, it it's anything. Molly has never made that noise, and I have never made that noise."
"Sounds more like a mountain lion in heat," the first warden commented, "though the wildlife biologists have told us that they don't commonly breed this early in the year around here."
"I'll go forward and investigate," I offered.
"It it is a mountain lion, it could attack..."
"I don't smell a mountain lion, and the wind is coming this way," I answered.
I then moved forward carefully toward the ravine where I heard the the sound coming from. I heavily doubted any animal had attacked the cow, especially as if the animal had been left as bait, the attacker would have returned once the two ranchers were farther away. It wouldn't continue to vocalize anything from inside a ravine where it likely couldn't see the carcass.
The ravine didn't have too steep an embankment, and I slowly made my way into it, toward the sound. And after I came to the top of the ravine, my suspicions rapidly were proved. It was a large boom box playing a tape of recorded animal noises. Powered by batteries it didn't need a cord for the moment and was playing the noise as loud as it could. I quickly shut it off and began to make my way out. The sound alone was liable to attract Mountain Lions, and the smell of the dead animal would attract bears, wolves, coyotes, and wolverines.
The two ranchers looked down as soon as they saw me returning with the boom box.
"The whole thing was a hoax," I growled, and held up the boom box, "THIS is what's making the noise."
The two wardens nodded.
"Yeah," Officer Barnes agreed, "looking at the cow too, it was shot. Not a single claw mark on it. And the holes in the neck go clean through... like it'd been stamped... and no animal wound does that."
As I got closer, I noticed that both ranchers were in cuffs already.
"They're under arrest for wasting our time, falsely accusing a police officer, and animal cruelty," Officer Barnes sighed.
"You can't..." the younger man began to protest.
"You should have thought about it before committing to this scheme," Officer Barnes growled, "I read your rights. Please exercise them instead of arguing with me."
"We'll need to remove the body before scavengers catch wind of it," the second warden commented, "with as much trouble ranchers claim to have with wolves, bears, mountain lions, and even coyotes and wolverines, leaving the body here will only cause trouble, especially while the rest of the herd may need to be seized as well."
"You can't take my herd!" the older man protested.
"You can't care for them from jail," Officer Barnes answered.
"You take them in, sir," I told Officer Barnes, "I'll stand guard with the wardens to make sure nothing comes to feed on it... do we have any pictures for evidence?"
"We got those," the first warden spoke up, "we'll give Officer Howard a visit when we're through here."
"We've also given a call to animal control on seizing the rest of the herd and removing this one," the second warden spoke, "that'll give us about an hour."
"Alright," Officer Barnes commented, and began walking the younger man back to the squad car, "I'll be back for the other one as soon as he's secure."
"You can take the other one Officer Wayne," the second warden commented, "this area is pretty clear and for the most part, most animals won't come close while we're here."
"I'll still try to get back quick," I told him, "You never know what will happen these days."
I then lead the older man off. Part of me felt glad that it was a hoax. I didn't know what I would do if Molly went nuts.
"You'll never get away with this!" the old rancher vowed.
"Interesting, seeing as YOU'RE the criminal here," I replied and moved him along.