Episode Seven Rabbit

R oman

I was shot in the line of duty two years ago. It didn't feel as bad as this. It feels like every cell in my body is being squeezed in a vise. And I'm burning up.

Somehow, the pain in my body isn't as bad as the grief I feel when I see the expressions on Shan and Chass' faces. They're horrified. And by the way they're looking at me, I'm the one who's terrifying them.

"Shan?" I ask.

At this moment, my mind splits in half. Part of me is watching my wife, the woman I love, as her wide brown eyes blink and her mouth opens and closes. Chass is inches from her, his expression similar to hers.

The other half of my mind is aware that I don't just feel like I was hit by a truck. I feel… different.

My face keeps twitching, and after a moment of processing, I realize I can see whiskers out of the corners of my eyes.

"Whiskers," I say because somehow that is the most salient thing in my mind at this moment.

"The shots changed you," Shanna says, trying to sound perfectly normal, though she fails miserably.

She stops talking. Perhaps she's giving me time to absorb things at my own pace.

I should muscle my way out of bed and make my way to the mirror. At the very least, I should raise my hand from my side to touch my face.

What I do, though, is sit here, dumbfounded, my gaze flipping from Shanna to Chaska and back again.

Finally, slowly, I raise my hand toward my face. Before it gets there, I catch a glimpse of my hand, which is covered in soft, brown fur.

Immediately, my body and mind stand down. It all makes sense. I got hit by a bad batch of shots and I'm hallucinating. What was that old book? Down the Rabbit Hole ? That's what's happened. I'm imagining I'm a rabbit.

The moment I lean into the idea this is a hallucination, I allow myself to have a bit of fun with it. When I cup my chin, I feel the soft fur as well as the rasp of stiff whiskers.

"I'm a rabbit," I say, my voice almost gleeful as I embrace this waking delusion. My voice sounds funny to my ears. Why shouldn't it? My mouth and jaw seem to be in a different configuration.

"Yes," Shanna says, her head nodding slowly, seriously.

I glance around the room, wondering if I'll see the walls bending, or the ceiling turn the color of tie-dye, or some other fun hallucinations.

Yep, there's Alex who's changed into a wolf. I wouldn't know it was him, except he's wearing the remnants of one of his gray bespoke suits. Although it's ridiculous, fear flies through me, causing me to shiver.

I'm a cop. I've been in gunfights. I've barged into drug dealers' apartments knowing everyone inside was heavily armed. This level of fear is something I have never experienced before. Every cell in my body is in flight mode and my brain is screaming at me to flee.

"I'm scared," I lisp. "Terrified."

A roar from outside the house penetrates the room. All of our heads swivel to the bedroom door, as if some wild beast has barged into our house.

"Sounds like mayhem out there," Chass says.

My delusion is interesting. You wouldn't think my mind would be able to multitask enough to provide feedback about anything other than this room.

"Don't worry," he says. "I've got your gun."

I'm a macho guy, and for an instant I consider arguing with him, saying I'm the one who should be wielding the gun, but even in my deluded state, I know that would be a bad idea.

"Hungry." It's a whisper from Alex.

Neither Chass nor Shanna seem to have heard it. When I reach to my head and feel long ears, I realize my hearing is better than it had been.

"Hungry," he says again. This time, it's loud enough for all of us to hear.

None of us are prepared for the wolf in the gray suit to leap the ten feet from the bathroom to the middle of the bed. Nor did I expect him to open his jaws and surround my neck with his terrifying, razor-sharp fangs.