BlueK Dynasty: The 1st Seven Days (13 page)

Kosner patiently waited
for Leon to crack like the nut that he was. It was insane of Leon
to think he was better than them, that he somehow was special and
wouldn’t have to do the same things all the other guys had to do.
Kosner came up with a name for Leon while he waited: Looney Leon.
He smiled to himself at the thought of it.
  

Santino bit into the
heart. His hunger took over, and he was done being an instructor
for the day. If Leon wanted to resist then he could do so, and
leave while he was at it. But Leon didn’t leave, so that meant that
he was hungry and was just trying to stall.
  

As soon as Santino started
chowing down, Leon’s willpower toppled like dominoes. He dragged
himself over to the dead body.
  

Santino smiled proudly,
showing his bloody teeth. “That’s my boy!”
  

He told Leon what the best
parts were on the body and how to use his nails and teeth to break
through the bones. Leon was a natural and quickly took to biting at
the ribs.
  

“
So it’s
settled. Leon is a part of the squad, and that’s final.” Kosner
clapped his hands and dug into the third
guy.
  

“
Cheers,” screamed VIN with food dangling from his
mouth.
  

11.

The Blue-Winged
Thing
  

The first thing Kurma saw
when she woke up was the goose bumps that covered her olive skin.
The sky was clear, and the air was cold. Her hair had air dried,
and her hands and feet were dirty.
  

Kurma was naked—had been
since she’d transformed back into her original body. She uncurled
herself from her little corner by the stone hole in the wall that
served as a window. She looked out over the sill and saw the green
trees and open space. This place was peaceful, an orb inside of a
concrete sphere. She watched as the sun came up over the horizon.
The trees lit up and glowed, and the air was crisp and clean in the
park. Kurma couldn’t stay there forever, though. She needed
clothes, she needed food, and she needed her
home.
  

“
No, get
up. Go find some clothes,” she said out loud to herself. She
stretched her body and watched as the muscles tightened and
loosened. She arched her back and examined her arms. Where had the
metal rods gone? Kurma took the steps back down to the stone
museum’s main entrance. In the daylight the rocks looked ashy and
dry, brittle and crumbly.
  

Kurma poked her head out
of the entrance. Birds chirped, and she saw squirrels chasing after
one another, but no people to speak of. She remembered she had seen
some homeless people’s carts last night. She didn’t want to walk
around smelling like a bum, but at this point she had no
choice.
  

She snuck from the stone
museum and ran quickly through the bushes, toward the group of
makeshifts shacks hidden by pine trees. On the edge of the dirt
path stood shelters made of cardboard boxes, pieces of clothes, and
discarded baskets and carts. Kurma could see through the bushes
that the little community of homeless people were asleep in their
crude dwellings. She looked to the first row of shopping carts,
where she saw feet sticking out from under covers.
She
 
snuck
past the feet and looked into the cart, which was brimming with old
junk. Kurma, naked and exposed, tried quickly to find anything that
could cover her lady parts. She found dirty shirts and an old pair
of jeans, three oversized shoes that wouldn’t fit her, and a hat
that looked as if someone had thrown up in it. Kurma took the pants
and put them on, and covered her chest as she moved to the next
shanty. There she found an old bucket beside a couple who were
sound asleep, sharing a torn cover. Inside the bucket Kurma found
two old sneakers and a plaid shirt that smelled like mildew. She
kept going down the row of carts until she had a whole
outfit.
  

The last shack on the row
was the biggest Kurma had seen. It was next to a tree and used its
leaves and branches as decorations. Kurma tried to walk around the
pine cones without making a sound. She saw two carts full of junk
and wished she had come here first. These bums were loaded. Kurma
opened the flap around the shopping cart and saw chairs, bags, old
utensils, and jackpot—a big, puffy coat, perfect for the nights
when she was sleeping outside. She went to dig the jacket out when
she heard branches breaking behind her. She froze in place and
prayed she wouldn’t turn into a Raptor.
  

“
Get the
hell away from my cart!” screamed a
voice.
  

A dog barked at Kurma as
she turned to face an old woman, fully clothed and holding an old,
leather collar that could barely keep the canine in check. The dog
was so close to Kurma’s face, she could smell it had eaten human
food that morning. She bared her teeth at the beast and felt her
hands itching. The dog kept barking, and the women didn’t try to
make it stop. Kurma inched away from the cart, but then thought
about it. She needed the jacket more than the woman did; clearly
she was a bag lady hoarding stuff around with
her.
  

Kurma snatched the puffy
jacket from the cart, and the lady gasped loudly. The leather leash
slipped from her hands, and she let her beast of a dog attack
Kurma, who turned to run, her
 
feet flying out from under her
and her hair flapping in the wind. The dog was close on her heels.
Kurma ran here and there as she tried to navigate her way through
the park’s dirt roads and cobblestone lanes. The dog kept on
chasing her; she was his sport. She was being preyed on and didn’t
like the feeling at all.
  

When she realized that a
dog was the least of her worries, she stopped abruptly, turned, and
roared at the pit bull. The dog screeched to a halt, his toenails
scratching the pavement. He bared his teeth at her, his hair rising
and his tail sticking straight out. Kurma inched nearer and growled
deeply. They looked each other dead in the eye. Kurma didn’t back
down.
  

She heard a whistle far
off. The dog heard it too and all of a sudden whimpered and turned
around, leaving Kurma and the jacket alone.
  

“
You’d
better run,” Kurma screamed at its tail.
  

She walked a few yards and
saw the gamekeeper’s lodge. She wanted to watch the news, take a
shower, eat some hot food, and put on new clean clothes. But that
wasn’t going to happen. Kurma walked out onto the empty streets.
Behind her the park was a sea of green, her getaway from all that
was wrong. She might even try and camp out a few more times. When
night returned so would she, regardless of that crazy bag lady and
her dog. Hopefully her spot would remain
unoccupied.
  

Kurma walked up Vespers
Lane and noticed the quiet little bakery and coffee shops. Inside,
people were sitting, talking, drinking, oblivious to what she was
or what was going on with her. She felt like an outsider all over
again, and this time it wasn’t by choice. She had no money, and her
debit card was back at her house, so she couldn’t get food. Her ID
was at home as well. Kurma thought about waiting for her family to
go to school and work so she could sneak
 
into her room and take some
possessions without risking questions and harassment, but thought
more and realized it was the weekend—there was no school or
work.
  

As she continued her walk,
she tried to keep her head down and keep as close to the buildings
as possible. She didn’t want anyone noticing her or mistaking her
for a homeless teenager, even though that was what she was. She
entered a small, quiet, mom-and-pop café off Griselda Street. She
sat down, and a plump waitress came over and immediately filled a
cup of coffee for her.
  

“
What
are you having, dear?” the waitress
asked.
  

Kurma had no money but
didn’t think the waitress could know that. “Let me get some eggs
and toast.”
  

The waitress paused her
writing and looked Kurma over, taking in her shabby clothes and
disheveled hair. “You paying cash or credit?”
  

Kurma looked at her and
thought,
 
Free ninety-nine
. But instead she
said, “I’m paying credit.”
  

“
Our
machine is down, so it’s only cash. There’s an ATM over there,
sweetheart,” the waitress said. Kurma gave her a deadly stare,
huffed in annoyance, and got up to leave. In her hurry she
accidently pushed a young girl who was coming
in.
  

“
Watch
it, señorita,” the teenage girl said with an attitude. “There is a
thing called
 
excuse me
.”
  

Before the young redhead
could finish, her words became tied up in her throat. Her heart
skipped a beat, and she tripped over her own
feet.
  

Kurma held on to the door
as she heard the girl’s voice catch on something. She paused and
looked back, her stomach dropping as if she were on a roller
coaster. The girl stood in the
 
middle of the café with one of
her arms out to brace herself. She stumbled over into a red-leather
booth and began hyperventilating.
  

“
You’re
going to have to keep that door closed now. Don’t want the flies
coming in,” the waitress said as she moseyed over behind the
counter.
  

Kurma closed the door and
rushed over to the redhead. She looked into the girl’s face and saw
the same signs she had experienced when she was turning into a
Raptor some hours back. She looked down at her hands and knew she
had passed on this curse to the girl. She felt sorry for her, she
really did. How was she supposed to know she was
contagious?
  

“
You
have to come with me,” Kurma whispered into the girl’s ear. She
tried to pull on her arm and was met with a little
resistance.
  

“
We can
do this loudly or low key,” said Kurma. The girl started shivering
and whimpering. Kurma tried again to move her arm, and the redhead
slid across the seats. Kurma wrapped her arm around the girl’s
waist and carried her weight.
  

“
I’m so
cold… And my stomach, oh my God.” The girl sounded like she was in
agony.
  

“
Don’t
worry, I got you.” Kurma opened the door, and the two girls were
out in the crisp day, the redheaded girl dragging her feet, barely
able to walk upright.
  

“
Is she
okay?” a stranger asked Kurma.
  

“
Yeah,”
she responded, trying to brush off the concerned woman, who turned
to watch as Kurma carried the redhead off around the corner. Kurma
hoped the woman wasn’t the nosey type and wouldn’t want to
investigate further. She hated such people; they always got in the
way instead of being any kind of help.
  

Kurma and the girl
stumbled into a back alley and hid behind two huge dumpsters. Kurma
dropped the redhead in a pile of ripped plastic and dirty palettes.
She looked up in
 
between the buildings and didn’t see any windows that would
allow someone up high to see her below.
  

Kurma looked back down at
the new girl. She was really pretty, with pasty, white skin, huge
cheekbones, and a widow’s peak that made her resemble an owl.
However, her face was turning red, as was her hair. She trembled
and screwed her eyes tight. She thrashed about in the junk, and
Kurma tried to restrain her as best she could.
  

“
Make it
stop, make it stop,” the girl begged.
  

Kurma was helpless. She
looked back at the street to see if there was anyone around who
might see them. She ducked down next to the girl to shield her from
sight.
  

“
I’m
hot. I’m on fire. Please, I’m going to
die.”
  

“
No, I
promise you, you are not going to die,” Kurma said, trying to
console her. She understood exactly how the new girl felt. Kurma
felt as if she were going to die when she changed into a
Raptor.
  

Kurma watched as the
redhead’s body grew in size, as if swollen. It was working so hard
to turn from human form into the Raptor form, it doubled in
temperature, and Kurma had no cold water to cool off the process.
The redhead’s limbs grew grotesquely; some parts thinned out,
others grew muscular.
  

A noise came from deep in
the alley. Kurma looked and saw trash flying in the air. She heard
a commotion, as if someone were digging in the garbage, but she
couldn’t hear any voices; there must have been only one person.
Kurma looked back to see if the redhead had finished the
transmutation, but she hadn’t. Her wings had not popped
out.