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Tiger
Kristina is tense. Anger practically rolls off of her as she sits on the driver’s seat of what she calls her old, beat-up truck. Every now and again her fingers curl around the steering wheel and grip it as if she’s wishing she could tear it off and smash it against my face. Her level of distrust hasn’t subsided. If anything, she’s more cautious around me.
Would it matter if she knew what I was doing?
Castiel warned me the moment would come where I would have to take this trip with her, but I am not entirely confident things will go the way he said they would. So far, his predictions have been accurate, but he also mentioned things could take a turn for the worse when I least expected them to.
I observe Kristina in my peripheral vision. She hid a tire iron under her seat when she thought I was not looking. It’s her security blanket. As long as she has it, she will feel safe. I respect that. In her current frame of mind she needs some measure of comfort.
“It’s up ahead,” she announces, pointing to a clearing I can make out a short distance away.
“Do you want me to help you unload the truck?” I ask, hoping our conversations will steer away from how much she dislikes me.
I have never had the need to get along with any human. So far, they have been my jailors, my tormentors, but the past day has taught me not all of them are the same. Kristina, in spite of her lack of faith in me, has helped me more than she will ever know.
“This might sound stupid and all, but are you sure you want to get out of the truck?”
I nod. I have to take the chance I will be seen. Castiel was unclear as to what would happen on this day, but he was sure this ride was one I absolutely had to take.
“Okay.” Kristina’s shoulders lift. “Suit yourself.”
Trees give way to a clearing to the right side of the road. There are a total of three buildings: one large, and two smaller edifices to the left of the larger structure. Kristina veers to the right and parks in front of the brick building with large windows, and a set of double wooden doors marking the entryway.
“We’re here.” Kristina unbuckles her seatbelt. “Wyatt lives on the first floor.” She looks at me. “He doesn’t like people touching his stuff, so if you’re coming in with me, keep your hands in your pockets.”
She opens the door and slides out of the truck before I can reply. I follow her to the bed of the old, rusty pickup. After Kristina unties the wooden pieces anchored down with ropes, I pick up what she calls the headboard, and climb up the stairs.
“Turn to your left,” she indicates as I ascend the last step.
I continue along the dark, narrow hallway to my left and stop when she calls out, “This is the door.”
I wait while she leans a pair of planks against the wall to the right of the door before reaching out to knock.
A wheezy voice responds from the other side. “I’mma comin.”
The man’s footsteps approach quickly. I can hear the rapid beats of his aged heart, the hasty staccato indicating its struggle to pump blood to every vital inch of his old body as it sickens more and more each day. He doesn’t have much time left to live.
The door swings open, and a man with short, white hair, and a beard so long the tip rests mid-stomach, greets Kristina with a smile that reveals two missing teeth on the bottom.
“Kristina! How’s—” A hand reaches out to clutch the wall to his right as he doubles forward in a fit of cough.
Displeased, Kristina folds her arms over her chest and taps her right foot petulantly.
“You’ve been smoking?” Kristina asks in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to be smoking.”
“I...ain’t...smoking,” the man argues, though the smoke that fills the room behind him clearly indicates deceit.
“Right. So I suppose it’s just foggy in there, huh?”
“Ah, you’re a worrywart, Kristina. So is that Grandma of yours.”
The man straightens up, pulling on his beard nervously as his gaze finally meets mine.
“Who is this hulking fellow?”
Kristina stiffens. “Rose’s friend. Or acquaintance. I really don’t know which.”
The man ogles me for a moment, his eyes betraying his interest. He looks at me as if he’s trying to decipher me, crack every one of my hidden secrets.
“What’d she do to piss you off?” The man turns his attention to Kristina. “Seeing as you don’t call her Rose unless she’s ruffled your feathers.”
“The usual.” Kristina clears her throat. “So, um, where do you want this?” She gestures to the headboard I have draped over my right shoulder.
“You can set that over there by the mattresses.” With a finger, he points to the inside of the small living space. “I gotta say, I’m mighty happy you drove these out here on such short notice.”
I walk past the man and set the headboard, gently, on the floor.
“I’m not as young as I used to be, and pushing myself out of bed in the morning is a real pain in the ass.”
I take in my surroundings. The room is sparsely furnished. Most things appear to have a place they belong to. Aside from a few scattered papers on top of a small table to the right of the bed, there’s nothing eye-catching.
“You should have called sooner. We don’t want your back giving out on you again.”
Spinning on the balls of my feet, I face a weary Kristina. Although her words are directed at the older man, her eyes watch my every move. She’s constantly scrutinizing me. Most humans stare because they’re afraid of me, but Kristina...she puts on a great effort to learn as much about me as she can.
I am under the impression she does not scare easily nor is she entirely fooled by what she sees. Kristina is very overprotective of those she loves too. Unless forced, she will not serve as my guide, providing the help I need to get to where I need to go. I can see that now.
My mission may have failed before it had time to be put in motion.
“We’ll go get the rest of the stuff from the truck, Wyatt.” She gestures for me to join her.
I follow her outside, retrieve a few more pieces of the wooden bed frame, and carry them to Wyatt’s room. When the items are carefully laid out on the floor, I exit the room and wait for Kristina, though I can still hear them talking from the other side of the wall.
“What’s the deal with the boy?” Wyatt asks as he inspects the items we brought in.
“He’s just a friend staying with us for a few days.” Kristina tosses a troubled look my way.
“Not familiar.” Wyatt scratches the top of his head. “Is he from town?”
“No. He’s from out of town.” The lie comes easily to her.
“Is he helping you girls up there?”
“Absolutely,” Kristina replies with a nervous laugh. “Grandma would never let him just laze around the place.
“That much is true. Rose is a stickler for getting work done.”
Kristina gestures to the wooden pieces. “Listen, uh, do you need help setting this up?”
Wyatt coughs into his hand. “Would you be a dear?”
“Sure, we have time to kill.” Kristina motions with her hand for me to enter the room.
I walk in and proceed to aid Kristina in the assembling of a bed frame. A first in my book, I memorize the process, somewhat awed by my ability to use my strength to do something other than destroy lives.
A short while later, we stand to inspect the end result. The smile of approval on both Wyatt’s and Kristina’s faces a silent pat on the back for me. I have completed a project, which has pleased them both, and a sense of satisfaction washes over me.
“You need help with anything else, Wyatt?”
“Naw, I’m fine. Besides, I don’t want you snooping around, looking for my cigars.”
Kristina huffed. “I’ll burn them if I find them.”
Wyatt shoves his hands into his pants pockets. “I’ll just have to make sure you don’t get your hands on them then.”
“All right, then. Listen, we gotta hit the road now. Grandma is expecting us for dinner. You want to join us?”
The man takes one long look at me and says, “I have plans for dinner, but I’ll drop by in the morning.”
Kristina smiles. The gesture forces my heart into a gallop. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met—so strong-willed, caring, sympathetic even when she’s trying to be fierce in her protectiveness.
“I’ll tell Grandma you’ll drop by tomorrow.” Kristina reaches out and bumps her fists against the man’s arm. “And I’ll be yapping about how you were smoking and all.”
The man chuckles. “Why’d you go do that for? I don’t want her showing up here and threatening me with that Chandler again. I’m too damn old to be babysat.”
Exiting the room, Kristina waves at the man. “See ya, Wyatt.”
“You drove that old pickup down here?” Wyatt follows Kristina out of the room and into the hall.
“Yeah,” Kristina replies with a grimace, facing him.
Wyatt shakes his head disapprovingly. “It’s a good thing you brought him along. Wouldn’t want you stranded and all alone out in the middle of nowhere.”
Kristina and I exchange looks. It takes little for me to determine she would rather be alone than with me.
“Nice making your acquaintance,” Wyatt says to me.
I acknowledge him by dipping my head. Kristina did not introduce us, and I assume it was on purpose. She must have her reasons, but the older man doesn’t seem to mind.
“Take care, Wyatt.” She waves at him again, sparing a moment to glance in my direction before moving down the hall. I take that as my signal to follow her out.
Her gait is rushed as she hurries to the exit, as if she can’t wait to put some distance between us. I stride behind her. Because she’s not appreciative of my closeness, I give her the space she needs to process her frustration.
As I watch her long, brown hair bounce with every step she takes, I begin to wonder what our lives would have been like had we met under different circumstances. Would she have been so eager to get rid of me? Had the time allowed, could we have been friends?
All my life, I was encouraged to be a savage predator. I was never taught the value of friendship, or kindness. Patience, I forced myself to learn in an attempt to deal with everyday life. And even then, I’d lose it sometimes.
Castiel tried his best to teach me everything he thought was necessary, but our sessions were limited. We weren’t allowed to confer that often.
For a long time, I refused to believe humans could be good, compassionate, understanding. They seemed to be more interested in the destruction of each other. But then one of Gerard’s guards fed me when I’d been ordered to starve for a week, and I knew not everyone was like Gerard.
Kristina and Rose have restored my belief once again.
There’s a new problem I have to contend with now, dealing with this pang of guilt I’m carrying with me. I’m here for a purpose. There are things I need to do, which require Kristina’s help. But having to manipulate her in order to get her cooperation eats away at me. The last thing I want is for Rose or Kristina to end up hurt, or worse.
I break away from my thoughts as we reach the truck and pull on the handle to the passenger-side, when I feel him move behind me before I can register his presence. He sneaks up, pressing the barrel of a small handgun to the base of my spine as a familiar voice says, “Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Tiger making new friends already.”