Stealth

With Stealth and Grace, The Hunter Roams

by Mikal Trimm

Look at me. You want to mess with me?

Didn’t think so.

You see me comin’, and you know, you just know the badness is here, you smell it on me, man, you can taste the poison. I’m comin’, then I’m past you, bam, like that, and you say a little prayer under your breath, ‘cause you know the evil just walked by and let you live. Keep prayin’, little mouse, ‘cause I was cool with you this time, but next time . . .

I’m movin’, I’m motivatin’, and the sidewalk pushes me away, I’m takin’ ten-foot strides, jumpin’ like an astronaut now, and I gotta slow it down, gotta cool it off some, don’t let the cattle see the god shinin’, don’t need the worship, man. Not yet, anyway, not ‘til I ask for it. I bring it back down to Earth, rein in the power, keep it real. I just hold it inside, bottle it up, got to have some control here . . .

That’s it. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

I need a drink, and then I hunt.

* * *

Now I’m in the dark, oh yeah, this is my realm, I’m the tiger, people, I’m the big cat and you’re my prey. The music beats like the jungle heat, the lambs and rams mingle and bleat, and I’m hungry now, yes oh yes. Poor little sheep don’t even know I’m stalkin’ them.

“Whatcha want?” says the man at the bar, and I’m sayin’ I want to tear out your throat and drink the juices, I want to chew up your gristle and splinter your bones, little baa-baa, what about that? Can you put that on my tab?

“Jack and Coke.” Lucky man, you might just see tomorrow. I drop some bills and take off with the drink, movin’ around the edges of the dance floor, circlin’ the herd. The drink’s gone before I choose my victim, so I go order another, wonderin’ if they can see my eyes yet, see them glowin’ in the dark, and I’m sweatin’ already, the power is pushin’ out my pores, too soon, too soon. I gotta take the edge off, here, gotta make my own time.

I hit the bathroom, lock a stall door, and I breathe for a minute, just let some air in, I’m burnin’ up, man, the power is crazy strong tonight. I need more control, I need to tighten up here, what I’m sayin’, so I reach in my sock to find my medication, my special reserve, I call it, and I swallow the magic down with the rest of the Jack and wait.

Oh, yeah, here it is, brother, the tiger is back, and I’m smooth now, I’m on top of it. Open the stall, hit the sinks, splash a little cool water on my face, and I see me in the mirror, my badness shinin’ through, and I’m amazed all over that these people don’t see it too. I don’t look like the rest of you. The animal is right under the skin, the pale white skin stretched almost too tight to cover up the truth of me, the black hair slick as a jaguar’s coat. I stand out, man, I freakin’ resonate.

Another drink, I’m makin’ the rounds again, and I see her, my little sacrifice, my main course, and she’s lookin’ ready, getting’ off the dance floor hot and sticky, sittin’ down now and I move in, she’s mine, if she’s lucky I might even play with her for a while before I take her down, and the power is rushin’ up and my head is roaring--

“What the hell you think you’re doing, buddy!”

--and the power is too much, it’s coming too fast--

“He grabbed my tit! Carl, that asshole just grabbed my tit!”

--I overmedicated, man, the power is trapped inside, it can’t get out, and my mouth is working without me, “S-s-sorry, I d-don’t know what h-h-happened, I just uh tripped, man,” and I can’t move, I’m trying to get back control, and I see this guy’s fist just floating through the air, just ambling my way, and then it hits--

* * *

There’s blood on my shirt. My new shirt. Silk. I threw up on my shoes, too, the power and the drugs were too much for me. I hurt, my head, my neck, and I’m still dizzy from the adrenaline, but the power is resting now, back under control.

I can see the bar from where I’m sitting, waiting in the shadows in an alley across the street, and I’m not hungry anymore, not hot for the hunt. Now I’m cold, I’m ice, I’m frigging Everest here.

They come out late, the stupid ewe and her stud ram, and they’re drunk and clumsy, weaving and laughing, not looking for a car but just tripping their way down the street, and I follow them from across the way, the power a frozen lump in my stomach, but thawing . . . .

They stop at a dark corner, it’s late and the neighborhood isn’t the best but they don’t care, they can smell the musk in the air, they want to rut like the animals they are. They’re still sniffing around each other when I glide across the street, not even noticing me until I speak.

“Hey.”

One word, but the power’s working now, it’s cold and hard and so’s my voice and they look up, startled, then the guy recognizes me somewhere in his little sheep brain and he’s too stupid to be afraid, he can’t smell the danger in the air. He swells up his chest, tries to be menacing, says, “Whassa matter? You didn’t learn your lesson yet?”

She laughs, and I let him strut for a heartbeat or two, and the power is waiting for me to call it, I’m in control now. I close my eyes and release the badness.

Then I change.

And they finally get it, they see the evil, baby, they see the tiger, but it’s too late, little ones, you’ve been cut from the herd.

Smiling, I show them my claws.

About the Author:

Mikal Trimm writes stories and poems and songs. The stories and poems may be found in several publications both on- and offline, including Infinity Plus, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, NFG and Say.... His songs must be heard in person. He currently lives outside Austin, Texas, due to circumstances beyond his control.

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