Roswell Fanatics

Title: Curse of the Cat
Author: ken_r AKA ken242 AKA kenr AKA Kenneth Renouard
Genera: canon you need to know the three years of the TV show to understand the story completely.
Couples: M/L M/M
Rating: Mature, adult if you want to count the violence. This is a story of lycanthropy and I make no apology for the content. Messing with were-creatures can get bloody.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine I am just extrapolating the story further.
Summary: After graduation, the FBI is gone, everything settles down. Then, Kivar shows up. He kidnaps Isabel and disappears. Kivar has taken a curse from the Amazon. He is killing the villagers with Isabel’s unwilling help. Kivar better watch out. There are people there, who can shrink him down to size. I think this is the best Maria I have written.



Curse of the Cat

As the sun sank below the horizon, or it would have if there had been a horizon there in the jungle, the cat became fully awake. Her memory of the woman she had been, just a few minutes before, had faded into that non-abstract mind that she now possessed. She stood and stretched. Her forefeet extended and her head lowered as she yawned. Her mouth was wide open, her white teeth glistening as she growled in contentment. Her toes spread and her claws extended as her muscles rippled down her sides. She stretched with her hindquarters high in the air and her tail twisting that mysterious way a cat has, telling of her emotions and intentions in some indecipherable code.

She was between the size of a lynx and a mountain lion, a mountain lion from North America. Here in the South American jungle, mountain lions, or cougars, tended to be fiercer and also bigger. There was a thin chain about her neck. The chain bore a black enamel pendant that had a double spiral of silver, slightly flattened on one side printed on the black surface. Of course, she barely felt the chain and would not have had any idea of its meaning if she had noticed.

A naturalist would have had a hard time classifying her. She definitely wasn’t a jaguar. Though her coloring was closer to a cougar, it was much darker than the normal color for such cats, but she definitely wasn’t a black, melanistic form of any cat. Both the jaguars and the cougars sometimes were all black. Her fur was baby fine and a dark brown in color. It was very different from the normal coat of a cat. It was a reminder that she was more than just a cat. As she stirred about her sleeping platform, she smelled the woman she had been. She nuzzled the ripped clothes scattered about the platform. The clothes meant something to her, but her mind was not able to understand what. Looking up, her brown eyes, rare for a cat, which more often has yellow or green eyes, she aw that she was inside a house and standing on a platform. Outside, there was a man. Immediately, she became guarded when she sensed him. Her cat mind couldn’t grasp much except for what was actually about her.

Her memories were vague and not abstract. She wished to feed when she was hungry, attack or run when she was frightened or threatened and to rest most of the other times. Occasionally, she would have desires to mate. She understood none of these. The cat just lived, as did most animals, for the day or the minute, better corrected, for the night. The feelings of mating were useless since there were none of her species to be found. There weren’t any like her anywhere and her species would change, hopefully, with the rays of the morning sun. She was truly unique.

She made the short leap from the sleep platform and softly padded through the door. The man was watching her as she did she walked out. She had no reason to attack the man. He wasn’t a threat nor was she hungry. She just watched him as she proceeded. Every evening, it was the same. She would leap into the tree near the house. Quickly scrambling to the top she would paw at the bars above her. She couldn’t get a purchase on the bars to lever her self up and out the top so as soon as her mind was refreshed of this fact, she again scrambled down from the branches. The tree trunk had become ripped by her claws repeating this so many times. As she did every evening, she made the rounds of her cage. She determined that there was no way out. There was no weak point to investigate. The cage was perhaps a half-acre in size. The small house was near the center.

Crossing to the edge of her domain, or prison, her mind didn’t know the difference. The cat smelled her scent patch at the edge of the cage. She squatted and refreshed the scent. Then, she proceeded around the perimeter doing the same to each and every scent patch she had left the night before. She was also checking to see if any creature had invaded to challenge her home. There were scents of men, but they were hours old and did not offer her any danger.

Satisfied that there were no surprises waiting for her, she surveyed the man waiting near the house. She walked up to him. He showed no fear, but he waited for her to make the first move in accepting him. She brushed against him, rubbing her left ear against his trousers. Again, she was placing her scent marker on him as well, from the glands behind her ear. In some way, she had just stated he was hers. The Man whispered as he knelt holding her massive head, “Liz, don’t leave me. Please comeback,” he cried. His tears were falling on her beautiful body.

He scratched her behind both ears and along her jaw, releasing more scent upon his person. The man so carefully, because the cat must never feel she was being captured, put his arm around her. He held her for a minute. This was a strange act to the cat. She saw no purpose in it. As long as he didn’t appear to be challenging her,` she allowed it. After satisfying herself that she was in control, the cat began to cast her glance around.

Suddenly, in the manner of cats, she bounded up the tree, then down. She bounded to the fence line of her cage, bouncing off the bars, then running around the perimeter leaping as if she was desperate to get out. It was almost as if she had somehow gone crazy. The man had witnessed this every evening for as long as they had been together. She was exercising in the only way she could. She had been making gutteral noises the whole time, sounds of contentment, not a scream or a roar of the big cats, when they are excited. Big cats, normally, do not purr. That is an act of their domesticated cousins

After all this she would sit on another bench and carefully groom herself. As she groomed her paws, she tasted the dried blood of the woman. The cat cast her eyes about searching for the woman. This was the second time tonight she had sensed the woman. First, she saw the clothes. Now, she tasted the blood on her paws. This was a confusion because the woman seemed to be part of herself. The cat had trouble with any concept this abstract.

All the time the cat did these things, the man gazed at her with tears in his eyes. This beast, so beautiful, had taken the place of his love and he could only hope that his lover would return with the dawn. He could also only hope that the cat would not attack him during the dulling of her brain when her human senses were the most subdued.

The sun had now completely gone down. It was dark, but for her, her eyes had opened and she could still see almost as well as she could in the day, the day in which she was never to actually exist. She was a cursed creature of the night. Soon, she would tire of the things of the cage and she would enter the house and, going to the sleep platform, she would curl up her tail over her nose and take a restless sleep. No matter what form she took, the creature needed rest. The effects of the day, when she would be awake in a different form, took their toll on her body. The man would follow her and lay beside her. The man beside her was a disturbing effect. Again, she accepted him for some hidden thing deep in her being. Big cats of her type usually were solitary. It seemed right for him to curl up beside her. Usually, he would have one arm over her body and thus, he would sleep. The cat would consider this then she, also, would again sleep. Maybe deep inside her, there was something that drew herself to him.

Sometimes in the night, she would be awakened by some noise in the jungle around her. She would carefully get up and investigate the night noise. She would check the perimeter of the cage, but finding no intrusion that would concern her, she would finally come back to the platform with the man. He troubled her. She didn’t know why. She would sniff him and sometimes awaken him with her nose or her damp breath. When he awoke, he was always careful to make no quick moves. When the cat was satisfied, she would then lie down beside him and go back to her light restless sleep.

The mornings were the most painful, both mentally and physically. The first thing when the metamorphosis that was taking place started, was that her mind slowly changed to that of a woman; then it turned to fear. She had that terrifying thought of seeing Max, dead his throat torn out and his half eaten body in the compound before her. Then, as the changes took place, there were the physical pains. Her feet and hands hurt the most. She would watch sometimes as the paws of the night before slowly softened into the gentle hands of the day. The claws going back into her body and bleeding as they were replaced, by the human nails. Every transformation involved blood.

Max, always waiting until the women, was again, in control, would go to the creature. As she was completing her transformation, he would hold her. As her face became human, Max would nuzzle her hair. He had gotten so he could tell when the pheromones of the animal changed to those of the woman. It was always the same. Max welcomed Liz back with tears. You would think that he would have no more tears after so long a time, but like so many living unsure lives, Max could only take one day at a time. Every morning that he could hold her meant that they had had one more success. Soon, her naked body would be held tightly against himself. At that time, Max would feel her arms struggling to grip him. Her grip was as if she was pulling herself into the world of normalcy. Yes, normalcy, how they both yearned for this. Even fleeing the excesses of the special unit, they had been together. They could talk and whisper love to each other. It had never been like this.

Max, now, would massage her hands and feet with lanolin to help soften them faster. He also massaged the base of her spine at her butt where the tail retreated to where, she did not know. The final return unlocked some hidden part of her cat memory rapidly turning into human thought and brought her closer to him.

Yes, this was the most difficult time as she was coming back into a rational mind, which tried to make sense of what had happened to her. Once the relief took over that she hadn’t killed Max, the happiness of seeing him once again was felt. There were times at that morning light, when her mind was changing from the cat of the night to the woman of the day that some of her memories returned. She was starting to remember where they were located and all of what had happened to them. The man and woman didn’t have a great amount of private time together before the Indians brought them their rations. As soon as she had completely transformed, Max would help her dress, always in a new dress. Every morning, she had a new dress, because when she reverted back again into the cat, the next night, she would shred the old one. That was the last reminder she had as a woman and the first sensation she had as a cat.

The local Indians were not bringing the gifts as offerings to a god, even though they believed that she had been changed by a god. They brought food to Max, who was a doctor. They knew he loved Liz, so they felt compassion as to their fate. Max returned his ability as a doctor to the local population at the clinic that they had established. Most of the people didn’t want Liz to touch them, but they tried to be respectful of her. Several of their soldiers were with Michael trying to catch the wizard and reverse the spell. Michael and Maria had been gone for some time.

Now, she was fully back in human form. Liz would eat while fingering the chain and its medallion. Max told her to never take it off. It was the piece of jewelry that Isabel had found at the house of Atherton. It was also something from Max’s past that might help the cat return back to Liz.

The amount of food she would consume would have made a normal woman gain weight to where she would be a freak. Women in the normal world didn’t loose as much blood nor expend as much energy as Liz did when she made her two changes every day. The Indians also felt that by keeping her well fed in the form of the woman, she would be less inclined to need to feed nightly as a cat.

The Indians always feared, the same as Liz, that they would wake up and see the doctor they knew, dead and consumed in the cage. No matter what they said, Max refused to leave her during transition. He felt she needed him to guide her or she would return to the wild and not make the transition back to him.

Max, also, set apart a time to make love to Liz every day. Sometimes, their love making was just tactile touching. Sometimes, this was difficult because of the rush of villagers needing his attention. The local shaman who seemed to always be attending them would hold the patients back telling them that if the doctor didn’t take time to be with Liz, they might no longer have him. Max would lead Liz back into the small cottage and, in privacy, they would do whatever they both felt would endear Liz to Max and more importantly, create in Liz the love for Max strong enough to endure the transformation of the night.

The shamans had instructed Max that the cat must not feel frustration nor could she be allowed to conceived. When Max asked what would happen if she did conceive in the form of a woman, the shaman just shook their heads. The baring of cub or child would kill one or the other even if neither birth was carried to term. The mixed hormones would just be too much for the already confused body. Max had ordered a supply of birth control pills, he must have all the intimacy he could with her, but there must be no conception as long as Liz must alternate between the two worlds.

Max, with all his training, could only go along with what he was told. Nothing that had happened to his wife made logical sense in his world of medicine. Max could only trust the knowledge of the native men who at least understood and believed what had happened to her. He dared not allow anyone in the outside to know about her. They would think he was crazy along with Liz. Max, himself, could almost not believe what he witnessed twice every day. This was a tale out of the middle ages. It was a tale that they were living out, deep in the Brazilian jungle.

They called Max doctor, but he couldn’t fool himself. Max had been in his first year of internship when he was called to search for Isabel. Max had quickly left, back at home, any chance for the future he had planned. That is what a king does when his subjects are in trouble. When that subject is his sister, it became even more important.

The people of the village came when they saw the woman sitting in her proper form, in the mornings. Until they could see her, they never would enter the cage. Max was the only one who had any safety with the cat. If the cat made a kill, she likely would find her next transition difficult. The cat must survive, but if the cat experienced too much of the feline life it might not return, killing would become a part of that life. That worried Max. Had the cat already killed?

Sponsorship for the clinic Max was running, had been picked up by a church group, back in the states. That allowed Max to expend any personal funds in the search of the wizard. It allowed Maria and Michael the opportunity to scour the jungle looking for signs of the wizard.

The church sent young ministers, but many of them soon returned. Their faith was just not strong enough to face the reality weighed against modern education and knowledge. Their faith in their church and their faith in their education was tested in the jungle. The clinic Max was tending was up-river from the church’s main ministry and hospital. They had taken Max on as a doctor as a favor for their lawyer. It was made easier because Max did a good job. His interest in native stories was disturbing. The missionaries joked privately that Max was going native. The missionaries did not yet know of what had happened to Liz.

The small army of shamans, Indians, who insisted in accompanying Michael and Maria, did so of their own will. They feared allowing the wizard the run of their world, much more than they feared the wizard himself. The Indians felt that they were fortunate that these white people were willing to lend their resources in this venture. Many white people, in the experience of the Indians, would have just left the country, giving no concerns to the evil that had found them there. Having stirred up this evil, the whites would usually return to their own country leaving the native people to suffer until the evil could be expelled. The local people had decided that these Anglos were not responsible for the evil, but the evil was associated with them in some way. It was good that the Anglos wanted to eradicate the evil, fighting beside the villagers.

Liz’s folks had died. That was a blessing. How could they stand the torture their child was enduring, if they had found out. Jesse had been informed that Isabel was probably dead, but they gave him no certain comforting facts that he could use to move his life on. He gave dutifully to the cause. He supported them in many ways. In the few messages Max sent him, he always said he feared they might have lost Isabel. He hadn’t seen her body and the Indians acted strangely when he asked them about her. Max wondered how he would, eventually, tell Jesse. Not only, that Isabel was actually dead, but also, how Max thought she had died. At least, Max believed she was dead, but he didn’t yet declare her death and officially death needed the declaration of a doctor. There were no reliable witnesses as to what might have happened. There still was no body. When Max questioned the Indians of the region, he was again faced with that cryptic message of degrees of death. They would shrug and say, “Maybe, only dead a little.”

Kyle had been hurt back in Roswell. Max had done all he could to heal him, but the damage to his body had been alien and it was all Max could do to put Kyle on the road to healing. Much of what he must do, Kyle himself, must undertake. That took faith and concentration. Max guessed that the preparation of his study of Buddha would be needed to guide his body. Jim, his father, had stayed in Roswell to care for him.

Alex, their friend and first love interest of Isabel, had been cruelly murdered, by the fourth alien, Tess. In trying to escape the Earth she had pushed the mind of Alex beyond human endurance. Then, she had tampered with the evidence trying to make a cover up of either suicide or placing the blame elsewhere for his death. There were many machinations involved with Tess, but finally, she destroyed herself in desperation. Isabel hated Tess for what she had done no matter what were her declared intentions. Isabel now had Jesse, but Isabel would always feel guilty for not treating Alex better.

The group had dodged federal authorities and finally, with the understanding help of their parents, they had separated themselves from the FBI studies. Most of their legal problems were taken care of by Philip Evans, Max’s father and Jesse Ramirez, Isabel’s husband. They were both lawyers and the use of law was what it took to protect the aliens of the group. Philip Evans and Jesse Ramirez were called on to make the ultimate sacrifice. Philip’s daughter and Jesse’s wife was now missing. Max was in such a fuddle that he didn’t know what to say to them. Isabel was not with them and they hadn’t seen her, more than that, Max didn’t know.

Every morning, Liz worked on the question of Isabel. Liz would gain a sentence, a fact or a word that Max would record and wait until she gave him enough to form a story of some sort. Liz was only open to that part of the cat’s mind for a few precious minutes in the transition time. She had to concentrate on this while undergoing the pain of transition. Max listened to all that she said. It just wasn’t coherent yet.

As the day progressed and the sun sank, at least Max understood it was going down behind a horizon somewhere, the women of he village would bring a final meal for Liz. Her first and last meal of he day was usually fruits and fresh vegetables. It was for her mid-day meal that they brought meats. They wanted the carnivore in her satisfied, but they wanted her last meal to be a meal, which would not stimulate her hunting instincts. In this, Max accepted the knowledge of these people. Nothing he had studied in medical school helped him while caring for his wife.

As the skies darkened Liz felt her mind stiffen. The flexibility of the woman gave way for the Id of the cat. She would always touch her medallion. The medalion and her clothes were the last thing she knew every evening. The cat couldn’t feel or see the medallion and strangely, as the cat groomed her self, she never broke the chain. As Liz faced the metamorphosis of the morning, always fearing what she would find that she had done in the night, Max had to fear the metamorphosis of the night when he had to watch his beloved wife turn into the wild beast. He could only hope that enough of something would remain for her not to attack and kill him.

“Señior Max, she is your woman. If you do not want to loose her, then you must always call her back. She may come back to kill you, but without your calling, she will drift away. She will drift away into the wild,” they had explained to him that first night. “If she goes the path of the cat, she will become very dangerous and we will have to kill her. Those who travel this path have no fear. They also hate those left in the world of men. If she does not return as a woman, she will return as a cat, a cat who will kill. She will hunt you and never know why. The mind of the cat will be just filled with death.”

They softened their tone, “You can wait outside the cage, but then, you might not be close enough to call her. No matter what you do, it might not be enough. She will always have a touch of the cat.”

Keepsmiling7
Nibbles2
xmag
begonia9508
L-J-L 76
martine I so much hope you are still ok
jake17
destinyc
Janetfl

Chapter 2

Several months earlier:

It had all started in Roswell. Max had managed to get a way a few days before starting his internship. He was well on the way to becoming a doctor. He had been a mystic healer all of his life and now, he was earning the opportunity of understanding the actual healing process.

The Federal authorities no longer were interested in them. This was a time when life finally, seemed good. Isabel was living in Boston with Jesse, her husband. She had arranged to take a few days off and return to Roswell. They would all be together for a short time. They were all going to examine what their lives could now become. It seemed, for the first time, that life for all of them, now had a future.

Maria had taken off from her singing tour schedule and with her constant companion Michael, they also returned. The only sadness for Liz was that her parents had passed away earlier in the year. Maria’s mother had lived with Jim Valenti, Kyle’s dad, long enough to see Maria find a place on the singing tour circuit. She also, lived long enough to see that Michael was the one final choice for her daughter. Maria felt terrible when Amy died, but on reasoning it out. Amy had been able to raise her daughter successfully and was able to experience a stable love with Jim. Many of her radical friends were not able to do either of these things. They had died alone and bitter, unlike Amy. Maria finally stated, her mother had a good life and she would be happy for the time she, Maria, had been able to be Amy’s daughter.

Kyle had been lost for most of the years since he was the boyfriend of Liz in his sophomore year in high school. He did obtain a college degree in physical education and vhe had been teaching at the high school in Roswell. Kyle dated from time to time. There were many young teachers in the system. He never was close enough to any of them until this year. He had been dating a young English teacher named, Serena Troy. Yes, that is right, she was the little sister of Pam. She was as different from Pam as night and day. Kyle was really into her company and he was looking forward to announcing their relationship sometime soon, when he was with everyone he knew. He didn’t bring her to the meetings they had now, but he had wanted to. The meetings tonight were mostly to discuss the safety and future of the group.

The group settled mainly around the Evans household. The elder Evanses now were completely aware of the group, what they had done and whatever weirdness they possessed. In the court cases against the FBI along with Jesse, Philip had seen what his children had feared all through high school.

Jim Valenti kept up with the activities of the group, but since Amy died, he had very little interest in what was being done. Jim was now content to see the days drift by and, except for the activities of Kyle, he had little interest in what was going on in the world. He sent word that Kyle would inform him of everything pertaining to the aliens, but Jim just wasn’t any longer doing any activity that couldn’t be accomplished by the TV remote.

Maria was entertaining the men folk with tales of her tour. Their laughter and shouts of disbelief could be heard in the kitchen. Isabel and Liz were helping Diane prepare the dinner and set the table. Kyle, as usual, was taunting Maria. If it had been anyone else, Michael would have interfered. As it was, Michael saw them as quarrelsome siblings and kept out of their bickering.

Liz and Isabel had decided they loved the same man. Isabel loved her brother and Liz had made him her husband. When they were together, many times they were talking about Max. Now in the kitchen with Diane, there were three women all planning his future.

“When Max is through his residency, maybe you can come to Boston,” Isabel stated.

“Oh no, Isabel, having you so far away from home is hard enough. I was hoping that he would find a place nearer,” Diane exclaimed.

Liz was laughing, “We have been talking about being someplace where I can return to school.”

“That settles it then, the best schools are near Boston,” Isabel exclaimed. She felt that coming east would be the best for Max and Liz. She knew that having them near would be good for her.

Liz was serious, “The schools there are so expensive.”

“Yes,” Diane stood and looked at the two girls. “If you stay somewhere close, the tuition will be much less. And, if a grand child was to came along, I would be here to help you.”

They heard someone ring the doorbell. Liz was taking the roast out of the oven, Isabel was preparing the dessert and Diane was up to her elbows washing the dishes to make sure they would be ready for dinner. Max and Philip had always told her that all you need do was dust them off. But, Diane insisted that they should always be washed. Sitting on the shelf, no telling what had settled on the dishes.

“You guys, can one of you get the door?” Diane shouted. The three women could hear Kyle expounding on something and the explosive interjection of Maria disagreeing with him.

“Oh, I will get it,” Isabel said as she set the dessert dish down on the dining table. Isabel walked into the room, but Kyle, still arguing with Maria, was almost at the door.

The doorbell rang again. There was a lot of good-natured argument in the living room about Kyle opening the door. Isabel had entered the room just as Kyle made some rude comment. Then, he proceeded to the door. He opened it and a cold chill ran through the house. Diane and Liz in the kitchen felt it. Those in the living room right at the door were almost petrified. Standing at the door was a handsome man in his late forties. He had blond curly hair and the brightest blue eyes seen since Tess was part of their group. It was almost as if a male version of Tess was standing there.

He was a stranger, so Kyle didn’t step aside as he asked him his business. The man did not even look at Kyle, but over his shoulder at Isabel who stood like a statue in the middle of he room.

“What is your business, sir?” Kyle asked again.

“Vilandra,” the man hissed. He started to step into the room. The only man who would know this and say it this way was no man, rather, he was an alien named Kivar. Come to think of it, there had been some talk that Tess hadn’t really been a clone. Somehow, the aliens had the idea that she actually was the sister of Kivar. Now seeing this man, they could well believe it.

Kyle did not give way. Michael and Max immediately stood up. Michael pushed Maria down on the floor and with part of his power, he held her there. Maria was furious, but the pressure Michael put on her kept her powerless. Philip saw that he was in the middle of something he had no ability to fight, so he sunk to the floor with Maria.

Kyle was mad by this time, “Who the hell are you mister? Speak up or I will throw you out in a pretzel hold,” Kyle shouted.

For the first time,`` the man looked at Kyle. It was as if he hadn’t even seen Kyle standing in the doorway, before. There was a tremendous thunderclap and Kyle was on his back, his arms twisted weirdly and smoke rising from the flesh of his chest. The room was filled with the acid smell of burning flesh.

Diane, hearing the commotion, was wiping her hands on her apron. She started to go into the living room when Liz caught her arm. Isabel was already in the room. Things did not seem to be going well. Liz put her finger to her lips and motioned Diane to be quiet. There was little the two human women could do.

There were now two more thunder claps and the smell of ozone was strong. Max and Michael had both loosened blasts of their own. The man had been shaken. Max didn’t think the man expected them to fight back. Now that her initial shock had been broken, Isabel powered up with blasts of her own.

There were no flames, but all of the electronics and most of he furniture in the front room were now in ruin. Power blasts were being traded back and forth. Kyle was still on his back, but he now was groaning. The stranger was stronger than any one of the aliens. If they could coordinate, they might beat him. As the aliens were recovering for another round, the stranger hit them all, all but Isabel. Max was crippled as he rubbed his arm. Michael was preparing to give his best when the stranger directed his blast to Maria on the floor where Michael was holding her. Michael put everything he had into a shield for Maria. There was a final thunderclap. Michael and Max were now both on the floor. The stranger simply walked to the frozen Isabel and hoisting her over his shoulder, he left.

Philip crawled over to check the vital signs of his son. Liz and Diane now came into the room. Liz went first to Max. In her arms, he seemed to heal faster. Then, Max went to Michael. When she quit shaking, Maria was unhurt and able to stand. As soon as Max was assured that Michael could stand guard, he went to Kyle and started to work on him.

The neighbors had called the police at the 911 emergency phone number, for the first blast, the second and each blast there after. They were not used to the usually quiet neighborhood being rocked by explosion after explosion. By the time he police arrived, the story given was that someone using explosive had attacked the house and kidnapped Isabel.

Kyle was started on his way to recovery. Max couldn’t carry out the complete recovery,` so he taught Kyle’s body how to function with the healing process.

It was a completely angry Maria who was now sitting back on the floor. “As usual, I am just pushed out of the way. What good am I to this group if I can’t do something to help in times of danger?” she screamed. All efforts of Michael trying to calm her were rebuffed.

It was midnight when they finally called Jesse. It was 2:00 AM back in Boston. “Jesse, Isabel has been kidnapped. Yes, it was an alien. The whole Evans’ house was destroyed. Yes, the police are on it, but we don’t know what good that will do. Yes, it would probably help for you to come to Roswell as soon as possible.” Max rang off. He had grown past that adolescent feeling that he had to be in control of everything. Here, Max would gladly give into someone who knew what they were doing.

It took a day to close down his office and get to Roswell. Once in Roswell, Jesse began to piece things together. The local FBI had organized Philip and Diane for listening to the phone for a ransom note. It took three days for them to admit that this was probably a mistake. Isabel was not being held for ransom.

When Jesse arrived, he started organizing a worldwide satellite search.

Kivar might be powerful, but he wasn’t very smart Earth-wise. Isabel had her cell phone in her pocket. Jesse was able to get a pinpoint location on her by satellite. They were in the Amazon forest in South America.

“Amazon, what the hell did he take her there for?” Max was both frightened and angry.

Jesse just shook his head, “We are assuming that it was Kivar. We don’t have the slightest idea of what he is trying to do.

Michael was looking at a map in the Evans’ atlas. The location was up one of the tributaries of the Amazon.

The atlas explained: The Indians of this area live in small groups. They have contact outside their village by supporting an exogamous system of marriage. There were linguistic and cultural groups along with political alliances. Much like the Native American tribes in North America they lived in a constant state of mild political turmoil. It would be an injustice, as many would be inclined to do, to pass the population off as a poverty-stricken people, trying to survive, in spite of the constantly advancing progress of the state. They were a proud people trying to find their place in both their own and in modern society

Jesse looked up. “I guess that I will be taking leave for a while.”

Max put his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “Jesse, I know you want to go to save Isabel. If we confront Kivar it will be strictly alien against alien. There would be little you could do. You would be of much more service here. Jesse, you can make things happen. We can’t. We can attempt to face Kivar and that would be difficult for you. This is a time where each must do what they are best at doing.”

Michael looked up from his reading. “It says that there were headhunters in this area in the past, but that the government has discouraged this practice in recent years.”

Liz perked up. Much of her undergraduate work had been in anthropology and sociology. She was remembering two definitive works, both written in the fifties by men who had lived with these people. One was a Roman Catholic priest and his remarkable work was a treatise trying to understand the act of headhunting. He saw it as a cross between a trophy and a sacrament. The other was a anthropologist who compared this to the scalp hunting of the Native Americans in the United States, before the European factions amplified that into a bounty system.

“Max, I think I should go with you,” Liz stated. “I know how to interact with the people we will meet.” Liz continued, “I doubt that there are very many people who haven’t had contact with the governments and their progressive policies in this area, but I also imagine there are all levels of civilization. We probably are going to have to depend on the good will of the people who best know the places where a creature like Kivar might hide.”

Maria stood up. “I am going also. You aren’t going to leave me while you go off fighting Kivar.”

Michael put his arms around Maria, “This is going to be rough. It isn’t like you are a champion of camping and hard living. You are better patrolling the mall than being where we are going to be called to search.”

Tears were streaming from Maria. “That is what I mean, Michael. You automatically consign me to some girly position. Isabel was my friend, also, and Kivar is challenging you. I want to be part of this. I am an independent woman. I do not have to have the mall to survive. I am going. I will brook no argument.”
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archeology and aliens
Betrayal

Before I get any further in this story i want to acknowledge the help i get from a wonderful young woman, Misha, Misha laughs at my poor attempts at Spanish I learned from the school yards and the locker rooms of public school, then she is so kind to help me find the correct way to say phrases that she would probably never have occasion to speak. I try to return help in history because what she considers history, many time is what i was doing while in college. If you are so lucky to find a gem like Misha treasure her assistance.

Janetfl
destinyc Flashback will continue through this chapter and when we find ourselves back in the cage with Liz you will know that realtime has started.
Natalir36
jake17
keepsmiling7


Chapter 3

Amy would have been surprised and proud of Maria. Maria was the independent woman that her mother had raised, but she also, had the pioneer spirit of some ancestral woman who stood in front of her cabin with a rifle protecting her family. Maria cut her hair short, trimmed back her nails and purchased sets of denim and kaki clothes, chosen for their wear and protective value, more than for any fashion statement.

Jesse wasn’t happy at the decision, but he did see the wisdom in it. Max and Michael were both better equipped to face the alien, Kivar. They would need political and financial help. Max would be clueless to find either of these. Jesse was already searching his memory for a recent contact, for which he had made a trust. It was a large “Mega Church” that had missionary emissaries the world over. Max was a doctor. Maybe, they could use him in their missionary work in the Amazon.

Michael sat there thinking. He spoke out, “This is war. It is our 9-11. Kivar has made the first strike. He has taken Isabel and now, it up to us to take the fight back to him.”

Max had responsibility. He had always taken on more responsibility than he had really needed to. Max was already feeling that he had, in some way, failed Isabel. He had allowed her to be taken. Max had searched his soul time and time again. He just couldn’t see what he could have done with the knowledge he had been given. He would lead the attack on Kivar because of his love for his sister and also, because of what he considered his obligation.

Living with Max these many years, Liz knew that he needed an anchor. He needed someone to demand that he not undertake responsibility for things over which he had no control. To Liz, the life Max had returned to her that afternoon at the Crashdown, was bought with a price tag. Ever since her second chance at life, Liz had been exposed to danger. The smallest of small town girls, who wrote a journal to try to make sense of her mundane life, now she faced daily danger and death. It was like fate was reminding her that the alternative would have been death, that day so long ago. Maybe, fate had destined Liz, not the destiny of Tess to be a queen, but to be rather, the first counsel of Max.

Like Max, Liz had studied biology in college. She had also studied anthropology and other social sciences in an attempt to understand her changed life. To chase a man hiding in the jungle, like Kivar, they would need unofficial help of the indigenous people. No officials were going to venture where the Roswell aliens must go. Liz believed she, best, had the knowledge to counsel Max on how to approach these people that he would need to ask for help.

Philip had the hardest task. It is hard for a parent to let go. It is hard even though that parent realizes their own impotency. Philip had coached young Ramirez when he had been a junior member of Philip’s law practice. Now, Jesse had matured, working on the East coast taking cases that Philip might have dreamed about years ago. Now, it would be Jesse who would make requests for Philip to help him. Jesse would design the necessities for the return of Philip’s daughter, Max’s sister and his, Jesse’s, wife. Philip would stand aside and watch, as his son, his son’s wife and friends would undertake the physical strife of rescuing Isabel.

The adventure of getting there would, in itself, make a book. Max and Michael, along with their women, found themselves in an area just south of the part of Brazil which jutted north to be surrounded on three sides by Venezuela and Guiana. They were four Yanquis (Yankees, Americans) in an extremely unstable political area. Officially, they were volunteers to work at a religiously sponsored clinic. The cost had been great. Max had to drop out of the medical intern program. Maria had to quit her singing tour and give up what she had, before, looked at as the necessities of civilization. It had taken over a month.

The cell phone had long since lost its signal so they were just chancing that Kivar had had a reason for taking Isabel to this place. A reason, which they hoped wouldn’t change quickly. Max had been welcomed. He had as much medical training as most of those working at the clinic. Max immediately immersed himself in the conditions and health of the patients of the community.

Liz had encouraged Max to learn from those he treated. Max tried to not hold any beliefs in distain. He tried to work equally with all the primitive beliefs of those he served. His work as a doctor, superceded any effort of the others being missionaries. The natives would talk to him about things they feared to tell others, fear of being scorned and ridiculed.

Max had been fixing a break in the little man’s arm. The little man was not five feet tall, but his body told of hard work. He was wearing pants, but his hair was cut in the soup bowl tradition, invert a soup bowl on his head and remove all the hair below the rim. The little man was watching Max as he spoke, “It is said that you seek things of the forest, Señor?” Sometimes, they would speak a broken Spanish or maybe, a bad Portuguese, or in this case, a bad English. Max had hired had an interpreter who spoke Spanish and English as well as his native Portuguese. Max felt he had been lucky since the interpreter could make at least something out of many of the native dialects they encountered. The Interpreter spent most of his time out with Michael and Maria. They traveled from place to place trying to hear of things that might tell of Kivar.

“The men of Jesus don’t believe,” the little man said again.

“They sometimes have their minds clouded by the education of their world,” Max explained as he finished setting the bone.

The little man began to talk of something deep in the forest that had mystic powers. The missionaries, being a product of their modern beliefs wouldn’t have listened, but this young yanqui was willing both to listen and he seemed to genuinely believe. The Indian needed to tell someone what he knew. Now, he had found a willing ear.

“It is the work of a mighty brujo, a witch of great power,” the Indian whispered. Then, he looked at Max. “You are not of this world are you?”

Max wasn’t sure how to answer this. No, he wasn’t of this world as a whole. No, he wasn’t of the world of the missionaries and their education. No, he wasn’t of the world the Indian would return to. Whatever the man meant, Max wasn’t part of it. That just reminded Max how alone he, Michael and Isabel had always been. Now, Isabel had been taken and Max needed those of this world to help.

This power was deep in the jungle where the government officials did not venture. Carlos, the guide and interpreter they had hired, explained that there were still places where the people lived much as they had always done. All of these people had experienced government contact, but once the officials left the village, the people threw off their clothes and returned to the ways of living that they had always followed.

The missionaries had heard that there was a force that the native people were becoming disturbed about. They looked on this tale as just another superstition. The more socially educated missionaries, quoted the much used statements, of social stress. The world was changing and the people of the jungle needed to change with it. The very word the missionaries brought with them was word of change. Change from the wild tribal strife that they had lived with for centuries to the accommodation of living in peace with the outside world and each other.

Liz had told Max that he should listen to such a rumors.

“We must face this devil god. He brings death in two ways. This must not be allowed,” Max’s patient continued. “He changes those who oppose him into beasts. Then, he makes the beasts kill the people. It is said that they kill and eat their own children.”

There had been something about the “Jaguar god.” Stories like this had been appearing for some time. The missionaries told Max that the stories were deep in the belief of the jungle people, and they ignored them. To Liz, this was some sort of lycanthropic story, a story of shape shifters, a subject that maybe, most civilized men would reject. The Roswell aliens, though had experienced shape shifters, such as this. They were no stranger to things such as this. Whether or not Kivar was a shape shifter, they didn’t know. When the native leaders understood that their concerns were understood and those from Roswell, had likewise, faced creatures such as this, they became much more open in their information.

“There is a white woman, very tall, who stands beside him. She has eyes, but cannot see,” the man explained to Max.

“What do you mean, cannot see?” Max asked.

Max was looking into the Indian’s dark eyes. He saw that the dark pupil was surrounded by a lighter brown. The Indian made circular motions in front of his eyes and leaned toward Max making the same motions in front of his amber ones. “She not have eyes like us. Hers are all black,” he explained.

Max knew that, sometimes, when aliens were intense, their eyes became just black onyx in color. If Isabel was with Kivar, her alien genes would be working overtime.

Max gave this story a lot of credence. There had been tales that there was a tall, blonde, white woman who was the consort of this god of power. There were also tales of curses that this god was using which indeed came from an ancient curse allowing himself to change his enemies into creatures. There was a shaman who talked to Max and Liz. He explained that this had been a skill used in earlier times, but these tales told now, were of things that were currently happening. Carlos had warned the yanquis that these shaman were more brujos than curendaros. He said they were more witches than the wise people who cured. They might be more into evil magic than good or healing magic or even village leadership.

A group of leaders of a village considerably up river approached the clinic. There had been a rash of big cat attacks and they desperately needed medical help. It was Max who volunteered his friends to head the needed and desired assistance. The clinic had already learned that Max and those with him were a lot more sensitive to native culture than many of the other doctors and medical assistants that had arrived at the clinic. They gave consent and it was decided that Max, his group and his translator, would depart with supplies to set up a separate clinic until a solution could be found to the depredations of the cats.

Max was sure that Carlos was a government official sent to watch the gringo “do gooders.” Max had noticed that Carlos hadn’t said anything when, illegally, they had made private purchases of fire arms. Max was sure that he had seen Carlos with a shortened AK-47, a Russian weapon used by many, both rebel and government alike. That, in itself, would indicate he was a member of the rebel group or an agent of the government.

As they proceed further up river, following the native men, Max saw that Carlos no longer hid his AK. He was now carrying it openly.

Maria, sweet Maria, the daughter of the super-hippy, make love not war, love all of God’s creatures. These were the preachings of Amy. Amy wouldn’t recognize her daughter. It would forever be unknown how she would have felt about the transition. Maria, I scream if I see a hang nail, Maria, the citizen of the mall and all the shops which pampered her most of her young life, was now wearing the fashion statement of Indiana Jones. Maybe, the fact that she was going on a crusade to find her friend would have held weight with Amy. Maria, was now carrying a rifle and she had practiced to the point that she was good with it. “If that damned Kivar wants to create big cats to attack us, I can pile them up as rugs as fast as he creates them.” The Indians were calling her, “la niña de la venganza” and sometimes “la hija del diablo,” that is the child of vengeance or the daughter of the devil. Liz had told Maria that the way they were saying this, they were titles of respect for her aggression.

Max was appalled at he devastation the cats were doing. Those killed, were a hunting people. When nature intruded in their lives, these people were used to removing that nature quickly. Normally, if a cat injured a villager, the cat would be hunted and dispatched. It had been Max’s understanding that when dangerous animals were hunted, they learned to fear men. That usually ended the attacks. But, the attacks just kept coming, as well as more cats. No matter how many cats the natives killed, or how many Maria killed, there were always more. They were not just wild beasts, but big cats that hunted and attacked men.

Max was thinking of the lions of Tsavo. Tsavo was a place in Africa that, for years, had been on the slave routes. As slaves died, the bodies were cast off along the way. This created predators who had a taste for men. Max had seen a movie about these animals. “The Ghost and the Darkness,” was a movie rendition of Colonel Patterson, an engineer in Africa, who had a huge number of men killed while building a bridge over the River Tsavo. The Lions of Tsavo had been unusual cats. They had also been unique. When the lions were killed, the attacks finally ceased. There were only two lions. Here there was no way that the cats could get a taste for men. And they just kept coming. There were also reports that when killed, these cats sometimes had jewelry or other markings on them of individuals who were known by the villagers. The villagers believed that their neighbors were being changed into savage beasts.

When the shaman of the area saw Maria and heard the nicknames she was called, they announced that she might be the one to kill the jaguar god. He had bragged that no man could kill him. Here was a warrior who was not a man. Surely, “she” could take this god out.

Max, also, heard the rumors that the jaguar god was always accompanied by the tall, blonde woman, a woman with dark black, expressionless eyes, a woman of considerable power. Together, they seemed to combine their power. These stories worried Max. The Indians had started to call her, "la mujer del dios tigre" or the jaguar god’s woman. Max had no idea what Kivar might have done to Isabel. Max was sure that if she was his ally, she wasn’t a willing ally. Kivar had a hold on Isabel and that would have to be broken. When it was, it would be up to Max to help her survive.

That the stories seemed to multiply, as they spent time in this region, convinced Max that they were nearer Kivar than they had been since he left Roswell. It became more important that the group from Roswell establish a presence here. Now they had two missions, stop Kivar and rescue Isabel. Jesse had lost his wife twice now. The first time she was just in the company of the group on their road trip running from the FBI. She was in danger but no more than any of the others. Now Isabel had been captured and was in the company of an enemy that they all recognized. Max had no idea what Kivar had done to Isabel, but Max wanted to be there to help her when they freed her. At this time, freeing Isabel still looked feasible. Later, Max would taste failure as he worried if she was still alive or not.

They established the clinic and soon, villagers of all ages came in. Max faced more laceration wounds daily than he had ever imagined in his lifetime. He sent word for the mission to send more antiseptic. He learned the native shaman had poultices that worked. In absence or scarcity of his medical supplies, Max was well willing to try them.

In hunting and gathering societies, it was necessary that the whole family work. Here, working whether in fields or along game trails, meant being in the forest. The forest was where the Jaguar god lived. Every time someone was hurt, the men would attempt to trail the cat. Sometimes, they were able to kill it. This all took time away from the necessity of finding food. Even when the god was not killing, he was destroying the villages.

Most of the wounds that were brought to Max were clearly caused by a big cat. The descriptions were varied. Some of the villagers declared that the cat was a jaguar, a big jaguar with glowing eyes. Max knew that there had to be some allowance for the fright of the villagers. There were also tales of the two people who were seen watching as the cat attacked. There was the tall, blond man with blue eyes and the blonde woman whose eyes were of black onyx, totally expressionless. All the wounds looked the same to Max whether it was believed to be caused by the creations of the Jaguar god or by just a chance encounter with a naturally, wild, pissed-off feline.
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archeology and aliens Betrayal

soon "Traitor" the short story of Liz Evans, the consort of the most hated man on Earth and how she came to see him.

Begonia9508 Eve when you are right your are definitely right. I do not define Kivar as clearly as does Paper in her story Rumors of Reincarnation, but he is still here a being who sneaks around and uses resources for his own amusement. He does not respect those of the forest and that is where Max and company succeed.

Jake17 Yes Carrie i do need to be told that others like my writing. Many times i write from extreme depression. it is always to hear that others besides my family like my stories.

Destinyc along with Carrie agreeing with you. Max, because he is different is able to make the bridge to the natives. Also please think about the Anthropologist, Liz. Anthropology was such a long ways from my major Mathematics that i found it a different world. Please remember i taught 6 classes of the little primatives every day for 30 years. Sometimes i found the students in my classes as different from my beliefs as could be.

keepsmiling7 yes this is getting tense.

Natalie36 thank you

Chapter 4

As the first rays of the sun, made their ways through the leaves of the forest, the cat felt the now familiar disturbance. The first thing was her sight. It went from the precision images of the cat to the generally wider scope of the woman, attached to memories and abstractions. The cat saw detail sharper than did the woman, but its mind didn’t register that detail unless there was movement. It was the woman who saw things and compared what she saw to her memory. The cat could feel the woman’s mind lending itself to the mind of the cat. The fright began to build. Liz, as her limbs were crying in pain, was seeing the last vestiges of the cat’s mind mixed with the memories of her human mind. There was the tall blond man. Beside him, the woman, likewise, was watching her. The cat felt a fury that she had no expression for. The man was smiling, but the lady was almost frozen. The cat felt the enmity of these creatures and she struck out. There was a spray of blood and a scream. The scream was almost hidden by the scream of the cat herself. As the memories were trying to form, the cat screamed. This quickly changed into screams given by Liz. They were, at first, screams of anger and then as Liz took over, they changed to screams of anguish. What had she done?

The cat’s mind was, now, almost completely under the control of Liz. Liz would save those remaining thoughts and visions to tell Max. Oh, my gosh, where was Max? Had he survived another night. Liz knew that she couldn’t be responsible for what she did while she was the cat, but if she was to kill Max, she hoped the natives would kill her quickly. There was no way that Liz could live with that.

Liz, through her pain, saw that Max was sitting in the doorway. He was watching the cat in her transition. When he saw that Liz had now taken control of the creature, Max came over to collect the morphing creature in his arms. As she climaxed the change, Max was massaging her now naked body. The paws were now becoming hands and feet. The place where her tail had receded, her ears and other parts of her body that had trouble making the transition, were all sites of pain.

Liz had begged Max, over and over not to stay with her at night. The Indians had warned both of them, but they had also warned that Max being close was necessary for Liz not to drift away into the wild. Every day it was the love of Max that called the cat to return to be Liz every morning.

Now, Liz was completely in control. Max was putting the lanolin on her hands and feet. He was massaging her ears and back. Max held the dress for her to put on and Liz fastened the front of it. They went out of the house and the Indians appeared with the fruits and vegetables. Liz took up her place and was writing in her journal. Max was prepared to meet the day’s patients. When he didn’t have the results of attacks by a cat, Max had the usual bumps and breaks that any population would have. At that time, Max was just an attending doctor, doing what the years of medical school had trained him to do, and in what he would have been better trained had he remained at the hospital. Max sometimes had to grimace. He had treated more emergency situations here than he would have had at a hospital in a lifetime. These were situations where Max had to figure out what to do without guidance.

Liz looked at what she had written in her journal. Every morning after breakfast, Liz reread what she had written. This was another thing to draw the cat back to being Liz, the wife and companion of Doctor Max.

At first Liz had tried to write what she felt during transition. Except for the few moments when she remembered a little of the cat’s mind, all that transition had for her was pain. Liz had, finally, settled on what she could remember of her past. There was little, after the episode in the living room with Kivar, back in Roswell, that was clear. True, little by little, she remembered more. There were the troubling flashes of blood and screams, which Max was trying to sort through, but mostly, she thought and wrote what Max meant to her. She remembered their trials.

Liz was thinking back to when she was almost 16. To be shot, one would expect intense pain. That wasn’t what happened. There was a blow and she felt a sickness when she fell. Before the pain ever hit, Max was there to dissolve the bullet and stop the bleeding. So long ago, at the Crashdown, Max had been there for her. If somehow the cat attacked Max, who would close his wounds and stop his flow of blood.

Max had repaired her body that afternoon long ago, but if the cat ran loose some night, would the cat leave enough body for any to attend to or even recognize. Max healed Liz so long ago, even though it was a danger to him. Now, Liz was again a danger to Max. No matter what he had done for Liz, the girl turned woman and wife, the cat had the ability to kill with out remorse or even thought.

With the fears she had, Liz could only regret the times she and Max had been estranged from each other. No problems they’d had then, seemed to matter much, when compared to what they faced now. Intrusions caused by Tess, arguments; nothing now, seemed to have any importance. The half-day, the almost 12 hours, they had while she was in her present form, was just too short not to make the most of. Yet, Max still had his obligations. He was the doctor and he kept the base from which Maria and Michael would depart time and time again, always hunting Kivar.

At noon, they took a break. The women of the village brought a meal of rare meat. Liz eagerly ate. She, in some past life, that she was rapidly forgetting, hadn’t eaten much meat. Maybe, she had a chicken salad or something occasionally. The trim, athletic wife he had always loved, took very good care of herself. Now, she wasn’t let outside the cage. The natives feared that she would get away and when night came, she would be just another cat in the wild. Doctor Max would lose the thing he most loved. The natives would not allow that to happen.

Max, again, was reading over what she had written in her journal. The changing between the mind of the cat and back to Liz would have made a Nobel prize study. No one would ever know it, now. Max worked hard to listen to the shaman who always encouraged Max to not give up hope. They had brought Liz to him before the magic of the jaguar god could take complete effect. In their broken language sometimes with the help of Carlos, they would tell Max of tales of those changed into the cat. They always ended the tale with the statement, “We have saved dos señoras from the wrath of the Jaguar god.” Max wished he understood what they meant. They were saying they had saved two women.

What he did get out of her journal, was her thoughts concerning him. They had both agreed to be truthful and up front with each other now. Their lives left no room for any verbal sparring. Everything they each said might be the last statement they made to the other.

Once, Max had allowed Liz to see herself as Max saw her. To the self-conscious young girl, seeing the way Max loved her meant everything. Liz had always been popular enough for a girl sometimes called, “the science geek.” She hated that name. She was interested in science and her studies were important to her in contrast to so many who looked at school as just a playground. To see herself loved had erased any doubt about what Max meant to her. Later, the stresses of being together, the stresses of worried parents and finally, the interruption of Tess and the whole, “If you really love him, you would be willing to give him up to his destiny” thing, pulled Max and Liz apart. That pulling apart was only in their minds. Tess could only create mischief because they let her. Now, the pulling apart was real. Liz, was a women, who loved Max for half a day. The rest of the time she was a dangerous cat.

With what Liz told him when she changed, he was slowly piecing together a story. It was a scary story which might mean that Liz, in transition form had killed Isabel. The natives didn’t have anything to say about Isabel. They only said that infuriating statement, “She, maybe, is only a little dead.”

The shaman of the village had talked to Max. His English wasn’t that good and Max’s Spanish was worse. Carlos, the interpreter, was with Michael and Maria. Max was hoping that they would be back sometime today.

The shaman, again hearing Max say something about the companion of the wizard being killed, just shook his head, “She is dead just a little bit.” The shaman had said this before. Max couldn’t understand what he meant by, “Just dead a little bit.” Sightings, since Liz had been changed into the cat, no longer included the companion of the Jaguar god. The tall woman of mystery had disappeared.

Max pointing to Liz had asked the shaman, “Did she kill the companion of the Jaguar god?”

The old man nodded his head slowly. Then, he shook it vigorously, “Only dead, maybe, a little bit.”

It seemed that their obligation to try to find Isabel was now over. Except for that statement about being a little dead, it was becoming clearer all the time that Isabel had been killed. Now, they couldn’t return because Liz needed treatment. She needed treatment from those who understood and believed in what happened to her. There is nothing more dangerous than a doctor looking at the obvious and repeating that it is all in your head because he doesn’t have the background or education to treat it. Here, the shaman kept supporting Michael and Maria . They had even tried to tell Max that there still was hope. Max was beginning to believe that they might be mistaken. No matter, after lunch Max took Liz into the small house. The villagers wouldn’t let anyone in the cage until they saw Max and Liz again back in the open. It was important that whatever Max and Liz had in private be preserved. Again, this was part of what brought Liz back from the life of the cat. The shaman all said, “You must give the señora plenty of reasons to always love you and return. Maybe, if the reasons are plenty strong, even the cat will remember them.”

There was no breeze in the jungle. Maybe, high in the trees the wind still blew, but in the clearing, it was muggy hot. Max took Liz in his arms and held her, repeating to himself, that he had to give her reason to return. Their skin was sticky with the sweat. The lack of clothes was unnoticed in the heat. Max held her naked body in his hands for the second time this day. It was as always, the naked body writhing in pain in the morning, he was trying to comfort. Now, the naked body was giving him pleasure accompanied with fear. It was the fear that she might not return tomorrow or Max might not survive the cat that night. Fear that this would be the last time they embraced and the last time they would make love. Max had never felt so close to death, not even when in the clutches of the FBI. As his hands covered every curve and crease of her body, Max was memorizing it. If he died, would fates allow him to keep the memory of this last time he loved his wife?

Liz was touching Max. Every part of him was important to her. The surrender she felt, which, with Max, was not a surrender, but a thought that this might be the last human, womanly feeling she would have. The vague memories of the cat would not know of the joy two creatures could have in this fulfillment. Even if the cat was mating with her own kind, it would be for a specific need and have nothing to do with the total being that was arising within Liz.

When they finally gave into reality and prepared to return to the afternoon’s duties, Max and Liz would stand in a small room off their home. From a container filled by rain, in the proper season and by hand other times, water would trickle over their bodies washing off the remnants of their physical love. Now, it was left to dress and face the rest of the day, knowing that every hour brought the evening transformation that much closer.

The jaguar god was putting a lot of pressure on the village. Even with the occasional contact with civilization, which led to work in clearing the forest for government projects, the village was still dependant on hunting, gathering and farming. Now the added danger to those working in the jungle was oppressing the villages. Max and the clinic were a burden on the village, especially with the added demands of caring for Liz and the search with Michael for the god. Still, the villagers made it clear that they needed the clinic and no matter how difficult, they intended to support Max and thus Liz. Every time they brought in someone who was hurt by a cat, that meant there would be one less to work.

Every time a villager was killed or hurt, the stress was increased. Every time a villager disappeared, they were assumed to be victims of transformation by the god. The village lost a productive member. Every time Max and the clinic healed a hurt villager, they had the chance to rebuild and their hope was rekindled. This had to sort of balance the losses.

Ever time Maria or one of the villagers killed a cat, they didn’t skin the cat or mutilate it in anyway. The cat was given a perfectly good Catholic funeral or as good as the natives could do it, without benefit of a priest. Max could only imagine the chagrin a priest or, even the missionaries from the mega church, would have, if asked to perform a service for a wild animal. Then this Catholic ceremony was followed by a second ceremony by the shaman who believed they had to free the spirit from the cat so the spirit put there by the Jaguar god could find peace.

Carlos had been with the Anglos since their arrival. He had been assigned by his government to watch them. Were they subversive? Did they, in some way, aid the enemies of Brazilian interest? Carlos would do his job. He was a good choice for this. His mother had lived in a villiage similar to the one where the clinic was located. Carlos had questioned in his mind when the Anglos had made the illegal purchases of firearms. He said nothing. His job was to learn as much as he could. At first, he feared the blond woman carrying the rifle. He did not see her as a huntress or a terrorist.

When the wife of Doctor Max had fallen to the Jaguar god, the Anglos acted as if they completely understood this. They were concerned and angry, but they did not fall in panic. Rather, they sought information from the people around them. When Carlos saw that the Anglos did not distain the knowledge of the local shaman, but seemed to seek their assistance, he started to see them as more than the usual visitors to the jungle. Carlos was studying the singer at the moment. In his private life, Carlos had a computer at home. He had Itunes as well as an ipod. Carlos recognized Maria for who she was. He had recordings of the American singer, Maria DeLuca. He had posters of the curvy singer belting out her blues songs hanging in his home. Now, that singer stood before him. Her curves were covered in Kaki shirts and she was wearing matching shorts or slacks. Her spike heels gave way to military boots. She slung the seven-pound rifle from her shoulder like a professional. She was not like other Anglo women Carlos had know before. Carlos couldn’t help, but believe that she now belonged in the forest. Maria, also, spoke very good Spanish, even though it was slightly different from the Spanish Carlos knew from other countries in the southern Americas.

As they walked, Maria’s sight was directed at the trees, the shadows and, as far as she could see, up river. In camp, Maria would chatter incessantly like the other white women Carlos had known, but on the trail she was different. She had learned to move like a shadow. Whenever Michael was not standing beside her, Carlos noticed that one or more shaman were ever nearby. Clearly, they had marked her for something special. Carlos still had a little fear of the brujo he saw in the shaman. He hoped nothing they did would bring harm to he singer. Carlos wanted more of her recordings when this job was over.

When he first met her, Maria had a body that could be classified as beautiful by any culture’s standard. Now, that same body had tone. It had grace. Swinging the rifle was done with ease as if it weighed nothing. When she wore shorts ,her legs no longer showed scratches or rashes as she strode through the tall grasses they encountered along the river. Yes, Maria had changed.

Carlos also watched the man, Michael. He was surprised that while Maria eagerly carried the rifle, Michael carried nothing. The blood and instinct of Carlos’s mother made him understand that even though unarmed, Michael was a force to be reckoned with.

Their acceptance by the leaders of the villages erased any of the doubts Carlos had remaining. The final nail sealing away his doubt was observing the transition of Liz. That was something that could only be answered by his mother’s people, not the government Carlos represented.

Carlos was there the night they brought the cat into the village. The cat was bound to the pole and screaming with frustration, fear and anger. Carlos wondered why they didn’t dispatch the cat. The villagers were not into torture. Instead of killing the cat outright, they took it to a cage. They deposited it in the middle of the cage still bound. Max went into the cage sitting with the writhing animal. Max stroked, it talking to it until morning when the first transformation occurred. When the woman fully regained control of her body, Carlos witnessed Max’s love for his wife.

They were returning from this sortie. Maria’s sharp shooting had accounted for one cat. The cat had been blamed for several killings. When Maria had laid it low, they found around its neck a string of beads that were identified with a woman who had disappeared several weeks before. The body of the cat had been sent to the village where the missing woman had lived. They hadn’t found any fresh trace of the jaguar god. Kivar had covered his tracks again. They did find that there was no longer any mention of the woman who stood beside him from any of the villagers. If the companion was Isabel, she had disappeared. They would be back to check with Doctor Max tomorrow and make further plans.

-------------------------------
Betrayal We are preparing for a truly mixed wedding. The part Alien Mexican girl, Bernadette Gutierrez, will marry the Oklahoma man Ed Andrews. They will have a Catholic/Baptist wedding with Isabel planning all along. There will be tons of aliens, if they had any weight, all over the place. This will take place if her father, Patrick Gutierrez doesn't shoot her intended.

Think of conquests throughout history when you read, Traitor. Who was the patriot and who was the traitor? think of this whenever you think of how history judges anyone.

Nibbles2
Keepsmiling7
Destinyc
Dreamerfiend
Jandtfl
XAF ru208
Paper
Mary mary

Author Note:
Please note the stories differ from time to time about Liz being cursed. Remember she was trying to make the stories from the mind of the cat and that mind was far from clear or exact. She will never know exactly what happened. Liz fears, that just as Max was endangered, when he healed her, he is now endangered by her transformation.

This story will be a lot about the children they have in the future. I want to keep it canon because of the things in the three years of the series that effect that happens to the characters.

Through the whole story the theme about degrees of death is important. For our world death is pronounced by a doctor. Of course there are legal descriptions for people who appear to have died and there is no body but they remain missing for a long time. To many cultures sleep is the first stage of death. The soul can depart the body and move around in some dream plane then return. There are degrees of unconscious, from being hit on the head and knocked out to falling into a coma. Finally leaving the last stage as an irrevocable stage where the person is dead and gone for ever. Informed consent by greywolf is a story about that next to last stage where the soul seems to be hiding.

Chapter 5

The cat awoke. The man was no longer lying beside her. She looked out the door and saw the sky between the trees begin to take color. As her mind sharpened, the fear returned. The memories were also returning. Liz had cornered Kivar. Isabel was standing beside him. Liz had screamed for Max or whoever would hear her. Kivar had just laughed. Isabel stumbled as the black of her eyes momentarily became the lighter brown of their normal color.

Liz used her beginning power which wasn’t nearly strong enough. She felt the power of Kivar. This time, he couldn’t count on Isabel. Something in Isabel refused to cooperate. As the cat was taking away the current mind that belonged to Liz, the logical mind that she trusted for so long, began to soften and then fuzz, as her first transformation took place. The half catwoman screamed and struck out at Kivar. It was clear that he hadn’t expected that. Some how to save himself, he had pushed Isabel toward Liz.

There, then the now fully transformed mind of Liz lost the thoughts and vague memory of the cat. She had the feeling of fear and anger of the cat and she had the horror in her present mind of Isabel falling and the blood flowing.

Liz had again gone through the morning stage of her twice daily cycle. Max was attending her and soon she would be dressed and they would eat. Max would heal villagers and there would be another time for love along with more meals. Then, the dim memories of the evening would descend upon her.

Something different did happen this afternoon. Michael, the shaman, Carlos and Maria all returned. They entered the cage that was fully opened. Liz, transformed as a woman, presented no danger. The villagers just did not want Liz to leave the cage. The villagers saw that “la hija del Diablo” had no fear. The Devil’s daughter, Maria, embraced Liz. They sat and talked. Since the woman of the village feared her, Liz led a lonely existence. She, normally, only had Max for company. Michael reported the destruction of the cat. He did not see how this affected Liz when he described its death. Max felt Liz’s pain and reached out his hand to touch her. Michael reported that the natives all agreed that the companion of the jaguar god was gone. That bit into Max’s mind, it was one more puzzle piece, which said Isabel was dead. Max just didn’t understand what “just a little bit dead meant.”

The shaman all talked to Liz. They used Carlos when they had to, but Liz’s Spanish was better than that of Max. They were questioning her. They didn’t bring any comfort to the conversation. There was much head shaking and heated discussion in their own language. When they left, it could be seen that the sun was descending. Max hurriedly ushered Maria and Michael out of the cage. “Max, this is Liz we are talking about. I have been her best friend for life,” Maria said.

“That doesn’t matter, Maria. She barely tolerates me. Her mind is hardened when she is a cat. I think she only remembers me from the night before. I do not think any of her memories of the past can find a way through the transition. If you were to stir up anything and she attacked you, I could lose her. See, Maria, it isn’t just you I am protecting. I must protect her as well.” Max was trying to explain. It was difficult to tell the best friend that as a cat, there might not be any memory of Maria left. Maria her eyes in tears slowly walked out of the cage. Then, one of the shaman closed and locked it for the night.

When Michael came to the hut that he and Maria shared, he found she was still in tears. She had broken down her rifle and was cleaning it, all the time rubbing her eyes to clear them so she could see. “That damned creature. He came into our lives just as they seemed to be getting straight. Jesse and Philip Evans freed us from the abuses of our own government and then, he came along. Lost in this forgotten hole, we have no idea how Kyle is getting along. He told me he wanted to introduce a girl friend to us pretty soon. Now, I wonder if he is even alive.” Maria was rambling in her frustration and grief.

Maria took another dry rag. She had loosened the base nut to the barreled action. Carefully, she slipped the action out of the stock. Maria carefully wiped the carbon fiber stock. There was not much beauty in her rifle. But, Maria always said that the true beauty of her rifle would be when she saw the head of Kivar burst into a red haze.

Michael didn’t bother pointing out to her that Kivar would probably just erect a shield against her bullets. Maria would be a distraction that Kivar wouldn’t expect. Stopping her bullets did take energy and the more precise the bullets were aimed, the more energy it would take. Her rifle would keep her further away from him than Liz had been. Maria was stubborn, but she was determined to be of help. The strength, she had shown, was appreciated, by more than just Carlos.

Michael took her rifle from her hands and laid it on the table. He took the daughter of the devil in his arms. To him, she had always been an angel sent to anchor his life and to aid the lives of those around her. Michael loved her for her willingness to be there for all of her friends. As his lips met hers, Michael made sure she saw visions of herself as he, Michael, saw her. As he brushed the blouse away from her body, Michael could only think how lucky he had been. He could have spent his whole life in Roswell alone. He could have, now, been helping Max alone. This was a time when he was so glad she wouldn’t listen to him every time. Michael needed her even though he worried for her safety.

They were waiting, now, waiting until another rumor of a cat attack. The bad part of that, thought Michael, was that a cat attack meant at least two people would have been destroyed, the person attacked and the person turned into the cat. Michael was thinking, more and more, that Liz being close to Max that first night was all that saved her, saved her at least half way.

Chapter 6

News for Jesse and the Evans family was sparse. The most they got was from the missionaries who returned discouraged. Yes, the clinic was working but their missionary message wasn’t getting through. It had been reported that Doctor Evans had taken his group further up river. There was a rash of predations by big cats. This was taking the attention of the villagers. The missionaries didn’t have any solution to offer to solve this problem. It did seem that half of Doctor Evans party had separated and, accompanied by several natives, they were pursuing the big cats and bringing the wounded villagers back to the clinic when they could.

Of Isabel, no one had any news. There was, also, some mystery about what had happened to Doctor Evan’s wife. They were not clear, but it seemed that she had been quarantined for some reason.

Jesse was organizing a support group to take over if the church pulled out. He really couldn’t blame them. What was happening down there was something they couldn’t understand.

The case of Isabel’s kidnapping was still open. The FBI had rejected the information that Jesse gave them about Isabel being in South America. They demanded to know for what reason she would be taken there. Philip tried to tell them that he didn’t know the reasons of the kidnapers. Philip really thought that South America was so far out of their jurisdiction that this, in itself, kept them from believing Jesse. What the use of thinking Isabel was in some foreign country? It was more productive to consider that she must be somewhere closer and thus, they could still be effective. When they asked Philip if he had heard anything about her, Philip would always give them the information that Jesse had given him, again. But, the police would roll their eyes and look knowingly at each other and then, leave.

Kyle had moved out from his father’s house when Amy, Maria’s mother moved in. After his confrontation with Kivar, he had returned home for a while. Serena Troy was terrified when she heard about him being hurt. “Kyle, I just can’t imagine a monster such as you describe. Attacking the Evans’ house with explosives and then, taking Isabel Ramirez. Does any of this have anything to do with you disappearing for over a year right after high school?”

Serena had been four years younger than Kyle. Her sister had talked about Kyle, Max and Liz. Serena knew that Pam was pettish and some times down right mean. She had suffered at the hands of her sister many times. Serena had trouble with the comments Pam made about the six teens, who had fled just in front of the Air force police. Her curiosity about this was what attracted her first to Kyle. When she discovered, even though he was four years older, he had just started teaching at her school, she had been attracted to him. He was her man of mystery. Her questions were what happened to the apparently missing years?

Kyle had remained closed about those years. He was, also, closed about something else, but Serena couldn’t tell what that was. Dating and trying to crack his shield of secrecy, Serena found that she was beginning to really like him. Kyle was a good teacher. In a class where many students had trouble fitting in, Kyle made sure every kid got a chance to play. He was not interested in winning, so he never tried to coach varsity sports. Kyle wanted students to learn to enjoy the game. Super bowl parties and a report due after the game, became a trademark from students who took Physical education from Valenti. He was trying to teach them to enjoy the sport and to understand it.

Kyle’s humor was legendary. Serena, despite the jabs from her sister was dating Kyle a lot. Now, all of a sudden, Roswell’s favorite P.E. teacher was flat on his back. He was suffering from burns and many contusions about his body. The school had been shocked when the principal announced that Mister or rather Coach Valenti, would be out for several weeks due to an accident. Serena had come to the Valenti’s the very next day. She was shocked at how badly Kyle was hurt. Because she saw him day to day, she was also shocked at his speed of recovery. Kyle, within a week, moved back to his own place. Within another week, Serena moved in with him. Here, she didn’t have to listen to any more remarks from her sister.

As their relationship grew, Kyle told her more and more about his adventures. Kyle was very careful not to mention aliens. Serena was beginning to wonder why Kyle had been such a magnet to so much danger.

Both he and his father had been shot. Kyle had fled many times before governmental investigations. He always was quick to look behind him. There were times when Kyle wouldn’t go in some direction or down some street, no matter how much Serena teased him. Serena had caught him looking several times at his hands. One night when he was having a particularly hard night, Serena got up and she could swear she saw his hands glowing as he held them to his bare chest.

All Serena knew about Liz was that her sister didn’t like her very much. Kyle told of when he had dated Liz. He knew that this was dangerous. Rule: you do not talk to the girl of the moment about a girl of sometime past. He started to tell her about the time they dupped Max to drive him to Tess, but Kyle caught himself. He couldn’t really believe they had done that himself. How could he explain it to someone else?

“What about the man who attacked you and took Isabel?” Serena asked.

“Oh, he is in South America. He isn’t a problem here,” Kyle stated.

“Well, what happened to Isabel?” she asked again.

Kyle lowered his head, “We just do not know. She might be dead or maybe not. At the moment, we just do not know,”

“You talk like you know all about him. Is there someone in South America watching him?” Serena inquired.

Kyle nodded, “Oh yes, there are several people watching him. Whether they kill him or bring him back, I don’t know that either. But, they are watching him and looking for Isabel.”

Serena prodded Kyle a bit more, “Who went to South America to look for Isabel?”

Kyle was thoughtful. There was no secret about who had gone. “Max and Liz, of course; then, Michael Guerin and Maria DeLuca.”

Serena was astounded. “Those people are able to look for Isabel when the State Department can’t.”

Kyle looked at her, “Correction, the State Department won’t. Max is working as a doctor at a clinic near where they think Isabel might be. Liz is studying the local people. It seems that Michael and Maria are actively hunting the man who they think took Isabel.”

Serena shouted, “Maria DeLuca! You mean the singer from Roswell? What is she doing? Pam always thought that she was just a ‘prima donna.’”

Kyle chuckled, “She is almost my sister. Her mother lived with my father for many years. There is a lot more to Maria than most people think.”

Serena frowned. Her sister complained that the group who hung around with that geek, Liz, as Pam called her, always were whispering secrets. Serena did not see Kyle like Pam described the group. She really did not know Liz or any of the rest. Now, she didn’t even know them well enough to appreciate what they were capable of doing.

Once, Serena overheard Kyle talking to His father, “I just wonder what Amy would say if she knew that Maria was carrying a rifle and had already killed five big cats.”

Jim, immediately, defended Amy, “Kyle, I imagine that she would see it just fine. Maria is defending her friends and she is trying to help Liz come back. She may even be searching for Isabel.”

These things, Serena hung on to. She would never mention them to anyone. Serena was shocked that these people were so much more than she had first seen them. Serena was seeing people from just a small town, who had risen to great heights to help each other.

Their relationship did have some problems. Kyle was badly hurt so to go further physically or even continue as they had started before he was hurt, was difficult. Serena decided she liked Kyle enough that she was going to be with him for the long haul. One of her questions was why he wouldn’t go to a doctor? She wondered if she would, eventually, share the secrets or as, she now saw them, the dangers like the others he knew? For now, Serena was content to tease Kyle.

His chest was still raw. Kyle had very little chest hair and what he had had been burned off. He could take no weight on his chest, but her traveling fingers tracing out the outlines of his rib cage sent him into orbit. The new skin that was growing was tender and if, gently touched, it gave many sensations. Serena, beside him laughing as he jumped at her touch, which would end in a session of kissing and finally, with Kyle being very careful, they would make love. Serena was glad to see that his injuries seemed to be healing. Every night, Kyle would go through a series of exercises. He was careful not to let Serena see too closely what he did. She did see that his injury was to his upper chest. His equipment lower down was completely unharmed.
------------------------
Hero or Villain, Patriot or traitor, what is he? Liz has been the consort of the Earthman in the story Traitor

L-J-L 76
destinyc
mary mary
xmag over the next couple of chapters I hope to show Maria's tender side also. She tries to be strong but she still is a young woman who is very sensitive
Nibbles2

Author note: Please look at the banner. The couger's eyes have been changed to the same color as Liz's. Big cats are more prone to have very light brown eyes or yellow/green eyes. I changed the picture.

Chapter 7

When the first rays of morning began to peek though the trees, the cat started to feel the inevitable changes. She no longer panicked. She let her mind flow. That was what allowed this time for Liz to remember more. The cat had just been created. She hadn’t the benefit of being a cub with her mother. She hadn’t had the experience of growing up and learning what it was to be a Panther. Suddenly, she was there. Her mind was a blank except for a few instincts of preservation. Her god was before her. To the cat, he appeared strange. He had the body of a man but his head was indistinct. It had the form of a man, but like a double exposure in the days when pictures were actual film rather than just electronic numbers on a card. Surrounding the man’s head was the head of a jaguar. The cat feared the strange feline-man she saw. She spit and screamed. For several minutes, the god held her. She was a toy. She was something he could destroy at will. The cat swiped at him with her paw. She must have connected. Very un-god like, he bled. The man, with a cry, threw her to the ground. Cat was still screaming and spitting, her paws failing out at the god who held her in such a distained manner. He had created her, and now, he showed how little he cared for her. The god turned to his companion. His companion was a tall woman with blonde hair and black, expressionless eyes of onyx. The god said something to his companion and she raised her hand. It was glowing.

As Liz was regaining control of her mind and experiencing the pain of transformation of her body, she heard back in the cat’s mind, “I am so sorry, Liz. You were always a friend to us.” Then, Liz saw through the eyes of the cat for only a brief instant. She felt her paw swing and her vision was covered with blood. This was so different from the vision she’d had before. The final vision Liz received was the many villagers coming. Instead of killing her, they bound her so she couldn’t move, but then, the mind of the cat was lost.

Liz was once again in complete control of her mind. Max was massaging her body, the lanolin softening the places where her claws and tail had withdrawn. This time though, Liz had an important piece of the cat’s memory. They were now pretty sure of what had happened to Isabel. That much blood that she had seen. Isabel must surely be dead. Liz, or rather her alter ego, the cat, had killed Isabel just before Isabel was to strike her. Or maybe, it was when Kivar pulled Isabel in front to protect himself.

Liz was crying. How do you tell your husband that you had brutally killed his sister? Even if, this killing was in self defense and you only were controlled by the instincts of a cat.

Max had expected this. There had been so many clues pointing to this. The shaman still declared, “She was killed only a little bit.” They knew something but they would tell Max nothing else. The shaman who accompanied Michael and Maria had told them that they no longer had to worry about the companion of the god. Again, even Maria couldn’t get them to speak plainer. All that was left was to wait for news of another cat attack. They, also, had to understand that there were real attacks by the natural big cats in the jungle. Maria would be in the forefront of eradicating one of these. It would be simple predation control and nothing to do with alien magic.

The natives were beginning to chant when Maria arrived at their village, “la niña de la venganza,” over and over. Yes, the child of vengeance had arrived. They were becoming so sure of her ability that they ceased their vigilance as soon as she returned from a sortie. Michael and the shaman all followed her because they knew that, sooner or later, Maria was going to come face to face with the jaguar god. Maria was going to get her shot at Kivar someday.

As Liz gained more and more knowledge from the memory of the cat she remembered more in her own memory. The initial shock of the first transformation had clouded it. The constant change twice a day had also crippled her, once quick and ready, thoughts. As she changed each morning and evening, there was a terrible toll taken on her body and mind. This was truly an uncharted field. Modern medicine didn’t even recognize lycanthropy, much less know of the medical effects it would have.

Liz did remember them arriving at the village where they were to set up the clinic. She and Max worked on the clinic as Michael and Maria, with the several Indian shamans, were searching for the jaguar god and his consort. They had searched the forest without any luck.

Liz couldn’t believe the change in Maria. Growing up, Liz had been a bit of a risk taker. She was always looking into new things and experiences. Maria had always retreated back to the safety of her Jetta and the mall. Maria’s mom always told her daughter to be a modern woman. She didn’t have to have a man, they were nice to have a round, but not indispensable. Of course, Amy believed that the modern woman could remain that way by being careful at what she attempted. Maria had now proved her wrong. Maria was determined to no longer be the one pushed to the floor when the dung hit the fan. When they were traveling through the jungle, Maria was right up there with Michael and the shaman. The shaman now trusted her not to shoot them in the back. The times when they had faced cats both real and changed, the shaman hit the ground and Maria made her shots with exact precision, right over their heads. She would see the cats jump and bite at the place the bullet entered. She heard their cry as Maria again fired a final killing shot. Sometimes, the cats would charge. The ones that were converted by Kivar were the worst. They seemed to hate the men and Maria facing them the most. They would make bounds of twenty feet of more. Maria would have only a fraction of a second to place another shot. The were-cats were just as susceptible to her bullets as the real ones. Maria had had a jeweler in one town cast some silver bullets, but so far there had been no need for these exotic missiles.

They all depended upon the local shaman to lead them. The shaman had fought the issue of a jaguar god before. Max wondered if that was the influence of some earlier contact with aliens.

Liz thought, she now, could piece together what had happened that horrible evening. They had been at the village for some time. She had gone down to the river late in the evening. She went to the place where the women washed their clothes. Usually until almost dark, she would find several women at any time doing their chores at this place. However, this time, the riverbank was deserted. Liz walked up stream a little way, but she found no one anywhere. She turned and saw the tall blonde companion of Kivar. Liz saw the woman they had come here for. Isabel was watching Liz without saying a word. “Isabel, are you alone,” Liz called out.

Isabel stood like a statue. Her eyes had no expression at all. As Liz watched her, Isabel’s eyes darkened. Isabel raised her hand and pointed it at Liz. Liz screamed. A powerblast issued from Isabel’s hand to hit near Liz. It was then that Liz saw the man standing beside Isabel.

Isabel raised her hand again, but the man put his hand on her arm and Isabel lowered her hand.

Liz was poised to run, but for some reason, she was like a bird in front of a snake Liz was transfixed by the sight of the two people before her. Liz tried to keep her sight on Isabel. Isabel was the reason for them all being here. She kept glancing, though, at the man. Liz assumed it was Kivar. Who else would have this much power over Isabel and make it so hard for Liz to think?

The two people walked close enough that Liz could have reached out and touched them. Isabel was still impassive, but Kivar started to smile. It was the most hideous smile Liz had ever seen. “The mate of the King,” she heard him say. “The one for which he turned down my sister.”

Liz remembered again that there had been speculation that Tess might not be as much a clone as the other aliens of Roswell. She might have been a pure descendant of Antar, modified enough to breath Earth air. She might have been the sister of Kivar. Her marriage to Max would bind Kivar and the king.

Liz saw a light so bright that even with her eyes closed, she could still see it. She felt the first metamorphosis start. There was panic. Liz had never felt anything like this. It started with intense pain. Her mind rebelled and she struck out with anger. Kivar just laughed at her pathetic movements at trying to hit him. Liz felt her limbs swinging about as she was striking at both Isabel and Kivar. Liz panicked as she saw her arms no longer arms, but now paws. She still was striking at everyone. Suddenly, the change was complete. Liz felt her mind close, her rational thoughts had lost. Then, she heard, “You were always friends to us.”

The cat, now completely in control possessed a lot more physical power. She struck at the woman first. The woman might have been pushed closer to the cat than she was before. Then, the cat struck at the man. All the cat knew was that blood sprayed and both of the people in front of her screamed. Their screams were added to those of the cat. The next thing the cat knew was that she was surrounded with ropes.

First, there had been two humans. Now, the cat was surrounded by many of them. They, also, had bound her legs and paws so she could no longer fight back. She could still hiss and spit. The cat was angry. Somewhere, something asked, “How had I become a cat?” This was swallowed up in the simple brain of the cat who saw everything before her now as the enemy.

They brought the cat to a cage. She was placed on a platform where, eventually, a man came in and sat down. He was careful to avoid her mouth which snapped at anything near it or the paws, which she could flex even if she couldn’t strike with them. She had razor sharp claws.

The man talked to her and stroked her. The Cat felt calm. Was this man the enemy? The cat had no memory of who the enemy was, or anything else for that matter. Her mind was now a blank, she was trying to sort out who or what was “enemy.” She had basic instinct for preservation, but that was all. Her mind was a clean slate to be written upon. The man stayed with her the whole night. As the streaks of dawn arrived, the cat, again felt pain. She slowly changed into the naked, bound woman who Max released back into his arms. As soon as she was completely transformed, several of the Indians waiting just outside the cage came in. Max covered Liz with a blanket and they talked. The story they were told by the shaman was shocking to the intellectuality of both of them.

Literature of almost every culture was filled with stories of lycanthropy, the mystical act of a man turning into a beast. The image of transformation was usually that of some creature that was a bane to the indigenous culture. Scientists had always seen these as tales which, if they had scientific value, were best understood in the sociological field. The stories were generated by communities in stress. The stories gave the people something to strike out against when they were faced with problems beyond their powers. The outcry of seeing the were-cats was an example. The people of the Amazon had long been subjected to the pressures of progress as the jungle was destroyed to make way for civilization. The cats were just examples of sociological pressures toward which the villagers could direct blame.

Now in his arms, was Liz, no longer a fable or a legend, but his wife. Liz had been subjected to something. It wasn’t an expression of stress. Liz had been physically changed. The shaman were telling Max that, for Liz to not disappear into the form of a cat forever, he had to become an anchor to always bring her back. They were pretty sure that the first cycle had already been set last night. Usually, astronomical happenings were what triggered the change. The shaman felt that since, the cycle of being a cat had been triggered by the sun, it would remain on a daily schedule.

Max felt that he had awakened up in a gothic novel. Max was a doctor, a scientist not a believer in magic. Then, he thought, what did humans think when the aliens used their powers? Magic was just an explanation for things that were beyond the understanding of those witnessing them.

great part. I'm loving kick ass Maria.

Poor Liz, what a horrible thing to find out about yourself.

first, Tess's creation was interesting.......and the metamorphosis Liz goes through, what would she do if Max wasn't there to be her anchor???

nibbles 2
Keepsmiling7
destinyc
dreamerfiend
mary mary
jake17


Author Note: I guess i should give some warning. This part is going to get bloody. This is not for effect, but every bit of this chapter is important for the later on. I hope i do a good job with Maria. She lives up to her duty but after all she is a sensitive young woman and will suffer for years the shock of what is demanded of her here.

Chapter 8

Maria had talked to Liz. She saw the angst in Liz’s life that told of the strain of two worlds. Liz and Max tried to maintain a time of intimacy during the day, but the nighttime moments just couldn’t be there. These moments might have been satisfactory for youth who can’t see the coming of tomorrow, but Maria knew that Liz had, at one time,` had dreams of a family. Once Diane said she would be willing to help if grandchildren came around. Liz wanted, more than anything, to give Diane that opportunity. When Michael came to their hut that night, he found Maria tear streaked, sitting. Her rifle had been cleaned for the hundredth time and was just sitting in the corner by her backpack. Usually, Michael would find Maria busily doing things to prepare for their next sortie. This time, everything was ready and the forced wait was getting to her.

Michael took Maria in his arms. He knew that being with Liz had been troubling to Maria. He couldn’t say anything about that because of the long friendship between the women. Even Michael was surprised at the response he got from Maria that night. Their relationship had always had its component of confrontational banter. It wasn’t quarreling, but Maria made Michael almost always feel that he had to reconquer Maria’s heart every time he took her love. At first, this had contributed to confusion in Michael, but now, he saw this as her way of foreplay. Maria enjoyed her submission to Michael at least in the physical sense. When they, finally, were in the act of making love, Maria always felt that Michael was raising her so they committed a mutual act. Although complicated, this had become their normal session of romance.

Tonight, when he took her in his arms, she just melted. There was no banter, but rather, a hunger for Michael to possess her body. Michael slowly removed her clothes and as his hands traveled over her skin, Maria shivered.

Somewhere in the sky, there was a full moon. Maybe it couldn’t be seen in the opening of the village clearing, but the tops of the trees were tinged with silver. Maria had turned down the kerosene lamp, so it was dark in the hut. Maria’s shivering had nothing to do with the temperature, which, as always, was warm. It was more a need that she had this night with Michael. The trials of Liz were weighing heavily on Maria. Taking Michael was assurance that she, Maria, was still free and this enforced a silent promise to Liz that they would do everything they could to bring down the jaguar god.

They had a straw mat in the corner of he hut. It was covered with a cotton tarp and also a blanket. They sank to this mat and while on their knees, Michael held Maria in all possible ways that gave her pleasure. When Maria turned on her back and was looking up at Michael, it could have been their first or hundredth time. The love they shared was slow and careful. The urgency Michael first felt in Maria, gave way to a longing to not let her go. This was all about Maria holding on to what she knew of the real world. Michael was her anchor. He was dragging her along reality and this gave her strength to again go on the trail for both Liz and Isabel.

Maria returned to her cot. Yes, she and Michael had been making love on the straw mat in the corner of the room. Even though the conditions were primitive, they were so much better than trying on the trail. Here they had the pleasure of the outdoor shower built in the back of their hut. The tepid water streaming on their bodies did refresh them and Maria even felt she would be able to sleep. They had been in camp at the clinic for three days. It was heart rendering for Maria to see Liz every night transform into the cat. She hadn’t seen the morning transforms because Max asked her to forgo this ordeal. “Maria, they are just too horrible to remember. I am sure Liz wouldn’t want you to remember her that way. Don’t make the first thing she sees be the horror you feel from the vision as she again regains her humanity.”

Maria had spent each day sitting in the cage talking to Liz. If possible, Maria’s feeling for Liz were stronger after last night. “Would they let you out if someone was along to keep you from running away?” Maria had asked.

Liz looked down. “What would you do if I suddenly changed? You would have to kill me or I might kill you. If I got loose, I might kill many of the villagers before you were brought to the place where you could shoot me. Would you do this Maria? Would you shoot me to prevent me from killing anyone else? I am best off in the cage. Every morning, I fear that I might have killed Max the night before. That is a terrible thing to wake up to. The shaman all keep saying, when I am free of the curse. They know something. I think they include you in this. Even with Carlos trying to translate, they are not clear. Carlos says that they use words he has never heard.”

After that, Maria never again mentioned going outside the cage. She knew that her company with Liz was valued. Liz had no one else, but Max, to talk to. Yes, sometimes one or more shaman came in to see her. They asked questions, sometimes by way of Carlos. They were never company. Maria knew that they would stay in camp until there was an outbreak of killings. When the shaman came into her tent that night and shook her, Maria knew that it had happened.

Max was with the cat. It would be very dangerous to bother him at this time. Michael and five shaman were sitting around the table. Carlos was beside them. Maria came in the main tent and sat down.

Carlos spoke. A small native Maria who had not noticed, stood up. He was a lot shy of five feet tall. Maria looking at him closely thought, he must be a young boy. The boy started talking and Carlos put his hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “He is talking in a language that is similar, but not exactly the same, as the people living here. As far as I can tell, he is still a boy. He hasn’t performed the rites that would make him a man. The village has had so much trouble that they haven’t had time to have his puberty ceremony.”

Carlos frowned as he listened. “The village has had ten people killed since the moon was last round. They killed one cat and it was the mother of one of those who was killed. The cat had the mother’s necklace around its neck and the skin markings on its forepaws matched those of the mother. As the men killed the cat, (it was in the form of a cougar) a tall white man was seen in the edge of the forest. He was alone. His companion was not with him. He was laughing as the cat screamed its last. The next day, two more children were killed and partially eaten. This boy’s father sent him, even though he had not completed his ceremony to manhood. He was entrusted to come here for help.”

Maria had heard enough. She would leave Michael and the shaman to plan the trip. Maria packed her backpack and, with plenty of ammunition, she picked up her rifle and came back out. She was ready to go.

Maria and Michael and the boy were leading. Carlos, with his AK 47 at ready,q was right behind them. The five shaman brought up the rear. At least, they did sometimes. Some of them would break off from time to time. They would be sitting along side the path further along the way. They were scouting the area. Maria was wearing her knee length shorts and jacket. Her legs tanned to nearly the color of the shorts. Instead of the fashion shoes she had always worn since she got her first job and could afford them, Maria was wearing hiking boots. They were jungle boots with canvas mesh to let in air. Her backpack, which at one time had felt so heavy, was now giving comfort in the knowledge that much of that weight was ammunition. Maria had never thought she would have seen the time when she would trade two tubes of lipstick for another box of cartridges. Her rifle, the magazine loaded, was slung comfortably from her shoulder. Michael was also wearing walking shorts. His short sleeved shirt was open at the chest to let what breeze there was reach his body. Where Maria constantly applied mosquito spray on her exposed limbs, Michael did not have that trouble. Yes, he was bitten a couple of times, but the mosquitoes quickly died. They couldn’t take his blood. Soon, they seemed to sense him and leave him alone. He, likewise, was wearing hiking boots. He was carrying a backpack, but his hands were empty of any weapons.

The shaman, following or scouting as they were doing, were all dressed in their string loincloth. The cords held every thing together, but left nothing to anyone’s imagination. They all had the soup bowl haircuts, looking as if a bowl had been placed upside down on their head and the hair cut off below it. Three of the shaman, were carrying machetes slung from their shoulders. These were the heavy jungle ones, not the lighter cane knives found further south. They each were carrying spears. The points of these weapons had once graced the shelves of some hardware store in the hinge department. The screw holes in the strap hinge made decorations in the point. Each shaman also carried a blow gun along with a cane case carrying the deadly poison darts. The shaman appeared and disappeared so often that Carlos told Maria they were turning themselves into birds, so they could better see the trail ahead. Maria couldn’t tell if Carlos was serious or kidding.

As they were traveling, the shaman would bring in some food they had found along the way. Maria insisted that they cook it and that Michael slice it. She did not want to have any idea of what she was eating. It took two days to reach the boy’s village.

When they had arrived, there were two more who had been hurt. They were told that another man had been killed and eaten by the cats. Michael patched up the two with first aid. Then, he suggested they start immediately for the clinic. It took four men to carry the two, but they started as soon as they could.

The shaman were very careful how they guarded Maria. She was walking point and Michael was walking just to the side of her. “Señorita, be careful. Even if it is not the jaguar god, it might be a gato, a cat, a real one,” they warned.

The forest was oppressive. There might have been breezes high in the tops of the trees. Maria could hear the calls of birds and other animals, probably monkeys. The shaman looked on the monkeys as a delicacy. Maria just couldn’t think of eating her cousins. True Sean, back home some time had tempted Maria to think about stringing him up, to think about eating him was just too gross. Now, if she was really hungry and the shaman cooked him leaving Michael to slice him up, well, that is why Maria insisted she not know what they were fixing her for food.

They drank a lot of water. Most of it came out in sweat. The sweat just rolled off of them. If it cooled her, Maria couldn’t tell. The shaman made sounds for quiet. They made signs that there was a clearing just ahead where some villagers should be collecting roots. Maria thought it was weird how they had developed their own language of hand signals and motions. Even though they couldn’t speak the same language they made their intentions known to each other.

There was a noise ahead of them. Suddenly, there was a scream. Maria speeded up along with Michael and three of the shaman. Where the rest of them were, Maria didn’t know.

Maria was the first to break into the clearing. At the far edge she saw a shadow bending over a body. The shadow was a dark-colored cat, probably a cougar, if it was real. It could be anything, if it was from Kivar.

Maria didn’t have to be told anything. She aimed at the cat’s head and let off her shot. Just as quickly, she re-chambered another shell. Seeing the cat stumble, she shot it again. Maria was casting about the clearing looking for another target. She felt a shaman put his hand on her shoulder. The small, but strong hand twisted her and the shaman’s other hand, the one holding the spear and blow gun, pointed to a place at the edge of the clearing. Maria saw the white man. She didn’t need to make identification. She saw the golden curls and the blue eyes. The blue eyes could be seen even though the man was over 50 yards from where she and the shaman stood. Maria took a head shot, but there was a green haze and the bullet never got there. The white man disappeared.

Maria was ready to give chase, but she felt the strong hand holding her. The hand spun her around to face the small man. He was pointing to his head and shaking his head furiously. Then, he pointed to his chest and with a grin nodded. He repeated this and Maria was perplexed. About this time, Carlos caught up with them. “Señorita, he is saying not the head, but the chest. For some reason, he is insisting that you not hit the white man in the head. Shoot him in the chest.”

“Damnit, Carlos, I can’t even get past that green stuff to hit him anywhere,” Maria cursed.

“Señorita, that green magic is not automatic. There are several seconds before he makes it. You must be faster next time,” Carlos informed Maria.

There was a low call. One of the shaman was pointing to something on the ground. All of them ran over to see what he found. Michael knelt down and traced the outline of a shoe with his finger. It was not a walking boot, but a man’s dress shoe.

There was another low call from the forest. Michael and Carlos took off in the direction they thought the call had come from. Maria felt the strong hand on her arm. She looked and it was the shaman who ususlly kept closest to her. He was leading her rapidly through the jungle.

Maria thought, here she was running through the trees. She was being led by an almost naked little man. Normally, she wouldn’t work up a sweat unless there was a “two for one” sale on at the mall. Now, she hurried right along side of the little man. Maria heard the sound of a power blast. She hoped that it was Michael making it, and not receiving it. The trees shook and she saw leaves shooting upward in the small patches of sky she could see. The little shaman grabbed her and making her look at him, he said something. She couldn’t, of course, understand anything he said, but she did get the message as he pointed to his head saying, “No! no!” He pointed to his chest and said, “Sí, sí.”

Maria was sure she understood this meaning. They were sure adamant about not shooting this Kivar fellow in the head. They proceeded at a slower pace. Maria was just with the shaman. She didn’t have any idea of where Michael was. There were a series of power blasts up ahead. Maria guessed that, now, she knew Michael’s location. As they were running,2 Maria thought there were different sounds in the two power blasts. She was thinking that it was just like her rifle. Different rifles made different sounds, so it wasn’t unreasonable to think that there would be a difference between Michael and Kivar when they made blasts.

The shaman suddenly caught Maria’s arm again. He pulled her to the side. They started out through the bush. Now, even Maria’s toughened legs felt the cut of the grasses and branches. The little man stopped. He made the quiet signal with his finger to his lips. He led Maria slowly to the clearing’s edge. He parted the grass and pointed ahead. Maria could make out Michael on the far side of the clearing. Facing him, giving Michael his full attention was Kivar.

There was no mistaking that form. He had the handsome arrogance that he had shown the night he kidnapped Isabel. Maria glanced around the clearing to see if she could see Isabel. The stories had been told that the companion of Kivar had long been absent. The shaman was impatient. He pointed at Kivar and thumped his chest.

Maria raised her rifle. Kivar’s attention was completely on Michael. He had a green shield between them. Michael would let loose with a blast and the shield would glow. Kivar would lower it, briefly, and let loose with a blast of his own. All they were doing was tearing up the clearing. Maria took a deep breath. She saw Kivar’s head in her scope. She lowered it to his chest. Maria exhaled, then inhaled, and held it. Maria fired, worked the bolt of her rifle and fired again. She did this until the magazine of the rifle was empty. She lowered her rifle and reached in a pocket of her shorts for more shells.

The shaman grabbed her arm. The other shaman all came out of the trees where they had been waiting. Kivar was down. Maria was sure that he would heal himself, given time. The shaman was dragging Maria along. He never had been so rough. Maria almost said something, but looking at his face, he was so intent that she kept quiet. Michael was also coming as fast as he could. Kivar was lying in the clearing, his eyes closed. The bullet holes were within a five inch circle, right where his heart would be if he was human.

The other shaman were pulling his arms out from his body and they were quickly getting ready for something. Maria didn’t know what. One of the shaman un-shouldered his machete. He raised it over his head. Maria screamed as he brought it down. It cut deeply into Kivar’s neck. A human neck is a tough thing to cut. Ask the old Englishmen, as they were so busy hacking heads off each other’s relatives over and over. The shaman again brought his machete down. It cut deeper. The shaman said something to Carlos.

“Señorita, close you eyes. It must be done. The Jaguar god said, ‘He could not be killed by any man.’ This is what you were born for. For the love of your friends and all the villagers, take the Machete and close your eyes.” Carlos repeated this as he put his arms around Maria. Her Shaman shadow was now holding her rifle.

Maria was now in a state of shock. Shooting cats was one thing. Shooting Kivar was considerably harder. Now, the machete was up close and personal. She shut her eyes. There was nothing in the spectacle she wanted to see or remember. It was like a dream. Carlos was behind her. She was holding the machete in her hands with her eyes closed. It was as if Maria had no will of her own. She felt Carlos holding her wrists. He raised her arms and she felt him bring them down. Maria didn’t fight him in any way. She felt the shock as the machete struck something. Carlos spun her around into Michael’s arms. Michael held her close. He buried her face in his chest. Michael, holding her this way, whispered, “Maria, keep your eyes closed.” He walked her out of the clearing. They reached the trees and kept going a few feet. When she looked up, it was the serious face of Michael she saw. Looking around, she saw her own personal shaman. He was still carrying her rifle and he stood it against a tree.

The shaman and Michael sat her on a log. Michael took some bandages from his pack and the shaman poured water on the bandage. Michael said, “Close you eyes again, babe.” Maria felt the wet cloth swab her face and arms. Maria felt Michael take her shirt off. She started to complain, disrobing before the shaman was a little upsetting, but she thought, why complain, it is only family here. She did get a little upset when she felt him take her shorts off. She was now standing in her panties and bra beside the shaman. She could feel Michael wiping her lower legs with the wet cloth. Maria opened her eyes as the shaman handed Michael a fresh pair of shorts from her pack. The shaman then dug through her pack to find a suitable shirt. Michael pulled the shirt on Maria. Then, like dressing a rag doll, he buttoned up both the shirt and the shorts.

Maria looked and she saw that there was blood on her shoes. Michael saw where her glance was at and he just shrugged. “I can’t do anything about that, babe. At least, I got you cleaned up.”

Carlos came up, “Señorita, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to do it. The shaman are very pleased.”

Things were now sinking into Maria’s mind. She had just chopped a man’s head off. She was starting to go into shock. She saw that the shaman were all hurrying. That is all, but her personal shaman. He was staying right beside her. Maria saw the shaman pile wood up and she saw them put something on the pile. The wood was lit and whatever type of wood it was, flared up brightly.

“Michael, what are they doing?” she asked.

“They are cleaning up the last of Kivar’s body,” Michael replied.

“Then, why did they need me to do that horrible chopping episode? If they were going to just burn him, they should have just done it without my help.” Maria was feeling used.

Carlos spoke up. “They didn’t burn his head. The just cremated the rest of his body. His head is well on its way to the border with Ecuador. They have something special for that.”

Neither Michael nor Maria understood. Carlos wasn’t that clear. Along with her personal shaman, Maria with Michael and Carlos, left for the village where Max and Liz were waiting.

xmag
destinyc
mary mary
keepsmiling7
jake17
nibbles2


Chapter 9

The stress and the worry was telling on Max. He was sleeping too sound at night. Sounder than he ever had done. He was so exhausted that if something went wrong with Liz, Max wouldn’t wake up in time to stop it. She could kill him and he would never wake up.

The missionaries had sent another doctor to help Max. Charlie Maiz was a good doctor who wanted a little excitement before he settled for the blonde, the Ferrari and a six figure salary. At first, he was confused. He was told that the clinic was in a large cage. The cage would only be opened when Doctor Max directed it.

The first day, Charlie entered the cage and found Doctor Max and a beautiful young woman. Max introduced her as his wife. Charlie was to learn that this was a very strange situation. Liz never left the cage. When they had a break, Charlie sat and talked with her. He found her a very intelligent lady. She had college work in anthropology and sociology along with her degree in biology. Charlie looked at her hands. They were red and inflamed. Charlie took her hands and examined them. There was some dried blood in the cuticle. Charlie had never seen anything like this.

“Doctor Maiz, there are many strange things here in the jungle. They badly need doctors. Doctor them as much as you can, but never disdain their own beliefs. There are many things in the jungle that are hard to understand,” Liz had told him.

Mrs. Evans, don’t you ever leave this cage?” Charlie asked.

Liz shook her head sadly. “No, I may never be able to leave here. My friends are trying to help me, but so far, it is better that I stay,”

When lunchtime arrived, Charlie was surprised at the appetite of the small woman. He also was surprised at what she ate. She was served meat that was so rare, it was almost raw. Liz eagerly attacked her meal. Then looking at Charlie and remembering they had a guest, she was embarrassed. “Charlie, this is just one of those things that are hard to understand,” she told him.

Liz and Max disappeared into their little house. ` Charlie was left alone at the clinic for a time. Patients were brought to him and he had more practice in that day than he would have had in a month at a hospital. Max and Liz soon returned and Max worked along side of Charlie until the day was almost over. Charlie had envisioned that they would work as long as there was light, but suddenly, there were no more patients waiting.

As it was getting dark, Liz was brought another meal. Charlie saw that this was just fruits and vegetables. He was quickly ushered out of the cage. He saw that one of the villagers locked Max and his wife inside.

The Indians showed Charlie to his quarters. “Señor, it is best that you do not wander about the compound at night,” they told him.

Charlie wondered, the moon was bright so he sat on his porch and watched the night creatures. The insects were trying his repellent, but so far, the repellent was winning. Across the compound, Charlie saw the cage. He wondered why Max and his wife were locked inside. As he was watching, Charlie was sure he saw a large cat inside. Did the Evanses keep such an animal as a pet?

Charlie was up before the sun. He was, habitually, an early riser. He walked outside, but the cage was dark. Charlie heard the low guttural sound of a big cat. He went back into his apartment for safety. As soon as the sun began to creep up and attempt to shine through the trees, Charlie saw Doctor Evans walking around in the cage. Soon, the sun was up and Charlie saw the Indians open the cage door. They took Doctor Max and Liz their breakfast. Charlie walked over to where the couple was seated. Max had Liz’s hands flat on the table and he was cleaning up something. Charlie saw that the bandage that Max was using was red with blood.

The day’s patients started arriving and Charlie, along with Max, was very busy. Charlie saw that Liz was writing in a journal. It was at lunch time, Charlie eating a canned meat sandwich sat with them, while Liz was eating a slab of almost raw meat, “Max, why do you and your wife get locked in here every night? Are the natives afraid that you might run away and they won’t have a doctor anymore?” Charlie inquired.

“What’s wrong Charlie? Are you afraid that they might decide they can’t live with out you, also?” Max asked with dry humor.

“Come on Max, what is the real reason?” Charlie demanded.

Max wiped his hands and his lips. He looked at Liz who nodded imperceptibly. “Charlie, how far does your belief system go?”

“Well, I wasn’t at the top of my class in bible school, but I guess they thought my beliefs were strong enough to send me here.” Charlie mused.

“Charlie, do you believe there might be things that neither your religion nor your studies in science can explain?” Max asked.

At first, Charlie laughed. He was a skeptic. There were things, in his religious training, that he felt needed better explaining. That had got him into trouble many times in discussions at the religious college. Now, he looked at Max. There was no humor in Max. He was deadly serious. Max reached across the table and took Liz’s hand. “There are things that have no human or rational explanation. Charlie there are things in the jungle that have been there for years. Most of them are dead or dying. The paths of science and progress mow the folk tales down like suburban lawns. There are also things not of this Earth. Sometimes these not of this Earth things meddle in the dying legacy of the stories of he old ones.”

Charlie was dumfounded. At first, he thought Doctor Max was pulling his leg. Doctor Max was telling the new kid tales of witches in the night. Then, Charlie saw the tears welling up in the soulful eyes of Liz Evans. Whatever this was, Max and Liz were deeply affected by it. “Charlie, every culture has tales of lycanthropy, the act of men taking on the shape and character of beast. Well, what if a creature not of this Earth, manipulated this legend and, with higher science, really caused it to happen? Then, the creature took this power and used it to get revenge? You would have the situation Liz and I are in. We are captives of an ancient curse amplified by extra terrestrial science.” Max was so serious that Charlie felt a chill. Max was right. He was talking about things that neither Charlie’s religion nor his science had an answer for.

Max went on, “Liz got caught in a battle aimed at me and my family. She was helping us rescue my sister from a foreign prince of great power. Liz was found separated from the rest of us and cursed. She might even be responsible for the killing of my sister. We just do not know. At night, Liz is forced to live as a cat, something like a panther or cougar. In the day, she comes back to me. Every night, she must live with the fear of killing me. Every day, I have to live with the fear of losing her to the jungle. Of course, no one would believe this tale.”

Lunch finished and Charlie went back to work. He noticed that Max took his wife and tenderly led her into the small house. It was about an hour later that Max returned. Liz followed, but Charlie saw tears in her eyes.

Charlie found that whileworking in the clinic, he was solving problems that he never would have faced at the hospital. The whole time he was working, he kept thinking of the story Max had told. That night, when Charlie went back to his apartment, he grabbed a sandwich and a beer, which was a luxury. There wouldn’t be any more beers until the boat, finally, made it up river some time next month. Of course, Charlie knew he could develop a taste for spit beer. The Indians made beer by chewing yucca and spitting it into a container to ferment. For a while, Charlie would wait until the boat came back up river. Later, he might try the native brew. Charlie sat in the dark watching the cage. After it was dark, Charlie saw the dark form of the cat. The cat, who was in fact, Doctor Max’s wife.

Morning found Charlie back at work as soon as the cage was opened. He noticed, probably since he now knew the story, that both Liz and Max were stressed and tired. They hadn’t told him how long their situation had been like it was, but it must have been a long time. Charlie noticed that they, now, never took anything for granted. They were just going through their life waiting for something to happen, savoring everything that came to them.

That something was to come before lunch. Charlie was setting a bone in a child who had fallen from a tree. Max was treating an infection that a farmer had gotten in his foot. He had cut his foot and then, kept working. The ground he had been tilling, held the infection. Max drained the infection and filled it with antibiotic. He was bandaging it up when he heard a noise from the edge of the village.

Michael, Carlos, Maria and their new shadow, the shaman, had just walked into the clearing. Maria stepped into the cage. Liz ran to embrace her. Maria was all smiles. “We got him babe. Kivar is dead, dead, dead.”

There was a grunt from the shaman. For the first time he spoke a little English, “Maybe, only dead, dead. He not dead and gone for ever.”

Maria looked at the shaman with surprise. Max caught the reference immediately. These people had a very complicated reference to death.

Carlos and Michael went to their apartments. Maria went into the little house in the middle of the cage with Liz. The shaman just sat outside the small house and appeared to doze. Charlie and Max had several patients come in. They were very busy caring for them.

“Chica, we followed him for several days. I killed one cat who used to be a woman. I feel so bad when I do that, but Carlos assures me that once they turn into a cat, there is no way back.” Maria was explaining without thought about how it affected Liz. When Liz froze, Maria grabbed her in an embrace, “Oh, Chica, I forgot. The shaman, though, says that your condition will not be forever.”

Liz was shaking now. Maria, with her arm around Liz continued, “I shot Kivar. I shot him several times. The shaman kept telling me not to shoot him in the head. I didn’t understand why, but I got him in the chest every shot.” So far, Maria had been the strong one. She had been holding Liz, but with that last statement, she released Liz and bent over with her head in her hands.

“It was awful. Those little men, who had been guiding us, slammed the body of Kivar down and hacked at his neck with machetes. Blood was everywhere. If anyone wanted a sample of alien blood, there was plenty to go around.” It was Maria, now, who was shaking. Liz, for the minute, had to forget her horror and tend to her friend.

“One of the shaman lifted his machete way above his head and brought it down. It still didn’t completely sever the head. They did it again. Then, Carlos told me to close my eyes. He put the machete in my hands and with my eyes closed all the time, he lifted my arms up over my head and I struck the final blow. I could feel the blade go through the body. Michael took me away from that place. Then, with my eyes still closed, he and my shadow cleaned me up and changed my clothes. Oh Chica, I did it. I did it for you and Isabel. There was something about Kivar not being killed by a man. The shaman used me to do it. He didn’t die at the hands of a man, but by a woman.” Liz knew that Maria had to get the story out. She had come a long ways from the singer whose greatest assault was the sales at the mall.

They both sat and sobbed for a while. “Maria, you know that it may have been me who killed Isabel. Neither Max nor I are sure. There are fragments of memory when I take over from the cat every morning. We have been writing these down trying to get a story,” Liz sobbed.

It was about an hour later when Carlos and Michael came back to the cage. They walked into the house where Maria and Liz were still talking. “What now, Carlos?” Liz asked.

He shrugged. “We wait. The shaman have said it will take time, but I think they consider it possible to break the spell on you and there is something else. Again, I do not know all the words they are using. They, sometimes, use words from another language. Maybe, it is a language of the shaman further west. In Ecuador maybe?

The shaman said wait and wait they did. Four shaman had disappeared. The only one they saw constantly was the one who had become Maria’s shadow. Carlos talked to him and finally told the Anglos that the shaman’s name was Esteban Morales. He had no idea how old he was. He explained to Carlos that he was to be the ‘Keeper of Kivar.’

None of them had any idea what that meant, but when Carlos tried to get Esteban to explain further, he just shrugged. They did see that he had a lot more understanding of English than they had thought.

Every night when Michael and Maria went to bed, Esteban slept right out side the house, his body across the doorway. When they got up, it was Esteban in their kitchen fixing coffee. He made the best coffee, or so Maria said. They would see him taking branches of coffee beans, roasting and crushing them right after they were picked. They couldn’t tell if he was a servant or guardian. He did make the best coffee!

“Michael, don’t get me wrong. Until we know the final outcome of what happens to Liz and get some answer about Isabel, I know we should stay here. I am, now, really starting to miss the singing tour. I am starting to miss the mall. There I said it, so make fun of me all you want,” Maria said.

Michael pulled her to him, “No, babe, I won’t make fun of you. You have been great, not only for your friend, Liz, but also to the memory of Isabel. Esteban keeps telling me to wait. That is all we can do for the moment.”

The week turned into a month and the month turned into six months. Totally, they had been away from home for almost two years. Esteban would fix their coffee every morning. Michael and Carlos would visit the nearby villages listening for stories of anyone who had been hurt by a big cat. There had been few sightings of cats since Kivar had left. Michael imagined that those sightings were of real, natural cats. The cats ran when they sensed the presence of man near by. Michael sensed the relief that the Jaguar god was gone. There was a rumor that a woman warrior had vanquished him and cut off his head.

Late one night while Liz was still a cat, there was a disturbance at the edge of the village. Several men had arrived with a burden. They camped at the edge and waited for light. The cat was disturbed. There was something upsetting in her scheduled life. She could scent something at the edge of the village, but she couldn’t identify it.