That night, Peter could not sleep. He woke Mike at around midnight, and they got into the car and headed for the library, with intentions of rescuing Micky and I. They were getting out of the car when they heard the screams of terror.
"Mike, that's..."
"I heard, Pete. C'mon," Mike led Peter to the secret, well hidden door on the side of the library. The door was open. He headed down the stairs, shining his flashlight (he was prepared this time). As he headed down the stairs, he heard the screams again. He stopped to listen, and then started to continue on. But Peter stopped him, grabbing his sleeve.
"Mike, wait. That doesn't sound like Davy or Micky," he said. The stopped and listened, but the screams didn't continue. Then, the screams came closer to them. The two short, blond Russians ran past them on the stairs.
"Get out while you can," one of them yelled.
"Wait, what is it?" Mike asked, but neither of them responded. They just continued to scream as they ran up the stairs. Mike looked at Peter in the dim light. Peter gulped. Then, they both took a step forward. When they reached the bottom of the stairs they proceeded with caution, though there was no need to. There was no one in the first room. The door leading into the second was wide open. The screams were gone now. They continued into that room cautiously, Mike shining his flashlight ahead of them. Inside the room, they put down their guard temporarily.
On the floor lie the two remaining Russians. Both were moaning in pain. They had several deep cuts and numerous small ones, but neither of them was injured enough to be considered near death. Peter, concerned, immediately sank down to his knees to see if they were alright. "What happened?" he asked them. Mike started off towards the other, never before seen rooms of the basement.
"Don't go in there, whatever you do. He's too dangerous," the boss warned. He passed out. He wasn't that injured, but failure to take care of his deep wounds had meant that he'd lost a lot of blood. Peter looked at Mike and gulped again.
"Are you sure you should go in there, Mike?" Peter asked. "You heard what he said. "
"I know. I heard. But still, I gotta find out about Micky and Davy." He headed for the door into the other room. Peter began to bandage the Russians' wounds. They were both unconscious on the floor.
"Davy?" I heard someone call. It was very faint. I might have imagined it. The giant lion, still sitting in the doorway, perked its ears up at the sound, but made no response. "Davy? Micky?" I heard again. This time I knew I wasn't imagining it. The animal's ears perked up again. I heard the voice again. "Davy? Micky? Where are you guys?" This time, the voice was recognizable.
"M-mike?" I called, mustering my strength against my fear. I was absolutely frozen. "I-is that y-you?" I asked, barely able to speak.
"Davy? Where are you?" I heard his voice call out again.
"O-over here, M-mike, " I called. I never took my eyes off the animal. He seemed to be relaxed, but you never knew. He could be planning to pounce on me any second. I sat, completely still, afraid that the slightest movement would startle him enough to make him pounce. This had to be a dream, I thought. I was looking at a giant lion, and Mike was here. It had to be a dream.
Mike found the door and was about to walk in when he noticed the lion in the middle of the room. Any questions he'd had about what had scared the Russians were gone now. There was no doubt about it. His eyes grew wide, and he did a double take. He swallowed, and found his voice.
"Davy are you alright?" he asked.
"Y-yeah," I said. "I-I'm f-fine. J-just a little s-scared. "
"Hey, Mike, I finished bandaging the...."Peter entered the room and stopped in his tracks. He swallowed. "Where'd he come from?" he asked.
"Africa, I assume," Mike said. "The question is how he got here. Well, he's pretty tame. Shouldn't be a problem. " He ventured a foot forward and took a step. The animal didn't respond. He took another step. The lion turned. Mike stopped in his tracks. "Then again, we never know," he said, and took another two steps back, tripping over Peter's feet.
"Ouch," Peter said. Mike, distracted turned around.
"Sorry Pete," he said. The lion had been waiting for this opportunity. It took a few steps forward.
"Mike, watch out," Peter warned. But there was no need to. It didn't attack Mike, it merely walked over to him. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the skin-ripping teeth and claws to tear through his flesh and the worst pain of his life to begin. He was standing there, panic-stricken, when he felt something soft under his hand. He opened his eyes. The lion was rubbing his head under his hand in a gesture that indicated that he wanted Mike to pet him. Mike looked at the lion, then at me, then back at the lion. He was absolutely shocked. (Most people would be if they were petting a perfectly tame lion that only moments ago they had thought would kill them. )
It was Peter who recovered first. He went over to the animal and touched its back, as though he were a child who was satisfying a curiosity as to what a lion's fur would feel like. He shut his eyes and appeared immersed in thought. Then he opened them.
"Guys, this could be Micky," he said. "I mean, he's hurt all of the Russians, yet he hasn't harmed any of us at all. He even tried to break Davy out."
"But, I don't understand," said Mike, finding his voice as he continued to rub his hand over the lion's head. "Why did Micky change? I mean how?"
"I can answer that," Peter said. "He got some of my blood in him," he explained, telling them how Micky had come to be stabbed in the heart with a needle full of Peter's blood.
"But why now?" Mike asked. "It isn't a full moon. Why would he change now, if he didn't know he had the power?"
"I'm not sure," Peter said.
"M-maybe it was the drugs," I said, speaking up for the first time. "I know they've given him a lot of drugs. Maybe one of them was to try and get him to change on cue. Only they didn't know he'd be a lion. Or such a big one," I added. Mike and Peter looked at each other.
"Well, there's only one way to find out for sure," Peter said. Bolstering his courage, he knelt in front of the giant cat and looked into its amber eyes.
"Anything, Pete?" Mike asked. Pete just shook his head. He looked at me, a questioning glance in his eyes. I stood up and went to it. Looking into its eyes didn't help me as it had Peter, so I just stood in front of it. I closed my eyes. Unlike when Mike had changed, when I couldn't find him, this time, there was something blocking me. I didn't know what, but something was blocking me from seeing who was in there. I knew that someone was, but whether or not it was Micky I couldn't tell. I turned to Mike.
"I can't tell either," I said.
"I don't understand," Mike said. "Did you lose the power? Or did you just not find anything? "
"No, something's in there, I just don't know what," Peter said. Mike still didn't understand.
I tried to explain. "Something's blocking us. Probably a side effect of the drug. Or maybe it was what they wanted. To control his mind or something. But I guess it backfired. For whatever reason, neither of us can get through. We're not strong enough to break that barrier. We're as clueless as you are."
Mike sighed. Then, he thought of something and he lifted his nose into the air and began to sniff the air. "Well, if it helps, he smells like Micky."
Pete sniffed the air. "You're right, Mike," he agreed.
"Smells like Micky?" I asked, confused.
"Yeah. See, when I'm a dog, I keep the human ability to think consciously. While I'm human, I keep some of those canine qualities. Like a supersensitive nose. So does Mike."
"I see," I said. "Does that mean it is Micky?" I asked.
"Not necessarily," Pete replied. "But it means there's a good chance."
"Guys, you're forgetting the problem at hand. There are two injured Russians outside, and if we don't do something they're either going to find us or die," Mike pointed out.
"Well, why don't we just call for help?" Peter asked, meaning the police. "We'll call the operator and then they will bring an ambulance."
"But what do we do after that?" I asked. "Just leave? The ambulance won't know where to find them, and I don't think we should move them."
"What about the other two, Mike? The ones we passed on the way down the stairs. They probably went to get help," Peter pointed out.
"True. Well, it's a good thing that it's so late or we'd never be able to get him home. In the middle of the night, no one will notice us walking home with a lion," Mike said, petting the large cat's head as he spoke. We all decided that we should leave before the Russians returned with help. Then we walked back home.
Sometime the following morning when it was not yet fully light I was awakened by a loud noise. This time it was a scream, though. And not just any scream. A scream of complete terror. I awoke to see who was screaming, and found the window near my bed opened. I got up and shut it. Then I learned the source of the screaming; Micky. Mike and Peter were already awake and over near Micky. I went over, too.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "And who opened the window?" I looked at Micky, then Peter, and then Mike.
"Micky says he saw something climb in through that window," Mike said, solemnly. I looked at Micky.
"Something?" I asked.
"Well, I couldn't tell, it was almost dark, but something very large and very not human climbed through the window," Micky said, an apologetic tone to his voice.
"What?" I asked.
"I don't know," Micky said. He looked very ashamed for waking us up so early in the morning.
"Micky, you were probably just dreaming," Mike said. "Then you woke up and remembered the dream and it scared you."
"No, man, I'm absolutely sure. This wasn't a dream. This was real. Mike, I know when I'm dreaming and when I'm awake and this wasn't a dream. I was awake. Wide awake. And I saw something climb through that window. " Micky was adamant in defending his sanity.
Later that day, Mike, Peter, and I were eating lunch. Micky had yet to awaken. After the early morning wake up call, we all were tired. Especially since we'd only gone to bed after one o' clock in the morning. Micky had been very tired, and at noon he was still asleep.
While we were eating lunch, there was a noise from upstairs, and we all turned to see. Micky slowly and sleepily descended the winding stairs. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked around the room, paused, then rubbed his eyes again.
"Mike?" he asked.
"Yes, Micky?"
"Am I, am I dreaming now?" he asked.
Mike grinned. "No Micky, this isn't a dream. We're glad to have you back, pal." Micky looked around the kitchen and then smiled. He was home, he was himself, and he was alive. He couldn't have been happier. But something still haunted him. He couldn't forget the dream that he'd had the night before, thought he insisted that it wasn't a dream.
