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Spirit of the Outback

-Epilogue -

15th July, 2019

All Rights Reserved.

James loved his work, it took him to strange, exotic places, out in the wilds and wilderness, to see what he could see, photograph the scenery and the wildlife and take pleasure from nature who had it in abundance. Yet, he felt his life was missing - something - that elusive something, he just couldn't put his finger on...

Idly, he scratched at the ghostly paw-print on his chest. It ached from time to time, especially around the full moon. He still suffered - he wasn't sure whether to call them dreams or nightmares - but they come around the time of the full moon. He remembered clearly, that cold night. He was lost, frightened, alone, hundreds of miles from civilisation and rescue.

_She_had come to him - some creature at first his dehydrated mind believed to be a normal, feral Red Kangaroo Doe. There had been _something_about her - other than her abnormal friendliness and curiosity - that stuck with him. Add to that, the - affections - they shared that night...

No...you were dehydrated, hallucinating, it never happened, that kangaroo doe and you - you never bred to her! You're delusional and it was just some fantasy and -

Again, he touched that paw print on his chest.

"Explain this then?" He muttered to himself.

His mind responded with deadly silence...

With a snort, he shook his head and shouldered his pack, walking down the game trail. He was armed this time - a Glock 19 in its holster at his waist. He was entering some pretty wild country in the north island of New Zealand - and he'd heard rumours about feral pigs that had been seen in the area. Knowing what he did about feral pigs - he wasn't going to take any chances.

*

For months, he spent his time living off whatever he could hunt, scavenge or find. A few Red Deer over the months supplemented his meals, after all, there were only so many MRI's you could eat before you were better throwing away the contents and eating the packaging - it'd probably taste better!.

*

Finally, he heard the distant whup, whup, whup of the helicopter that was supposed to pick him up. His pack considerably lighter after his time here, it was time to return to Sydney and home. Digging into his pack, he held aloft the flare gun, then fired it off. A bright green flare exploded in the sky, and the helicopter turned towards it.

As he rested on a rock, his mind played over all the wonderful experiences his time had brought him - the sights, the sounds, the wonder of nature in all her glory - but it was done, the time here was well spent, and he had over ten thousand images to go through when he returned to Australia.

*

Six months later...

*

He was restless, couldn't sleep, barely ate, become dishevelled and increasingly stressed. He'd quit his job and lived off his savings, until they too began to dwindle. He felt - alienated, lost, confused in this jungle of glass, steel and concrete. Something called to him, his desire, no, _need_to get away, far away,...

"Fuck it - " James muttered, then left his apartment, didn't even bother to close the door - he just walked out - and vanished into the night.

*

Friends and family searched for him for weeks, putting up flyers, getting on the internet - even the media had a press conference with the Police, begging for information and assistance to find him...at last - word come back - he'd been seen three days ago, in far Western Queensland.

Police from the district were sent to find him, but all they found after two weeks of searching, was the trail of footprints leading into the desert - undisturbed and untouched. Next, were pieces of clothing - torn, ripped, like a dingo had taken to them or something.,,but there was no blood, no teeth marks - nothing to show what had happened.

Not too far away, stood a Red Kangaroo, who stood upright, a large piece of spinnifex in his paw as he stared a the humans with a look of sadness and regret. He longed to tell them, to show them, what had happened, before his mind recalled that terrible, frightening night...

*

He wandered, he was lost, delirious from dehydration and confused. He'd fallen many times in the sand, each time something forced him to stand. This time, he felt it would be his last. Slumping to his knees, then onto his chest and face, he lay on the slip side of a dune. It felt cool, comforting after the blazing hot sun he'd endured for what felt like an eternity.

'No..more..." he moaned, helpless and with his last strength, he reached out and gripped at his shirt.

He felt hot, no, boiling! It was as if his skin was smothered in some blanket. Weakly, he clawed at his shirt, then heard it rip and shred. His trousers were next, as he felt fingers curl into them, tearing and shredding them with his fingernails. It - felt like he was tearing apart silk, not heavy denim!

"Not what I...I..." He stared at his hand - only it wasn't a hand anymore!

It was a small, about half the size of a normal hand, but covered with a reddish brown fur, the five fingers ending in curled, black nails. Disbelieving, he turned the hand over - paw- his mind told him, noticing the thick leathery pads. Tearing at the fur and flesh on his wrist, he screamed as it drew blood - bright, crimson blood - as the claws tore through the fur and flesh.

"No..." He moaned, even his voice sounded - different - he was hallucinating, he had to be! There was no logical nor rational...

His mind fell away, as something pushed out from his buttocks, pain lancing through his body like he'd fallen into a prickly pear cactus. More pain, legs twisting and bones snapping, until he was writhing and shrieking beneath the uncaring sun. He writhed helplessly, clawing a the hot, burning sand on which he lay, his feet growing slender and long, hips shattering and reforming, ribs crackling and warping...

For over an hour, this unholy transformation seized him and twisted and warped his body, until at last, panting and laying with his muzzle on the hot sand, it was complete. Ears flicked, hearing things no human could - t he distant screech of a hunting bird of prey, a long yelp from a dingo...a...

Panic twisted his entrails, and he staggered to his feet, before he stumbled sideways and fell heavily, rolling over again and again. His feet clawed at the sand, as he struggled to make them work. Muscles and tendons flexed and twinged in agony, as he again dug his paws into the sand, dragging the long feet and heavy tail behind himself as he twisted and crouched, panting like he'd run a marathon - not just gotten up off the sand...

Experimentally, he crawled forwards, then nearly stumbled as his long toes curled and caught on the sand.

"Hop..." He muttered, his voice now growls, clucks and clicks.

He crouched, splaying out his fingers, then felt powerful hind leg muscles bunch, tendons flex - and he hopped - then fell flat on his muzzle and fell again.

Again, that yelp come - closer - louder...his ears rotated automatically, hearing that loud yelp again - closer - _much_closer...the faint, almost inaudible thump of paws on sand...

"Get...up..." He commands himself, then to his surprise, he does.

Standing, wobbling helplessly, he starts to stand up, before over the dune come a Dingo which slides to a halt, standing and staring at the weak, disoriented kangaroo.

"Go...away!" Jack shrieks, but all his ears hear is a loud barking cough.

As Jack turned, the Dingo charged, its dewlaps curling back. Frightened, Jack twisted and fell - it was only by fate, he fell sideways, the Dingo's jaws snapping closed on nothing but air. Staggering to his feet, Jack twisted again, dragging his tail in a semi-circle, as he stared at the snarling Dingo, who kept a respectable distance, growling at this strange, frustrating Kangaroo.

You need to fight... Something whispered to him in his mind.

I don't know how - this isn't - my body! I don't know how to fight - I can't even stand up without falling...

Mo... That voice begins, before he is struck and the wind crushed from his lungs, as he's knocked to the ground and teeth snap and gnash before his eyes, seeking his throat.

Somehow, he's caught the snarling, clawing and snapping Dingo with his paws, barely managing to hold onto it as it slavers and snaps.

Throw and kick...now

He doesn't think, just acts...tossing the dingo by twisting himself sideways, he lets it go a little early, before leaning back on the thick muscular tail and his hind feet slashed - barely grazing the side of the dingo as it yelped and rolled over then leapt back to its feet. It flashed at him, growling and snarling - this time it was instinct, not fate, that saved him as his hind feet flashed and there was a thud then the dingo's howls of agony. Talons curled just before impact, disembowelling the dingo from throat to groin. It was dead before it hit the sand...

I killed it...

It would have killed you little one... Come that voice again.

Shaking, Jack stumbles, losing control of his body, before he tumbles head over tail again, then lays there, panting and shaking, trying to vomit, but nothing comes up - he's incapable - but the adrenaline and fear keep clawing at his entrails mercilessly.

Get used to it - life here is cruel little one...

Help me...please?

With a low sigh, almost like a cool breeze, the voice answers him. Very well...

Jack learns first how to crawl, then soon, how to hop, scratch himself and everything he had never known. It took all night, but eventually he was bounding around in growing circles, leaping over six feet with the slightest thought and revelling in the new experiences.

As the first rays of dawn started to brighten the horizon, Jack is squealing in marsupial laughter and pleasure, bounding across the edges of the desert with reckless joy. He was unmindful of his situation, as he hopped wildly around the outskirts of town, setting off dogs who barked, whined and yelped as the kangaroo flashed past.

He felt sand turn to a loose gravel, then come the click, click, click of his talons on something hard, just as he focused his eyes, agonising white light filled his vision...and he screamed in terror....

*

He'd been driving for hours past his scheduled time, the boss was riding him hard, demanding he get from Sydney to Adelaide - yesterday - but it was a three or four day trip at the best of times. Muttering, the truck driver took a sip of cold coffee, then he spat it out as he saw a kangaroo standing in the centre of the highway.

"Fucking move it skip!" He screamed at it, eyes widening.

Terrified, blind and frozen - the kangaroo stared down the mindless metal monster that roared towards it...

There come a sickening crunch, as the bull-bar collected the kangaroo, driving it under the truck..it was killed instantly...

"God,...fuck...cunt!" Snarled the man behind the wheel, as he shuddered and put the accelerator down faster. "Stupid bloody 'Roo..."

*

A pale, translucent form wavered into view, before it screamed silently in fear and instinctively threw its paws up in an instinctive reaction...feeling the wind chill it to its very soul, then pass.

"What..."_Jack squealed, looking around, then down at the crushed, lifeless corpse. "_No...it...it can't be..."

Another ghost, identical to him, except female, materialised at he side of the road, before she crawled over and looked piteously down at the corpse, then at him.

"I'm sorry...I never meant for it to happen like this..."

"I'm...dead?"

"Yes, you are...you died instantly, you didn't feel a thing, I promise..."

"How can I be.,.."

"Dead"_It spoke, then gestured with its paws at the crushed corpse. _"That - thing...ran you down, silly buck - why were you on the road?"

"I...I'm really dead? Really??"

With an exasperated sigh, then kangaroo again pointed with its paws at the body. "Yes, you're DEAD! Dead like I am...now, I don't have much time, I'm sorry - but I wanted to do this another way...this - forced my paw..."

"Wait...what are you..."

"I'm sorry..." It spoke, as it glanced over its shoulder at the rising sun, before it turned back and sighed, before placing its left paw on the silvery paw print on his chest.

Jack screamed....

*

It is said, if you're ever lost out in the desert, look at dusk or dawn, you might just see a ghostly kangaroo, watching and waiting..he helps those, who are clean and pure of spirit - but gods help those - who would do harm...there are far worst fates than death...

END