When an experiment goes wrong, separating two scientists and sending them into a parallel dimension, Jack is stalked by something otherworldly... part man and part beast, with claws, and teeth, and tongue.
No one told Jack getting lost in the wilds could be wonderful.
Don't miss Frank's story in Wild and Wicked!
Praise for Wild and Wonderful
"...Rayven Renshaw’s Wild and Wonderful does not disappoint. Wild and Wonderful is well worth the read – and more than a bit of a tease."
-- 4 Stars from Portia de Moncur, MM Good Book Reviews
Wild and Wonderful
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Rayven Renshaw
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This couldn't be happening. Okay, that know-it-all, Frank, had warned there could be a feedback in the nanoelectrical system. There was a slight chance -- minuscule, mind you -- that the computer could mistake the calculations to include a sideways direction, not just forwards. No one had believed the jerk.
They'd based the whole time experiment on high-energy physics: energy, momentum, mass, distance, and temperature. The last thing Jack remembered seeing back in the lab was the keV volts going off the scale. Kiloelectron instability exactly as Frank had predicted, but that shouldn't have dictated the direction.
Jack didn't believe it. He had to be critically injured, lying in a medical unit somewhere, hallucinating owing to brain damage. Or on super strength painkillers. He couldn't have breached the walls of reality and crossed dimensions.
He prayed for the first scenario because the alternative meant he was in serious shit. Medical science had progressed to where they could do wonders with brain injuries: his preferred choice. Even Frankenstein wouldn't be able to sew back together what the creature stalking him would leave mangled.
He'd been catapulted (no pun intended) into a wild world. Mountainous wilderness had quickly swallowed Jack whole as he'd fled in fear. He couldn't run any longer. He'd been running for hours, had the scrapes, cuts, and bruises to prove it. That didn't mean he wouldn't try to stay one step ahead, but despite such resolve, he was flagging.
Having fallen to his knees and then rolled onto his back, he now fought the paralysis of terror. If the cat didn't devour him, possibly he was already dying, parts of his body fragmenting internally.
Inorganic matter didn't appear to travel through dimensions well. At least he hoped disintegration only applied to the inorganic. His garments had begun to crumble shortly after his arrival. If that happened to his organs, or any part of his body, he was facing an agonising death.
The rough terrain had worsened the scraps of cloth that hadn't readily fallen apart. The cat had removed what was left with a couple of swipes of its paws. Almost catching him then letting him flee, the creature had been playing the feline to his rodent all day. Jack didn't like being the mouse. He'd rather capitulate, get it over with. He'd had enough. Night had fallen. The beast had cornered him. He didn't even have the strength left to rise.
"Nice cat. Nice kitty."
Jack surrendered. He was distraught and exhausted. He lay on his back, stopped scrambling back out of reach. Movement only served to scrape his elbows and leave them bloody. He closed his eyes.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! He would die. Chewed up. Eaten alive. He clenched his jaw in preparation for the pain, then cried out in shock when the cat's tongue rasped over his skin. It felt exactly like being licked by a moggy; somewhat pleasurable, yet weird.
Tasted or tenderised. What a choice. He couldn't help a whimper escaping. The sound mingled with a rumbling chorus of growls. The cat wasn't alone; it had hunted him with its pack all day.
Pack? Was a group of cats a pack? Or a pride? Was that only lions? This cat was black, looked more like a panther, only on a scale he'd never seen. Fucking huge.
The cat's claws had torn away what remained of his clothes. He was as butt naked as the day he was born. Not that nudity concerned him. Knowing he might be dying, death by Black Panther seemed preferable.
The tongue filed over his stomach. Jack couldn't help sucking in his already taut gut. The noise the creature made in response sounded more like a chuckle than a growl.
Jack opened his eyes, and staring by chance straight into the black pupils... saw intelligence.
Hell, no. Couldn't be. That was his imagination. The only intelligence this beast could have was the type that told it how to survive. Beasts needed safety and sleep. Food and... to fuck