Mad Cow Read Online Free Page A

blues, still muted, and he couldn’t really see anything he thought might have been red before, or even anything too bright. Just dim shades of yellow and blue.
    The afterlife’s a sad Chargers tailgate?
    “You okay, man?”
    James turned his head. Frank was looking at him with concern, but he was looking him in the eye, so he must not be dead. Maybe this was how cows saw the world.
    “Try to get up.”
    James did as Frank said, struggling to his hands and knees, then tried to stand — but his body wouldn’t bend that way. He looked down at his hands.
    Hooves . Oh …
    “Easy!” Frank yelled. “Take it easy, let yourself get used to it. I think you might feel things different — your senses are going to be … well, cowish. I don’t know what that is, but let yourself get used to it. And your body too.”
    James shook his head. He did feel different. Bulky. Solid. He flexed his shoulders and felt some serious power there. Something seemed to be caught in his throat, though. He jerked his head twice, wanting to cough or something and his mouth was suddenly filled with something. It tasted and smelled like … grass. But not the cool, fresh scent of new-mown grass … no, this was like that clump of grass the mower left at the edge of the lawn in the shade where it never quite dried out from the rain and then you mowed over it the next week and …
    James opened his mouth and tried to spit it out, but he couldn’t make his mouth spit — could only move his tongue around enough to force the thick wad out onto the floor.
    “Nasty!” Frank said. “And, seriously, man, I said bad-ass … you look like the ice cream cow.” He frowned. “You’ve even got … oh, man, I’m sorry.”
    James turned his head to look at himself. Sure enough … he was a cow. And not the bad-ass cow Frank suggested. No, his pelt wasn’t even the dark color of the original skin. It was mostly white, with large black blobs. He couldn’t see his own head, but what he could see was the spitting image of the cow on the ice cream cartons. Including …
    Really? Not even a bull? Really?
    Frank was shaking his head.
    “Well, it’ll have to do, I guess.” He shook out his own skin. “I have to —”
    Thud!
    “Crap … one line left. They’ll be in soon.”
    The reality — reality, that was a laugh — of their situation struck James. He was stuck in a little room, with one door, three pissed-off werewolves about to break in, and he was stuck in the shape of the ice cream cow, complete with udders. This was not a good situation to be in. His stomach churned with fear, anxiety built … wait, something else was churning too … and another … and …
    A loud trumpeting sound echoed through the tiny space.
    “Oh, god!” Frank edged up against the shelves, he covered his mouth and nose with one hand. “That’s ranker than the other end, man!”
    James tried to tell Frank exactly what he could do with what had come out both ends, but the only sound he could make was a lowing moo .
    Thud.
    Sparks covered them both.
    “Crap,” Frank muttered, throwing his own skin over himself.

    * * *
    J ames stared at the door , shuffling as best he could to orient himself facing it.
    The last ward line was out. The door itself was bent and dented in places. The upper corner had a gap where it had bent inward, exposing the room outside, and he could hear snarls and growls through that space.
    Thud!
    The gap there widened as the door shuddered under another impact and he could see black fur for an instant as one of the werewolves struck it and rebounded.
    Behind him he could hear the sickening cracks and wet sounds of Frank’s transformation and it made his stomach … stomachs … churn more at the memory of how much his own had hurt.
    Is being eaten worse than that?
    James’ legs quivered. He was scared, confused, certain he was going to die and more certain he had no way to fight back. He just wanted to run, but there was no place to run to. He