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Becoming Elijah
by Bob Meads
Category: Science Fiction
Description: In a post-apocalyptic society plagued by dwindling resources and radiation-induced birth defects, Ganthr sought to restore hope to the People and validate his own perfect birth by defeating a great warrior sent as a divine test, a gigantic brown bear. Though the great beast lay dead, Ganthr is also slain in the battle and awakens in the presence of his god, who demands of him his soul for his failure.
eBook Publisher: Calderwood Books/Calderwood Shorts, 2008 2008
eBookwise Release Date: August 2008
 
9 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [76 KB]
Words: 15707
Reading time: 44-62 min.
1 I dimly recall being eaten by the bat. At the time, I was barely self aware: a phosphorescent mote bumbling through the spring twilight. I remember being engulfed in a maelstrom of hideous darting maws; leather wings beating the air, battering me about in their turbulence. For some reason, this didn't concern me, and I made no attempt to evade. Finally, a gaping, toothy maw darted in, engulfing my senses, then that curious shift of perspective I would come to expect. Suddenly, I was the bat. The first thing I did as a bat was to swallow. That summer, a mid-air collision left me thrashing helplessly in inches of rank guano. I was hurt badly; one wing broken and throbbing with pain. As the last of my brethren flapped noisily into the warm night, I called out, my cries scattering over the cave floor. There, and there: movement, a rustle of granite scree on hard rock; scavengers watching, waiting. A few weak flaps of my wings upped the ante: no threat here, just a quick and easy meal. Before long, the scuffling of claws on rock rewarded my performance. I lay still as they approached, conserving the last of my strength. A large sleek rat, hairless pink tail twitching nervously, shambled over to my broken body and began to feed. Blood flowed from my neck. Shift. I took over the controls of the rat's body easily; the bat's body flopped and twitched about as the new occupant struggled with limbs and senses it could never understand. I backed off and waited a few moments as death settled in, then began to feed. The bat was tough and tasted awful; amber eyes stared accusingly at me as I fed.
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