Chapter 1

            Dominic's eyes fluttered open, and he swallowed the metallic-tasting blood that collected at the back of his throat.  He turned on his side, coughing up the blood that dripped into his lungs, and stared into the eyes of a doe.  Also on its side, the doe lie still, blood oozing from its foamy mouth as well.  Dominic startled backwards, sat up, and covered his naked body with his arms while wondering where the rest of the doe’s body was.

A dense forest surrounded him, trees towering above like bars of a cage.  His stomach revolted at the thought of getting up so early in morning, and let loose a gaseous burp that tasted like…what?   Raw meat?  He saw several bones nearby, bloody masses of hanging tissue and brown fur.  Had he done that?

He rose up, dizzy from the sudden change in altitude, leaned on a tree, and lost whatever it was that his stomach tried desperately to digest.  The answer lay in the stench and the pile at his feet.  Indeed, he had done that.

He ran.  He was normally squeamish about anything having to do with pain, but his feet stomped on pinecones and twigs as if they were made of leather, never faltering or tripping him up.   He jumped over logs and scanned the area for any sign of a path – a trail marker, downtrodden foliage, anything.  Was he still in Maryland?  Anywhere near home?  Nothing looked familiar.

Cars.  Up ahead.  That meant a road, and possibly some fucking idea as to where he was.  And what he did.

He crouched down low behind a row of bushes and trees, and saw the welcomed site of a four-lane highway.  Looking up, he saw no signs giving away his location or even what highway this is.

He started to leave the area to go thumb a ride, then remembered his complete lack of clothing.  A six-foot four, two hundred thirty pound teenager with a mass of disheveled black hair standing naked on the side of the road would likely call a bit of attention to himself.  He had woken up in the midst of a horrific nightmare – standing in public stark naked.  He needed clothes, and he needed to get home. 

Home.  His parents were probably just waking up, quietly getting ready for work, and not giving another thought to whether nor not their seventeen year-old son had even stirred upstairs.  He routinely slept until noon, and being the summer they would never have even bothered to check to see if anything was different about this morning.

But there was.  He went to bed angry, feeling a rage inside of him that he hadn’t felt before.  Why?  He couldn’t remember what it was.  He just remembered feeling…different. 

And then he woke up next to a mutiliated Bambi.  Naked.  He wished that some kind of alchohol was involved, a party to end all parties.  But he went to bed alone, and Chuck Bednarik was not going to appear like Ashton Kutcher and say he’d been punked.  He walked along the tree line, following the highway, until it branched off creating an off-ramp.  High above the off-ramp stood a sign for a gas station and convenience store.  With any luck, they’d have t-shirts, maybe swim trunks.  The trick is getting inside grabbing them, and getting out quick enough to avoid being caught.  He came to a the edge of the off-ramp, and saw the convenience store ahead of him – across the road.  He closed his eyes, counted to three, and sprinted out of the clearing.