Strange Mammals Read Online Free PDF

wave of nausea rolled over him. He somehow fought the gorge rising in his throat, and heard footsteps hurrying away. The air sloshed heavily in his lungs, and his skull felt stuffed full of cotton. The spots in front of his eyes eventually faded away, and he was able to tell that his attacker was no longer there. He put a hand to the back of his head, and it came away bloody.
    Winston got to his feet on shaky legs for three seconds before a powerful dizziness sent him crashing back down against boxes and papers. It took several more tries to stand up and lean against the wall. All the strength in his body had been sapped with the head-blow, and he wasn’t even sure he could walk back home. He made his way to the small prefab desk, using its surface for support, and picked up the phone to call Diane. The connection was dead.
    He wanted more than anything to sit down, but he had the feeling that if he did, he might never get back up. He slapped himself hard to stay awake. He’d heard somewhere, perhaps in Boy Scouts, that you’re never supposed to let a concussion victim fall asleep. They could slip into a coma and die from a torn blood vessel. Winston breathed deeply, which seemed to help a little. He noticed the phone in his hand and put it to his ear. There was no dial tone, no static. The connection was dead. He returned the phone to its cradle.
    Nausea surged over him again, and he vomited for what felt like a very long time. The sour aftertaste of bile lingered in his throat and nostrils. He thought he remembered seeing a water cooler in the reception area, but couldn’t be sure. He turned to look out the doorway, but his vision took slightly longer to catch up to him, as if in slow motion. Objects were multiplied, overlaid and onion-skinned, different layers wavering around and on top of each other. Nothing would stay in focus for long. Winston started to wonder if he had permanent brain damage. There was a telephone on the desk in front of him, but when he picked it up, the connection was dead.
    He stood in the middle of the reception area. A sour taste filled his mouth, as if he had been vomiting, and he noticed a water fountain in the corner of the room. He moved slowly toward it, leaning on counters and racks of tires and shelves of New Car Smell. His skull throbbed with his heartbeat. He put a hand to the back of his head, and it came away bloody. After several long minutes, he reached the fountain and rinsed his mouth out with the coolest, sweetest water he had ever tasted. He drank greedily, washing the bilious taste away, then blinked his eyes.
    He leaned against the U-Haul he had tried to return. The metal van had heated up in the afternoon sun, and was painfully hot against his skin. Winston pushed off from the van, and staggered out of the parking lot. At the chain-linked gate, he overbalanced on one side and went spilling into the fence. Traffic was almost non-existent on the road in front of him, and the cars that did pass ignored him. No one offered to help or call an ambulance. He slowly picked himself back up and headed in the direction of his new apartment. He blinked.
    He was sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, his back to a telephone pole, watching a fuliginous black cat chew on something small and dead. Winston leaned forward and retched again, splashing the front of his shoes and the back of the cat, which hurried a few feet away with its prey, then hissed loudly at him around the dead thing in its mouth. It stared at him for a moment longer, then slunk down the sidewalk. He blinked again.
    Afternoon abruptly turned to evening. He was standing again. The Krispy Kreme across the street displayed Hot Doughnuts Now in orange neon from the front window, bathing the empty parking lot in sickly ochre. Diane must have been so worried by now; it should have taken him only twenty minutes to walk home, but it appeared that whole hours had gone missing. He blinked.
    Winston stood in the entry door of his