Grant was woken by the familiar sound of his alarm. Mechanically and without thought he rolled out of bed, rummaging in the still-dark room for the cleanest pair of pants he could find. Coming up with a pair between "dirty" and "shameful", he checked his cell phone for any messages he might have missed in the night.
"Wait a second..." he mumbled to no one in particular. "It's Tuesday? God dammit."
He slouched back onto the bed, feeling irritated. He didn't have class on Tuesday and Thursday, but he forgot to turn his alarm off. Again. He knew that meant he would spend the next hour eating cereal and watching re-runs while he waited for his friends to wake up.
"Because they are smart enough to not wake up at seven a.m. on their days off." he said bitterly. With a sigh, he ambled downstairs into the spacious kitchen. His father had bought the house shortly before he re-married, and was now living with his new wife half the state away. Grant was allowed to without paying for rent or utilities as long as he went to the nearby college, which he thought was a pretty sweet deal. A thirty-five hundred square feet home, fully furnished, and all he had to do was take a few classes? It was the easiest decision he ever made. Living on scholarships on the outskirts of a small Arkansan town was the best thing to happen to him, as far as he was concerned. Looking out the kitchen window, he could clearly see the one downside of living in his father's isolated house. There were farm animals on both sides of the property. He learned that it was remarkably difficult to sleep when cows on one side of his house got into a bellowing contest with the donkeys on the other. They were mercifully silent last night though.
Wish I could have enjoyed that a little longer he thought, mentally kicking himself once again.
He suddenly stopped his rummaging through cabinets. Come to think of it, everything seemed strangely quiet this morning. No sounds of animals, no morning commuters on the highway, no farmers in the field with tractors or four-wheelers checking on the herds. After a few moments silence, he could faintly hear a horn blaring a few miles down the road.
That's more like it.
He continued foraging until he had his habitual bowl of off-brand cereal and shuffled into the living room. Turning on his television, he forgot about the eerie silence of the morning. After more than an hour of bad TV and worse cereal, Grant decided to see if any of his friends were awake. Picking up his empty bowl and standing up, he glanced outside. Two unthinking eyes were staring back.
Grant was not a small man. He was around six feet, four inches tall with the lean frame of someone who exercises in some vain hope of living forever. That morning was the first time in a long while that he could remember being startled. Slowly, he put down the bowl and walked to his front door. The thing was still standing in his lawn, watching him. Cautiously, he opened the door and stood on his front porch. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the farmhouses to his left and right. He saw nobody. While he stood, thinking about what he was going to do, the creature moved. It took one tentative step closer, and let out a low groan. It still stared with dull eyes.
Finally, Grant had enough.
He looked to the closest farmhouse, took a deep breath and bellowed "Whose fucking cow is this, and why is it interrupting my god damned breakfast? On MY lawn!"
The only thing he could hear was the sound of wind moving through the trees behind his home, and the soft rustling of the grass as the cow moved closer to him. Grant stared at the beast before giving out a sigh.
"Come on, let's try to get you home. I don't want to get shot by some redneck for 'cow thievin'." He made comforting noises and was able to get the cow to follow him at a small distance. One of his neighbors had a history of leaving his pasture gate open, so Grant decided to start there. He followed the barbed-wire fence that bordered his property, stopping every now and again to coax the cow along. After a few minutes of walking, he noticed that his neighbors gate was indeed open. Briefly glad that he chose the right neighbor, he continued on his way towards the home. The gate itself was just to the right of the farmer's house, which Grant noticed had darkened windows. Peering inside, he could barely make out the furniture in the gloom. To his left he noticed that both of the farmer's trucks were missing from the driveway.
"That's kinda strange. Where did your owners get off to this early, leaving you all alone?" he said to the cow. He received a blank stare and a low grunt. With a shrug, he moved closer to the gate before he realized the cow had stopped following him. He turned and glared at the animal.
"What's the matter? You live here don't you? You give me any trouble over the last ten feet and I will leave you to wander off. You wouldn't last..." Grant was interrupted by the sound of far-off footsteps. Pacing quickly to the side of the house, he saw his neighbor walking towards him from a barn about hundred feet into the expansive pasture. He seemed to stumble along, as though he had hurt his leg. He was dressed in his usual flannel shirt and overalls, with thick work gloves hiding his hands. Grant waited to see if the man had noticed him, but the farmer gave no indication that he had seen the young man. His head was down, mostly concealed by a wide-brimmed straw hat. Grant watched his slow pace for a moment, then called out to the man.
"Sir? Sir, I think you might be a cow short. Found this one in my yard..."
The old farmer said nothing, but continued his lumbering walk. After a moment, he lifted his head. Grant took a sharp breath, eyes widening at what he saw. The older man was missing his lower lip, his white beard stained red and black around his mouth. His eyes were sunken and dirty gray, his veins tinted blue. The man's mouth opened, letting out a hiss that lowered into a moan. At the sound Grant felt like electricity was running up his spine, the blood in his veins freezing. The cow behind him bolted as soon as it heard the farmer, kicking up dirt and gravel as it fled as fast as its round body would allow. Grant stood, frozen, as the thing got closer to him. His heart was racing but he couldn't think, couldn't react. He finally felt himself moving forward, closing the gate. He had no idea why he was doing it, except that he felt he should. He backed away after it locked into place. He moved away slowly at first, then faster as he moved towards his own home. By the time he reached his front door, he was at a dead sprint. He practically vaulted inside his home before spinning and locking the deadbolt. He sat down to try to stop his heart from racing, to catch his breath from the mad dash home.
After a couple of minutes of heavy breathing, he walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water into his face. When he looked into the mirror to try and collect his thoughts, what he saw scared him almost as much as the monster his neighbor had become.
He was smiling.
