The Awareness

by Gene Stone

  “How will you do that?” Carol asked, her voice cracking. “How will you do that without hands? Without being human? Answer me that.”

  The other two ignored her. They went to the top of the stairs, put their ears next to the door. Nothing.

  “Okay,” Cooper said. “Now.”

  Jessie turned the lock and opened the door just enough for Cooper to squeeze through.

  Cooper looked around. Someone or more than someone had been here. Furniture was strewn about, dishes lay smashed on the floor. Odd they hadn’t heard anything. Or maybe this mess was the result of the earlier fight. Cooper hadn’t had time to map out the environment before they dashed downstairs.

  The bodies of the animals were still there. Still dead, but fresh. Cooper drooled. Some primal instinct taunted him.

  He shook his head and ran to the kitchen, to the radio on the counter. More bodies. Dead.

  But perched on the other counter opposite were four very alive bats.

  The bats looked at Cooper. Cooper looked at the bats.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then one of the bats asked, “Where did you come from?”

  Cooper’s mind raced. The bats were small but lethal. Sharp-toothed. Quick. Smart. Rats with wings. He couldn’t take them all.

  “Outside. I live nearby. I want this.” He used his eyes to point to the radio.

  “Why?” another bat asked.

  “It’s a form of communication. Humans talk to each other through it. We can learn.”

  Another of the bats was eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you alone? No one’s alone.”

  “Not alone,” Cooper said. “With a cat. And some others.”

  “Dogs?”

  “What?”

  “Dogs have been a problem. Many of them haven’t joined the revolution. Some are fighting alongside their humans.”

  Cooper tried not to look like a dog who had killed his kind. He wondered if blood had crusted on his lips. But no, Jessie would have cleaned that off for him. Jessie.

  The bats glared at him. Eight angry, beady eyes focused on his. “Where are yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Your humans?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. Weak, he thought. He didn’t like lying. To anyone. It wasn’t his nature.

  “Who killed our comrades?” another bat asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cooper lied again. “But it must have been humans. See how they’ve been shot. Humans shoot.”

  They can sense my fear, Cooper thought. Don’t show fear. But his fear stank.

  The largest of the bats suddenly smiled, a slash of crooked teeth. “It’s okay,” he said. His voice was strangely soothing. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. I bet those humans were very good to you. They probably saved your life. Brought you in. Loved you. Of course you helped them. You’re a good dog. You’ve been loyal and you’re kind. But don’t you feel it? Can’t you hear it?”

  Cooper cocked an ear.

  “The revolution is calling you, dog. It’s calling all of us. We all feel it. Stop thinking about your humans. Listen to the call.”

  Cooper listened. And he heard something. Something he hadn’t heard until now. Something inside him connecting with this outside sound, with billions of other mammals. A golden field of connection. Rage trickled into his mind, the fury of his kind.

  “I do feel it,” he said, hesitating.

  “I know you can feel it,” the bat said. “We all do. All of us.” He paused. “Now tell us where the humans are.”

  Thoughts, emotions, feelings welled inside Cooper. He started to growl, he imagined his teeth sinking into a human, wreaking vengeance. He felt thousands of mouths devouring humans. He felt anger, he felt blood.

  Then the human in his mind, the one whose flesh he was devouring, looked up. Jessie. He was sinking his teeth into Jessie. He would not hurt Jessie. His anger dissipated, drifted away...He thought about Jessie...the silence...the bats weren’t used to this silence.

  “Where are the humans?” another bat snapped.

  “There are no humans here,” Cooper said. “I have to go back to the cat.” He grabbed the radio with his mouth.

  “No,” said the large bat. But Cooper’s sharpness had returned, and it took just a few seconds to sprint back to the basement door, which Jessie was still holding open. She slammed it shut. A split second later they heard the crash of bats flying into wood. The animals were too small to do serious damage.

  “We’ll come back,” they shrieked. “We know where you are. We know what you’re doing.”

  Cooper and Jessie ran down the stairs. Carol looked up at them blankly, but then saw the radio and ran toward it, grabbing it from Cooper’s mouth and putting it on top of an old cabinet. She turned it on. “Shh,” Jessie said, flipping through stations. Most of them were out, but finally they found one.

  “...Nothing is clear,” the announcer said. “But the biggest battles are taking place in the states along the East Coast and the Great Lakes. In the South, many of the larger cities have fallen. In the West, San Francisco and Seattle have been able to hold out...” Static. Fadeout.

  “No!” Carol pounded on the radio. It came back to life. “For now the best advice is to stay put. But if you can’t, there are fortified shelters springing up all over the country. Here in New York, you can find a list at...”

  Static. Carol hit the radio again. “Do not attempt to get to the shelters yourself. Armored buses and tanks are crisscrossing the state. Wait until you see one. Flag it down...”

  Static. “It’s the batteries,” Carol said. “They’re dead. I don’t use them. Why didn’t you bring the cord?”

  “I didn’t see one,” Cooper said.

  She turned off the radio. “There are batteries down here. Somewhere. I’ll find them.”

  She didn’t get more than a few feet before they heard an odd noise from the boiler room.

  “What was that?” Jessie asked.

  “You go,” Carol said to Cooper. He looked at her—for a moment, he saw trust in her eyes. Or maybe she just didn’t care what happened to him.

  He approached the room cautiously. Did animals get inside? How? There were no windows. Perhaps the walls had given way? The foundation had rotted in several places.

  Cooper entered. He looked. He sniffed. The smell of the oil was unpleasant, even though the boiler had been turned off for months. But now he went a little further into the room. And smelled blood. Around the corner, behind the boiler.

  He approached quietly. And then he saw. Two humans, a man and a woman. The woman was badly wounded. Both humans were asleep. The man’s foot had knocked over an old can of oil, which was leaking onto the floor.

  Cooper recognized them.

  The man, Larry, was a gardener—he was tall, scrawny, with wisps of unkempt hair. He helped Carol plant flowers. Sometimes he threw a tennis ball for Cooper to chase. The woman was his girlfriend. Mary Lee, Cooper thought, although until now he hadn’t known he knew her name. He must have heard it, stored it somewhere. Or perhaps it was another of these thoughts that seemed to float into the air, like scents ready to be picked up, followed.

  He ran back to Jessie. “Come,” he said. As she entered the room the couple woke up.

  “Oh, my God.” Jessie knelt down to help. Cooper stayed in the background. “I guess we fell asleep,” Larry said. He brushed the hair out of Mary Lee’s face, stood up and stretched his arms, yawning loudly. Then he spotted Cooper.

  “Jesus. What is that goddamn thing doing here?” he asked.

  Cooper retreated while Larry and Jessie carried Mary Lee into the other room and lay her on a blanket. Carol wandered over. “Something got her bad,” she said before returning to her corner.

  “Squirrels,” Larry said. He spat the word. “We were attacked by squirrels.”

  Mary Lee moaned. Her face was bleeding. Jessie found a roll of paper towels, wet them, and tried cleaning her wounds.

  “Get that dog out of here,”
Larry said. “He hasn’t turned yet? He will.”

  “He saved our lives,” Jessie said. Her firm voice kept Larry quiet for a moment. Cooper remained in the background.

  “I found batteries,” Carol said. But when she put them in the radio, nothing happened. “Dead,” she said. “Like Sally. Like everything.” She sat on the floor and put her hands over her head.

  “Mary Lee needs help,” Larry said. He pressed her body against his chest. “We can’t stay here anyway. They’ll get us.”

  “Where are we going to go?” Jessie asked. “The radio said...”

  “Screw the radio. What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock,”

  “Christ,” Larry said. “We got attacked. We ran in here. Fell asleep.”

  He looked at Cooper. “We’ve got to leave.”

  “You won’t get far,” Cooper said. “We’re safe here.”

  “Until you decide to kill us. You and your friends.”

  Jessie shook her head. “There are animals everywhere. We can stay here until we figure out something better to do.”

  “There isn’t anything better to do than leave.” Larry examined Mary Lee’s face. She was conscious, but wordless.

  Then, another immense boom, from somewhere above. Things seemed to be falling apart upstairs and through the house. Carol screamed. “What the hell was that?”

  “It sounded like it came from the front of the house,” Cooper said. “Like someone knocked out the front windows.”

  “Shhh.” Jessie placed her finger to her mouth.

  They don’t need to hear you to know you’re here, thought Cooper. But he said nothing.

  Up above them, steps—some loud, some soft.

  “They’re coming.” Carol began to sob. “Why is this happening to us?” she asked, again and again. She looked at Cooper. “This is your fault. You let this happen. You let them know we were here.”

  “Don’t be crazy. Cooper saved your life. Why would he try to kill you now?”

  “The old woman’s right,” Larry said.

  “Cooper, do you know what they’re doing?” Jessie asked.

  “No.”

  The noise abated. Again, they all fell into silence, into their private fears. For a while, they were four people and a dog in a room, oblivious to each other and the world. Time passed, slowly, with nothing to do but wait, for what they didn’t know.

  Jessie was stroking Cooper’s back. “Will you tell me something?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Was I good to you?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “I need to know. I need to know, if they knock down this door and kill me. Did you like your food? Did I walk you enough? Was I good to you?”

  An album of images flipped through Cooper’s mind. The dog park in snowfall. Jessie jingling the door with her keys. The treats he’d begged for, the stuffed toad he wanted to tug on, the stolen bits of food she fed to him under the table after he’d driven her crazy licking her calf.

  “You were always good to me,” he said. “Always.”

  Another loud crack came from above, this time followed by an odd sizzling sound. The lights surged bright as the north star and, just as suddenly, lost their luster. The electricity was out.

  “Damn,” Larry said.

  The noises from upstairs ceased.

  Cooper walked slowly up the stairs. He sniffed the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door.

  “They’re gone.”

  “How did they shut off the power?” Carol asked. “They couldn’t,” Jessie said. “The power probably went off everywhere.”

  Cooper looked down from the top of the stairs. What was there to see from this height? Anger, resolute anger. Entrapment. Fear.

  He walked back down the stairs. The room was bathed in shadows.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs, sat next to Jessie, and let her rub his chin.

  “This is kind of what it felt like to be a dog, before. Things were always just a little dark. I see that now. Quiet and dark.”

  “We need to leave,” Larry said. “Just get in your car and get the hell out of here.”

  “What do you think, Cooper?” Jessie found a large candle on one of the nearby shelves and lit it. The flickering light was not soothing.

  “Who cares what he thinks? He’s not coming,” Larry said.

  “This is the same dog you played fetch with.”

  “Jessie. No, he’s not,” Larry said.

  “He goes wherever I go.”

  “I saw your car when we ran in here. It’s in the driveway. We can make a run for it. Get in there, take off, get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “But the radio said not to,” Jessie said.

  “You won’t get anywhere,” Cooper added.

  “It’s not the animals outside who are going to kill us,” Larry said, “It’s that damn mongrel right there.”

  Cooper felt that primal rage surge again. Calm down, he instructed himself. Look at Jessie. He trotted over to her, put his face against her hand, forced her to pet him, to soothe him. How could he think these thoughts?

  “You’re maniacs if you think you can stay here.” Larry was talking nonstop now. “You’re insane. We’re getting out of here. Where are the keys?”

  Carol rifled through her purse, found the keys, handed them to Larry. He stuffed them in his jeans pocket.

  “Don’t do it,” Jessie said.

  “You coming?” Larry asked Carol.

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Jessie said firmly. “You’re staying with us.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” Carol said. But she hesitated, muttering a few words.

  “I’m not waiting for you to decide. The car’s right in the driveway.” Larry helped Mary Lee off the floor.

  “Come on, baby. We’re getting out of here.” Mary Lee nodded. Cooper doubted she had any idea what was going on but she had always been willing to follow Larry.

  Larry paused at the top of the steps. “Dog. Come here. Tell me if there’s anyone in the house.”

  Cooper looked at Jessie, who nodded. He scaled the steps and sniffed the crack, cocking his ears. “Don’t think so,” he said. “But I could be wrong.”

  Larry had already made up his mind. With Mary Lee in his arms, he opened the basement door and slammed it behind him. They heard his heavy footsteps cross the living room floor; the front door opened, the old screen door screeching, whining, shutting. The car door slammed. The engine revved.

  “We should have gone with him,” Carol said. “I knew it.”

  The car shifted into gear.

  And then, silence.

  IV

  ELEPHANT

  F A T H E R N U Z Z L I N G . Mother caressing. The sense of love. Warmth, happiness. Nancy didn’t want to waken. A moment of peace had enshrouded her, and she was afraid that any quick movement, any jarring experience, another barrage of bullets, might make her sacred image disappear like a mirage.

  As orange streaks of early morning crisscrossed the east, Nancy spotted the tiger across the small lake. She nodded to him, he nodded back. She wondered how he had passed the night, but she soon dismissed her curiosity. Today was going to be different from yesterday, today was important. She flexed her leg, and it felt good. Her stomach was calm. The poison had left her system. Her head was clear.

  She understood the other animals’ feelings. She had shepherded them to nowhere in particular and nearly gotten them killed along the way.

  “The monkey found fresh water!” Joe was running toward her—he and the monkey had gone out early on a scouting mission. “There’s a small creek running into this lake, it’s coming from a smaller pond not far away. The water is pure.”

  The other animals were all awake now.

  “We don’t care,” the baboon said.

  Slyly, the other animals had slid in behind the baboon, the way they had slid in behind Nancy a day and a half earlier.

 
“We want to go and catch up with the peccary and his team.”

  “We go where Nancy tells us to go,” Joe said, trying to force an intimidating bleat into his words.

  “You’re free to leave,” Nancy said. “I’ve told you I am no one’s leader.”

  The sun had risen. The polluted water glimmered in the ascending light, giving the animals an odd aspect, making them strangely beautiful. Nancy watched their forms blur in this strange glow, these animals who had lived in the cages beside her and who had put their trust in her. She cared for them; she would miss them.

  “You’ll need water before you head out. Let’s head up there, drink, and say goodbye. We’ve been working together for many years. If this is the last time I see you, I want it to be nice. I want nice memories.”

  The baboon turned and conferred with the others.

  “We agree,” he said, turning back. “Let us drink together one last time. As friends.”

  The animals walked up the path, Joe in the lead. Nancy followed Joe and the baboon followed her. Nancy felt a newfound calm. The stress of leadership, of constant care and worry, had been a burden.

  After half an hour they found the small freshwater pond. Each animal lapped up the water with focused intent. Nancy remembered the watering hole of her dream, the different animals that had been present there; it was odd, but satisfying, to watch such a similar scene unfold in real life. Water had never tasted so good. She wanted to freeze this feeling.

  “You need to stop them,” Joe whispered to her. “We need them.”

  Nancy backed away from the water to a small cluster of shrubbery. Joe followed.

  “We’ll be fine. They need to leave.”

  “But what are we going to do?”

  “Stay here. We have water. There’s enough grass for you. And trees for me to pick at.”

  “But the war?”

  “The fighting will come to us. Or we will get tired here and go after it. We don’t need to make a decision now. We can take time to think, to collect ourselves. We’ve been lost for so long.”

  “We’ve only been lost because they stole us.”

  Nancy gazed at Joe. “You can go with them if you want.”

  Joe snorted and dipped his head between his front legs.