Breaking the Brush Men

by L. S. O'Dea

  “You’re stuck.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Let me try this.” Bumpers slipped one hand through a vent and rested it on the side of Glick’s head that was inside the other enclosure. He tugged and shoved at the same time.

  “Ouch. Stop that.”

  More eyes opened, searching.

  “Actually, do it again. Anything. Just get me out of here.”

  One of the littler Brush-Man headed in their direction.

  Bumpers’ hand dropped to Glick’s shoulder. “Throw your weight this way and I’ll push.”

  “I am.” He was leaning so far to his left that his right leg was off the ground.

  “On the count of three.”

  “Just do it.”

  The Brush-Man, who was about three times the size of Glick, continued to move cautiously and steadily toward them.

  Bumpers pulled and pushed, making Glick’s head feel like it was trapped in a vise while being pushed through a strainer. He bit his lip, trying not to make a sound, but a scream ripped from his lips as the skin tore from his cheek. Brush-Men of all sizes raced toward him.

  “I got you.” Bumpers threw himself backward, falling to his butt as Glick popped from the vent, yellow fluid dripping from his face.

  They slid along the ledge, stopping on the edge as the Brush-Men hit the glass.

  “Thanks.” His face throbbed but he wasn’t being torn apart. “How bad is it?” He pointed at his cheek.

  “Well...” Bumpers stood and helped him up. “You aren’t going to get any awards for being pretty, but you weren’t going to win those anyway.” He wrapped his arm around Glick’s shoulder.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “It’ll heal.”

  “Yeah. I suppose.” Pain coursed through him as the air hit the open wound. “We should get back. The night is almost over.”

  “One minute.” Bumpers bent, studying the vent. “We bent it.”

  “What?” He ducked down by his friend.

  “The metal. We bent it.” Bumpers hand skimmed along the damaged vent, smearing the remains of Glick’s blood.

  “So?”

  “If we bent it once, we can bend it again.” Bumpers’ eyes gleamed. “Maybe, we can bend it enough to get inside.”

  “I am not using my face to do that again.”

  “No. I guess not.” Bumpers frowned.

  “Guess? Definitely, not. It hurts.”

  “Better than dying.”

  “Use your face then.”

  “Nah, I’m too pretty.” Bumpers headed for the bush. “We’ll use a big stick. We can use it to get leverage.”

  “That might work.” Unfortunately.

  “Let’s go back. We can get Flea and Speckles to chew through a branch tomorrow while we check the ceiling.” Bumpers stared upward.

  “There’s no way we’re getting up there.”

  “Probably not, but we have to try.” Bumpers grinned. The big fool was enjoying this.

  Glick wished he could, but he hated danger and he always got hurt. Always. “Why don’t we see if we can get out instead?”

  “Out? What do you mean?”

  “The Guards and Almighty go somewhere every night. There’s more to the world than this cage.” He didn’t know how he knew it but he did. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Bumpers scanned the enclosure.

  “Let’s try to escape. Try to be free.” He glanced at the Brush-Men in the other cage. “They aren’t going to help us, or welcome us.”

  “When we get bigger they will.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We’re the same as them. They have to accept us.”

  “Okay. Let’s say they do—when we get bigger. You think Speckles and Flea are well enough, strong enough to last in there until then?” He was hitting Bumpers where it mattered most, taking care of Flea.

  “We’ll search the perimeter first, but if we don’t find anything, we’re back here and trying to get inside.”

  “Absolutely.” He’d do whatever he could to get out of this cage. If that didn’t work, maybe they’d at least find more food because he didn’t want to go inside the enclosure with the others now or ever.

  CHAPTER 15: Scottsmoor

  Scottsmoor plopped onto the chair in his office. He pressed the button to start the video. He wanted to go home, get something to eat and sleep, but the Brush-Men had marked the glass between the enclosures which meant they’d hit it. It was probably a fight. Those happened quite often, but he needed to figure out how many had died so he could account for them. The professor didn’t want any more escapes and he wasn’t about to mar his clean record when he was so close to promotion.

  He fast-forwarded until he and the Guards had left for the day. He yawned. It was quiet and dark and boring. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep. He got up and poured himself some coffee. He sat back down, taking a sip as he watched nothing.

  Araldo, this was a waste of time. Too bad there wasn’t some other way to count them. He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes drifting shut. He jerked awake, glancing around but he was alone. He swore someone had closed the door. He grabbed a scalpel from the drawer and made his way across the room. He listened at the door, but there were no sounds except the machines. He turned the handle. It was unlocked. He’d locked it. Hadn’t he? He peered down the hallway, first one way and then the other but nothing moved. He took a deep breath, his heart resuming its normal pace. It was just a dream. There was no monster coming for him.

  He locked the door and walked back to his desk. He took a sip of his coffee as he sat and grimaced. Cold coffee was not good. He pushed the cup aside as he glanced at the screen, suddenly wide awake. Something was up with the Brush-Men. They were attacking the glass, but they weren’t fighting each other. He tipped his head, trying to see what was bothering them but the camera angle wasn’t correct. It was covering more of the lab than the enclosure. One of the idiot Guards must’ve bumped it when cleaning.

  They were slamming into that glass. Thank Araldo it was strong enough to withstand the force. He’d never seen them act like this. They were cramped in the one side. Maybe, some of them were going a bit crazy. It’d give him a good reason to euthanize them, but he’d try feeding them again first. Conguise didn’t like anyone killing his creations.

  CHAPTER 16: Glick

  Glick sat on one of the branches, his eyes closed. His entire body hurt, especially his feet. Some of the soil had slipped through the leaves he’d tied around them while he and Bumpers had searched the perimeter. The dirt must be getting less toxic, or neither of them would have any skin left on their feet.

  They’d finished exploring the last section early yesterday evening, but they’d found nothing—not a crack big enough to squeeze through and not one speck of food.

  “Let’s finish chewing through this stick. Tonight, Glick and I will go to the other enclosure.” Bumpers glanced across the cage and wiped his lips. “They fed them again yesterday. There’s sure to be scraps.”

  “I think we should rest.” Glick stretched out on his back. He wasn’t doing anything today.

  Bumpers had made them work on the stick the moment they’d returned, only stopping to sleep. He was so sick of that stick. Bumpers insisted it be perfect. It had to be thin enough to fit through the vent, long enough to give them leverage, and thick enough not to break too easily.

  “We’ll rest as soon as we get the stick done.”

  “I think we should rest until tomorrow night.” He wrapped his arms around himself and turned on his side. He was both mentally and physically drained.

  The Guards were always spraying the enclosure with chemicals or water so he and the others never seemed to dry. He even had a hint of green to his skin and he wasn’t sprouting leaves like some of the Brush-Men in the other cage. It was mold.

  “We’ve already rested most of last night and all day today.” Bumpers grabbed Glick’s hand and yanked him to his feet.
>
  “Hey.” He pulled back, but he was no match for his friend’s strength.

  “Come here.” Bumpers dragged him through the foliage away from the others. “After tonight all the food is gone.”

  “It might as well be gone already.” For days, they’d only been eating two bites.

  “That’s why we can’t wait. We need food.”

  “I need to rest.”

  “They need food.” Bumpers’ voice was low. “Have you looked at Flea and Speckles lately?”

  “I see them every day.”

  “But have you really looked. Flea’s eyes are sunken into her face from hunger and her bones are sticking out.”

  He hadn’t noticed. She was always upbeat and he hadn’t paid attention.

  “And Speckles is worse. He sleeps all the time.”

  “Lucky him.”

  “No. It’s not good.” Bumpers started back toward the others. “We go tonight.”

  “You can go by yourself.” He followed after Bumpers. “I’m going to sleep all...”

  A soft sob drifted from their camp. The two looked at each other for one long moment before racing forward. They crashed through the bush.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Bumpers hurried to Flea.

  “Speckles is...” She was sitting next to the littlest Brush-Man, holding his hand as he slept.

  “Is he sick?” Bumpers sat down next to her.

  Glick knew the answer to that and by the pallor on his face, so did Bumpers.

  “He’s dead.” Her eyes were huge in her thin face as tears streamed down her narrow cheeks.

  “Oh, Flea.” Bumpers pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against his shoulder.

  Glick moved closer. Speckles face was gaunt and his eyes wide, staring up at the canopy of leaves. The little Brush-Man’s mouth drooped open slightly as if breathing, but his body was still and had faded from black to gray. He looked exactly like their food. Glick’s stomach rumbled.

  Flea pulled away from Bumpers and they both stared at him.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean...” But he had. If Bumpers and Flea weren’t here, he’d be on his knees feeding on his friend. His eyes darted back to the body.

  “We can’t.” Bumpers was staring at Speckles, frowning, but there was a look of longing in his blue eyes.

  Glick’s stomach protested.

  “I don’t think Speckles would care.” Flea’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “What?” Bumpers grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I...When I die—”

  “You aren’t going to die.” Bumpers’ voice was hard.

  “You don’t know that.” She pulled away from his grasp and kissed his fingers. “If I die, I want you to eat me. It’s stupid not to.” She glanced at Speckles. “He was our friend. He’d want us to do whatever we had to in order to survive.”

  “She has a point.” He really needed food. “If I die, I want you to eat me too.”

  “I don’t know.” Bumpers tried to look at them, but his eyes kept darting to Speckles.

  “If we bury him, we’re feeding the soil.” Flea took Bumpers’ hand. “I’m sure he’d rather we fed ourselves.”

  “I...I guess.”

  “Great.” That was all Glick needed to hear. He dropped to his knees. He wanted to bury his face in Speckles’ stomach, feast on all that blood and flesh but the others stared at him. So instead, he touched his friend’s hand. It was cold and clammy from the wet air. “Sorry, Speckles. I’m glad I got to know you.” It was true. He’d liked the little Brush-Man, but there was nothing he could do for his friend now.

  He lowered his head. His mouth watered in anticipation. He should wait for the others to say their goodbyes or to take the first bite, but he couldn’t. He had to eat. He bit into the hand and tore off a hunk of skin and muscle. It was cold and delicious. Fresh and juicy. He chewed, yellow blood dripping down his chin. He moaned as he swallowed.

  That was all it took. Flea tore into Speckles’ leg, slurping up the blood. Bumpers hesitated a moment before chomping down on an arm.

  CHAPTER 17: Glick

  Glick leaned against the trunk of the bush, trying to stay awake. He was full for the first time since he’d hatched.

  “I’m going to miss him.” Flea was curled up next to Bumpers but her eyes were on the two rolled up leaves that contained the remainder of Speckles.

  “Yeah. He was a dour but funny, little guy,” said Bumpers.

  “And my companion while you two ran all over the place.” Flea’s hand intertwined with Bumpers’. “Promise you won’t leave me alone.”

  “I can’t.” Bumpers tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer.

  Flea sat up, pushing away from him.

  “We have to take the stick to the other side,” said Bumpers.

  “Great. I can go with you.”

  “It’s safer here.” Bumpers reached for her hand.

  She scooted away. “I’m not going to let the two of you take all the risks when I can help.”

  “I think”—Bumpers stared at Glick—“we think it’d be better if you stayed here.”

  “Is that what you think?” She turned to Glick.

  “Oh no, I’m not getting into this.” But he’d watch the show.

  “Flea, please.” Bumpers sat up. “You were fine with staying here before.”

  “No, I wasn’t. Speckles was too weak to go, and I cared too much about him to leave him alone.”

  “Don’t say that. You know I care about you.”

  “Then, let me go with you.”

  “I can’t. It’s a long, hard trip to the other side.”

  Her eyes widened in shock or hurt. Glick couldn’t tell which but for once he was glad he wasn’t Bumpers.

  “You think I won’t make it. That I’m weak.”

  Bumpers took her face in his hands. “Not you, but your body.”

  “We could all rest for a day and go together tomorrow.” Glick wanted to sleep, wake, eat and repeat the process over and over.

  “No. We can’t.” Bumpers shot him a dirty look before his gaze landed on the leaves. “We shouldn’t have eaten as much as we did.”

  That was true but none of them had been able to stop.

  “We left some.” Glick didn’t want to make the trip to the other cage ever again, especially dragging that stick. Plus, if they managed to open the vent enough, they’d be going inside and that was not a good idea.

  “Yes, but we need to save that for when we return.”

  “I don’t want to stay here alone. I’m afraid.” Flea’s arms were folded across her tiny chest.

  “There’s nothing in this cage that’ll hurt you.”

  “Guards.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly.

  “They don’t come at night and we’ll be with you during the day.” Bumpers moved closer to her. “Trust me, Flea. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “You promise you’ll be back?” Flea let him take her hand.

  “I promise.” Bumpers pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “I’ll never leave you for long.”

  Glick rolled his eyes. If they went into that cage, there was a good chance that neither of them would return.

  CHAPTER 18: Glick

  Glick shivered as he followed Bumpers back to their bush. It’d been a long day and longer night.

  The three of them had snuggled together all day, trying to stay warm but it was impossible with the cold, wet air. The Guards had sprayed again and this time, they’d saturated the bushes. On good days, when the Guards used the chemicals, they only watered the soil, today wasn’t one of those days. He swore he’d just fallen asleep when Bumpers shook him awake.

  It hadn’t been easy dragging that blasted stick to the other side of the enclosure. They’d had to haul it to the top of each bush. Then he’d jump and Bumpers would throw the stick to him. Bumpers had yelled at him every time he’d dodged the stupid thing, but he refused to stan
d there and get impaled.

  By the time they’d arrived at the other cage, it was almost time for the Guards to return. They’d hidden the stick on the ledge and hurried back to their bush. He was so tired he didn’t want to do anything but sleep. He may not even eat. Nah, he was never that tired. There wasn’t much of Speckles left but it was something to take the pain from his stomach.

  “Tomorrow, we go back and pry open that vent.” Bumpers started climbing down to their home.

  “What’s that smell?” It was odd, but not unpleasant—sharp and tangy.

  “I don’t know.” Bumpers hurried through the foliage. “Flea! Flea! Are you okay?”

  They burst through the branches. Flea was sitting in the center of their clearing, a huge smile on her face.

  “Look.” She waved at the pile of eggs in front of her.

  “Eggs? Where’d you get eggs?” He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees, unable to take his eyes off the dirty, round delicacies. They were brown and hard but there might be food in them.

  “I was thinking about Speckles while you two were gone.” She gave Bumpers a dirty look. “It was so sad. All he knew was pain and death. He should’ve stayed in his egg. Died there. It would’ve been easier on him.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks as she looked at them. “I remembered him saying that his eggs were hard. Difficult to break. I thought there might be something inside them that we could eat.”

  “Is there?” Glick’s heart was beating so fast he could see it through his skin.

  She nodded, smiling slowly. She handed him an empty egg. There was clear, glistening, mucous-like substance all over the beige inside.

  “Was this all that was in there?” He licked the shell. It was cold and tangy, a little over-ripe but it tasted wonderful.

  “No. It was full of delicious liquid and hunks of flesh.” She sighed in ecstasy before her face flushed. “I had to make sure there was something inside before I went back for more and once I opened it....ah, I didn’t want to waste it.”

  “Of course not.” He didn’t blame her for eating it. He probably would’ve eaten more than one. He licked the shell again before putting it down. His hand skimmed over a full, round egg. He lifted it reverently. This was going to feed him....them. “May I?”