The puppet tried her best to focus on the beauty of the landscape before her, but each sway in the wind brought a fresh spasm of pain from the hooks in her back and head.
One of the ravens hopped down onto the puppet’s shoulder. “I should tell you Reverend Specter can be very kind and generous… when he gets his way.”
“Fine…” the puppet mumbled. “Fine.”
Chapter 10
As usual, Snapper was fuming during his solitary walk home from school. He wasn’t sure which irritated him more—the transparency of the pro-pig propaganda in his education, or the passivity with which his classmates accepted it. He knew they saw as well as he did that it was all a form of social control, but it seemed he was the only one who got angry enough to want to do something about it. And his anger and disinterest in the curriculum caused them to distance themselves from him even further.
They’re scared and they feel hopeless, Snapper thought. Just like Dad. It’s all about trying for a good life for themselves in the existing system. They don’t think they could fix what’s actually broken here.
Well, he bore no grudge toward his fellow sheep. He knew all he had going for him was an aimless, vague rage at the violence and oppression of the pig infrastructure around him. He had no ideas for how the world should be run instead.
That’s what I need, he decided. A cohesive idea for a sheep-dog-bird government that could be set up in a post-pig era. People live under constant threat of getting killed by pigs right now, but they think it’s better than another Canine-Avian War. That’s what they say in school every single day. There’s a valid point in there. If I had a good alternative, people might listen to me instead. Right now I come off like a jerk.
He looked toward his house. His dull annoyance climbed to hot anger all over again.
Well, maybe I could figure out a good system if I ever had a minute to myself to think.
Three pigs stood in tight group, poised on the path to intercept Snapper about a half mile from his property line. He’d seen them before, just that morning. The robotic enforcer and his two warthogs.
“My father warned you to stay away from our house, Durdge,” Snapper called out as he approached.
The button-eyed horror took a step back and put his stubby hands on his chest, making a good show of being offended. “Snapper, I’m appalled. These guys and I were just out for a walk. Can’t you pretend to be happy to see your best friend?” His voice sounded like a spool of barbed wire being unrolled.
“Whatever you say, Durdge. I saw you creeping around, making sure I went to class.”
The mechanical pig went quiet for a minute. “Alright, yes. I was concerned about you. I saw you had witnessed that unfortunate incident this morning. I wanted to make sure you weren’t too rattled to go about your day.”
Deciding not to answer, Snapper stepped off the path just long enough to walk around Durdge before resuming his course home. A second later he stopped—Durdge was in his way again.
“I don’t know why you treat me like this, Snapper. All I’ve done is look out for you. I make sure you get to school. I bring you presents on your birthday. I lend you advice for free.”
Snapper sighed. He could try to walk again, but Durdge would continue to doggedly impede his progress. He could try to run, but these warthogs looked like they could catch him. He decided he would play, if only to get this routine over with.
“Alright, ‘best friend,’ why is it that you never show up here without your thugs?” Snapper said. “Why do you only come around when my dad is nowhere in sight? We both know what’s going on. You don’t like my attitude lately. You think I might have gotten some ideas from what I saw this morning. The last thing you want is for me to be an uncontrollable ram like my dad. If I turn into a good little pro-piggy shill, just like you, will you bug off?”
Durdge stepped aside, motioned for Snapper to walk, and fell into step beside him. Snapper could hear the rustling of the two other pigs walking behind them through the grass.
“Snapper… buddy. I’m only interested in your safety. Of course I don’t want you to turn out like your dad. Would you even want to? The Old-Timer is just that, pal. Old. He’s from an outdated age of warriors and heroes. Those horns of his are useless in the modern age of commerce and reason. Things are safe under the rule of the pigs. I wish you could understand.”
Snapper scoffed. “Safe? Maybe you could do me a favor and clear up some of these rumors about what happens to sheep who get arrested. Something about getting sacrificed to your weirdo blood god, maybe?”
Durdge put an infuriating hand on the back of the little sheep’s neck as they walked. “Who told you that crap? Snapper, the only time it’s unsafe for sheep is when they go spreading things like that. Making trouble, disturbing the peace. If I were you… um…”
Snapper smiled for the first time in several hours as he saw why Durdge had lost his nerve. Old-Timer had come out of the house, exited the fence, and was walking toward them. He would be within earshot in a few seconds.
“Hello, Old-Timer!” Durdge called out cheerfully, though he hastily removed his hand from Snapper’s back. “I was just seeing your son home. Strange folks lurk around in these fields, you know… Roving packs of feral dogs, a nasty old magpie who will swindle you blind, that sort. I figured I would make sure…”
“Snapper, go inside,” Old-Timer yelled.
Durdge halted. Snapper kept walking, although he had no intention of going inside. He nodded to his father as he walked past. Once he got inside the gate, he ducked near a fencepost where he could still see and hear.
Old-Timer flicked his eyes left and right. “You want to keep provoking me, Durdge, you might think about bringing more than two.”
The robot snickered. “You haven’t seen these warthogs in action. Perfect replicas of the foot soldiers that dominated in the war.”
“I killed about twenty warthogs myself,” Old-Timer snapped. “It was pig tanks and gunpowder that won the war, although the warped history you’re programmed with won’t let you believe that. I’d love to demonstrate right now.”
The two thugs on either side of Durdge shrank back, leaving him facing Old-Timer alone. The mechanical pig hung his head in exasperation.
“Thought so,” Old-Timer said. “I’m glad none of us are stupid enough to get physical here. Which is what I was coming out to tell you. Durdge, my son may be hotheaded like me, but he has no intentions to make trouble. He hasn’t used his healing power, as we agreed. And he won’t be doing what I do in the quarry, either. He is smarter than me. He will go to University and get a job helping people within the system. That’s the last you’ll hear from him.” He stepped closer. “And I expect this to be the last time I have to remind you.”
After an uncomfortably long pause, Durdge relented and joined his two bodyguards in heading back toward the city. Snapper let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.
Chapter 11
“Son, I told you not to try to deal with him yourself. Just ignore him. Don’t even talk to him. His entire purpose is to be a propaganda machine.”
“I know. I tried. Dad, somebody’s got to do something. I hate that he can just run around spreading lies about how great things are.”
The two sheep stood together in their living room, watching the three pigs gradually becoming dark dots in the green field. Beyond them lay the tall skyline of Fleece City and the even taller and darker edifices of the Megatropolis.
“Talking like that is how you keep landing yourself in trouble.” Old-Timer sighed. “It’s not your place to change the world. All any of us can do is help the people in it. You’ll see it differently when you’re older.”
Snapper backed away from the window and sat on the floor. “You tried to change the world.”
“And look where it got me. We went to war. That’s why we were weak when the pigs rolled in and took over. That’s what fighting does. And now I’ve got nothing to show for it. All I have
is a chance to redeem myself by showing you how to do things right.”
The younger sheep didn’t answer.
Old-Timer squinted out the window a minute longer, then glanced back at his son. “Got homework?”
“My final exam is tomorrow.” Snapper was already in the doorway of his room.
“Alright, get to studying.” Old-Timer waited until he heard Snapper’s door close before looking out the window again. He walked out onto the porch to be sure of what he was seeing.
Past Fleece City, a black plume of smoke rose on the horizon.
Chapter 12
Dreamer was not home when Shiver returned to their hut after finishing his shift at the railroad’s loading bay. She was not on her cushion in the corner, or behind the house, or in the alleys between the adjacent houses either. His pulse climbed a little more with each place he searched.
His heart began to pound in his throat when he looked at the red dust right outside the door to his home. The sun had nearly set and there was little light to go on, but the prints of dog paws and pig trotters were unmistakable.
“Scurvert!” he roared, setting off at a run down the street to the largest brick hut near the Optera totem. His shout attracted the attention of three of the lurking guard dogs, who caught him just as he reached the door of Scurvert’s house. Furious teeth dug into his legs and shoulders.
Shiver fought back with everything in him, but he was pulled to the ground. The dogs tore at his flesh as he dragged himself towards the wooden door.
“Don’t you hurt my daughter, Scurvert!” he yelled. “I got rid of old Trampler! She’s young and doesn’t know any better! Punish me if you’ve got to make an example of someone!”
The door creaked open and the master of the quarry appeared. The bipedal pig towered over Shiver and the dogs. His bald head glistened with sweat and his massive belly heaved with each breath, as if he had just finished exercising or some other strenuous activity. His eyes caught the little remaining sunlight and glimmered green. His long, pointed ears were flushed and stood straight up.
In one of his thick hands, he held a switchblade knife. In the other, he gripped Dreamer by the nape of her neck. Blood ran from her face onto the dusty road. She was not moving.
“She’s learned her lesson,” Scurvert rumbled.
Shiver’s scream was closer to the attack cries of the dogs than to any sound a sheep would make. With a thrashing of his head and hooves, he broke free of the dogs holding him. Aiming his horns at the fat gut in front of him, he charged.
Chapter 13
Caper loved nights like this, clear and cold with a bright crescent moon. His eyes were well adapted for night hunting. He knew full well that few could see like he could in these conditions. He knew exactly where he was going as he circled down toward the Tooth & Claw building.
Nevertheless, he was cautious as he landed in front of the martial arts gym. He scanned for any passersby before knocking on the door. It was unlikely he would be seen here, but he could not afford to take chances.
The door opened slowly. Caper looked down and cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have picked a more dangerous night to call a meeting. The birds were all in a stir today. And I hear the dogs were as well.”
The heavily muscled, chestnut-brown dog in the darkened doorway gave a mischievous grin. His beaten leather collar bore a hefty silver medal engraved with the words “BOXER, FIRST OFFICER.”
“The story I have for you is well worth the risk,” he said. “And it sounds like you have a story for me too. We have a lot to discuss.” The dog stepped back and motioned inside. “Come on in and get warm while we wait for the straggler to show up.”
“No need to wait,” said a gravelly voice behind Caper. “I’m here.”
Boxer and Caper turned around to look. Old-Timer had arrived.
Boxer beamed, stepping into his martial arts gym. “It’s been too long, Trampler. How are things?”
“Same as always,” Old-Timer said as he followed Caper into the darkened building. “Failing to get through to the people. Preparing my boy for University.”
Boxer moved to a sidewall and sniffed along a corner. They never risked turning on the lights. “How is little Snapper doing? I haven’t seen him since he was a baby. Before all that commotion about him fixing your leg.”
Old-Timer grimaced. “He’s just like me.”
“That’s got to be scary.”
“Tell me about it. He’s got the same violent streak I had at his age.”
“Hang on a sec…” Boxer trailed off, his nose working its way up the wall. He raised himself on his hind legs, using his front paws to press on an otherwise unremarkable cinderblock in the wall. The block sank in several inches. A second later, a section of the wall swung inward on a hidden hinge.
“Violent streak, huh? Have you talked to him about what we do? Would it be a good outlet for him?” Boxer slipped through the opening in the wall and down the concrete staircase beyond.
Caper had to follow closely because Old-Timer lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I haven’t talked to him about it because he has his own ideas for ending this oppression. It would be one thing if the pigs could be brought down with force, but the Megatropolis is too heavily fortified now. Uprising isn’t an option in this day and age. I hope he will find a good job in Fleece City and figure out some way to be helpful to the people. You know, in a way that would be satisfying for him.” Old-Timer stopped talking until Caper closed the hidden door behind them.
The tunnel fell into near-total darkness, so much so that even Caper had trouble seeing. The three of them made their way down the stairs by touch.
“But he refuses to see it that way,” Old-Timer continued. “In my old bones, I know he’s got too much of me in him. He’s adopted, but all the same, I have a feeling he’s going to be a horned one. That’s my deepest fear.”
“But he’s also got this great gift,” said Boxer. “His ability to heal wounds instantly. I have never heard of any other creature in the world with such power. Surely he can find a place for himself?”
“It is too risky. The Megatropolis keeps an eye on us already because of my activities. Durdge knows of his power but only vaguely. If the pigs found out the true extent of what my son can do… if they discovered that he could make their entire Cybernetics project obsolete, they’d kill him. They’ll never allow a threat to their control or financial interests.”
“I can see both sides,” Boxer replied. “He’s got this blessing he can’t even share with the world.”
“Trust me, he would if I would let him. He’s too young and headstrong to think about the risks to himself and what that would do to his old man. He’s called me selfish. He knows I wouldn’t be walking at all by now if it weren’t for his ability, but I don’t let him use it on anyone else. Just today, he tried to heal a man being arrested in town. Durdge knew. He came for Snapper again this afternoon. I’m not sure what to do anymore.”
Caper’s feet reached cold, flat ground. A few seconds later Boxer hit a switch and a string of bare bulbs clicked on.
They stood in an underground tunnel, rectangular and smoothly paved. Staircases ran up from both ends. A side chamber stood behind a sturdy door in the wall to their left. The three of them formed a circle in the middle of the long tunnel. In the light of the tunnel, Caper could see that Boxer had a sheet of paper rolled up and stuck in his collar.
“Well, my friend,” Boxer said, “some strange things have happened today. I know neither of you are as, uh, spiritual as I am, but I can’t help thinking it’s a sign of a big change coming.”
Caper nodded. “Actually, Boxer, I agree with you.”
“Really? Something has swayed the skeptical Professor Caper into being optimistic?” Boxer grinned, reveling in his sarcasm. “Well, that’s a tale I’ve got to hear. I called you here because I had something to tell you, but now I want to hear from you first.”
Old-Timer settled on the floor.
“Yes, what’s going on here? You’re both acting strangely.”
Caper cleared his throat. “Get comfortable,” he advised Boxer. He launched into the bizarre tale of his morning and the appearance of the red wooden macaw in the natural spring. He recounted how Specter had taken advantage of the situation and claimed the puppet in the name of the church. He recalled his brief conversation with Mrs. Flaxer and how he had spotted the black smoke—Boxer’s secret signal to convene for this very meeting. He told them of how the puppet had been hung from a tree on the mountainside until she agreed to Specter’s terms.
“For the rest of the day, that puppet acted like a good little prophet,” Caper said bitterly. “She publicly testified she was truly from Optera and that prayer and generous church offerings would see the birds’ feud through to a victory for the religious. And at the end, guess what? Specter hung her right back outside. I hate it, but Specter’s word is law as far as most of those birds are concerned. I would break her free, but then I’d be in jail and she would face more of his wrath.” He clenched his talons into a fist. “I don’t know who or what this wooden creature is, but she deserves better than this.”
Caper paused for a long time, looking back and forth between his two companions. “And… that’s all. Boxer, what made you call this meeting in the first place?”
Boxer was on his back on the floor, writhing from side to side to attack an itch he couldn’t quite reach. “Actually,” he said, “that story of yours gives me the willies. It sounds just like mine. There’s providence at work here, my friends.” He rolled over and stood. “Which reminds me, Caper, did you get your—”
The Healer Page 4
