The Healer

by Kevin Hensley

  “Reverend Specter is a wretch, but his followers forgive him of his flaws because of his oratorical gifts. He can whip them into a great fervor and move them to act, believing they are swept up in the will of Optera. This dogmatism, of course, helps to prevent rebellion against pigs from brewing up among birds.

  “I took it upon myself to try to reintroduce reason into the education of birds and sheep. I was very successful… probably too successful. It turns out about half of the bird population saw things my way. A good portion of them declared themselves atheists, and now they’re as unyielding as Specter and his followers. The result is that the birds are divided, completely consumed with political infighting.”

  Caper paused, his expression gloomy as he took another drink. “Not the result I was hoping for. I fear I played right into the pigs’ hands.”

  Snapper’s eyes scanned the rows of books behind the professor. “So the pigs’ key to power is keeping everyone else divided. Dogs, birds, and sheep are kept in tension with each other, as well as among themselves.”

  “That’s right. And the sheep have gotten the worst of it. After the War, with so many birds and dogs killed, the sheep were the most populous race. They were still largely united, which made them a grave threat. That was what motivated the pigs to build the great western wall to divide the sheep.”

  “I know my dad went to talk to the quarry sheep, but I don’t understand why they never kicked the pigs out or refused to work.”

  Caper leaned back. “Fear, mostly. And more propaganda. Well-intentioned bird missionaries from the Church go there and preach the word of Optera, telling the sheep that a better afterlife is waiting. The sheep in Fleece City, of course, are pushed to admire and emulate pigs. To seek lives of material wealth and comfort.”

  Snapper thought again of the girl from the quarry he planned to meet that evening.

  “And now,” Caper said, “no one is in a position to oppose the pigs. Dogs have been cowed into loyalty, birds are bought off or distracted, and sheep are utterly broken. A cohesive resistance movement is not possible in this current state. The pigs prosper freely. Once they built the Megatropolis and fortified it, they became completely unassailable.”

  “Completely?”

  “The Megatropolis’s border wall is lined with massive artillery cannons. The pigs have gone to great lengths to prevent unauthorized access to their Megatropolis. And remember, they have the technology that won the war in the first place. We cannot match them for brute force.”

  Snapper frowned.

  “It gets worse,” Caper said, his expression turning dark. “In the heart of that massive city, their technology is progressing by leaps and bounds. One pig corporation has wiped out nearly all competition inside the Megatropolis and has spread its business to Fleece City. You see it all over television channels, billboards, and newspapers.”

  “Chugg,” said Snapper, spitting the name like a swear word.

  Caper tapped a talon on his desk. “Even your primary school is owned by that corporation. If there’s a family of pigs that truly rules our world, its name is Chugg.”

  “Is Chugg responsible for buying off General Pincher and Reverend Specter?”

  “Most likely. And its business continues to grow. You may have heard of the new Chugg Cybernetics branch.”

  “My dad mentioned it.”

  “That project is the zenith of the entire Chugg enterprise. Under the pretense of advancing medical technology, they have begun experiments in robotics and cloning. They weld metal and flesh with the goal of creating perfect computers, soldiers, and laborers. Replacing us, in other words. Their first major success was to animate a pig brain in a mechanical body. I believe you know this monstrosity as Durdge.”

  Snapper nodded.

  “Cloned warthogs, ospreys, and hounds have already begun appearing throughout Fleece City and the plains.” Caper raised an eyebrow. “But you know that far better than anyone should ever have to.”

  “Yes. Durdge used them as muscle.”

  “Durdge feels a fraternal connection to the cloned pigs. His origins are similar to theirs. But he was designed with a special, higher purpose. He seeks out and neutralizes sheep like you, sheep with a will to make a difference. He wins them over to his viewpoint with guile or flattery. When that fails, he will try pessimism and negativity. Then bargaining, intimidation, and threats.”

  “And then murder,” Snapper muttered.

  Caper chose not to address the sentiment just yet. “I proposed University here ostensibly to train sheep to provide the skilled labor pigs were asking for. But in it, I saw an opportunity to work against the conditioning implanted by the Chugg Corporation and by Durdge. If I could teach just a few sheep to think critically, it would have all been worth it.”

  “Is everyone you teach as stubborn as my classmates?”

  “It’s very difficult to break their conditioning,” the owl confessed. “The methods of the ruling pigs are very powerful. At times I wanted to give up. But I was fortunate to have an even more stubborn friend. Your father was a great help in keeping University going.”

  A smile came to Snapper’s face. “Old-Timer never gave up on anyone.”

  “Never,” Caper agreed with a firm shake of his head. “When your father heard what Boxer was doing with his Tooth & Claw martial arts project, he invited the old dog to join us. Imagine that. Old-Timer reaching out to a dog, an old enemy from the war, because he believed we had a common cause that went beyond loyalty to our own races. And he was right. Boxer has been an ally and a friend ever since.

  “The three of us began to meet in secret. I dared to reveal to Old-Timer and Boxer about the feud going on amongst the birds. In turn, Boxer trusted me with information about the dealings between General Pincher and the pigs. We decided to work together to try to subvert the pigs. We were old, already tired from one war, and under no delusions that we could bring down the Megatropolis by force. But we’ve made headway in protecting some people from the worst of the pigs’ abuses.”

  Snapper looked away. “He never told me.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have.” Caper stroked his chin. “It’s funny, actually. When Old-Timer found you in the fields, an infant all alone, it caused a bit of a stir among the three of us. We considered raising you to be the revolutionary we could never be. But as you grew, Old-Timer had a change of heart. He was sure you’d only end up getting yourself killed. So he changed your name and took you into the country, away from society.”

  Caper stepped down off his perch. “I’ve told you all I can from here. Come with me.” He walked around Snapper and pulled open the thick door. He let the sheep exit first before taking the lead down the hall.

  The owl opened a plain maintenance door, leading into a cold stairwell with bare cinderblock walls. They walked down two flights and into the basement, where Caper opened another metal door to a completely dark room.

  He clicked on a bare bulb on the ceiling to reveal this room as a dingy closet. A metal shelf full of cleaning supplies hung bolted to the back wall. Caper reached up to the shelf and pushed aside a few spray bottles and rags, leaving a plain white metal can labeled “THINNER” in black marker.

  “I’m doing this,” said Caper, glancing back, “with the assumption that you are mature and prudent enough to keep everything you see and hear to yourself.”

  Snapper nodded solemnly.

  “Very well.” The owl reached into the can. A sharp clicking sound filled the closet. The entire back wall came loose and swung lightly on a hinge. Caper pushed open the secret door and led Snapper into a looming stone tunnel.

  Chapter 30

  Snapper could not shake the feeling that he’d been here before—perhaps when he was very young. His eyes followed the sparse line of light bulbs dangling from shoddily mounted wires along the ceiling.

  “This underground passage,” Caper said, closing the door behind him, “connects University to Boxer’s martial arts building next door. This is
where we met in secret with your father. You are now one of the very few who know of its existence.”

  Curled up on the floor with a newspaper about twenty feet ahead was a dog Snapper recognized. His coat was chestnut-colored, glossy, and so taut that his rounded muscles seemed to threaten to burst through. The dog raised his wide head and gave both arrivals a smirk.

  “Good of you to meet us, Boxer,” Caper said. “I think I’ve given Snapper all the context he’s going to need.”

  “Alright.” The dog stretched, rolled up the paper, and stuffed it in his leather collar. “Let's show him.”

  The two old men led Snapper a short way down the tunnel until they came to a metal door set into one wall. In the center of the door was a small glass window.

  Caper took hold of the doorknob. “We built this secret room in the anticipation that we’d have to hide someone—or ourselves—for an extended period of time. You know how the pigs can be when they discover anyone showing the slightest hint of dissent. I almost brought you here instead of University on the night of the attack. Take a look inside.”

  Snapper peered through the window and saw a small but comfortable furnished room, not much different from the one he had used while hiding out. In the corner stood a brightly painted wooden figure resembling an exotic red bird slightly taller than Snapper himself. Crouched low, facing away from them, was a hunched creature with long fur in a patchwork pattern of grey, brown, and black. The creature’s head was near the face of the wooden statue, as if they were engaged in a quiet conversation.

  Snapper stared for a long moment. The creature in the room was like no dog he’d ever seen. It stood on two legs and its ears stuck nearly straight out to the sides. “What’s that?” he finally inquired.

  “Those two figures in there,” Caper said, “may hold the key to the salvation of our land. At least, your father believed that was the case.”

  The young sheep threw a puzzled look at the old owl. “What do you mean? Did they have something to do with the night my dad died?”

  Boxer gave him a sad smile. “We’d be happy to tell you the story. But I bet they would be too.” He knocked softly on the door. The hairy creature in the room looked back over its shoulder, peering through the glass with round, orange eyes.

  The old dog eased the door open and leaned inside. “You guys doing alright?”

  A slow nod.

  “Good.” Boxer tossed the day’s Chugg Report on the desk. “There’s the paper. And you’ve got a visitor.”

  Caper entered the room with a quiet greeting. Snapper followed slowly, glancing at the hairy creature’s long claws. The animal regarded him with a blank expression.

  “This is Snapper,” Caper said, pride in his tone. “The old ram was his father.”

  “Is that so?” said an articulate, feminine voice. Snapper’s eyes immediately went to the corner. The voice, he swore, had come from the wooden statue.

  “Do not be alarmed,” the voice said. “I see Professor Caper and First Officer Boxer have not lost their flair for the dramatic. They chose not to warn you that I can talk. My name is Ponder. It is good to meet you, Snapper. Your father was a kind and brave man.”

  “I… thank you,” Snapper managed.

  “Mauler,” the wooden bird instructed, “say hello.”

  The hairy creature turned completely around to face Snapper and lowered his head. “Hello,” he grunted. “Mauler.”

  “Do not take him personally,” said Ponder. “I am still teaching him to speak.”

  Caper cleared his throat. “I have a confession to make,” he said. “I had kept your existence a secret from Snapper until now. Like the two of you, he has been hiding in the school under my supervision since the day you were freed. I brought Snapper here to tell him about Old-Timer’s last day of life.”

  Ponder let out an audible sigh. “Snapper. Your father was hunted down by those pigs the very day he freed me and Mauler from a terrible fate.”

  Snapper felt that same gripping sensation that had prevented him from running away from the raiding pigs in his burning front yard. He lowered himself to a seated position on the tile floor.

  “We can do this another time,” Caper said, placing a foot on the sheep’s shoulder.

  “No,” Snapper said with a resolute shake of his head. “I came here to know.”

  Caper nodded. “Snapper, tell us about the last time you saw your father. Before your home was attacked, I mean.”

  Snapper lowered his head, shame arising alongside his grief. “He was dropping me off at school, like he did every day. We had an argument. I called him… a hypocrite. I said he wasn’t taking it far enough, that he should never have stopped fighting.” He swallowed hard. “I guess I always figured my dad was invincible. I learned that night, he really wasn’t.”

  Everyone kept quiet while Snapper took a deep breath to continue. “Anyway, when I got back from school, he hadn’t come home yet from his daily trip to the quarry.”

  Caper shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t have. We were on a different mission that day.”

  Caper and Boxer told Snapper about the events of the day before Old-Timer’s death. Of Mauler’s arrival and capture during the prayer before the HoundBlood tournament. Of Ponder’s inexplicable appearance in the shrine to Optera at the top of the mountain. Of Reverend Specter’s decision to take ownership of her and hang her from the dead tree on the mountainside.

  Snapper noticed the metal hooks still embedded in Ponder’s fabric wings and the broken ropes trailing from them to the floor.

  Caper’s gaze turned hard. “We met in secret that night—Boxer, Old-Timer, and myself. Old-Timer offered to help us free Mauler and Ponder. The next day, after taking you to school, he joined me at the top of the mountain.”

  Snapper’s eyes traveled in bewilderment between Caper and Ponder. “My dad—the guy who never took a risk—was off on a rescue mission while I was taking my final exam?”

  “He sure was,” said Boxer. “From what I gathered later, the pigs had already decided to get rid of Old-Timer before this rescue even happened. I’m sure on some level he knew that. But that didn’t stop him.”

  “What did he do?”

  Caper took a deep breath. “I saw everything he did that day, yet even now I can barely believe any of it.”

  Chapter 31

  Old-Timer’s Last Day

  Despite his instructions, Caper could tell that Ponder was indeed afraid. But he had no more time to reassure her. He turned his back to the hanging puppet to greet Specter’s two ravens, who had landed on a branch above him.

  “Professor.” One of the ravens smirked. “What’s a secular old academic like yourself doing with our prophet?”

  “Wondering where her guards went and why,” Caper replied with a glare. “We may be political enemies, but my loyalties ultimately lie with Specter. I won’t hesitate to report malingerers.”

  The two ravens shrank back from the much larger bird.

  “Apologies, Professor.”

  “Yeah, it won’t happen again.”

  A tiny clattering sound caught Caper’s attention. He glanced up the slope. A loose pile of rocks near the peak had shifted, sending pebbles rolling down.

  “You see,” the nervous ravens were saying to him, “the Flaxers are late to relieve us for the afternoon shift.”

  The rocks above made another definite lurch towards the ledge. One more move like that would send at least a ton of boulders plunging towards the dead tree.

  “So, we figured we’d just take a quick break. We didn’t go far, sir.”

  “Hey, do you hear that?”

  The two ravens glanced up just as the rock pile broke loose and began a treacherous roll down the slope.

  “Rockslide!” Caper screamed. “Fly for your lives!”

  The three of them vacated the tree in a panic as a boulder the size of a well-fed pig rolled past the trunk. The terrified ravens flapped breathlessly to avoid the spinning chunks of stone th
at glanced off the mountainside and flew at them.

  “The puppet!” one of them cried. They doubled back around to the tree and began to use their beaks to saw through the ropes suspending Ponder from the branches.

  “There’s no time, you idiots!” Caper cried out, seizing one of the ravens in each foot as he ascended for the peak. “Leave her or you’ll be crushed!”

  Beating his massive wings, Caper rose high above the mountain, facing away so the crows in his grip would not see what happened next.

  The rocks continued to pour down the slope, some hammering the tree and some rolling around it. Among the tumbling stones, Caper made out five figures rushing down the mountain—four tiny, yellow birds and a grey ram.

  The Flaxer family landed in unison, cutting the ropes and taking hold of the broken ends. They took off again carrying the wooden bird with them.

  Less than a second later, Old-Timer collided with the trunk, splitting the withered base and ensuring that the tree would plunge with the rocks over the side of the cliff. Old-Timer vanished among the crags while the Flaxers descended with their prize behind the cover of the waterfall.

  When they were all out of sight, Caper released the ravens and doubled back for the cliffside. The poor ravens cried out in dismay at the sight of the aftermath of the rockslide and the tree lying shattered in a pile of stone at the bottom of the mountain.

  “Oh, no…”

  “Specter left us in charge of the puppet and now we’ve lost her!”

  Caper sighed. “It wasn’t your fault. Nature takes its course.”

  “That’s true…” agreed one of the ravens. “The puppet said what she came to say, so the Goddess has plucked her from the world as quickly as she arrived.”

  Caper snickered. “Or maybe Optera is punishing Specter for being cruel to the puppet.”