Tails of the Apocalypse

by David Bruns

  Walt looked around the dim room. “Sooey!” he laughed. Joe looked uneasy.

  “Help us catch it, Joe,” said Gray, staring harder at him. “If you help us catch it, I won’t make you kill it yourself.”

  Surly fluttered and rocked on her perch as Joe sighed and looked around him. She and Princess had never been friends, but she didn’t want to see a slaughter either. “Pretty Princess!” she screeched, trying to warn the pig. “Pretty Princess, pretty pig! Nuh-night! Nuh-night!” She rocked on the perch, swinging the entire cage, trying to think of other warning words the shop owner had used on occasion.

  “Joe!” shouted Gray over Surly Shirley’s raucous shrieks. “Shut that bird up, it’s driving me crazy.” He picked up a dog toy and flung it at the cage. It went wide.

  “Nuh-night, Princess!” Surly cried.

  Joe abandoned his search for the pig and climbed onto a step stool, catching the swinging cage and holding it still between his hands. Surly beat her wings toward him, but he didn’t let go. “It’s okay, Princess,” said Joe, thinking the parrot was shrieking its own name.

  Surly stopped and stared at him. How could he mistake her for the pig?

  “That’s a pretty Princess,” said Joe, foolishly sticking a thick finger into the cage to stroke her feathers. Surly bit it. Hard. Joe hissed as she held on tight, but he didn’t yell. “It’s okay, Princess, I know you’re scared. We’ll get out of here soon.”

  Surly hadn’t expected that. She let go of the salty finger. “Surly Shirley,” she cooed. “Surly Shirley.”

  “I don’t know who Shirley is, but I don’t think she’s coming back,” said Joe, sucking his finger briefly, then fumbling in his pocket for a moment. He pulled out a wrinkled plastic bag.

  “Surly Shirley wants a cracker. Princess is a pretty pig,” she responded, curious to see if he’d get it.

  “Oh, you’re Shirley—”

  “Joe,” yelled Gray, “stop talking to that chicken and help us. This pig is heavy.”

  “Here you go, Shirley,” he said softly and pulled out a dried apple slice from the bag. He poked it through the cage bars and then looked around. The pig wriggled between Gray and Walt, who were standing in front of the back door. Joe stepped down from the ladder to let them into the back of the store.

  “Nuh-night, Princess,” chirped Surly quietly. The large flashlight the men had brought with them bounced its beam off the silent aquariums, flashing green beams over the shop. Princess began squealing her fear, and the dogs barked, excited, though they didn’t know why.

  Surly puffed her feathers up and turned around on the perch. She didn’t want to see Princess get murdered through the aquarium glass. She worked at the cage latch as the pig’s distress reached a crescendo. Princess had bought her a chance to escape. Surly wasn’t going to lose it.

  She looked around the shop, distracting herself with memories. It was the only home she’d ever known. What was out there, beyond the long, tiled hallway? More birds like her? More men like Gray? When the store owner hadn’t returned, she’d thought the humans were all gone. Were they just waiting to catch her out there instead? Where could she go? Maybe there was another pet shop somewhere. She’d never know if she didn’t find a way out. She glided from the cage over the top of a shelf, just barely clearing the broken window.

  The mall was dark and silent except for the large clothing store that capped the end. It glowed with lanterns, and a rippling moan seemed to travel forever through it. That’s where the other humans were. Surly didn’t want to go there, so she flapped toward the other end, her wings stiff but warming to the unaccustomed exercise. Sterile glass and stone were all that she found. A long barren tunnel of window and floor. No water, no trees, no fruit.

  She was still inside the mall. But there had to be a way out. The humans had to have come from somewhere. Then she rounded a corner and saw it. Sunlight and trees waving in a breeze. She could almost feel the wind.

  Surly swooped low and fast before anything could stop her, before anyone could catch her and force her back into her cage. She smacked into the glass door with a dull thud and toppled onto the floor. Dazed, she simply sat for a while and stared at the green leaves of the tree just outside. When her head cleared, Surly hopped around looking for a break or a breath of fresh air.

  Nothing.

  At last she turned and flew back to the pet shop. Where else was there to go? It was the only home she’d ever had.

  But Surly knew the men wouldn’t be satisfied with Princess for very long. She might well be on the menu tomorrow. She couldn’t give up. She had to find her way out of the mall. Whatever was waiting for her outside, at least she’d meet it head on, instead of waiting around to be eaten like the pig.

  The squealing had stopped by the time she slipped back into her cage. The puppies had settled down, though they occasionally scratched at the back door of the shop and whined. She knew what it meant. Surly wouldn’t be competing with Princess for fruit anymore. She poked with her beak at the sliver of apple that Joe had given her. She picked it up, holding it carefully in one claw, and pushed open the cage door with her head. Princess’s pink plastic food bowl glimmered in the half-light, cleaned to a shine days before. Surly swooped over it, dropping the soft, sweet apple slice into it. The sound of one of the men retching startled her and she fluttered back to her perch.

  “Useless…” came Gray’s voice from behind the fish tanks. “Go build a fire to cook it.”

  “A fire? Out of what?”

  “Find something! I swear Joe Mackey, I should’ve left you in that pool hall for the Infected to kill.”

  “Sorry, Gray, I’ll find something.”

  Joe emerged from the back and shut the door. He knelt down for just a moment to stroke the puppies jumping at his legs, then stood up. He found the pet care books and began tossing them into a pile in the center of the linoleum floor. Surly watched him smash one of the wooden shelving units into small pieces with an ax.

  The parakeets and cockatoos fluttered and chirped and whistled in protest at the noise, but Surly was silent. She was resolved not to miss any opportunity, and she sat grim and unmoving as she watched Joe and the shop door. He lit the large pile of wood and paper, and the flames startled Surly. A billowy plume of smoke rose to envelop her cage and she couldn’t see. She wheezed in the thick cloud. “Bad bird!” she protested, because it had been what the owner yelled at her whenever he wanted her to stop what she was doing. “Bad bird!”

  A few seconds later, Joe emerged from the cloud of smoke, pressing his face to the bars. “Sorry Shirley,” he said, unhooking her cage. He swung it down onto the shop’s counter. “Wasn’t thinking about the smoke.” She was only a few feet from the door now, but it was still blocked and closed. Joe bent down to look at her.

  “Bad bird!” she spat once more, glaring at him.

  “Sorry,” he said, reaching a finger in to stroke her feathers. She bit him again, but only lightly and let go so she could accept his petting her. “I won’t do it again.” He pulled out the plastic bag again and offered her another apple slice.

  “Lemon?” she asked.

  “Apple,” he said, holding it out. She pretended not to notice. He looked around at the crackling fire as the linoleum bubbled and blackened at the edge. The puppies were cowering against his legs, and the kittens had jumped onto shelving units to get as far away from the flames as possible. “How are we going to keep you safe from the smoke? We can’t breathe it either.”

  “Hello, Paws and Claws,” said Surly, trying to suggest a door. She snatched the apple slice as payment. But Joe didn’t get it. Instead, he returned her to her cage and stood up to open the door to the back room. The puppies hurtled past him as much attracted by the smell of Princess as driven by fear of the fire.

  “Joe, get these dogs out of here, they’re trying to grab the pork,” yelled Walt.

  “Got to let the smoke out somewhere,” said Joe.

  “Relax, Walt,” said G
ray, “give ’em a hoof or an ear or something.”

  A bright square of light stretched across the floor, and a blast of chilled air hit Surly. The back exit was open! She smashed herself into her cage’s door, forgetting that Joe had closed the latch. Shaking her head to clear it, she began lifting the catch carefully with her beak, just as Gray yelled at Joe to close the door.

  “You’re going to attract someone’s attention!”

  “There’s no one out there, Gray,” Joe protested. “Look for yourself. It’s all clear. You’re way too jumpy. We should just drop the herd off at that City and go. We’ll go south, live where it’s warm and the fishing is good. I heard it’s practically empty in Florida, got evacuated early. Lots of stuff just waiting for us. We don’t need the Infected. What do you say?”

  Surly managed to undo the latch and pushed at the door with the top of her head. There was a shuffle as Gray moved to the open exit door. “We aren’t leaving until we trade the herd.”

  “But why?” asked Joe. “We don’t need the traders’ stuff. We can all be comfortable—”

  “Because I listened to one of your rumors before. Remember how that turned out? Sure didn’t have a problem chopping up the Infected then, did you, Joe? And all I had to show for that was a string of shriveled ears and a broken arm. Maybe Florida is paradise, like you heard. I’m willing to bet that story is as made up as the cure, but who knows? I just want some insurance first. Unless, of course, you want me to start thinking you set me up back home. That maybe you thought that dumb broad in the police station was going to take care of me and let you go your merry way with all my earnings. Is that what you want me to start thinking, Joe?”

  Surly fluttered out of the cage to the floor. She didn’t want to risk being seen, and she didn’t want to be up near the ceiling in the thick smoke. She scuttled toward the back door, keeping one eye on the kittens, who were licking their chops. Their tails rippled and twitched.

  “No, of course not,” started Joe.

  “Then stop being a coward—”

  Surly had made it to the entrance of the back room. Across from her stood Joe and Gray in the frame of the open exit door. Walt was hacking off bits of pork from Princess’s body, the puppies who hadn’t gotten Gray’s bribe watching him anxiously. Surly tried not to look.

  Joe’s face turned red. “I’m not being a coward. I didn’t know the bounty thing was a bad rumor. I wouldn’t put you in that spot, Gray. But this is—this isn’t right. What if these people wake up? What if they get better and find out they got no teeth, that they’re slaves? It’s not like the people we sell them to are all going to treat them kindly. Some of them might get hurt. Some of them might get killed. Or—or used. They’re people.”

  “They’re cattle. Dumb, useless beasts. Monsters even.”

  Joe shook his head. “You’re more a monster than any of them have ever been. At least they kill to eat—”

  Gray’s fist shot out and slammed into Joe’s face. He grabbed the ax from Joe’s belt and pulled it out. Gray held it up. “You better watch it, Joe,” he hissed as Joe cupped a hand around his nose. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days. You got anything else you want to say? Any other precious pieces of kumbaya shit you want to spread around?”

  Joe shook his head, blood leaking from under his hand and splatting to the floor in front of Surly. She hopped nervously.

  “Then shut the fucking door before a rival group or the Infected see us. You can open the transom instead, that’ll suck out the smoke without leaving us open to attack.”

  Joe reached out to shut the door and Surly’s heart sank. The dangerous man was winning at every turn. She watched Walt climb up to the small window in the back room and crank it open. Even she wouldn’t fit through that, not without falling to the ground outside and injuring herself.

  Gray carefully slid the ax back into Joe’s belt. “Joe,” he said quietly, “you know I’m your friend. Let me lead. Let me take care of you. You know you don’t have the brain power to survive this alone. I got your back. But if you ever talk back to me again, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out. You got it?”

  Joe just nodded.

  “Good,” said Gray, a little louder, “let’s get that bacon sizzling then, I’m starving!”

  He turned toward the front of the shop and saw Surly. He scowled. “And get this damned chicken back in its cage. I don’t want birdshit on my dinner.” He aimed a kick at her, but Surly just fluttered out of the way.

  Walt carried a big metal dog bowl of bloody meat past her without stopping. Joe sank down into the owner’s office chair and tried to stop his nosebleed with the tissues sitting there. Surly Shirley hopped over to the desk. She flew up to the top of it and landed in front of Joe, watching him. He reached out with his clean hand and stroked her feathers. She didn’t bite him this time. “Pretty bird,” she cooed, ducking her head under his fingers.

  “Yes, you’re a pretty bird,” he said softly, his words muffled under his hand.

  Surly hopped up onto his shoulder, walking herself sideways to his ear. “Pretty bird, Pretty, pretty. Joe,” she said, trying out the new word. “Pretty Joe.”

  Joe laughed. “Not anymore. Gonna have a crook in my face now.” She wasn’t sure what his face had to do with it. She tried to praise him again.

  “Pretty Joe,” she repeated and fluttered down to the floor. “Lemon?” she asked, trying again.

  “Sorry, fresh out of lemons. I think the only place with lemons is a greenhouse near home.”

  Ah well, she thought, apples are acceptable. She tapped her beak on the exit door. “Pretty Joe, Surly Shirley. Nuh-night.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “You practicing your words?” he asked.

  “Nuh-night, Paws and Claws.” She tapped the door again, trying to make him understand.

  “You want to go to sleep?” He reached out a hand for her.

  “Pretty Joe, Surly Shirley, Nuh-night Paws and Claws.” She squawked, getting desperate. She flew past the open window and then back. How could she get him to see that they needed to leave?

  “Soup’s on, Joe,” yelled Gray. “Come get it before these damn dogs do. And stop talking to that chicken.”

  Joe stood up. He grabbed another fistful of tissues from the box and mashed them against his nose. “C’mon, Shirley, time to get back in your cage now. You don’t want me to get into trouble again, do you?”

  “Pretty Joe,” Shirley cooed and flew, disappointed, back into her cage.

  * * *

  The smoke from the small fire filled the shop, floating through the broken display window and transom. It made Surly and the other animals sleepy, but the smell of cooking pork soon attracted a small but raucous group of humans. They joked with each other as they stood in line for a share of the cooked pig. Walt chewed on a bone before tossing it to the drooling puppies, who battled for it.

  There’s loyalty for you, thought Surly with a pang of regret for Princess. The pig didn’t last long. The men at the end of the line frowned at their portions. One of them tossed a plate in disgust onto the counter next to Surly’s cage. “I’m sick of these scanty rations, Gray,” he grumbled. “You promised us decent wages.”

  “And you’ll have them,” said Gray without bothering to look up from his plate. “We’re almost at the payout. A few more nights’ work and we’ll all be able to retire. If the pork doesn’t satisfy, toss that chicken next to you into the pot.” He jerked his thumb toward Surly’s cage. The man who complained bent down to look at her. She squawked as he reached a hand toward the latch. She wasn’t going to go willingly.

  “No, don’t do that!” cried Joe.

  “Why not?” asked the man without pausing. The door squeaked opened. Surly beat her wings and opened her beak to bite.

  “Because it’s a parrot. They’re really smart. It’d be like—like eating a person.”

  “Bullshit, it’s just a bird.” The man’s thick hand hovered at the cage door.

/>   “Look,” said Joe, handing over his own plate, “if you’re hungry take mine. Leave the bird alone.”

  The man turned and looked at the small bit of meat on the plate. “Not the only one that’s hungry. Besides, I haven’t had chicken in months. And what do you care? It’s just going to die in its cage anyway.”

  “I’ll trade you something,” said Joe, trying to close the cage.

  The man laughed. “You don’t have anything left, Joe. You lost the last of your tobacco in the poker game, and you traded Ben those batteries so he’d let that sweet little piece go two towns back. You got nothing.”

  Joe hesitated. “You can have the last bottle of tequila.”

  The man whistled low and long. Surly hopped on her perch, not certain whether to be relieved or not at the sound.

  “Your last bottle, Joe? You could buy a woman with that. Or a doctor. Why do you want this bird so bad?”

  Joe shrugged.

  “It’s empty isn’t it? You’re trying to trick me out of a meal.” The man plunged his hand back into the cage and clutched Surly roughly. She stabbed him with her beak, and he swore but held on.

  “No, no!” said Joe, “It’s brand new, full, I’ll get it, just—just put the bird back.”

  Joe pushed his way out of the crowded shop as the man released Surly and pulled his hand back to suck the skin she’d bitten. Joe came back with a silver bottle that gleamed in the firelight. The man smiled and handed Joe the cage. “Don’t know why you care about a stupid seagull, but it’s good doing business with you.” He grabbed Joe’s plate. “Taking this too.” Joe let the plate go, waving him off and lifting the cage to his face. He opened the door and gently smoothed Surly’s rumpled feathers.

  “Sorry, Shirley. You okay, pretty bird?”

  “Pretty bird. Pretty Joe,” she clucked beneath his soothing strokes. He unwrapped the last of his dried apple slices and held it on his palm. She carefully picked it up. The crowd of men was leaving as Walt threw a box of cloth cat toys onto the fire. Another silver bowl of water boiled in the coals, and Gray threw in some metal tools.