“So we’re doomed.”
He wasn’t sure if she was still teasing, but he continued. “The Great One was right to keep the Tuskers hidden. He’s not making the same mistake that Razorback made. But it is only a matter of time before we are discovered, and when that happens, it’s going to be a fight for survival.”
“So there is nothing we can do?” Marie asked softly.
“Genghis is doing many of the right things. For one thing, he’s making sure that every mature Tusker is breeding as often as possible...”
He stumbled over those last words as he said them, glancing at Marie to see her reaction. Soon, both of them would be mating, one way or another. It was mandated. For months now, Genghis had been sending out groups of Tuskers to infiltrate every part of the continent.
Now is the time, he thought. Ask her!
She didn’t look his way, and the moment passed.
“Tesla and I have been talking about an idea that might help us,” Marie said.
“Tesla?” Napoleon tried to visualize who she was talking about. A small runt, like himself, who had just started coming to Martin’s classes.
“He’s the smartest Tusker I know,” Marie said. She glanced at him. “Except for you.”
“Me?” Napoleon didn’t feel particularly smart. In fact, he was hopeless at the sciences, which Marie—and Tesla—excelled in.
“You see what’s about to happen more clearly than any of us,” Marie said, sounding certain. “Except perhaps Genghis. You approach things like a human would. You know what they are going to do.”
Napoleon was struck dumb.
Marie turned toward him, and her eyes glowed in the twilight. “I first noticed you because you asked the question I wanted to ask: Why can’t we live in peace?”
Napoleon shook his head. “I once hoped we could. But no longer. The strange thing is, we are more like humans than we are our wild cousins. We think like them. After all, we have learned almost everything we know from a human. We speak English, which means that another genetic mutation had happened at the same time as our leap in intelligence. As if…” Napoleon hesitated.
“As if it was meant to be,” Marie finished.
He wanted to move closer to her, but something held him back. Bold Napoleon, he thought, named after the vanquisher of Europe, unable to make the first move with a female.
They chatted some more, about Tuskers who had already left Pigstown for enclaves in the wilderness. They stayed on the hill until dark, and as they descended, Napoleon sensed that he’d missed an opportunity. He also sensed that Marie was disappointed, but was only willing to take the initiative so far.
#
Not long after, Marie stopped coming to class. It was a few days before Napoleon realized that Tesla was missing too, and he remembered her comment about having an idea to level the playing field with humans. He discretely asked around and discovered that they were assigned to a technological project that was taking over the entire North Hill. It was top secret. Everyone knew something was going on, but no one was supposed to talk about it.
Napoleon felt a stab of jealousy, though he knew it was his own fault. Marie had signaled him that she was interested, and he’d been too shy to follow up on it.
Over the next few months, he became distracted in class, becoming angry at everything. If he’d watched more human movies, like most of his brethren, he might have recognized that he was entering what, for a Tusker, were his teenage years.
Napoleon entered into a rebellious phase. First, he decided he didn’t much like his name, which after all was given to him by a human. Ironically, it was Martin who set all this into motion. With his usual sardonic humor, Martin assigned Animal Farm to his Tusker pupils. It was a shock to Napoleon, who didn’t think he was anything like the pompous, tyrannical pig of the book. He didn’t lust for power, nor did he look forward to war. He’d resented the implication silently until one day, Martin asked him to stay after class.
“What’s wrong, Napoleon?” the human asked. “You used to be so engaged in the discussion. Now all you do is scowl.”
“Why did you name me after that ridiculous character, Napoleon?”
“Character? Ridiculous?” Martin looked confused for a moment, then laughed. “You mean in Orwell?”
Napoleon grunted, and Martin quickly realized that his star pupil was truly upset. “I didn’t name you after the character in the book. Truly. As I told you, I named you after the real Napoleon. You appear to have a natural gift for games, for planning. That’s all I meant by it.”
But it was too late. Napoleon wasn’t mollified. He decided then and there he didn’t want anything to do with his human namesake. Perhaps if Marie had been there to calm him down, things might have been different. Then again, she’d told him that he thought like a human. The very idea that he might be anything like those two-legged monsters bothered him. No, he decided, he would discover what it meant to be a Tusker, a real Tusker.
Not long after, it occurred to him that the name Pigstown was also disrespectful. It served as a reminder of what even the friendliest of humans thought of them. Pigs. Oinkers. Mere dumb animals.
He and a few other rebellious members of his generation began to meet after class, trying to come up with names other than those that Martin and other humans had given them. He decided to call himself Greyback, which in Tusker language was three snorts and a huff. They decided that they would no longer speak English, and that they would no longer stand upright, and that anyone who did was a turncoat.
Napoleon stopped going to class. He liked Martin, but Martin was a human, and he didn’t like humans. The dissonance of these two opposite ideas bothered him on some level, but he was determined to prove that Tuskers were the superior species.
One night, his best friend, Sandy (whom Martin had named Saladin), was giving a presentation, arguing that no one should answer to their human names any longer.
“We must make a stand,” Sandy insisted. “We must become what we are: Tuskers, a race that is superior to human…”
He suddenly fell silent, and his mouth dropped open, and he sat back on his haunches as if his legs had given out on him.
Napoleon turned to see who or what had scared his friend.
For a moment, he couldn’t quite take it in. He’d always seen the Great One at a distance, surrounded by his retinue. This time, Genghis was alone. He didn’t even have his personal guard along.
“Continue,” he grunted in Tusker language, though everyone knew he preferred to use English.
Sandy stumbled through the rest of his argument, avoiding Genghis’s gaze. “We have been contaminated by human ideas. We must find our true nature, without the influence of human culture…” He seemed at a loss about how to end, so Greyback stood abruptly and thanked him.
“We have an honored guest,” he grunted, wondering at the same time why he wanted so very badly to say it in English. “Perhaps the Great One would like to say something?”
“Thank you, Napoleon,” Genghis replied. “I’ll speak English, if you don’t mind.”
Greyback stiffened, for it seemed to be a direct rebuke. He was also surprised that the Great One knew who he was.
“Yes, I know about you, Napoleon,” Genghis said, as if reading his mind. Looking into the Great One’s eyes, Napoleon was suddenly certain that his leader had done exactly that: read his mind.
“I’ve been watching you and your little group for some time. Up until recently, you’ve all been promising students.” Genghis walked to the front of the small group, and his voice took on a deep authority. He stood on his hind legs with an ease that made Napoleon envious, even though it went against his philosophy. The Great One’s words seemed to resonate, as if he was speaking to them mind to mind as well as out loud.
I didn’t know he could do this, Napoleon thought. It’s like the way we talk to the Kin.
“This is all very interesting,” Genghis said, pa
cing in front of them. If Napoleon blurred his eyes, he could almost imagine it was a human who was talking to them, not their great leader. It shook Napoleon to his core. “We are Tuskers, and we are indeed something new in this world. Someday we will need to find our own ideas, our own culture, as you say. Someday the time will come when such a movement as you propose will be needed. Someday when the humans are gone, we will want a true Tusker culture, uncontaminated by humans. Someday…”
He stared at each of them in turn. “But not now.”
Genghis stopped in front of Napoleon. “I want you to end this nonsense. We don’t have the time or energy to try to find Tusker words for everything. We use English because the meanings are already there—and each name has a history that gives that name meaning. You, for instance, Napoleon. I have been told you are gifted in military strategy. What does the name Greyback mean?” He grunted the three snorts and a huff. “What does that even signify, besides the color of your skin?”
Napoleon looked down, embarrassed at being singled out. And yet, there was a sense of pride there as well. That he’d been noticed, and that the Great One was speaking his name—even if it was in English.
It was the last time he ever used the Tusker name Greyback. It was the last time any of them used Tusker names when an English name was shorter and more descriptive.
“Napoleon, come with me,” Genghis said. “The rest of you, get back to your normal activities. And no more skipping class!”
The room cleared out so quickly that Napoleon was still digesting those words when he found himself alone with the Great One. Genghis beckoned him to follow, and they left the small room that he shared with Sandy—with Saladin. They left the South Hill and crossed over to the North Hill. The South Hill was getting crowded, because most of the inhabitants of the other hill had been evicted. All anyone knew was that a machine—The Machine—was being built inside.
The guards saluted them as they passed, and Napoleon felt a strange pride, as if he was suddenly important.
The Machine filled most of the center of the hill. Napoleon couldn’t make sense of all the wires and pipes, the gleaming metal, the rotating gears, the smoke issuing from small tubes. It extended upward out of sight. A small path looped around The Machine, and coming toward them along it was Marie.
She bowed to Genghis, but at the same time, she couldn’t keep her eyes from going to Napoleon, as if she couldn’t make sense of his presence.
“Explain to Napoleon what The Machine does,” Genghis commanded.
“The Machine, when it is finished, will create an EMP that will travel throughout the Earth’s atmosphere,” Marie said. “It is far beyond what any human has been able to create.”
Napoleon looked at her blankly.
“An electromagnetic pulse,” she prompted.
That finally made sense, because Napoleon’s studies were up to World War II and the Cold War.
“Such as a nuclear device would make,” he said.
“Only much, much bigger. It is very advanced technology, invented by Tesla, using some of his namesake’s ideas. It will travel through the atmosphere of this continent and beyond. It will be strong enough, perhaps, to fry every human machine in the world.”
“Every machine?” From what he understood, EMPs had limited range.
“We’re not completely certain,” Marie said, faltering a little. “Tesla and I have argued about this. He’s certain it will incapacitate all machines, whether active or not. I’m not so sure. I think it will depend on many factors: distance, timing, how protected the components are. The truth is, the damage will probably be somewhere in between.
“But whatever happens, it will be enough to throw the humans into chaos.”
Napoleon immediately grasped the significance of this new invention. Without machines, humans would be helpless. Mankind would be thrown back to the Stone Age, without the skills to survive.
What was more important, it would level the playing field.
“It will give us time,” Napoleon said.
“What I want from you, Napoleon, is an order of battle,” Genghis said. “Someday soon humans will find us, and we need a fighting chance.”
Napoleon was aware that both Marie and Genghis were staring at him, but he ignored them as the possibilities filled his mind.
That night, Napoleon dreamed that he was his namesake. For some time now, it had felt as though Napoleon Bonaparte’s spirit would sometimes possess him. He hadn’t told anyone, but—crazy as it sounded—the thoughts that came to him seemed to come from Napoleon Bonaparte himself.
“Our hour is marked,” said the voice in his dreams, “and no one can claim a moment of life beyond what fate has predestined.”
Chapter Five
One Day before the Pulse
Andy sent Sherry home early and closed up the diner himself. The girl was still shaken by the reporter’s questions. She’d been making progress until today, coming to terms with loss of her brother. Kathy Fucking Comfort had opened old wounds.
The reporter had surprised him. From watching her on TV, he’d always considered her a real harridan, but in person, he’d found her extraordinarily attractive. And she had returned the favor, he could tell. He had a good instinct for what women wanted.
Andrew L. Wallace, it said on his driver’s license. About as white bread a name as the Feds could concoct: certainly better for blending in with the local population than the Vinnie Paglioni he’d been born with. Or Smooth, which is what everyone had actually called him back then. As in, smooth with the ladies.
Kathy Comfort’s questions had also awakened the memories for him, he realized. I’ve been ignoring it for too long. What if they…those creatures…come back?
He’d slept through most of the Aporkcalypse, as the locals called it. He’d still been drinking in those pre-diner days, unable to cope with living in the middle of nowhere. His next-door neighbor’s dogs were driving him crazy, baying at all times of the day and night.
When he’d gone over to confront the dogs’ owner, he’d found that the man was frazzled out of his wits.
“I’m sorry, man,” Mike Campbell said. “I’m trying, I really am. They’ve gotten out of control. You want to buy one?”
“How many do you have?” Andy asked. Even from the doorstep, there was an overwhelming odor of dog shit.
“Sixteen, last count. I’ve tried neutering the males and I lock up the females, but damned if the bitches don’t get pregnant anyway.”
“No, thanks,” Andy said, but the germ of an idea was planted in his brain. A little extra security wouldn’t hurt, he thought.
He walked away still frustrated. Other than reporting the man for dog hoarding, which he’d already done more than once, there wasn’t much he could do. To escape the constant barking and baying, he resorted to spending most of his free time at the diner and wearing earplugs when he wanted to nap.
On the day of the Aporkcalypse, he’d woken late in the afternoon to the dogs howling louder than ever before. He popped out his earplugs, grabbed the still-half-full glass of whiskey and drained it. Usually it was just one or two of the dogs who made noise, but this was the whole pack. Andy was so annoyed he didn’t realize at first that his trailer was rocking. There was a weird grunting sound coming from outside, and for a moment he wondered if it was a bear. It was the Wild West, after all. At least, it seemed like the Wild West to someone born and bred in New Jersey, who had never spent a day of his childhood outside the city.
More likely than a bear, though, was that it was one of his old pals, and the strange snuffling sound he’d heard, which he’d envisioned as a bear, transformed in his imagination to a big old mobster, like Salvatore, his former bodyguard. In fact, in Andy’s half-drunk mind, he’d decided it was Salvatore, dressed in his baggy suit with the bulletproof vest beneath.
Aim for the head, he thought.
According to the feds, he wasn’t supposed to have a gun, but fu
ck that. He wasn’t going to be defenseless when the Old Boys came to get him, which he was sure they would. Guns were all over the place in the Morrow Valley, where the way of life was as gun focused—if for different reasons—as the tough neighborhood he’d grown up in. Andy had gotten a Colt revolver from one of the local ranchers within a week of arriving. It was a bulkier gun than he was used to, but reassuringly lethal.
He grabbed the gun from under the bed, where he had it wrapped in a towel. He didn’t take any other precautions to hide it from the feds. He was pretty sure they had searched the trailer when he wasn’t there, but had left the gun without comment. They knew the danger he was in.
Frankly, Andy didn’t care if his former pals got him, as long as he had a chance to take a few of the bastards with him. Turned out, while he had thought he wanted out of ‘the life,’ he was so bored that he would almost welcome a good fight.
It was a huge disappointment when he threw open the door and was confronted by a javelina, as the local wild pigs were called. The creatures tended to root around in gardens and get into the garbage and anything else left lying around outside. Andy generally ignored the little beasts, finding them neither charming nor pesky.
The pig looked up at him in alarm. It was carrying something in its mouth, and it took several seconds for Andy’s befogged mind to realize that it was a human arm.
The rest of the body was nearby, head gone, the other arm gone, surrounded by several javelinas, who were staring at him, blood-smeared snouts grunting aggressively. There was a shotgun lying on the ground near the body. At the door to his next-door neighbor’s trailer, he saw the white skin of an old woman, her dress torn off, who was lying halfway down the steps.
Andy started firing without thinking, blowing off the head of the pig in front of the door and wounding at least one of the others. The rest sprinted toward him, and Andy froze in astonishment. As the gun clicked on empty, he saw what appeared to be hundreds of javelinas racing around his neighbor’s trailer, heading straight for him.
The Omnivore Wars Page 3
