by V. J. Banis
* * * *
He was in a deep sleep, unaware of discomfort as he lay sprawled on his back. No dreams visited him, just the void of forgetfulness. He only slept with such abandon on days when The Man hadn’t come down.
Something tickled the back of his neck, just below the edge of consciousness. He squirmed a bit. The tickle stopped, then came back. Slowly, he climbed out of darkness, his heavy lids lifting to reveal the smiling face of the little blond girl.
“Hi, Harai.”
It wasn’t really his name, but close enough.
“Annie!” Sitting up, he grinned back at her. He had been hoping she would come today. She giggled as she looked into his eyes.
“Tell me,” he said in his husky, small voice.
This was the way it always started on the days when she could sneak down to see him—he would ask and she would tell him what she had learned in school. He loved to hear her talk, feel her intent, friendly and kind. He didn’t understand everything she said but, when he asked, she would explain words to him. He learned a lot from Annie. She had taught him the word ‘friend’ and she was its one-word definition, his only friend now.
“I have something for you,” Annie sang, taking a small package out of a brown paper bag. This was always the second part.
“What?”
She unwrapped half of a sandwich. “Toasted cheese!” she said, holding it out to him.
He trusted her, but sniffed at the unfamiliar food. Taking a bite, he chewed carefully. It was crisp on the outside, soft in the middle, salty and buttery. He ate another piece, making small smacking sounds, the cheese sticking to his teeth.
“Do you like it?”
“Better than daw food.” Sounds made in the back of his throat had always eluded him. He hated dog food.
Annie reached between the bars and gently stroked the fine brown hair on his arm. He allowed this because she meant to comfort him, which she did. Her touch was pure and clean, free of harm. He didn’t know her word for how he felt about her. She brought a joy that both lifted his heart and squeezed it. She brought the outside in, made the walls disappear, chased the shadows away. He wanted to tell her, to let her know what her visits did. Instead, he rubbed his cheek against her hand and hummed a low note of pleasure.
“I know,” she whispered.
* * * *
That had been the last good day. The Man had come every day since then, his cruel intent proceeding him down the stairs, warning Harai of danger he couldn’t escape.
A few days after Annie’s last visit, The Man came and reached into the cage. Harai squirmed away, but the cage was small; he couldn’t stand, barely had room to lie down—there was no way to evade him. The Man grabbed him by the arm. Twisting his body and screaming, Harai struggled to get free. He couldn’t use his hands to defend himself—The Man had seen to that.
“This is ridiculous!” The man shouted as he let go. He went away, came back and shook four pieces of rope at Harai. “I’m going to break you of this nonsense.”
The Man, so much bigger and stronger, soon had Harai bound, hand and foot, to the ends of the cage. Opening the side door, his brutal hands pinched and squeezed, fondled and mauled.
Harai felt as if were being cut or burned. “No!” he wailed, “No, please!” Writhing and pulling against his bindings, his mind spiraled away. When The Man’s hands went toward his face, all Harai had left was instinct. With a quick turn of his head, Harai sank his teeth into The Man’s hand.
“Damn you!” The man yelled.
Harai’s mind came crashing back. For a moment, everything was still. He froze in terror when he realized what he had done. The Man glared at him, lips tight, breathing hard through his nose.
“Sorry,” Harai squeaked, then louder, “Sorry!”
The Man took a cloth and wiped the blood from the back of his hand, turned and walked away. Harai heard him rummaging around in the corner of the room—then hammering. Harai cried out the word ‘sorry’ over and over, but The Man didn’t seem to hear him.
Returning to the cage, he stared at Harai, but said nothing. He didn’t have to—his whole body shouted revenge. Harai started shaking and couldn’t stop. He saw himself in The Man’s glasses, saw his own eyes wide with fear, the large brown irises rimmed in white. He panted in quick shallow breaths, his heart hammering.
The Man clamped two pieces of wood to the floor of the cage—one on either side of Harai’s head, holding it firmly. Harai felt his bladder void. The Man came back into view, his stare so cold Harai began to shiver violently. He had one of the hurtful silvery things in his hand.
Speaking softly, slowly, The Man said, “You will never bite me again.”
* * * *
When Harai regained consciousness, his mouth throbbed and his body ached all over. Still spread eagled, he discovered he was no longer tied and pulled his arms and legs in as he turned on his side. His mind was vacant, his senses fogged and disconnected. He waited passively. It wasn’t that he didn’t care any more, he just could no longer find the desire to fight his situation. As it turned out, he didn’t have to—though he could hear his heavy footsteps, sometimes, on the floor above, The Man never returned.
He drifted, time washing around him, not seeming to carry him forward. He felt no hunger, no need to move, no reason to think. At some point, Annie came, but there was no joy, and the comfort she brought was far away, touching some distant part of himself he could barely feel. He saw her face near his, saw her cheeks were wet, knew he should do something, say something, but couldn’t remember what.
The infinite black sky seemed to wrap around him, enfolding him in its starry embrace. Again, he felt disembodied, drifting....
* * * *
Smoke. That’s what woke him. The room was full of it, gray-brown and harsh. His eyes watered and he began to cough. Still feeling weak, he twisted to look over his shoulder, saw flames licking up the wall behind him.
His lethargy vanished. He whimpered and shifted a couple of inches away from the heat—there wasn’t much room for him to move. The fear of fire consumed him—the fear of being consumed by fire. There was nothing he could do.
“Harai!”
Annie on the steps to the basement, calling his name, running to him, touching him with hope.
“Annie....”
“I’ll get you out,” she said as she grabbed a ring of keys. She tried all three keys twice—none of them unlocked the cage.
Harai glanced behind him. The fire was closer. Trembling with fear—for her, for himself—he told her “’o,” pushing his limp hands at her. He couldn’t say the “g”, but she understood.
“No,” she cried, trying the keys again.
Noise outside—a high, ear-hurting sound. Then noise upstairs—heavy feet, lots of them.
He didn’t want Annie hurt. He didn’t want to be hurt, but that was not as important; he had been hurting a long time—Annie was comfort. He reached through the bars and took her hands between his wrists. She followed his eyes as he looked toward the stairs.
“Help. They help you.” He shoved her hand away. She was afraid; he saw it in her eyes, smelled it on her. With a small, choking sound, the child turned and fled up the stairs.
Harai brought his knees up to his chest, making himself small, then reached his arms through the bars, pulling himself as far from the fire as he could. The heat was intense, scorching his back. A thin, mewling sound escaped his lips.
Hurry, Annie. He wasn’t afraid to die, he’d been expecting it. But, fire....
The downy hair on his back began to singe; he could smell it and started to cry, then closed his eyes and howled—the fire was on him.
Feet pounding on the stairs, cold water blasting him, shooting past him. A moment, then Annie’s hands stroking his head, his shoulder.
“Oh, Harai.”
His eyes, all soft brown and glistening, rolled up to look at the child’s worried face. Comfort her. The side of his mouth twitched up. “Thee?” he l
isped. “They help you.”
Behind him, the sound of water spraying; all around, the smell-taste of wet ashes, damp smoke. In front of him, a big man in yellow gently moved Annie to one side.
“What do we have here?” the man said, staring into the cage.
“That’s Harai,” Annie told him. “Please, get him out. He’s hurt.”
The big man forced a thick piece of metal between the door and the bar next to it. Harai shut his eyes, cowering. A loud noise and the door was open. Big hands touched him; he shivered.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” But he did, just a little.
Annie, only Annie.
“Hey Joe, come her,” the big man called. “Does he need a doctor or a vet?”
Harai sensed laughter, heard none. He reached out, maimed hand dangling. “Annie?”
Now he heard laughter, short and surprised.
“I guess a doctor,” Joe said.
* * * *
Another, slightly different, ear-hurting sound. More footsteps overhead. The sound of something rolling over a wood floor. The big man started to reach into the cage. Harai flinched.
“No! I’ll do it,” Annie said. “He doesn’t want you to touch him.”
“He’s as big as you are, sweetheart. I’ll be careful.”
And he was, but Harai trembled all over, lips pressed together tightly as the man lifted him out of the cage. Joe placed a cold wet cloth against the burn on Harai’s back—it felt good. The man in yellow carried him upstairs, placed him on a long table with wheels, then left. Harai lay curled on his side. He could still feel the man’s hands on him.
The table was rolled outside and pushed into a small, crowded room. Annie followed.
“No, honey,” a woman in green said, lifting Annie out of the room. “You have to stay here.”
“Annie hum! Annie hum!” Harai pleaded.
“See? He wants me to come with him. Please. He’s scared.”
The woman patted her shoulder, told her to wait, and went away. Annie climbed back into the room, stood close to Harai. The cold cloth had slipped from his back. He craned his neck, trying to see behind him.
“I on fire?”
“No, the fire’s out.”
“I burnin’,” he moaned.
“I know.”
Annie’s hand stroking: comfort.
* * * *
The woman came back with another woman, dressed in dark blue, who took Annie outside. Harai watched the door, scared that Annie wouldn’t come back, scared of what might happen next. Then he jumped, but it was just the cold wet cloth.
“Sorry,” said the woman in green. “I should have warned you.” A moment, then the cold was gone. “Here it comes.” He was ready this time. It felt good until she took it off—then he was burning again. Over and over—cold, hot, cold, hot.
The woman in blue brought Annie back and told the other woman, “Take her with you. Make sure she’s all right.” Harai felt a dark suspicion coming from her, but it wasn’t pointed at anyone in the room. The two women talked to each other, their voices so soft Harai couldn’t hear what they said. Then the woman in blue left, closing the door behind her.
Annie’s relief felt like his own as she stood beside him, very near, hand on his arm. The room lurched forward and the ear-spitting sound started again, very close. Harai whimpered and pressed his wrist against his ear.
“Turn off the siren!” Annie cried.
The woman in green did something; silence followed. The motion of the room and Annie’s hand soothed him, but he kept his eyes on Annie.
* * * *
The room jolted to a stop. The door opened and Harai’s table rolled outside. Confusion; bright lights, people moving quickly, saying things he didn’t understand. The table rolling faster, people looking at him, long white lights overhead, pale green walls on either side. So many people, too many strange odors. He curled into himself, smelled the sharp scent of his own fear.
The table stopped inside a room filled with lots of metal things and people in green paper, harsh lights and small glowing lights, red and green. Two people shifted him onto a cold metal table. Memories flashed. “No!” he begged silently, afraid to make a sound, as gloved hands touched him, eyes looked at him that way. He tried to shut it out, squeezing his eyes closed, every muscle tensed in anticipation. He sensed concern, but darker things as well.
“Stop!” Annie’s voice. Annie was still with him. “You’re scaring him.”
“It’s all right.” A man’s voice. “We’re going to help him.”
Harai dared to open his eyes; saw little Annie push a man away, heard her yell, “Leave him alone!”
Motion and noise stopped. Annie came close, patted him, looked into his eyes and said, “There are too many people, aren’t there, Harai?”
He jerked a nod.
The people in green paper talked together and two of them rolled the table a long way to a quiet, calm room. They shifted Harai onto something that was not a table—it was soft. The lights were softer, the smells softer.
“Can he have this bed?” Annie patted the other soft thing—bed. “So he can look out the window?”
“Sure,” from the man on his left. The two in green lifted then set him down again, carefully. “You can have the other one.” This from the other man.
Annie stood next to the bed, near the window, where he could see her. The two people in green were behind him, speaking to him, but he didn’t understand—only Annie’s words penetrated the confusion that froze his mind. Something cold and not quite oily was spread on the burning place on his back. Something sharp jabbed his thigh. His thoughts began to thaw, the pain receded. He didn’t want to go to sleep....
* * * *
He opened his eyes, but they didn’t want to stay open. Something was wrong with the light and the floor was too soft. No, not the floor of his cage...where were the bars? When he saw Annie—leaning forward in a chair, asleep with her head resting near him—he remembered. He reached out and brushed her hair with his limp hand.
“Annie?”
She stirred, then woke when he spoke her name again. She smiled at him: warmth, kindness. She smoothed the hair above his ear. “Are you feeling better?”
His round serious eyes stared at her, drifted away, came back. He didn’t have the words to tell her how he felt, so he just nodded.
“Good. The burn isn’t bad. You’re going to be okay—they said so.”
He nodded, but thought otherwise.
* * * *
Two men in white came into the room and stood near the end of the bed. They spoke softly to each other, but Harai heard what they said. Though he didn’t understand all the words, he sensed the tenor of them.
“What are we looking at?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Mutation? Chromosome damage?”
“Maybe genetic engineering—somebody’s experiment gone wrong.”
“They said there was some mutilation....”
The taller man came forward and sat on a chair so his eyes were more on a level with Harai’s.
“Hi.” The man smiled.
Harai blinked at him. He had learned not to trust men, especially the ones who acted friendly.
“They tell me your name’s Harry.”
“Harai.” He saw the man’s surprise.
“I’m your doctor. My name is Karl Simmons. Can you say that for me?”
“Harl Thimmonth.” He had lost the “s” now, too.
“Try again. Karl Simmons.”
“He can’t say k’s or g’s,” Annie said. Harai saw her eyes glittering, her face set and unsmiling. She was ready to defend him.
“Okay.” He didn’t take his eyes off Harai. “I’m going to examine you—see if you’re hurt. If there’s anything wrong, we’ll try to make it better. Understand?” Harai nodded. “Can I see your hands?” Harai pulled his arms in protectively, staring wide-eyed at the man. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to look.”
Harai looked to Annie. She nodded. He held out his arms, hands dangling. Simmons took them, studied the backs, then the palms, the wrists.
Turning to the other man in white, Simmons said, “The muscles have been severed.” Looking at the scars again, he added, “Very skillfully done.” The other man wrote something on a metal pad. Still holding Harai’s hands, the doctor asked, “Who did this to you?”
Hearing genuine concern, Harai glanced at Annie, then tucked his head down, not wanting to tell him.
“My uncle did it.” Harai thought she didn’t sound like a little girl at that moment.
Simmons gently laid the maimed hands on the bed. Harai pulled them to his chest again, still afraid because he didn’t understand the man’s intentions.
“Look at me, Harai. Why did he do this?”
“You tell, Annie.”
“Harai said my uncle got mad because he kept trying to get out of the cage.”
Harai remembered the panic and desperation of those early days. He’d shaken the bars with all his strength. He knew the side of the cage opened; The Man did it all the time. He tried and tried, but he couldn’t get out. Whenever The Man came near, Harai felt his intent and it scared him so much his heart would pound. He tried to make him go away, to leave him alone. Sometimes, when small things had been left near the cage, he’d stick his arm through the bars, grab them, and throw them. Sometimes he hit The Man, or held onto him so he wouldn’t get hurt. He knew it made The Man angry, but he had to try to protect himself.
Simmons looked at Annie with a concern Harai partly understood. “You weren’t there, were you—when your uncle did this?”
“No! I’m not supposed to go down there. I have to wait until he’s gone.” Annie turned sad eyes to Harai. “I hate leaving you all alone.” Harai patted her cheek with his wrist.
“I know you don’t like to be touched,” the doctor said, “but I have to—so I can help you. Okay?”
Again, Harai looked to Annie.
“It’s all right,” she said, patting his head, trying to calm him. With a shiver, he nodded.
Simmons put a round, flat thing against his chest in several places, placed a thin plastic stick under his tongue, wrapped something around his arm that squeezed until it hurt. In between, he told the other man things, mostly numbers, and he seemed to write on his pad. As Simmons handled him, Harai knew he was trying his best to be gentle. It wasn’t too awful.
