Chapter Text
The world felt like it had stopped. Slowed down. Leopard’s surroundings felt like a fuzzy haze. She sat on an old plastic chair in the middle of the hallway, looking down, leg bouncing, zoned out as Tiger, Bear, Rhino and Antelope stood in the hallway. The loud, dull buzz of Antelope and Tiger’d voices as they fought faded in and out of her mind.
“We can’t just keep her here, she has the Sick!” Antelope argued.
“So, what, you want us to kill her? Want us to just waltz in there and pop a bullet in her head, huh?” Tiger hissed back.
“Maybe! Or do you want us to all get the Sick too? If we keep her alive we’re all going to get fucking contaminated!” Antelope spat back, gesturing toward the door to the room Coyote was in.
“I’m not killing another one of our own soldiers! Maybe it’s easy for you to think that after what happened to Fox!” Tiger’s words seemed to chip at Antelope’s resolve, hitting a nerve, because Antelope clenched her fists and her jaw, dark fire pooling in her eyes.
Suddenly, Antelope snapped, charging forward and shoving Tiger up against the wall, as hard as she could, grabbing at her collar. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE SAY HER NAME!”
“ENOUGH!” Bear yelled out, breaking them up, putting space between them with her arms. Rhino had to physically pull Antelope away from Tiger. “Let’s be civilized about this. Fighting won’t get us anywhere.” She said, eyes flickering between both girls.
Antelope and Tiger still stared each other down, anger boiling under their skin.
“We’ll call a meeting, first thing tomorrow. Everyone comes. Southeast building, main quarter.” Bear added. “We’ll get everyone’s opinion on it, have a vote. Unanimous.”
Tiger’s fists, stilled at their sides, relaxed. They sighed, running a hand through their hair, before backing away from Antelope.
“For now, we quarantine this part of the building. Nobody comes in or out of that room without a gas mask.” Bear added. She looked over at Leopard, at her absent stare. “We’ll have to do a test on you, too.”
Leopard heard her name being called, and she perked her head up for a second, but she wasn’t paying much attention to anything. It’s like she wasn’t even there. She had barely even noticed the altercation that had happened a few seconds ago. All she could think about was Coyote. Her warm embrace as she held her close near the fire pit, the soft feel of her shaggy hair, the personalized handshake they’d share before going on scavenging missions for good luck, the paleness of her skin as she hurled blood all over Leopard’s nightdress. The sight of the blonde girl lying in her arms, on the floor, blood trickling from her lips, stuck deep within Leopard. The slow realization that there was nothing she could do for Coyote sunk in, bit by bit, eating away at her from the inside like a parasite.
Bear noticed Leopard’s lack of responsiveness. She knew the feeling all too well. Just two years ago, a wave of the Sick reached the Animal Army, and it hit Fox. Fox was a loved member of the community. She was bright, inventive, always knew the solution to something. She’d take hours out of her day just to help someone, even if she got nothing out of it. She had big ideas for the future, for the army, for the world. But the Sick ravaged her, giving her a series of excruciating seizures that went for minutes on end. It made her cough to no end, made her vomit blood. The Sick deformed her, making her a shell of the bright-eyed girl she used to be. She could barely even get out of bed most of the time. Then, one morning, Bear went into her room to check on her, and she was dead, lying in a pool of her own blood. Not from the Sick, no. She laid there with a stab wound to the chest, and a note crumpled up in her hand wishing everyone in the Animal Army goodbye, and a happy life without her. Antelope later confessed that Fox asked her to kill her and end her suffering. Antelope never really fully healed from that. Neither did everyone else.
“Can you all… give us a moment?” Bear asked to the group, looking at Leopard.
The trio shared glances, before nodding, and they left, leaving Bear and Leopard alone. Rhino had to make sure Tiger and Antelope didn’t go at each other on the way out.
The brunette leaned against the wall beside Leopard, crossed her arms. “I’m sorry.” She said.
Leopard stayed quiet, still staring at the floor.
The silence felt deafening, filling up the hallway like thick tar. It couldn’t have been less than ten seconds before the black-haired girl responded.
“How long does she have?” Her voice came out quiet and croaky.
Bear was unable to look her in the eye when she replied. “I don’t know. People usually last a few days, but if she has the Doomsday strain, it could be less.” Her heart felt heavy, like weights attached to her chest. The image of Fox’s funeral flashed into her mind. Bear still vividly remembered the eulogy she gave, and how she covered Fox’s lifeless body with a black sheet, then slid her into the river. It hurt to think that Coyote was next.
Leopard’s eyes went glassy, filling with tears. They went gently down her cheeks, slow like the trickle of melting snow.
“But she still has time. You still have time with her.” Bear added.
Leopard didn’t wipe her tears, she just let them fall, let them drip down her neck, absorbed by her shirt.
“I know what she means to you.” The brunette girl said.
The other girl sniffed, staying silent. She raised her eyes to meet Bear’s.
“And I know this can’t be easy,” Bear continued. “But we’re here for you. We all are. If ever you need anything, we’re here. At least I am.”
By that point, Leopard found the strength to speak. “All I need right now is some space,” she croaked, slowly standing up from her seat. She wiped her tears. “P-please, uhm… tell Eagle I won’t make it to Dawn Guard tomorrow. I-I’ll be in my room if you need to test me.”
And then, she went down the hallway, leaving the building.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The inky night sky faded away bit by bit, until all that was left of it was a bright, forget-me-not shade of blue. Damian was in the arcade, playing alone. He was playing a shooting game, aiming a fake little blue gun at a series of cartoon alien targets. He trilled happily when he managed to shoot all of them. His tail swished, ears twitching excitedly. He turned around, wanting to show his victory to someone.
But there was no one around. The arcade was empty.
Usually, there would be two or three people in the arcade, either playing games or just hanging around. It was usually Rhino or Hyena, but even they weren’t there. It was quiet.
Damian set his little gun back in the arcade machine’s holster, and began walking around curiously. When he came in, there were a few people crowding in the back, and that was enough for him not to feel completely alone in the vast building, but they were nowhere to be found. He called out, a little chirp-like sound from the back of his throat. Usually that got someone’s attention, but the noise just echoed. He checked the pinball machine, the VR section, the supply rooms, even the bathroom, but nothing.
So, he scurried outside.
Nobody. He hadn’t seen HQ look so empty until then. The outside kiosks were empty, no Tiger or Bear playing Rubber Chicken, or even Leopard. He couldn’t even find Daisy. Old posters flapped with the breeze, it was the only noise he could hear besides the wind.
He paced around for a few minutes outside, trying to find somebody, anybody. But he didn’t find a trace. That was, until his sharp hearing picked up on the sound of talking. A whole crowd of people, talking. His ears perked up. He followed the sound, and it led him to the Southeast building. He went inside, following the sound, until he was standing by a door that led into a big room, where all the Animal Army members were brought together, sitting in what looked like bleachers brought from outside. At the front stood Bear, explaining something. Damian tucked himself behind the door, out of view. Whatever was happening, they were excluding him from it, or else they would have brought him instead of leaving him alone at the arcade. And if they were excluding him, that meant this wasn’t something he was supposed to see.
“Attention, everyone!” Bear called out, her voice piercing through the crowd’s low hum of chatter. The room fell silent. It took a few moments for Bear to speak again.
“I’ve called you all here for something very important. An announcement and a vote.” She began.
Tiger, stood at Bear’s side, stiffened, their shoulders tending as they regarded the crowd.
“A fellow soldier has fallen ill to the Sick,” the crowd lets out gasps, whispers and murmurs between them. “Just last night, Coyote became sick, and we rushed her to the East building, where she’s currently quarantined. Her symptoms are unlike anything we’ve seen the Sick do. We think she has the Doomsday strain.”
If everyone wasn’t already on edge, they certainly were now. Damian froze. The Sick. It took his papa and his abuela from him. It made his mama scared of going to the market. It doesn’t even click in his brain for a few seconds. Coyote? Sick? That’s impossible, because to him, she’s supposed to be invincible. Just like his mama was supposed to be.
Bear spoke through the shocked noises of the crowd. “She’s stable so far, but we know her time is ticking.” She states. “All of us know first hand how the Sick can ravage someone. Just like how it ravaged Fox, it’ll do the same for Coyote.”
Damian, by this point, sank down against the wall. Too many big words to say Coyote was dying. Too many fancy words to say he was going to lose someone again. Tears pooled up in his dark eyes.
“But we stand at a crossroads here. There’s no telling what the Sick will do to her, and how it’ll hurt her,” Bear takes a deep breath, readying herself like her words might physically hurt her if they come out wrong. “But I know many of you, me included, don’t want to see what happened to Fox happen to Coyote. To just-” her voice cracks. She clears her throat, but the words get stuck. She turns away from the crowd for a second, unable to finish as tears start prickling in her eyes. Even after a few deep breaths, the tears don’t go away, and she’s sure if she speaks again, her voice will wobble. She can’t show weakness, not when her army needs her.
Tiger puts a hand on Bear’s shoulder, a comforting touch, before continuing the speech for her.
“Some of us can’t bear the pain of having to kill another one of our soldiers. Some of us want to spare Coyote the pain of dying by the Sick. And this is why we’ve brought you all here. To decide what we’ll do.”
By that point, Damian couldn’t stay. He couldn’t keep listening. He scurried to his feet, making little involuntary noises as tears started pooling against his waterline. He rushes past the door, several people spotting him. He doesn’t care. He needs to get to the East building as soon as possible.
He rushes out of the building, nearly tripping over himself as he does. His mind’s a mess of jumbled thoughts, but one thought stood strong among the chaos. East building. Get to the East building.
He nearly breaks down the door on his way out, slamming it open with his shoulder. Those old, rusty hinges gave way instantly. North, South, West, East… he has trouble remembering the directions. North, front. South, back. East, right. West, left. So he bolts right, not even caring that Cheetah is running after him. He could outrun anyone here, it doesn’t matter. Damian skirts a corner so fast that Cheetah falls over trying to follow.
East, east, east…
His amber eyes lock on a short, wide building a few feet away. The East building. His ears twitch at the sound of Cheetah getting back up and continuing his sprint. Cheetah is fast, but Damian’s faster. The hybrid boy darts through the entrance, shutting the metal double doors behind him. In a frenzy, panting, he looks around. Chairs in the hallway. He thinks fast, grabs the chairs and places them under the doorknobs, barricading them. It wouldn’t last long, but it would do for now. Cheetah had already started to pound on the doors.
“Damian! Damian, wait! You can’t! Please, Damian, listen to me!” Cheetah shouts from outside.
Damian doesn’t listen and starts running down the halls. Time is ticking. He stops when he’s face to face with a large, plastic wall, barricading the rest of the corridor. It’s the very same quarantine plastic wall he’d see in hospitals, or at least, shows on TV about hospitals. There’s a zipper on the plastic, just big enough for a person to walk through. So he unzips it, walks through, zips it back up and starts searching for Coyote.
This part of the building seems so much more different from the rest of the East building. The walls are more stained, somehow greyer. The chairs, once pressed up neatly against the wall for those who wanted to sit, are now strewn about on the floor. Purple flowers creep up from the corners and crawl up the wall like ivy. There are dark, reddish-brown stains on the floor, some of them footprints, some smearing into a trail. He follows it quietly, until his little ears pick up on the sound of coughing.
Damian perks up, and immediately rushes toward the sound. He reaches a door, and frantically turns the doorknob, claws digging into the metal. The door gives way, and he nearly falls back at the sight.
Inside, is Coyote. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, back turned to him. There’s blood all over her bed, pools of it all over. Some of it’s dry, some of it is still fresh, dark crimson and patterned with clumps of fleshy matter he can only assume is bits of lung. Purple flowers bloom in every corner, growing in clumps. Coyote’s hair is somehow messier, some strands stuck together and stained with blood. She’s not wearing what she wore at the festival anymore. She’s in an oversized white tee and black shorts. Choked sobs emit from her, a sound that shakes Damian to his core.
The hybrid boy runs forward, letting out a myriad of worried whimpers and pained cries, crawling onto the bed. Usually, he would be petrified, seeing all this blood, reminding him of mama. But it doesn’t get to him now, because Coyote, his big sis, needs him.
Coyote turns around. “D-Damian?” She asks in a croaky, gravelly voice.
She’s pale, lips red with the traces of foamy blood on them. Her eyes are red, bloodshot, dark bags under them. Damian lets out a shocked squeak and hugs her tight. And Coyote starts crying again.
“Damian… Damian, I’m so sorry…” Coyote sobs, tears dripping onto the hybrid boy’s black, fluffy hair.
When Damian pulls away, his furry hands start shaking as they sign; Are you going to die?
Coyote, through the gasps of air between her sobs, signs back with dirty, bloodstained hands. I don’t know.
She wants to say no, wants to comfort him and say that she’ll be fine despite being terrified of what’ll happen to her. But she can’t lie to his face like that, not when he sees that, visibly, she might. But she still wants him to stay strong.
If I do, can you promise me something? Coyote signs.
Damian nods, more tears pooling in his eyes.
Stay with Leopard, okay? Make her learn ASL so she can understand you. Stay with her no matter what. And you better not stay sad. You better live on and be happy and become a biologist and learn about all the animals on the world for me, okay?
The hybrid boy starts sobbing, but he nods, again and again, forcing his eyes to stay open even though his vision is getting clouded with tears.
Please don’t leave me, sister. Please. Please. Please. Damian signs desperately.
“I’m right here. I’m right here, I won’t leave, Damian.” Coyote says, right before pulling Damian into a tight hug. “I’m right here.”
He buries his face into Coyote’s shoulder, a spot that doesn’t have a stain on it.
Suddenly, Damian goes stiff in her arms. He hears something.
Before he can even look up, Cheetah, Bear, Dingo and Tiger are at the door, all wearing gas masks over their faces. Coyote hears their gasps as they see the state she’s in. Cheetah takes a step back, Dingo reactively covers his mouth, which is blocked by the mask.
To Damian, they look scary, like the monsters Mama told him would get him if ever he wandered outside without her supervision. When Bear cautiously steps through the threshold, Damian turns around and starts growling, teeth bared at the side of Coyote’s bed like a guardian.
“Damian, please step away from her.” Bear urges, voice muffled oddly by the mask as she can make it to diffuse the boy’s anger.
But Damian just growls louder, hissing. Bear would have no trouble killing Coyote if that’s what the Animal Army voted for, why should he trust her?
“Damian, please. She’s fragile. She needs space.” She urges again, taking a step closer.
“Don’t bother with it, Bear. I’m fine. Let him stay. He needs it.” Coyote chimes in with a rasp, wiping her lips.
“You- you need rest. You’re sick.” Bear adds, taking another step forward.
Damian, by this point, growls so loud it shakes his throat. Bear is too close. Everyone is too close. It feels like the walls are closing in on him. He hissed another time as a warning, but Bear doesn’t listen. So, when she reaches out her hand to try and calm him, he bites. He sinks his fangs into Bear’s hand, jaw clamping down, teeth piercing against the tendons. Not hard enough to risk her losing mobility, hard enough to make his message clear. Blood pools against his teeth, and Bear cries out.
By the time the hybrid boy lets go, Cheetah and Tiger are restraining Damian by the arms, all while the boy lets out angered shrieks and guttural roars, creating a cacophony as it mixes with Bear’s screams. Dingo slings his medical bag off his shoulder and whips out his first aid kit, the brunette girl clutching her hand in agony as her fingers spasm and crimson pours freely from her palm. A dark bite mark has been branded into her skin like a cruel tattoo.
“S-shit…” she curses, voice shaking while Dingo puts pressure on the wound so it stops bleeding.
Damian thrashes wildly against both Cheetah and Tiger’s grip, kicking, screaming, trying to bite and scratch.
Coyote, amidst all of this, sits there, not able to do much. She’s weak, couldn’t even properly punch someone if she tried. She can’t help Damian or Bear. Tiger quickly snatches a bottle off one of the cabinet shelves labeled chloroform, snatches a rag along with it and hurriedly pours a dose onto the cloth, immediately pressing it up to Damian’s face, covering his mouth and nose with it.
It isn’t long before the hybrid boy stops thrashing, slowly being forced into unconsciousness, giving one last whimper before he passes out.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Leopard sat on her bed, knees tucked tight against her chest. The room, left dim, with only her bedside lamp to illuminate it, felt empty without Coyote. She hadn’t seen the blonde girl since the night they had to drag her to the East building. How was she? Was she worse? Was she already dead? Those questions loomed over Leopard like a dark cloud, making it hard to think about anything else.
That’s when, through the suffocating silence, she heard footsteps.
Her head perked up, and at her doorway, stood Tiger, cradling an unconscious Damian in her arms. They gave a tired look to Leopard, before setting the boy down on her bed.
“What happened to him?” Leopard asked, voice hushed as she scans Damian’s face.
“He went to Coyote’s room. When Bear tried to convince him to give Coyote some space, he got violent and bit Bear. We had to sedate him.” They explained.
“Sedate him?” Leopard furrowed her brows, crawling over, checking the boy’s state. “Why? He’s a little boy; you could’ve just held him down until he got calm.”
“He’s got claws, Lep. Do you think we wouldn’t’ve done that if we could?” Tiger retorted.
Leopard looked up, scanning Tiger’s face, clenching her jaw at the other girl’s snappy tone.
Tiger sighed “Look, there wasn’t much we could do. He’ll be fine.”
The black-haired girl sighs sharply, looking back down at Damian, before pulling him up so he could rest his head against the pillow. She then tucks him in.
“How’s Coyote?” Leopard asks after a long moment of silence.
Tiger sighed, crossed their arms and looked at the floor. “Worse. The room was covered in blood by the time we got there. Bear mandated a complete shutdown of the East building. Dingo thinks the Sick is targeting her lungs. She wheezes every time she breathes.”
The Ojibwe girl’s stomach dropped. She swallowed hard.
“We’re holding the vote again tomorrow. We couldn’t really get everyone’s vote since Cheetah ran out of the room.” The orange-haired girl added, watching as Leopard’s jaw clenches.
Leopard sat there in silence for another few moments. Tiger observed, noticing how the other girl’s breaths got shaky.
“Look, I…” Tiger started, taking cautious steps toward the bed. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
The black-haired girl stood up. “Doesn’t matter if you’re sorry. Coyote’s still gonna die.”
Tiger stared to say something, but Leopard walked right past her and toward the door. The words died on their tongue as the other girl stormed out, leaving them alone.
She sat in silence, in a room so quiet she hears her own heartbeat. She cursed herself out in her mind. If only she was like Bear, who always knew just what to say.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Leopard sat in the meeting room, her heart pounding. Everyone had voted in favour of mercy-killing Coyote.
She looked around desperately, spotting familiar faces in the crowd, hoping at least someone would say something. Deep down she knew that killing Coyote now would mean ending her suffering, letting her go painlessly, but the irrational, slightly selfish part was louder. Leopard wanted more time with her. And some part, some stupid part, believed that somehow, Coyote would get better.
But nobody healed from the Sick. Everyone in the room knew, through first-hand experience, that it was certain. And taking one look at Coyote, just about anyone could determine she was in pain, suffering, a frail husk of what she once was, just like Fox.
She looked over at Antelope, who was sitting beside her, and gave a pleading look. And, to her shock, Antelope reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Like a relative holding the hand of a loved one as they go through a painful procedure. It was so odd, so out-of-character, that Leopard just stared at Antelope for a few moments, scanning that usually cold, scarred face, only to find… sympathy? No, it had to be pity.
But Antelope’s eyes were too soft for it to be pity.
Leopard squeezed her hand back.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Bear sat on her bed, reapplying gauze on her hand. She wound the bandage around her palm, a repetitive motion that somehow calmed her. She was looking over at Tiger, who was a few feet away, on her bed, slipping on an old oversized Dead Kennedys shirt to sleep. The only thing audible in the room was the dull hum of Bear’s bedside lamp, and the shuffling of sheets as Tiger sat on their bed.
“How do you think we’ll do it?” Asked the brunette.
“Do what?” Tiger leaned against the stiff headboard of her metal-rimmed bed.
“Take out Coyote.”
The older girl pressed her lips together, running a hand up through their hair. “I don’t think I can. She was my friend, I can’t just… Shoot her or something.”
It made uneasiness stir in Tiger at how Bear was describing taking out their fellow soldier and friend like a chore, a mundane task.
“Someone has to.”
Tiger sighed, tying their hair up for bed. “Think I don’t know that?”
“I’m not happy about this either, Tiger. Coyote was my friend too. But either we mercy-kill, or she dies a slow and painful death. And, even if she doesn’t die naturally in the next few days, she might infect someone. What happens if she infects you, huh?” Bear retorted.
“You’ll be able to lead the army without me in that case.” Tiger huffed back.
“That’s not the point.” The brunette grumbled back.
“Then what is the point, then? People die all the time, Bear. The world keeps spinning, doesn’t it?” The older girl shrugged her shoulders defensively.
“Mine wouldn’t.”
“Shut up. It would. You’ve got everyone else in the Army to keep you company; don’t act like I’m the only person you have.” Tiger motioned vaguely around her, looking away.
“Yeah, but you’re the person that matters the most. Who was there when I was a little girl all scared and alone? Wasn’t Rhino, wasn’t Pony, wasn’t Panda, it was you. Who was there to help and support me when I was founding the Animal Army? You. Don’t you get it? If you got the Sick, I’d…” she paused, voice going weak. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
Tiger’s expression flickered with softness, tenseness wilting away. Their eyes flickered down to Bear’s hand as she secured her gauze with medical tape.
“And don’t you just sit there and think you’re just some random name on an obituary, you know damn well the Army would crack without you. And I would too. So shut up and stop acting like I’d be fine if you died.” Bear reiterated.
Tiger stayed silent. So did Bear. The hum of the bedside lamp seemed to grow so much louder in the thick stillness. The orange-haired girl stared down at her hands, picking at half-healed scabs. The looming feeling of death lingered everywhere they went, like a thick, lingering fog, reminding them that one day, they could just wake up and everything could all be gone. Slip through their fingers. Tiger had been confronted with the prospect of mortality before, during close calls with Last Men and such, but it never hit hard until then, when death was undeniable, kept in the East building, just a minute’s walk away.
“Do you ever think,” Tiger started, pausing as she scratched at the nearly healed skin of a scab. “What you’d do if you got the Sick and knew you were gonna die?”
Bear tucked her knees near her chest, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. Live my last days out to the fullest, I guess. Check out everything on my bucket list.”
“You have a bucket list?” The older girl asked, raising her head.
“Yeah. Since I was ten.” The younger girl responded, a sad, solemn, almost nostalgic smile crossing her features. “It’s old, but I still update it.”
Tiger stared expectantly for a moment, before Bear got the message and swung her legs out of bed, ducking to the floor and dragging something out from under her bed. An old box, filled with mementos. There wasn’t much, a few knickknacks from her adventures, a bear tooth she found at a market, her childhood stuffed animal, an old family photo and an old, folded up slip of paper, smudged at the edges and worn by time. Bear took it, closed the box and slid it back into the darkness under her mattress, then sat back on the bed, unfolding it.
Tiger got up, walking over and sitting beside her as the contents of the slip were revealed. It was a small list, with little doodles on the side. The most notable one was a little drawing of a tiger and a bear at the bottom of the page. The list itself started with scratchy and messy handwriting, then got primer and neater as the entries went on. The first entry, at the very top, said ‘find my sister’.
“Most of these are outdated. But I’d at least try to do three if I knew I was going to die soon.” Bear said.
“What about this one?” The orange-haired girl asked, pointing to an entry that said, ‘marry my best friend’.
“I forgot about that one.” She commented. “I was ten and had no idea how marriage worked, I just thought it was just something people did after they’d spent a lot of time together.”
“And who was your best friend when you wrote that?” Tiger asked, voice hushed down to a near whisper. Bear looked up, seeing the warm light of the lamp illuminate the older girl’s face, the look in her hazel eyes, the small uptilt to the corner of her lip.
The brunette looked down, almost sheepishly, toying with the dog-eared corner of the paper. “You, I guess.”
That silence came around again, swallowing up the space. It felt cozier, somehow. Like the stillness that came over during a warm summer’s night, when the stars are out and the crickets don’t sing.
“And you? What would you do if you knew you were gonna die?” Bear asked.
“Whatever I wanted.” Tiger replied, leaning back, supported by her arms.
“Which is?”
“Play video games until I get sore in the hands. Kill all the Last Men I can. Maybe snag some booze from the market and get wasted.” They shrugged.
Bear scoffed. “Booze? Really? Don’t wanna spend your last days sober?”
“What can I say? I’d wanna go out with a bang.” A mild smile toyed on the orange-haired girl’s lips. “But you know what I’d really wanna do before I die?”
“Yeah?”
Bear didn’t really realise how close Tiger was getting until their faces had barely a couple inches between them. In the low light, she saw the way Tiger’s eyes searched hers, the way they shifted to get closer. Slowly, their hand raised to cup Bear’s cheek, and they leaned in, pressing their lips against hers, slow, gentle, hesitant. And just as quickly as it happened, Tiger pulled back. Bear didn’t even have the time to register it in her head.
“That.” Whispered Tiger, hand still gently on the younger girl’s cheek. “That’s what I’d do.”
Bear’s eyes searched Tiger’s expression, flickered between her eyes and mouth. Her lips stayed parted, some sort of reply trying to come out but vanishing on her tongue. Eventually, she stopped trying to find a comeback, some perfect reply, and instead, nearly lunged forward, grabbing the sides of Tiger’s face and smashed her lips against hers. Tiger reached out, grabbing whatever she could to get a hold on the other girl, making the feeling of her possibly disappearing go away.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Coyote sat in the corner of her room, knees pressed to her chest. Her back was tucked right up against the rapidly growing, ivy-like purple flowers that lined the walls of her room. Just a few minutes ago, she made a little bouquet of them, set it down on her bed. She had made it with Leopard in mind, even though, deep down, she knew the other girl would never receive them.
Dread pooled thick in her chest, shot up to her brain in droves. Here she was, face to face with her own mortality, curled up into the corner of a room she’ll probably die in, no hope of getting better. It felt like one big, sick joke. One day, she was out having fun with her people, her family, and the next, she was as good as dead, hurling up so much blood it felt like it drained her, skin gone so pale and clammy as if she’d never seen the sun. There was so much left she wanted to do. She wanted to grow up, wanted to go out into a big city and become something. She didn’t know what, but certainly not a dying, frail husk wilting away like a dandelion at sixteen.
It almost felt like a punishment. Some cruel reprimand for something she had done, forced upon her by a god she didn’t believe in. If not, why else was she suffering like this?
Beside her sat her old, beaten-up walkie-talkie. Tiger left it last time they showed up, given the ‘absolute quarantine’ rule by Bear. Every so often, different voices would buzz up through the comms system, sobbing, desperate voices, talking for hours on end with Coyote about nothing in particular. It had been ten minutes since her last call with Leopard ended. Now she sat in silence, white socks soggy and stained a gross reddish-brown, crusted blood piling up on the borders of her lips.
What did I do to deserve this? She asked herself. It was the same, age-old question of why bad things happen to good people. And yet, the answer was always so damn unfair. People like General Abbott get to live healthy and Sick-free, all while committing atrocity after atrocity for the sake of satisfying his unending hunger for power and control. His hands were forever stained with hybrid blood, and yet, he didn’t get the Sick. But Coyote did.
Coyote’s hands tightened into fists against her knees, nails digging into her skin. Why did she have to suffer through this? Why not the thousands of Last Men that hunt and kill for sport? Why her?
She stood up, tearing the flowers from their roots, every single one of them, ripping up the petals, destroying the lilac flora that painted across her room like a canvas, taking out every last drop of her anger on the flowers. Her nails clawed and struck at the walls, prying every single hint of the plants off her walls until her nails were left sanded down, her fingertips raw and near-bleeding due to the texture of the wall and sheer force she was using. Her chest heaved. Left breathless, she fell to her knees, lying in a puddle of torn flowers.
And that’s when the seizures started.
The inky darkness of the night swallowed up the sky. The clouds left the horizon starless and dark, the air crisp and dry from the day’s heat.
Leopard held Damian tight as he sobbed against her chest. She smoothed his hair, holding back her own cries. They were going to kill Coyote tomorrow morning. No time for goodbyes, just a quick bullet to the head, then a cremation. Her ashes were planned to be scattered in the river, just like Fox. Leopard couldn’t even believe any of this was happening, it had all gone down so fast. One moment, she was laughing with Coyote at the festival, now she was going to die.
Damian’s howl-like cries echoed through the room, his ears down-turned.
She should at least have a right to a goodbye. It was a selfish thought, but it kept repeating in Leopard’s head. Bear said nobody was to even set foot in the East building, but with a gas mask, it should be safe. The Sick was airborne, after all.
“Do you want to go see Coyote, Damian? One last time?” She asked.
The boy’s cries stuttered, before he looked up with big, glassy eyes. Those eyes searched Leopard’s, before slowly, he nodded.
It wasn’t long before the pair were outside, flashlights in hand, headed for the East building. They walked down the winding path connecting the arcade building to the rest of the park. Fireflies lit up the path, flickering greenish-yellow light through the darkness. Halfway through, a third line of light shined over them, a third flashlight, third person. The blinding white rays shimmered in their faces, before the person lowered it. It was Antelope. Standing beside them, Rhino. Night Guard.
“What are you two doing out here?” Asked Antelope, voice cold.
“Nothing, we just…” Leopard cast a glance toward the East building.
“Going to see Coyote?” Antelope cut off, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. “You can’t. She’s fragile and contagious, and probably not even awake. She needs all the rest she can get.”
“You’ll have time to say goodbye tomorrow.” Rhino added.
“I need to talk to her in private.” Leopard asserted. “I promise, if she’s asleep, I’ll walk away and pretend like nothing even happened.”
“You don’t even have your gas mask on.” Antelope reminded, gesturing vaguely to the other girl’s face. “And, did you have to drag Damian into this? He’s probably already traumatized from seeing the state Coyote was in, he doesn’t need to see her like that again.”
“He wanted to come. He wanted to say goodbye, too.” The other girl explained. “Please, Antelope, it’ll be quick. I just-…” her voice cracked. “I just really need to see her.”
Antelope hesitated. Her and Rhino shared quick looks. Damian gave a pleading whine, which was what convinced them.
“Fine. But we’re walking you there, and you’re not taking more than ten minutes, got it?” The taller girl asserted.
Leopard nodded hesitantly. It was the best she could get, anyway. Damian gripped his flashlight tighter, the memory of yesterday, all that blood splattered everywhere, the state Coyote was in, it flashed in his mind, reminding him of mama. But he still wanted to see her, nonetheless.
The four made their way to the East building. Every step felt like it echoed through the night. The wind blew gently on them, caressing their faces, making their hair sway. The fireflies’ light seemed to dim, stutter and fizz out the closer they got to the East Building. The whistling breeze sent chills down Damian’s spine, his ears pinned as he resisted the urge to press against Leopard. Be brave, he told himself.
When they arrived at the East building, they could see, even from a distance, something blocking the front door. A big, black blur standing guard, yellow eyes piercing through the darkness and staring right back at them. It growled when they got closer. Daisy.
Rhino stepped forward. When Daisy was first found on the side of the road as a puppy, he was her main caretaker. He’d been able to calm her down from her fits ever since then. As always, he approached slowly and got to her eye level.
“Easy, girl. Calm down, it’s just us,” he whispered. “We just wanna see our friend.”
Daisy wasn’t calming down, she kept growling, putting distance between Rhino and the door. More than anything, it was like she was protecting them more than the building. She barked, jaw snapping at him, insistent and unmoving as a boulder. Rhino tumbled back to avoid her maw.
“She’s not moving. Let’s just go.” Antelope sighed.
Before the group could actually turn around, Damian let out a protesting hum, before stepping up. He signed something to Leopard, in which Leopard could only understand the sign for me and wolf.
“Damian, don’t, she’s agitated,” Rhino began to protest, but the hybrid boy had already pushed his way through the group, facing Daisy.
The boy and the canine stood face-to-face. Damian’s ear flicked. So did Daisy’s. They both stood motionless. Until Daisy slowly inched forward. Leopard held her breath. That’s when Damian, with shaky hands, slowly reached out, held either side of Daisy’s face and pressed his forehead against hers. The two hybrids went still, heartbeats syncing. Damian closed his eyes. In a way, he was saying ‘I am half-wolf too, we are kindred spirits, I understand your fear, but please listen, my sister’
When they parted, Daisy’s demeanour changed. With one last stubborn huff, she rubbed her muzzle against Damian’s cheek, shot a glare toward the humans, then walked away, further into the dark expanse of the night.
The humans stood there for a moment, a bit shocked. But, nevertheless, Antelope took the initiative and pushed the doors open, flashlight panning around. The second they all stepped in, they heard something. Muffled but unmistakable.
Weeping.
They all instinctively grabbed the gas masks from the coat hanger at the entrance, all except Damian. Leopard walked at the front of the group, flashlight locked directly in front of her, casting a ray of light straight ahead. The dark corridor had started to become overtaken by purple flowers, roots spreading into corners and across the floors and walls like snakes. The dust particles were practically visible in the air. Leopard’s heart was beating out of her chest, her body feeling like it was being pulled toward the weeping. Her mind was in a state of grief before the loss even happened, and here she was, in the same building as the person she was about to lose. Rationality had been left behind at the entrance.
When the group arrived at the quarantine barricade, they found that, not only had it been torn up, but Coyote was kneeling on the floor, still in the quarantine zone, face buried into her palms, tousled, bloodstained hair creating a curtain to shield her face. She was sobbing, a choked, shaking noise that rattled the air.
“Coyote…?” Rhino managed to ask.
Coyote suddenly stopped crying. She flinched when flashlights shined on her. Slowly, she craned her neck up. Her eyes were bloodshot, trails of dried blood running down the inner corners, pupils blown wide to the point where her irises were almost completely covered. She was hyperventilating, chest heaving, her breathing nothing more than a weak, shrill whistle and rattle. Those eyes zapped between the four of them with manic speed.
“Cam, oh my god…” Leopard gasped under her breath.
Slowly, Coyote got to her feet, legs shaking as she did. Rhino went over to help her, crossing over the quarantine border, helping her up by the shoulder. And the blonde girl responded by sinking her teeth into Rhino’s neck. He shrieked, the whole group watching as Coyote tore out a chunk of his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, coating Coyote’s face. They both toppled over, Coyote scrambling on top of him, pressing his head sideways against the floor and biting out pieces of his throat.
“SHIT!” Antelope screamed, fight or flight kicking in, pumping adrenaline into her system. Leopard and Damian stood frozen, so she had to grab their wrists and pull them out of there as fast as she could. The trio bolted down the hallway, the sound of chewing, groaning and screaming echoing like gunshots.
Coyote sat up, still straddling Rhino at the waist, looking down at what used to be her friend. His long black hair was splayed out over the dirty, bloody floor, caught against the purple wildflower roots. His neck was chewed down to the bone, nothing but an amalgam of raw, exposed, still-warm flesh. She smiled. A wide grin that twisted up, almost looked like it reached her ears. She shakily got up, wiping her lips, further smearing the crimson over her features. Coyote slowly stepped over the torn-up quarantine wall and began weakly shuffling down the hallway. Which turned into an uncoordinated, haphazard sprint toward the door that the trio had already shut tight behind them.
Antelope was barricading the door with everything she could find. A boulder, an old, creepy clown statue, a chair, anything she could pick up, all while screaming into her walkie-talkie in the ‘everyone’ channel. Leopard and Damian sat frozen on the sidelines, the girl’s hands shaking, eyes fixed on the ground. That’s when a sharp thud came from inside. Coyote banging on the door.
“Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” The breathless, shrill, nearly incomprehensible voice cried, banging with all her might on the door. “Please, Makade…!”
Leopard’s head perked up, pulse somehow picking up. She felt like she got stabbed in the chest. Makade. That was her real name. She started hyperventilating, feeling like she was about to faint, that when she would wake up none of this would be real. But Coyote kept crying out her real name like some sort of crazed prayer. Leopard covered her ears, leg bouncing rapidly.
“SHUT UP!” Antelope screamed in retaliation, her own senses going haywire.
Then, Coyote began to plead with Antelope’s real name.
“Amani, please! Please let me out! You can’t leave me here! Please!”
Antelope felt tears pool at her waterline, but she didn’t shut down, couldn’t, not at a time like this. She kept adding onto the pile of objects meant to block the entrance, because Coyote was slamming against the door with her entire bodyweight. It shook the hinges, and Antelope wasn’t sure if it would hold up for long.
That’s when a dozen of fellow soldiers appeared, having heard Antelope’s S.O.S through the radio. Most holding weapons. Crossbows, stun batons, bats, knives, a multitude of things.
Leopard’s mind was hazed out as Antelope began frantically explaining the situation. She was still staring at her feet, braids dangling over her shoulders, gas mask still on, hands still clamped over the sides of her head. She couldn’t slow down her breathing. Couldn’t stop shaking. Her world was blurring at the corners, like she was tossed in a lake with stones in her shoes. The sight of Rhino, dead on the floor, was burned into her mind, permanently stamped.
Suddenly, the door’s rusty hinges broke, and it burst open, Coyote’s pale, thin figure standing at the threshold. Panic rushed into Leopard all at once as Tiger raised her crossbow.
“NO!” Leopard screamed as bolts flew in Coyote’s direction.
Tiger never missed. Their aim was perfect as a bolt dug deep into Coyote’s heart.
The blonde girl stumbled, falling to her knees, then sagging to the ground. Leopard had to be held back by the arms by Deer and Panda so she couldn’t run over to Coyote’s side. The black-haired girl sobbed, thrashing as much as she could. Her attempts got weaker and weaker as reality began to set in. And she too fell to her knees.
Coyote’s breathing became nothing more than a dying whisper as the life drained from her body.
Tiger lowered her crossbow with tears in her eyes.
There was nobody to blame this time. No Last Men to curse, no greater power or physical thing, but mother nature herself, and the reaper, who had taken two souls too early.