Once again, I would like to thank the readers at the weekly meeting on the ZAA Discord, and everybody who's favourited, reviewed and given kudos.

CHAPTER 4: THE ARTILLERYMAMMAL RETURNS

I spent the night in a motel on Elm Street. It was the first time I had slept in a bed since leaving Bunnyburrow to head for Zootopia. I had to break in – the door was on its latch – and when I got inside, I searched every room for whatever food I could find. It was clear the place had been raided already, stripped of most of its food. The fridge in one of the kitchens was almost empty save for a couple of those 'for one' meals that apparently not even the desperate mammals had cared to take. Thankfully, there were also some crackers. I ate some, and filled my pockets with the rest.

As I rested in the bed, I looked out of the window. I dared not even put a lamp on, fearing that the monsters outside would see. As I lay down, I began to mull over everything that had happened since the death of the honey badger. I also thought about Nick's fate. I hadn't heard a thing from him since before Badgerburrow, and I again hoped that he had escaped.

I again thought about what had happened in the ruins of the inn. I had done what I needed to do in order to survive, and to try and keep the Martians from finding us, but I didn't mean to get the honey badger killed. The memory of the Martian's claw dragging her away haunted me. We had been alone, without witnesses, but I did wonder if, had other mammals seen us, I would have been branded a killer for what I did. Up until now, I had never taken the life of another mammal. Technically, I still hadn't, but I felt like I had. The thought made me feel quite ill.

I woke to a bright morning, the sky to the east glowing pink, dotted with clouds. I headed towards Savanna Central. The wreckage of cars that had either not made it out before the Martian attack, or had simply been abandoned, lined the streets. As I passed through The Circle, my eyes found Precinct One. The windows were shattered, the gigantic rock pillars blackened and covered with Red Weed. I turned into Harmony Park, which sat to the east. Weirdly enough, there was no sign of the Red Weed here, as there was everywhere else. As I moved through the park, I found myself amazed that it appeared almost untouched. The grass, which was normally kept short, had begun to grow wild. Bushes lined the pathways.

As I made my way through, I felt as though I were being watched. Perhaps a Martian, outside of their Fighting-Machine, was waiting, ready to seize me.

"Who's there?" a voice called out from the bushes. "Where did you come from, and why are you here?"

"Badgerburrow," I replied. "I was buried in an inn. A cylinder destroyed the place, and I was trapped there for…maybe fifteen days? I dug my way out and came here. I'm looking for something to eat, and somewhere safe to stay."

"There's no food here for you, and this is my territory! You can't stay here!"

"Your territory?" I blinked.

"Be on your way!" the voice demanded, its owner coming closer. The light revealed his face – one that I knew: a jackrabbit with black stripes on his ears and cheeks.

"Wait…" he peered at me. "It's you!"

"Private Savage?" I answered. It was indeed the young jackrabbit artillerymammal I had met in Bunnyburrow, but his uniform was even dirtier than before. He no longer wore his jacket, instead wearing a grey shirt. "I thought you'd been killed when you ran away from that Fighting-Machine in Haybridge!"

"I thought you'd drowned when you jumped into the water to avoid the Heat-Ray!" Jack replied. "Well, aren't we the lucky ones! I crawled into a drain before the Martians unleashed the Heat-Ray. They didn't kill everybody."

"Have you seen any Martians?" I asked.

"They've gone deeper into Zootopia, probably setting up a camp somewhere in the Meadowlands," Jack continued. "We're out in the open. Come under here and we'll talk more." Jack indicated to the bushes and stepped back within them. I followed him in. It was like a little den.

"It's been five days since the Martians last came this way," Jack continued. "But the night before last, I saw something in the dark. Small running lights in the air. I reckon they've built themselves Flying-Machines."

"They fly?"

"They fly," Jack confirmed. "Probably got the idea from the air force's attempt on them outside Haybridge."

"Then… I guess it's all over for us mammals. If they can fly, then they can reach anywhere, go around the world."

Jack nodded.

"They will. But… it will make things over here easier for a bit. And besides," He looked at me. "Aren't you satisfied that mammalkind is over? I am. We're down. We're beat."

I stopped and thought about it. A part of me, that optimistic part, hoped that mammalkind would come back from this, so I hadn't actually considered the alternative.

"It's over, all over," Jack continued. "They've lost, what? One? Two? They walked all over us. And these were just the first ones they sent! They'll keep coming! I haven't seen those green falling stars these past few nights, but I'm sure they're still on their way! This isn't a war, there never was a war, any more than there's a war between elephants and ants. That's what we are now: ants!"

I remembered something after Jack finished his tirade. I had been watching the skies each night after that meeting with Sharla.

"There were only ten shots from Mars," I said. "One each night until the first cylinder landed."

"How do you know?" Jack asked. I told him what I had seen before the first arrival. He thought. "Something wrong with the gun," he said. "But what if there is? They'll get it working again. And even if there's a delay, how can it alter the end? It's just elephants and ants. There's the ants that build their cities, live their lives, have wars, revolutions, until the elephants want them out of the way, and then they go out of the way. Only…"

"Yes?"

"We're edible ants."

There was a moment of silence between us.

"And what happens to us?" I asked.

"I've been thinking about that," Jack continued. "After what happened in Haybridge, I wandered, thinking. I've been in sight of death once or twice; I'm not an ornamental soldier, and at the best and worst, death – it's just death. But you know who comes out on top? The mammal who keeps on thinking. So I made for here, right for the Martians, like a crow that goes for the scraps. Mammals all over are starving, treading on each other, but I've got everything I need right here."

I looked around, confused and doubtful. What could he possibly have in this bush in the middle of Harmony Park?

"There's food all about here. Canned things in shops; wines, spirits, mineral waters. The water mains and drains are empty. Well, I was telling you what I was thinking. 'These are intelligent things, and it seems they want us for food.' First, they'll smash us up – ships, machines, guns, cities, all the order and organization. Then, when we're battered, and bruised, they'll bring over the rest of their kind. And then they won't have to go picking apart the scraps. They'll capture us, all systematic-like. And then, what'll happen? I'll tell you what: they'll use us as livestock. Maybe even keep some of us as pets. 'Dance, rabbit, dance! Oh… I'm hungry… Sorry, I really don't want to eat you, but…' And that's how it'll be."

"No way!" I gasped.

"It's true!" Jack nodded. "Well, not me! Trust me, I've got a plan!"

I felt emboldened by Jack's words.

"We're going to build a whole new world for ourselves," Jack continued. "We can't stay up here, that's as good as a death sentence. So, you know what we do? We go back to how our ancestors lived. We go underground. Think of all the tunnels and drains. Most mammals probably think of dirty things when they think of those. But all it takes is a few days' rain now that Zootopia is empty, and they'll be sweet and clean. But we'll need to be selective about who we bring down. We don't want the weak, either in body or mind. Only the strong can be saved."

I was entranced. This all sounded absurd, and yet…

"And then we send some good mammals up to fetch books, all the books we can get… but not useless books, none of that poetry or novel nonsense. We take the books on science! And then we teach the kits, the cubs, our children that science so we can make it all work! We can build towns and villages down there! And… we'll play each other at baseball, perhaps! And maybe one day we can capture a Fighting-Machine, learn how to make 'em for ourselves! Imagine it! Heat-Rays right and left, and not a Martian in 'em. Not a Martian in 'em, but mammals! Ones who have learned the way how! It may be in my time, even – those mammals. Fancy having one of them lovely things, with its Heat-Ray wide and free! Fancy having it in control! What would it matter if you smashed to smithereens at the end of the run, after a bust like that? I reckon the Martians'll open their beautiful eyes! Can't you just see them? Can't you see them hurrying, hurrying – puffing and blowing and hooting to their other mechanical affairs? And swish, bang, rattle, swish! Just as they are fumbling over it, swish comes the Heat-Ray, and, behold! Mammalkind has come back to his own! And then it's their turn to run! Their turn to die! Us back on top again!"

For a while the imaginative daring of Jack's, and the tone of assurance and courage he had, completely dominated my mind. He had made it so easy to believe in his plan, both in how practical it was, and how it would reinvigorate mammalkind. Maybe I was a fool, but you'd have to consider how different we were in our approaches. Here was I, basically crouching and hiding from the Martians, and there was Jack, assured in his idea of a brave new world.

We scanned the skies for the Martians, and then he led me away from the bushes, out of Harmony Park, and into a nearby house. In the basement of that house, which Jack had clearly made his base, was the beginning of his plan: he had burrowed barely ten yards into the wall, and it had taken him a week to dig that far. I could have dug that much in a day! It gave me the first inkling of the gap between Jack's dreams, and his abilities. But I believed in him enough to dig with him all that morning until past midday. I found a strange relief in working. As we toiled, I turned his project over in my mind, and doubts began to rise; but I carried on there all the morning, so glad was I to find myself with a purpose again. As he burrowed, Jack hummed and whistled a tune that I wasn't familiar with.

After working an hour, I began to speculate on the distance one had to go before the underground tunnels were reached. There was a chance we had of missing it altogether. My immediate trouble was why we should dig this long tunnel, when it was possible to get into the tunnels either through a nearby subway station or one of the sewer grates, and dig back towards the house. It seemed to me, too, that the house was inconveniently chosen, and required a needless length of tunnel. And just as I was beginning to face these things, Jack stopped digging, and looked at me.

"We're getting on alright," he said. "I'm ready for a rest."

I stared at Jack, and then carried on digging, happy to continue. After a moment of hesitation, Jack resumed digging with me. Suddenly a thought occurred to me, and I stopped.

"Why were you wandering about Harmony Park?" I asked.

"Taking the air," he answered. "I was coming back. It's safer by night."

"But the work?"

"Oh, one can't always work," he replied, checking the watch on his wrist. "I think it's about time to do some recon."

I was no longer disposed to object. I followed him upstairs into the attic. He creaked open a window and we peered out. From this high, I could see over Acorn Heights, which was blackened and ruined, and all the way out to Otterdam. Both were drowned in the Red Weed. A dense smoke rose from Downtown, obscuring everything behind it.

"A couple of nights ago, I spotted lights coming on in the Heights," Jack said. "Some fools had got the power back on. I wasn't the only one to see, either. A Fighting-Machine came from Hyenahurst and took as many as it could carry. He must have eaten well that night, as much as a Martian actually eats. And for good measure, it set the Heat-Ray upon the Heights."

I stared at Jack, in wonder as he reiterated his plans. It became obvious that he intended on capturing a Fighting-Machine personally. There was something odd about this whole thing, and a small part of my mind had already started to consider it.

After a while, we returned to the cellar, but neither of us seemed to be inclined to continue our digging. When he suggested a meal, I took him up on it. It was like he thought of my coming as some sort of great occasion.

"Well… shall we take a drink?" Jack said finally. "I have champagne. Nothing but the best, now I'm the boss!"

"Shouldn't we continue burrowing?" I asked. "I think if we dig towards the Lion's Tail…"

"No, I'm host today," Jack shook his head. "Champagne! We've got a heavy enough task before us! Let us take a rest and gather strength while we can. Look at these blistered paws!"

We drank, and Jack insisted on playing cards. It seems bizarre in hindsight: that, with all of mammalkind on the edge of extinction, we actually played games. He spoke again about his plans, though I thought that his enthusiasm had changed. Sat before me wasn't this great architect of mammalkind's repopulation underground, but a strange dreamer, and I knew I had to leave him and carry on, for good or ill.

Gazing up at the night sky, I saw Mars, shining brightly. A sudden revulsion had overtaken me. I had to leave this fantasy behind.

After all: this wasn't some musical where one could sing a little song and just build a brave new world.

In case anybody wanted to know, the tune Jack was humming and whistling was indeed the melody of 'Brave New World' from the Jeff Wayne musical.

See you next week, for the penultimate chapters!