Monday
Bleep.
Bleep.
Bleep.
My phone rings in the middle of class. I ignore the snickering of my classmates but hastily excuse myself from the classroom once I recognize the number. It's Ma's hospital.
"Hello." I answer once outside in the hallway.
"Hello, is this Rhinoceros Ezekiel?" A composed male voice asks through the line.
"Speaking."
"This is Dr. Oscar, I'm calling about your mother, Rhinoceros Debrah. She's in our care again. Seeing as you're her emergency contact, I thought it fit to call you."
My heart tightens. "Is she okay?"
"I'm afraid she's collapsed again. However, we've managed to stabilize her condition and she is fully conscious at the moment. Would you like to speak to her?"
I hesitate. I hadn't spoken to my mom since she was last discharged, and had no intention of speaking to her in the foreseeable future. Not after what she said me, what she implied. But I let out a weary sigh and nod into the receiver.
"Sure."
The doctor puts me on hold, assaulting my ears with the all-too-familiar jingle I'd been forced to hear for the last couple of years whenever the hospital called. I don't bother pacing around the hallway; something about the thought of hearing my own footsteps repulses me at the moment. Instead, I settle on leaning against a set of lockers and gazing up at the perforated ceiling tiles until the obnoxious music cuts off abruptly.
A second of silence passes.
"Zekey?"
Ma's voice sounds ragged, more out of concern than fatigue.
"Yeah."
"I overdid it again."
"How are you feeling?"
"Just a little tired." She replies. "I missed you, you know."
My eyes narrow. "You been eating well?"
"Sure. The girls at the office always offer to cook for me, too."
"Don't go accepting handouts." I admonish. "We're not charity cases. I'll cook for you if I have to."
I hear a sigh from the other line. Not quite exasperated, not quite endeared. "You really are your father's son."
This irritates me. As if she would know anything about that, considering she had asked me to roll over and die not long ago. Parts of me wonder if that's what she's doing now. Rolling over.
"You let work know?" I try to change the subject tersely.
"Yeah. When I collapsed, I was actually at the office. They're always so understanding."
"Hm. Don't cause too much trouble for others."
She chuckles weakly. "It's a bit too late for that, Zekey."
I don't answer.
"Well, I don't wanna keep you from your lessons." Ma finally relents. "Just wanted to let you know I'm all right."
"Okay. Get some sleep now."
"Come visit sometime, okay?"
"If I have time."
"I love you, Zekey."
"…Bye, Ma."
I hit the red button on my screen, ending the call.
Tuesday
Despite sitting in one of the waiting room's larger seats, I couldn't feel more suffocated. I hate this goddamn hospital, and I hate the fact I'm here more and more with every passing month. I hate that I know the nurses' names and that they know mine. I hate that I have the hospital cafeteria's menu memorized. I hate that I have to see my mother even though she's the last person I want to speak to. I hate that it's the right thing to do.
And right now, I hate the little brat that's rifling through the stack of magazines next to me.
Not because I hate children. In fact, I really want a kid or two, one day. But because this one is a meat-eater. A wet-nosed little leopard cub swishing her tail, seemingly ignorant of the depressing atmosphere encompassing the room. She clumsily grabs at each magazine, crumpling the glossy covers as she switches them around.
I can feel my blood pressure spike. There's a perfectly good area for kids in the far left corner, complete with a low table and tiny chairs soiled in marker ink, half-colored coloring sheets surrounded by broken, dull crayons, and that strange toy with the beads running along wires that every hospital apparently has. She should be there, where she belongs, far away from me. Her parents seem to have no interest in calling her back to them; they sit together on the opposite side of the room muttering to themselves.
Lazy-ass parents. My pop never allowed me to so much as yawn in public spaces, or it'd be a switch along the backside. Nevermind I'm not even a carnivore. How could they allow their little hellion to toddle about when there are herbivores in the waiting room?
Letting out an indignant huff of air, I settle on swiping through my phone rather than glare at the leopard cub any longer. I open up a mobile game app called Tactical Assault, a standard FPS that I felt would offer a nice outlet for my stress. I rearrange my phone horizontally, and after a few taps, I load up an online game (luckily the hospital Wifi is pretty decent) and start my usual routine of scouting the area, sneaking in a few easy kills with my machine gun. It isn't long however, that I notice some movement in my peripheral.
The leopard brat now cranes her head over to peek at my screen, her interest in the magazines abandoned.
Ugh. I hope she doesn't try and appro-
"Are you playing a game?"
Ugh.
"Yep." I try to sound as monotone as possible, hoping the little brat takes the hint.
"What game?"
She does not.
"A shooter. It's not for kids."
The leopard kitten hops onto the chair next to me and leans against my arm. Her large fuzzy head gets in the way of my screen, forcing me to tilt my head at an awkward angle.
"Cool," she chirps. "You have a big gun."
"Uh, huh."
Take the hint!
"The far away ones are cooler, though. Snippies."
"Snipers." I correct despite myself.
"Hey, can I play?"
Absolutely not. But something about children makes it hard to tell them no right to their face, especially over something so minor. I sneak a glance at the cub's parents, hoping they'll see what a nuisance she's being and scoop her up. They only look at me with timid smiles and wave.
Ugh.
So they've saddled me with being the brat's babysitter.
"Let me win this one, and you can play an unranked match after." I offer, not attempting to hide my annoyance.
The little girl seems utterly unfazed by this, however. She looks on with great enthusiasm as I scour the map, strategically gunning down enemies.
"Are you the good guy or the bad guy?" She asks.
"The good guy. I never play as the bad guy."
"That's boring."
"Being good isn't boring."
"Being bad is fun in a game. You're still exploding everyone anyway."
I raise a brow. She's annoying. As if on cue, I launch a grenade, taking down two opponents and winning the game. I let out a satisfied chuckle and look down at the leopard, half anticipating her to wear an impressed expression. Instead, she greedily paws at the smartphone.
"My turn!"
Ugh.
I reluctantly hand the phone to her, already dreading her sticky fingers groping my screen, and set up an unranked game for her to mess around in.
"I wanna play with the snipe gun!" She demands.
I cave and swap my machine gun with a solid sniper rifle suited to new players.
"Knock yourself out."
As expected, the cub is far from a skilled player. Her sweaty fingers fumble around the controls, resulting in clumsy movement and very inaccurate shots. However, her eyes lock onto the screen in total concentration, occasionally licking her lips.
She shoots at anything that moves. When one of her allies walks up to her, she fires at point blank range (horrible for a sniper), but luckily the game doesn't have friendly fire. Her teammate still seems startled by this sudden attack and runs confused circles some distance away from her.
"That's a friend, don't shoot him." I scold.
"Oops." She says, not sounding very remorseful at all. Still, she starts hammering on the jump and duck button as if trying to communicate to the other player by performing some demented dance.
"Hello, hi, hi, hi!" She sings in a nasally voice. Strangely enough, the other player seems to get the hint and follows along in the strange jump-and-duck routine. The little girl laughs at this. "You're, my, friend. Friend, friend, friend." She accentuates every syllable with a squat. Suddenly, the game has gone from a first person shooter to some weird puppet show. She's perfectly content to run circles around the other player when they suddenly dart off in a direction, pausing just before turning a corner.
"I think he wants you to follow him." I suggest, slowly becoming more invested in the match.
With janky movements, the cub navigates towards her newfound friend and allows herself to be guided to a more open area, where three enemy players patrol.
"Bad guys!" She growls. "Blam, blam!"
Without a moment to waste, she charges into the open arena and fires three horrendous shots through her sniper scope while running towards the enemy. Naturally, none of the shots kill, two of them missing entirely, and she is immediately gunned down.
"Aw man!" She huffs.
"What did you expect…?" I chuckle at her with condescending eyes.
"I wanna play again!" She licks her chops once more, tapping random options on the screen hoping one of them will start up another match.
"Rhinoceros Ezekiel."
I look up, meeting the familiar gaze of the doe nurse. Ma is finally ready to see me.
"That's my cue." I announce, snatching my smartphone from the girl's hands. I get up with a groan and spare a final glance at the leopard cub. "Seeya, squirt."
"No fair!" She whines, but her tail swishes wildly behind her in amusement. "Bye!"
I manage a wave at the strange kid, and a glimpse towards her parents, who lower their heads in… gratitude? Embarrassment? Who knows. All I know is that they immediately sour my mood by serving as a reminder of what that cub was. Meat-eater.
"Zekey?"
I look up, meeting my mother's creased face titled towards mine. Right. I got lost in thought.
"So… how's school?"
I frown. What a stupid question. As if that matters right now. All I can think about is that little leopard cub, and how old Ma looks right now. It's only been a couple of weeks; how did she manage to age so much since then? Or maybe, she's always looks this… tired. It makes my stomach churn.
We exchange empty words as I avoid eye contact for what seems like a millennia. And then I get up. She looks surprised by my sudden movement, her mouth slightly parting. I turn to face the direction of the exit.
"Good to see you're okay. Take it easy."
"You're leaving so soon…?" Her voice is small. Anger bubbles in my gut.
"I got homework." I lie. "You should rest now."
"…Okay." She doesn't bother fighting back. "You'll come visit me again, right?"
"If I got time."
As I fill out some paperwork at the reception, I notice the leopard girl and her parents aren't there anymore.
Wednesday
I bite into a green apple with a snap. I always liked the sound of biting down on apples. It sounds healthy and powerful. Pop used to eat apples in two or three bites, core and all.
"Core's the most nutritious part!" His laughter reverberates in my head. I always hated eating the cores, though. Even still, I swallow the bitter remains with a shudder. With not much else to do, I glance around the common room, my eyes falling on the clock's face. 3:53PM.
Empty, save for me. DAVID meetings are always held here at 4pm, and the room would be buzzing by now. But ever since the Fun Run, less and less animals would show up. Some of them had the actual guts to come up to me and call it quits, while others sent proxies to break the news (afraid I'd lose my temper?), and even more just silently resigned, icing me out altogether.
It's 4:13pm now, and only four people have showed up. All that remains of the once proud DAVID. Three males and a little female who hardly ever says anything.
"Well, I guess we're ready to start then." I say, shrugging.
"Really?" An elk with far too many piercings, Rikes, sneers. "There's hardly anyone here."
"This is as good as we're gonna get."
"You really let this whole thing go to shit, Zeke." Helmer, a hippopotamus, barks. "You just had to punch the queer."
"I—" My voice comes out harsh, ready to argue, but I swallow back my rage. "I know it looks bad now. But we can come back from this."
"How do you suppose we do that, o supreme leader?" An oily tapir named George snarks. "Do you wanna give me a black eye and blame it on the pigeon now?"
"Not exactly." I glare at him. I'd love to give him a black eye for another reason. "But we resume the original plan that was working well until my… misstep. Remind the herbies why they're afraid of meat-eaters. If we can rile the carnies up, it's only a matter of time before they snap. And once they do, it's solid proof for the school board to finally segregate Noah's Arc."
Helmer inhales a phlegmy breath. "You're counting on herbies to get hurt, then?"
"I don't particularly mind." Rikes purses his lips. "That was more or less the idea when we decided to give George his shiner. Whatever it takes to get those bone-gnawers out of our school. But everyone's sided with CHAMP and the student council now, thanks to you."
"It's not gonna be easy to get the others on our side again." The hippo agrees.
"Maybe we can earn some brownie points if we kick Ezekiel out." George suggests, and my palms slam against the counter instantly.
"Shut up." I growl. "I built this fucking group. This is my mission. This is my dream."
I take a step towards the trunk-nosed male, and his expression instantly shrinks.
"Without me, you and these fucking losers would still be curled up in your dorms, too chicken-shit to even look a carnie in the eye."
I take another step.
"Who outed that panther as a predator? Who nearly cost that washed-up goose his job? Who made the student council shit themselves on a daily basis?"
I take another step. The others retreat to the far corners of the room, but George remains frozen in place, sweating.
"Unlike you, I'm here to get things done, not just bitch and moan at the wall until graduation. So if you think you can run this group without me, be my fucking guest. But while you worthless dumbasses are figuring out how to tie your shoelaces, I'll have murdered every fucking meat-eater by myself."
I take another step, and I'm as close as I can be now. The tapir looks up at me with wide, petrified eyes, and I exhale, hot and furious, on his face.
"So do not fuck with me. Know your fucking place, but more importantly. Know mine."
I gaze down at the pathetic male and see my reflection in his glassy eyes. My expression is that of a beast's. I feel like I could devour him now.
"…O-o-okay." He manages to whimper.
I wait for a final moment before slowly backing off, and I fell the entire room let out a breath. My composure returns to me, and I amble back to my rightful place behind the counter.
"Any other bright ideas?" I ask in a voice far too cheerful for the atmosphere.
The remaining animals exchange nervous glances before silently shaking their heads.
"Great." I deadpan. "As I was saying, we go back to our original plan."
"W-well, if that's what we're going with," Rikes suddenly chimes in. "Maybe we should go… all the way with it. Not just a couple of fights, but something major."
I raise a brow. "What are you suggesting?"
"I dunno, but Noah's Arc is on pins and needles right now. If we wanna tip the scales, we could do something so big, it'd throw the entire balance off. No turning back, you know?"
"…Maybe," Helmer murmurs all too quietly. "If something happened to a carnivore."
His words sends the room into utter silence.
The hush would've lasted forever if I hadn't eventually broken it.
"It's… an idea." My ear flicks. "It's always been an idea. But…"
The other animals were quick to imitate my hesitance. "Let's stick with Ezekiel's plan for now. He's gotten us this far, hasn't he?"
A rushed wave of agreement follows. The remainder of the meeting is more or less uneventful, and eventually, we all bore ourselves and agree to put a pin on future plans. With terse farewells, the group of animals has completely disbanded by 5:23pm. Leaving me as I was before. Behind the common room counter, alone.
I feel nothing, and it's unpleasant. Emptiness in my organs, hollowness in my bones. The idea of feeling neither happiness nor unhappiness implies a neutrality to it all, yet this absence makes my skin crawl. There should be peace in nothingness, so why? Why am I so…
I'm at the cafeteria. It's seven something. I don't remember the time between the end of the meeting to now. I sit alone in a corner I once arm-wrestled in, but my opponent is not here anymore.
My body goes through the motion of eating, lifting my hand to guide the fork into my mouth, letting my jaws masticate, up and down, as my teeth grind the food into a paste I can finally swallow. I feel the lump descend down my esophagus until it reaches the final stretch where my sensory nerves peter out, and I'm left to assume the food reached my stomach. I repeat this process twenty seven more times until my plate is empty. For the first time during my meal, I look up, watching the other animals eat dinner.
They sit in groups, some only two or three strong while others easily have a dozen. Some sit alone, occupied inside their phones or books or notes. I wonder if they counted how many bites they're taking.
The food did nothing to relieve my sense of emptiness.
Thursday
On my way down the campus' hill, I run into some other animals on their way out of the academy. A group of herbivores, some whom I recognize as former DAVID members. They turn, noticing me trot up from behind (it's pretty hard not to notice a rhino behind you), and their expressions shift into varying shades of discomfort.
I give a nonchalant wave, and they return half-hearted gestures of acknowledgment. I'm not too taken aback by the reaction; it's been pretty standard for a while. That's why I don't bother trying to start a conversation. Instead, I just awkwardly trudge alongside the group who try to resume their lighthearted conversation.
"Oh man, I hear this movie is scary as all hell!" A bull exclaims. "Like, my 'cousin shit himself'-level scary!"
"I think that just means your cousin's a bitch!" An ostrich cackles.
"Yeah, yeah."
A scary movie, huh. Sounds fun.
I wait for the group to make some turn and leave my route, but they don't. Turns out they're headed for the same bus stop. Makes sense, considering it's the only way out of the pretty secluded academy grounds. They pretend to pay me no mind as they resume their banter, though I do catch some members sneaking glances my way when they think I'm not noticing.
The bus comes into the distance, and the animals holler at its arrival. The large vehicle chugs to a stop and they hurry to scramble aboard. I follow a few paces behind. Once inside, I notice the bus is pretty full, with only one seat left. And, of course, it's a seat next to my schoolmates. I may want to avoid them, but I also know it's a long ride to the hospital, and I'm not about to give up a seat just to spare them the discomfort of having to be near me. So with my mind made up, I plop down on the open seat, next to the ostrich.
The group seems distressed, and I'm mentally playing the world's smallest violin for them. The students further away from me mutter into each others' fur, and I manage to pick up words like 'actually him' and 'than I thought'.
None of us say anything for a bit. Some members of the friend group occasionally chime in with a one-sentence remark of no particular importance, and I settle on staring out the window. Luckily for me, I'm taller than the whole lot, so I can just focus on the space over their heads. But eventually, the unsaid alliance to ignore me is broken.
"Hey, Ezekiel." The bull, who was the former DAVID member, finally acknowledges me. Hushed whispers circulate among the posse, scandalized by the greeting.
"Hey."
"You're… also going to the city?"
"Yep."
He smiles nervously, glancing back at his friends. "What for?"
"Visiting my mom."
"Ah. How's she doing? You told me before she was a bit unwell."
"She's in the hospital."
"…Ah."
He seems to have deeply regretted speaking to me. Can't blame him, to be honest. But his initiative to talk to me seems to have encouraged the other. That or the 'sick mother' bit softened them up.
"Hey," a donkey jenny with far too much makeup on speaks up. "Is it true you punched the student council treasurer?"
"…Yeah."
"Is it cus he tried to make a move on you?" The ostrich asks.
"No, no. It was because his… partner, I guess, was a carnie running on the herbie track. They didn't cooperate, so I… yeah."
The jenny whistles. "Woah, the pigeon was seeing a carnie? Was it a big animal?"
My ears flatten. I really want to drop this. "No, it was… a penguin."
Their demeanors all change.
The bull shoots me an incredulous look. "You beat up a penguin over running with the herbies?"
"Listen it-"
"I heard you sent him to the hospital." The ostrich butt in.
"Just the nurse's!" I exclaim. Why am I suddenly on trial?!
"Still, dude." The bull shook his head, clearly upset. "Look, I'm just as uncomfortable with carnies on campus as the next guy. I was there in the DAVID protests every morning. But maybe you're going too far with all this. You're kind of freaking everyone out."
The jenny snickers. "Seriously. Like, I hear DAVID only has crackpots left."
They're all looking at me. Looks full of skepticism, concern, judgement, pity. Like I'm a basket case. Like I've lost it. I can feel my muscles tensing, my hands balling up into fists, my teeth grinding against each other. I feel like prey cornered by a predator.
I get up. The abruptness of the move startles the group of animals. Without a word, I go to the front of the bus and look straight at the driver's front window, back facing the other teens. The road unfurls itself in front of my eyes, and I take it all in without blinking. This bus feels too small, too cramped. If I look away from the road for even a second, I might just tear the walls off.
Somewhere along the ride, the friend group gets off, presumably to watch their shitty horror movie. I don't care. I hope the movie sucks. I hope someone talks over the whole thing, and the floors are sticky and the projector malfunctions right before the climax. I hope the theater burns down with them in it, and they die horribly and painfully. And I hope that when they die, they go to hell for being horrible fucking people.
I hear a ding. The upcoming stop is mine, so I prepare to leave. I wave goodbye to the bus driver and make my familiar route to the hospital. I wonder what other seventeen year old knows the way to the hospital by memory.
I'm back at the waiting room.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Same old yellow wallpaper.
Same old creaky seat.
Same old magazines.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
The door opens, but it's not the nurse I recognize. It's the little leopard brat. She's in a hospital gown, and toddles up to the receptionist to ask for something or other, but the latter only shakes her head with a helpless expression. The cub pouts; it's clearly not the answer she was looking for. Her sour expression melts, however, when she spots me, and suddenly, she's all smiles.
"Hey!" She yips, running towards me. "I remember you! You have the shooty game!"
I sigh, and absent-mindedly rub my shoulder. "Yep, that's me."
"Hey, hey, can I play it again? Just a bit?"
"Eh…" I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The thought of her sticky little kid fingers all over my screen again doesn't sit well with me, but more importantly, I can't ignore the clothes she's wearing. If she's hospitalized, that means she can't be doing very well. Should she even be out of her room?
"Come on…" She whines, twisting the fabric of her gown impatiently. "I'm so boooored…"
My hesitance evaporates at the petulant complaints and I give in. "Fine. I've got nothing better to do, anyhow."
"Awesome!" She squeals, earning the bewildered attention of other visitors.
"Okay, okay, just hush up." I drag her into the nearest seat and fumble for my phone. What a headache, this brat. I load up Tactical Assault and click on the unranked match finder, finally relinquishing my precious device to the greedy child.
"I don't wanna be the snippy again. Gimme a good gun this time." She demands.
"I'll give you an easy gun to control. Just take it slow this time." I hover my finger over to the screen and select a mid-range assault rifle. It served me just fine when I first downloaded the game, so she should have an easier time with it.
The lobby finally fills up, and the match begins. The leopard wastes no time in doing what she did last time: idiotically running around, jumping and ducking for no reason. Her teammates zoom past her into the depths of the map, paying no mind to the noob.
"Jumpy, jumpy, boing,' She hums, clearly content in whatever the hell she's doing. As she continues her ridiculous performance, I notice her exposed forearm, shaved short and reddened.
"Ah!" She suddenly screams (and ignores my pleas for her to quiet down). "An enemy!"
Her pudgy finger slams on the trigger button and she releases a barrage of bullets in random directions. She's clearly learned nothing about aiming. Still, the sheer amount of shots, coupled with some dumb luck, manages to snag her a kill, sending an opponent flying to the ground.
"Yes! I got him!" She declares. "You see that, uncle? I got him right in the head!"
And in several other places.
"Yeah, good job." I say with only a twinge of sarcasm, until her words fully hit me. "What do you mean 'uncle'? I'm seventeen!"
"Really?" She says, not looking up from the screen. "You're all wrinkly. So you look like an uncle."
Well, that's depressing.
My pride is wounded. "Rhinos are wrinkly. Don't they teach you that in school?"
"I dunno. I haven't been in a while."
"…Oh. Sorry."
She looks completely unbothered by this. "Why can't I shoot anymore?"
I peer over to look at the screen. "You're out of bullets. You gotta reload."
"How?"
"This button right here." I press it for her, and with her newfound power, resumes shooting at nothing.
"Blam, blam blam." She mimics to herself. "Look, I'm gonna draw on the wall."
Honing in on a blank brick wall, she indeed shoots at it nonstop in a pattern, occasionally stopping to reload. She reveals the final result: a squiggly, uneven mess of a drawing vaguely resembling... nothing.
"What is that, some kind of… windmill?" I guess.
"It's you!" She huffs at me, offended. "Look, here's your ear, and your eye, and your horn!" She points out each feature, but none of the elements seem to correlate whatsoever into what I could perceive as a rhinoceros.
Still, I decide to play nice. "Oh, I see it now. Yeah, nice work. You should draw yourself next."
"Okay!" She gets to work, shooting at the blank space next to 'me'. After a few seconds, she produces an equally mystifying image. Definitely nothing like a leopard. "Ta-dah!"
"Wow," I feign approval. "Looking good."
The wall suddenly turns red, and bloody drops on the corner of the screen indicate she's being shot at from an unseen enemy. Before she could react, her HP drains all the way to zero. Game over.
"Ahhh!" She screeched, indignant. "No fair!"
"You did have your back turned." I shrugged. "If you want, I can show you how to play."
Not quite sure why I offered that, but the cub seems taken to the idea. She hands my phone back to me, and after wiping it down with my shirt to get rid of the finger grime, I load up another match. Once in the playing field, I spring into action.
"Go that way!" She urges me to the left, and I play along. I immediately run into an enemy player, and take them down with two satisfying shots. The leopard's pupils dilate in awe.
"See? Always aim for the head."
I progress deeper into the map, mowing down enemies as they filter through, until I make it far enough to spot the enemy camp.
"So many of them!" The cub paws at my arm. "Go for the heads!"
"I have a better idea." With a wry smile, I click to switch my weapon to a grenade launcher. I don't have a lot of ammo on it, but it should make for a flashy victory to entertain her. I fire a grenade squarely in the center, triggering an explosion that kills three players at once.
"Pow, pow pow!" She imitates the explosions with glee.
Like that, the game is won. Her excitement is a bit contagious, and I feel a lot more satisfied with the win then I normally ever would be.
"Lemme try the bombs! C'mon, gimme!"
As impatient as ever.
She spends the next two matches blowing up everything and anything she comes across, but of course, that doesn't translate into any victories. It doesn't seem to bother her; clearly her objective of goofing around is the only one that matters. By the end of the second match, however, her voice grows quiet, or at least not as loud. The cub leans her fuzzy head on my arms as her eyes begin to droop.
"Did all those explosions finally tucker you out?" I ask, chuckling.
"Mmm, I guess." She squirms about languidly. "You got any other games?"
"'Fraid not."
I observe her for a bit. Her fur pattern is remarkable. I've never given big cats a lot of attention before, as they constantly boast about what exotic markings they have, but I'm sure not even that self-obsessed president has a coat half as interesting. The markings jump out from her pale tan fur, ranging from petite spots to mesmerizing eye-like rosettes. They stamp her fur in such a way that she ends up looking like a walking optical illusion.
It's… beautiful.
The thought repulses me. Why did I think that?
"Rhinoceros Ezekiel."
The nurse stands by the door, already looking at me. I glance down at the little cub, who wears a pensive expression.
"Ezeekyel? Is that you?"
"E-ze-ki-el. And yeah, that's me. Come on, you best go back, too."
"M'kay." Surprisingly, she doesn't put up a fight, and allows herself to be guided, hand in hand, to the nurse. I transfer the cub's warm little paw to the doe, who offers a patient smile.
"Thanks for taking care of her. She can be such a bundle of energy, it's nice that she found someone to play with." Her smile however, weakens. "But as for your mother… We gave her some time to wake up, but she's quite tired today. I think it's best if you come back tomorrow."
I swallow. "But… she's okay?"
"She's lethargic but stable. There's not much we can do other than keep her hydrated and let her rest."
My head trembles, small nodding jittering almost involuntarily. "Okay. Okay. I'll come back tomorrow then."
"Sorry." The nurse smiles apologetically before tugging at the young leopard's hand. "And thanks again for keeping this one company. Alright, sweetheart, let's get you tucked in."
"Yes, nurse." The kitten responds with a practiced politeness. She spares a final look at me, eyes glinting mischievously. "Come back so we can play again, okay uncle Ezeekyel?"
"Sure, sure," I smirk back. "Don't cause too much trouble for the nice nurse, okay?"
"Kaaay!"
I watch as the two females walk down the shiny linoleum hallway, finally turning a distant corner. Once they were out of sight, I notice the… feeling in my chest.
The warm feeling of not being empty. Of having something within me. But as I stare into the empty, bright-white hall, that feeling grows fainter, duskier, colder.
Until I'm empty again.
Friday
I let out a wide yawn. The harsh smell of chemicals is not a great way to start the day off, but it can't be helped that I have chemistry first period. The lab is built the same as every high school lab: rows of faux-marble countertops lined with tall stools designed to ruin your back, shelves of complicated looking substances and preserved insects specimens, and of course, the famous life-sized anatomical model in the shape of a dog's body.
Today, there's a strange set of materials laid out on each table. A medium sized beaker, a bottle of vinegar, and a chicken egg of all things. Some groups of students are already fooling around with them; it isn't long before someone cracks one of the eggs and has to clean up the yolky goop. Great, now it reeks of chemicals and raw egg.
Our teacher finally walks into the class, a bored-looking greyhound with a greyed muzzle named Mrs. Loni. She takes one punctuated sniff and her eyes shrink in disapproval. A dog can figure out what's happened pretty quickly thanks to that nose of theirs. Still, she chooses to let the matter go unacknowledged and begin the lesson.
"Good morning class," She pauses to take a sip of her coffee. Not a morning person, this one. "As you know, it's Friday, and a bright and sunny day at that. I may be a chemistry teacher, but I hate spending nice days stuck inside a stuffy lab. I thought we could have a little fun and try out a quick experiment, then spend the rest of the class outside."
The class rejoices at the idea. Something tells me Mrs. Loni simply forgot to prepare an actual lesson today. Not that I'm complaining.
"Today we're learning about eggshells. As you no doubt have noticed, before you is one chicken's egg. That is, if you haven't broken it already."
Laughter breaks out.
The hound reaches for a blue marker. "Now class, who can tell me the primary chemical compound that eggshells are made of? I'm sure hens already know this."
Nobody raises their hand, eliciting an eyeball from Mrs. Loni. She begins jotting down key words on the whiteboard behind her. "Why yes, it's calcium carbonate. Around 95% of a dry eggshell is made of calcium carbonate, providing a protective hardness that shields the avian embryo from foreign threats.
"But as you might have guessed, it is not chemically indestructible. In fact,' there is one component found in a common household ingredient that is capable of dissolving calcium carbonate. Take a wild guess as to what ingredient that could be."
"Vinegar?" A swan offers, looking down at the bottle on his counter.
"Exactly." Mrs. Loni nods, continuing her note taking . "Vinegar contains around 5% of acetic acid, which breaks down calcium carbonate, releasing carbon dioxide as byproduct. Make sure to write this down. Yes, this will be on the test."
She proceeds to spell out a formula: CaCO3 (s) + 2 HC2H3O2 (aq) → Ca(C2H3O2)2 (aq) + H2O (l) + CO2 (g)
The sound of pencil lead scratching on paper fills the room. Meanwhile, the teacher ambles up to a nearby counter and grabs a beaker filled with a yellowed liquid. With a gloved hand, she removes a squishy sphere from the liquid and holds it up for all to see.
"This is what happens when a common chicken egg is left to soak in vinegar overnight. My previous class prepared this for your enjoyment, and now you'll prepare a batch for my next class. As you can see, the shell has completely dissolved, leaving only the inner and outer membrane that still encapsulates the egg's innards. It makes for a pretty cool, if not stinky, result."
My classmates look all too eager to play with the squishy eggs. I'm not that easily impressed, however. Maybe it'd be fun to throw at the back of the large panther seated in front of me. The idea of splatting that stupid hairball makes me chuckle under my breath.
"You'll get your chance to have fun with these," Mrs. Loni continues, plunking the egg back in the vinegar. "Once you prepare your own samples. Just place your egg in the beaker, cover it completely in the vinegar, and voila."
The animals I'm seated next to waste no time. They prepare the egg beaker in less than a minute without me even having to lift a finger. After about five more minutes, the rest of the class seems to be on the same page. At the behest of the teacher, we all deposit our beakers on a nearby tray labelled after our class. And then, true to her word, Mrs. Loni finally lets us play with the naked eggs.
My table gleefully passes the squishy thing amounts themselves. They offer me a turn but I decline; I really have no reason to touch that gross little ball. I sneak a peek at Toma, still hunched over at the nearby counter. His group is in a similar state of elation, but he seems far from content. I lift a brow. Does he think he's too good to play with it?
A maned wolf that I recognize as another CHAMP member offers him the egg, but he shakes his head with a nervous smile. Don't tell me he's grossed out by it? I'd have thought he'd be itching at the chance to gulp it down. He lowers his head with a strange expression. Weirdo.
After ten minutes or so, the class has bored themselves with the naked eggs, not before the same group who broke the first egg popped theirs again, spilling the contents all over themselves. Now the classroom really reeks. The especially sensitive-nosed, including Mrs. Loni, seems just about ready to pass out.
"That's a good a time as any to wrap things up." She declares while pinching her nose. "Pack your things and let's head out to the lawn. Except group three, who can clean up their mess and open up the windows."
Group three groans but doesn't object. We abandon the rowdy team and noisily make our way to the outside, greeting the biting autumn morning air. It's all good that we have some time off, but none of my (few) remaining friends share first period with me. Meaning I'm stuck sitting on the dewey grass with not much to do. Resigned, I just decide to peoplewatch.
Unfortunately, the nearest animals in viewing distance are the panther and his idiotic wolf friend. The canine seems intent on running around, grouping up some other dogs and pointing at each other while assigning teams. It's clear he's trying to get Toma in on it, but the panther tugs at his collar and the wolf's eyes widen in recollection. He barks out an apology but his impatience to get started means that he and the other slobbering mutts are already galloping around only mere moments later. Toma watches them on with a smile before tucking his hands in his pockets.
I wonder what the freak's gonna do now. But my wonder quickly turns into horror as I realize the carnie is heading my way.
Not this shit again. I thought I made myself clear when he last interrupted my smoke break! I'm fuming by the time he lowers himself to sit next to me.
"What part of 'fuck off' do you not understand?" I growl, straightening up to outsize him.
"Can't I just sit down?"
"Listen, I don't need anyone's pity, but especially not yours. You might think you're more popular now, but you're not. You're a story people tell to their friends, an anecdote. You're nothing."
The feline observes me with bored eyes. "Popular? I'm not popular. Half the school thinks I ate my mom, dude."
"I wonder why." I sneer. "Maybe check what's wrapped around your neck and you can figure it out. So as I said, fuck off. I'm not falling for your buddy-buddy schtick."
Toma seems incredibly unimpressed. "I don't wanna be your friend. You kinda suck."
That pisses me off more than it should, really.
"I just think it'd be cool if we weren't always at each other's throats." He continues, flopping down on the grass. "Like, you know, normal animals who don't like each other."
I ready another retaliation, but my words get caught in my throat. It's his fur.
The sunlight shines down on him, lighting up his once black fur into a vibrant chocolate color, and in the process revealing darker markings that look exactly like that leopard cub's. Small dots and large rosettes. They look even more amazing on a grown cat who has lost the kitten fuzz, allowing the fur to stick smoothly to his skin. It almost looks tattooed on him.
And it's…
Beautiful.
Even this dark. Even barely visible. Even only visible through sunlight.
Looking closer, even the areas of fur not lit up by sunlight betrays the rosettes' silhouettes if you pay attention. Were they always there? How had I never noticed before?
I look down at my own arm. My grey, rugged skin is marred by bumps and creases, lacking any and all decoration, not even fur. It's a practical, unpretentious skin, one my father had always prided himself on for its toughness.
Yet now, I find myself wishing for a pattern like…
"What?" The panther's voice interrupts my thoughts abruptly.
"It's… nothing."
He give me a shrug and closes his eyes, stretching his arms upwards to cradle his head.
"Are…" I start despite myself. "Are you a leopard?"
He opens a yellow eye. "I'm a jaguar."
"Is there a difference?"
"Jaguars are bigger, usually. And we have inner spots in our rosettes. Leopards don't."
"Oh."
He sniffs, resuming his catnap. I spare a final look at his spots trying to notice if what he was is true. Sure enough, his larger rosette had little speckles inside them. I'll check if that little cub has any in hers.
Back in the waiting room.
Hopefully I can check up on Ma and steer clear of this godforsaken death-house for a couple of weeks.
The thought doesn't delight me as it usually would. I wouldn't see that little brat for a bit. No, probably forever. She'll be checked out soon enough, but Ma… she'll be in and out of this place for the rest of her life. And that means I will too. In and out of the waiting room.
That reminds me. The kid wanted me to visit her again today so she can play Tactical Assault. But I'm nothing to this child; I can't just walk in her room like I'm family. How am I supposed to find her? The solution, funnily enough, walks into the room. A leopardess sits down some meters off, busily texting on her phone. I recognize her: she's the little brat's mother from the other day. I really don't want to talk to her but… I have no other choice.
I feel twice as large in this room. Getting up and walking up to her feels incredibly awkward. I clear my throat and she looks up to me, half-recognizing me.
"Um. Howdy." I greet stiffly. "I, uh, don't know if you remember me—"
"Yes, you're that nice young male who kept my daughter company the other day!" She smiles. "Thank you for that, really. This place can be so miserable for her. I don't let her play any violent video games at home, but seeing her face light up like that… it's nice if she gets any good memories here."
"Er, yeah." I cough. "She's a cute kid. I, uh, was here yesterday, and ran into her, so we played a little bit together. And at the end, she asked if I could visit her again. My mom takes a bit to wake up so I don't suppose I could stop by quickly before…?"
The leopardess jumps to her feet at once. "Oh, that'd be wonderful! Thank you, that's so kind."
I feel myself shrink. "Oh no, it's really nothing."
Led by the ever-patient doe, the feline and I make our way through the labyrinthian halls of the hospital. We turn a corner, then another, and go through a door. Suddenly the walls are painted a bright pink, with colorful decals pasted on them. This must be the children's ward. We pass by nurses and doctors, some by themselves and some leading children by the hand to wherever they have to go. The sight makes me shudder. It's too wrong to see them like that, dressed up in blue gowns, their faces sunken.
Maybe the leopardess senses my discomfort, because she tries making smalltalk. "So… What's your name?"
"Ezekiel. M'am."
Her eyes light up at this. "What a handsome name. Your parents must have given a lot of care in naming you."
"Thank you. My Pop named me. It runs in the family."
"How lovely. You said your mom was staying here…?" Her voice softens.
"Yeah. She's got a… delicate constitution, so sometimes things get too much for her."
"You're a good son for visiting." The feline nods. "This must be very hard on you. You look so young. If there's anything I can do…"
My suspicion flares up, but I keep it to myself. "No thank you m'am. It's just how it is."
She sighs. "Yes. It's just how it is."
With that, the doe nurse comes to a stop and faces a door to our left. "Here we are."
"Thank you." The leopardess bows and with a final farewell, the nurse walks off. The mother takes a moment before seizing the sliding door handle, as if bracing herself. Her expression, a mix of fear, sorrow and grief melts into a kind smile, and finally allows herself in the room.
"Mommy!" The leopard kitten immediately squeals upon seeing her mother's face. She sits up in her bed, far too large for a cub of her size, and reaches out for the larger feline who scoops her into a tight hug.
"Hello, my kitten," The mother purrs. "I missed you."
"Missed you more! I was so boooored!" She whines, more out of petulance than genuine distress.
The mother cat picks up a book with a bright red cover on a nearby stand. "Are you already done with the books I brought you?"
"They were no fun…" The cub sticks her tongue out.
"That's a shame…" The leopardess reaches into her purse and retrieves a couple of thin magazines and a box of crayons. "But here, some coloring books. These should last until tomorrow!"
Her daughter's whiskers twitch, betraying a certain interest, but she continues to mope. "'Kay… I get to leave after tomorrow, right?"
A small falter in her mother's smile. "The surgery is tomorrow, kitten. You'll take a really long nap, remember? The doctors will fix your booboo, but your body will be very tired after, so you need to stay a few extra days to recover."
The cub doesn't seem to understand. "Why would I be tired after a nap?"
I really shouldn't be listening to this. This seems like a private matter. The leopardess probably thinks so too, which is why she hastily changes the subject.
"Your friend's here! Aren't you happy to see him? Go ahead, say hello!"
The young feline does indeed look happy, and she greets me with an excited wave. "Hi, Uncle Easy!"
"Hey there," I shoot her a grin (and hope it's convincing). "It's Ezekiel, remember?"
"S'what I said!" She responds with a cheeky smirk of her own, but her eyes quickly move to my pants pocket. "Are we gonna play the shooty game?"
"Sure thing. Maybe you can actually win a game this time."
The leopardess steps aside, allowing me to sit down on the ample free space of the hospital bed. I'm a big guy, so my weight pulls the cub towards me, and she slides closer with a giggle.
"You're fat, Uncle!"
"Hey now! That's not very nice!" Her mother reprimands, but I wave it off.
"She ain't wrong." I chuckle. "I ate one too many pancakes your age. You gotta eat more greens than me."
"Yuck, no thanks. I'll be fat like you, then." She turns to face her mom. "Can we get pancakes after I'm better?"
"Of course, sweetie."
They laugh as I load up the game and pass off my phone to her. She greedily scoops it up, tongue sticking out in excitement, and starts chugging away at her usual antics.
"To your left!" I warn her, noticing enemies trying to sneak up on her. She turns to the right, not seeing anything. "No, no, your left!"
"Remember, kitten, make an 'L' with your fingers if you get confused." Her mother adds from her seat. Heeding her mom's advice, she drops the phone on her lap and checks her hands, flipping from the backs to the palms, her face still unsure. The 'game over' jingle rings out from the device but she doesn't notice.
"Here's a little trick my Ma taught me. I have a spot on my left hand," I show her the mole next to my wrist. "So that's how I know it's the left. Sure you're covered in all kinds of spots, but do you have a special one on either hand you can identify?"
The cub continues to study her hands intensely. "Um… I guess… this one kinda looks like a heart." She points to a small rosette at the base of her left thumb.
"Alright, great! So now you know the hand that has that little heart is your left hand. Just remember that, and you're good to go."
"Hm, okay!" She flaps her left hand excitedly around. "You're pretty smart, Unc!"
"I ain't smart, I've just been around a bit longer." I pat her fuzzy head. She leans into the touch, rubbing herself on my palm as she purrs. It's… pretty cute.
That reminds me. I glance down at her arm to see if what that panther said the other day is true. Turns out he wasn't bullshitting. Even her larger rosettes don't have any little blemishes in them; they're perfectly contained, like dainty little flowers. Roses. Ah, is that why they call them that?
We get back to Tactical Assault as the leopardess watches on with a fond smile. Try as she might, the cub just can't seize the win during matches, but she does manage to sneak in some kills (mostly by accident) which results in boisterous cheers from her and her mother. She's still trash, but she does seem to be getting better; less distracted jumping and ducking and more attent to her surroundings.
"You're shaping up to be a fine gamer!" I joke as she eliminates an opponent (who was likely AFK, but I don't tell her that).
"Uh-huh! All the boys in my class brag about being sooo good at games, but I bet none of them are this good!"
A quiet knock on the door interrupts her gloating. The doe nurse excuses herself and makes a beckoning motion at me. "Your mother is ready to see you, Rhinoceros Ezekiel."
My ears perk up at this. "Ah, thanks. I'll be right there."
The cub groans at this news. "Awww, do you have to go already?"
"Sorry, little lady. Besides, playing video games for too long rots your brain." I give her one last pat on the head and get up from the bed.
"Will, will you come visit again? After my surgery?" She asks, her voice anxious.
"Course I will. So focus on kicking that surgery's butt in the meantime." I chuckle.
The leopardess stands with me, also headed for the door. "I'll see you out, too. Kitten, wait one second while I say goodbye to Ezekiel and we can color together when I get back, okay?"
"'Kaaay." She meows.
With a final wave, I leave the room, sandwiched between the nurse and the leopardess. Once she shuts the door gently, she turns to face me with eyes full of gratitude.
"Thank you, Ezekiel. That was the happiest I've seen her all month." Before I can react, she reaches for my hand, clasping them with her own. They're warm, and surprisingly gentle.
"Oh, uh…" My face reddens. "I didn't do much of anything. My phone did all the heavy lifting, heh."
"She really needed a friend, you know…" The female's voice quivers. "Sure, my husband and I visit as much as we can, but her school friends are too young to spend their time in hospitals. It's been ages since she had someone to have fun with."
I want to say something, but my mind turns up empty.
"T-truth is…" She hiccups. "My kitten's heart… she has a tear in her aorta. You'd never tell by how lively she is. Tomorrow, she's going in for thoracic aortic dissection repair. O-open heart surgery, at her age…"
The feline laughs bitterly. "It's a high-risk surgery. M-my husband and I… We're… I-I'm…"
She can't finish the sentence. She crumbles into herself, sobbing into her hands. The doe goes to rub her back, silently reassuring her.
I want to say something. I really do. But I can't.
"I-I'm sorry…" The leopardess sniffles after a bit, wiping her tears away with the heels of her palm. "You didn't need to see that. A mother can't help but worry until her fur falls out."
She gasps in a way that might resemble chuckling, trying her best to compose herself. "It'll all be fine. That's the only thing we can hope for. I really hope your mother gets better as well."
"Th-thanks." I mumble.
"Go spend time with her. We'd love to see you again soon." She waves, and the doe, with one last squeeze of her shoulder, relinquishes her to guide me to Ma.
My mind is empty as I follow the nurse. But my throat is unbearably tight.
Ma notices right away. She's got instincts sharp as thumbtacks, always had. "Everything okay, Zekey? You look off."
"'S nothing." My voice cracks a bit, but a quick clearing of the throat fixes that. "You feeling any better today?"
Ma nodded. "Fit as a fiddle! You know me, always spooking you for no reason."
I narrow my eyes, unconvinced. "I dunno, Ma. You're getting on in years. I think… I think you should quit your job. At least for now. It's clearly doing you no good."
She huffs indignantly. "I got plenty of fight left in me, Zekey! Don't go counting me out like that over these little dizzy spells! Besides, what would the girls at the office do without me?"
"The girls will get along just fine. We gotta focus on what's best for you."
"Excuse you!" She snaps. "I'm the mom around here! You don't get to tell me what's best for me, I can do that plenty fine myself. I gotta provide for both of us! Who's gonna pay the bills if I quit, huh?"
"I'll—!" I start.
"No you won't!" She retorts. "It's the parent's job to take care of the kid, not the other way around! I will not be a burden to my son!"
"Ma…"
"Your father and I did not bust our asses— pardon my French— to afford your fancy pants school for you to throw it all away and work at a gas station! Now drop this subject or I'm gonna get really mad!"
A wicked part of me wants to tell her she can't afford the tuition anyways, that I'm the one who got the scholarship, but that would hardly help. So instead, I just sigh.
"Okay, Ma."
My resigned tone softens her expression. She grabs my hand and places a kiss on it. "You're such a good kid, Zekey. Never forget that."
I lean in, nuzzling my cheek against hers. The keratin of her horn feels nice and cold against my skin. "I need you, Ma. You're all I got left."
"I ain't going nowhere. I gotta take care of my baby."
Saturday
I gaze up into the autumn sky. Another beautiful day. My hand reaches out towards the wispy clouds above, frolicking in the field of blue. Even if it's a little colder now, the lawn still has some wildflowers poking out amongst the dying grass, speckling the view with whites and yellows.
I close my eyes, taking in the sounds of the academy. The choir of the wind, the rustling of the dark fir trees in the distance, the screams of animals playing some kind of sport down by the field. My hand gropes the grass next to me, feeling for what I'm looking for. Soon enough, I find a small flower, pick it, and lazily open my eyes again. I hold the flower high above me and position it so that its petals blot out the sun. It's yellow like the sun too, and its wild mane of petals kind of reminds me of how I used to draw the sun as a kid. I lower the flower back down, giving it a final look, before my other hand pinches a petal off.
I will.
I pick another petal off.
I won't.
I pick another one off.
I will.
I pick another one off.
I won't.
I will.
I won't.
I will, I won't, I will, I won't, I will, I won't, I will, I won't…
I repeat this process endlessly, until only one petal remains.
I will.
The thin yellow scrap flutters down to my shirt. With my next exhale, it falls off, forever lost in the grass below. I toss the now bare stem in the lawn too.
I will, huh?
I don't want to. My conviction remains, it always will. Carnivores are a menace. They're meat-eaters, it's in their blood. That makes them bullies. It doesn't matter what they look like, what they say or do, that fact'll never change. God made them evil. In a just world, they'd be kept someplace far away from herbivores.
But who the hell am I?
I'm so tired. Everything is starting to feel like a losing battle now. If not even my pop could do anything about them… Wouldn't he at least want me and Ma to be happy?
It's a cowardly thing to do. A real hero would never give up, not until the very end. But I'm so tired. Maybe being a coward is the only thing that's left for me. I'd go to an all-herbie school, somewhere much cheaper and much closer to home. I'd get a full scholarship so Ma wouldn't have to pay a cent, and she wouldn't have to work as hard. And I'd pick up a job every day after school to help out.
And we'd be cowards, but we'd be happy.
I sigh. It's a nice thought.
Bleep.
Bleep.
Bleep.
And then my phone rings.
I sit up on the lawn and answer it.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Rhinoceros Ezekiel?" A composed male voice asks through the line.
"Speaking."
"This is Dr. Oscar, I'm calling about your mother, Rhinoceros Debrah."
"How's she doing?"
"…I'm sorry, son. There's no easy way to say this."
She almost looks like she's sleeping. It happened not too long ago, so her cheeks still have some color to them. But then you notice how she's not breathing, and how her eyes are too still, and how… you can just tell.
An otter, Dr. Oscar, places a small black paw on my arm. "It was very sudden, Ezekiel. We hadn't anticipated a sudden stroke considering her improvement… I'm sorry."
He sniffs, his whiskers rising and falling. "She was a wonderful soul. I've never had a brighter patient. I can't express to you how sorry I am."
He grabs a pen from his lab coat and begins to jot something down on his clipboard. "I'll give you a chance to say your goodbyes, just the two of you. In the meantime, I'll contact your aunt. She can help sort the rest out."
My aunt.
Does that mean I'm going to live with her now?
That doesn't matter right now.
My mom is dead.
She was alive yesterday but she's dead today.
I guess that's how it works.
Tears. I can feel them run down my cheeks and hear them pitter patter on the floor. Rhinoceros tears are big enough to hear. Never knew that.
I reach out. My hands are trembling. But I stop. I don't want to touch her. Even if she looks like she's sleeping, she's really dead. So she'll be cold. I never want to feel her cold.
I let out a choked sob. The sound embarrasses me. Did that really come out of my mouth? That doesn't matter right now. My mom is dead.
A lot of things happen next, and a lot of people come and go, but I don't care about any of that. It's dark by the time it's over. I only notice when it's me and Ma alone again. My tears have dried by now, I think.
It's dark now. That means… that kid. I leave the room and go to the children's ward. I remember where her room is. I see her mom, and her dad's there too. They're talking to each other, all worked up. The leopardess spots me and runs toward me, grabbing my hands.
"Oh Ezekiel!" She moves to embrace me. "It was successful! The operation was successful! 'One of the most impressive the doctor's ever performed', isn't that right, dear?"
Her husband nods excitedly behind her.
"My little kitten, she's going to be all right!" She tightens her hold on me. "Isn't that just wonderful?"
Slowly, my arms wrap around her.
"That's amazing."
Sunday
What a shithole.
I always knew I'd wind up in a black market, but I always thought it'd be as the guy who arrests everyone. Not as a customer. I trudge miserably though the muddy streets, glancing at the shacks impatiently. I can't find it anywhere.
Some paces off, I spot a bearded vulture slouched against the metallic beam of her shop. She's talking to a lion with a tousled, overgrown mane that covers most of his face. The bird clamps down on a cigarette as she cackles at something the male said. I approach them, and they exchange bewildered glances.
"Hey." I grunt.
"Hey yourself." The vulture answers, exhaling a noxious cloud of smoke that conceals her for a second before dissipating into the grimy air.
"I'm looking for the blood bank. Where is it?"
A crooked grin plays on her lips. "Looking to donate? Aren't you a good noodle."
"Mind your business." I snap. "Just tell me where it is."
Their eyes darken. Her smile now gone, she simply shrugs and takes another drag of her cigarette.
"Find it yourself."
"Worthless meat eaters." I mutter.
I pass them, bumping into the lion but I don't make an effort to look back. Let's just get this over with.
The vulture doesn't stop staring at the rhino's slouched back until the smoke and steam of the black market consume him.
"What an asshole." She concludes, her smirk returning.
"Strange." Jasha growls.
"What's a prick like that got to do with the blood bank?"
The maned male scratches at his wiry locks. "Something wrong with him."
"Something's wrong with everyone here." The vulture chortles.
"You not laugh at me?"
"Why? What's wrong, big fella?"
"His eyes… They scare me."
AN:I'll ignore the four month hiatus if you do. Thanks for reading! I figured this chapter would be on the longer side so it took me a little bit. Definitely not four months, but here we are.
We're officially in climax territory. Reader beware.
Take it easy and stay safe.