“ThornGrip, why are you tormenting the two-legger?”
“He pointed one of your fire-sticks at me, Riley.”
“He didn’t know any better, now he does.”
“Perhaps. He is just lucky I enjoy the female so much. She made something called cookies yesterday and they had peanut butter in them. I don’t know if I’ve ever had anything better Riley. I feel bad I ate them all. I couldn’t stop myself. She was hitting me with some material she called a dish towel, didn’t matter I couldn’t stop. I’d do it again, even though she kicked me out of the food room for the rest of the day.”
“She kept you out of there?”
“She said she wouldn’t give me anything else if I didn’t listen to her. How could I ignore her?”
“Peanut butter is pretty good. Alpha would often make toast and coat it with peanut butter. Many times he would give me half his piece as he left our home in the morning.”
A scream brought us out of reverence for the creamy goodness.
“Mabel?” Harold called out, coming from down the long thin room. He first looked over to us, I think making sure ThornGrip wasn’t somehow involved.
“They’re back.”
“Zombies. I’ll get my gun.”
“You be careful,” she warned him.
Harold was heading for the door. ThornGrip bumped him out of the way and pawed at the door, although when she did it, wood shavings curled up and fell away from the stout wood.
“Don’t you dare let her out!” Mabel warned.
“Okay honey, I’ll tell the nice little bear she can’t go out, or would you rather I let her break the damn thing down?” Harold scooted past ThornGrip and opened the door then reached past to open the second viewer door as well. I could see outside from my vantage point, a group of zombies coming, there were more than seven. I could not see ThornGrip’s eyes but the rest of her body, the tension, the slight movements, the increased breathing, all let me know just how incensed she was becoming. She went out the door and was standing next to Harold.
“Help her!” Mabel admonished Harold.
“Help her. That’s hilarious, who is going to help me?” Even so Harold stepped outside. ThornGrip did not flinch as Harold raised the fire-stick to his shoulder and fired a metal-bee. A zombie fell away, most of its head dissipating in a cloud of bone and blood. The next shot seemed to be all ThornGrip needed to launch her own attack. She stood on her two back legs, dwarfing Harold. She bellowed a roar loudly, the force of it could be seen projecting out from her. If zombies had any awareness or need for self-preservation they would have left as quickly as they’d come. ThornGrip dropped down and charged at them as they were coming to meet her.
The collision was devastating for the much smaller framed zombies. They were broken and battered as she rammed into them. Her claws ripped out, savagely laying multiple zombies open, their bodies pooling on the ground before her feet. Harold was still shooting. ThornGrip was taking care of the majority of the zombies, but once they’d caught sight of their favorite meal, more than a few peeled off from the fight and were running for the front porch.
“My God there’s too many of them.”
“Harold get in the house!”
“I will not let that bear fight them herself!” he shouted.
I rolled off the couch slowly, trying to get a grasp on how I was feeling. Not bad, throat was still a little raw and I was not yet at full strength, but I was not as weak as a lamb anymore. I moved quickly to the front door. I’d had enough experience I knew what to do from here. I jumped up, my front paw resting on the small black release. The door swung open and I dropped to the ground.
“Harold, the dog is out!”
I was standing next to him, my fur bristled, a low mean growl issuing forth from my belly.
“Go girl, go back.” Harold shot again, the closest zombie that had been coming up the stairs was halted as the left side of its face flapped back from the impact, its jaw line and teeth exposed, along with the bottom part of its brain before it collapsed into a heap. The next time he tried to fire I only heard a dry click, no metal-bee came forward.
He turned his fire-stick back and forth looking for the problem. A female zombie, although I do not think gender plays a part in their packs, was halfway up the stairs when she launched herself at Harold. I pushed him out of the way as I intercepted her progress, her teeth coming within a paw-span of biting into his mid-section. I tore through her ratty fake skins and into the tainted flesh of her breast, ripping her corpulent meat away. She did not pause to inspect the damage, she did not try to push me away, she did not yell out in pain, she just kept trying to get at Harold, who had fallen over and was back-peddling with his legs to make more room for himself as he looked in his pockets for more metal-bees.
She was chomping away, like those fake plastic teeth Zachary’s brother used to tease Ben-Ben with. The zombie was on her hands and knees after I dragged her down. I ripped at her hamstring, pulling the long ropy muscle free from her leg in an attempt to get her to stop her progress. She was steadily making her way past Harold’s ankles and was heading straight for his reproductive organs.
“Goddamnit!” he shouted.
Every time I grabbed a piece of the zombie it came away in my mouth, yet that did little to stop her. My energy level was already beginning to wane, I had to end this now. I rammed my head into the zombie’s hindquarters, spinning her slightly. She finally turned to look at me and I took this opportunity to wrap my teeth around her neck, I bit down until I cut through her veins and muscles, and then heard the satisfying crunch of her windpipe underneath. I then shook my head back and forth as vigorously as I could, hearing more audible crunches until I was finally able to pull the head free from the rest of the body. Harold was gagging, Mabel was screaming.
“Look out!” she cried.
Too late, we’d been joined on the porch with three more zombies. I was already having a difficult time standing, I would not be able to do much more than watch as we were eaten. Still I would do my best to display my fierceness. I spun to face the threat, teeth bared. This was when the entire porch jumped. I was launched into the air. ThornGrip had stormed back and had cleared the stairs to land directly on the back of one of the zombies. His form was crumpled much like I’d seen Alpha do to a can. Her claws raked out and severed the head of the second one. The third she reached down and grabbed by the mid-section, bisecting the small zombie as she shook her head back and forth much like I had.
We were all breathing heavy, except for Harold, he was hitching heavily. I looked past ThornGrip’s shoulder, the immediate threat had been removed.
“They...they saved me,” Harold said aloud.
“They wouldn’t have had to if your damned fool self hadn’t gone out there and almost got yourself killed! Oh, Harold.” She was crying as she came out the door.
“They’re dead. Are you okay?” I asked ThornGrip.
“I am, and you?”
“Fine but tired.”
“The human?”
“He is fine as well.”
“You fought bravely Riley.”
“Could not have done it without you, ThornGrip.”
“Come let’s see if the woman has more cereal.”
Mabel kissed Harold tenderly on the lips before she bopped him on the side of the head. “What do you think you’re doing? And where do you think you’re going?” She turned to look at ThornGrip and me. “You’re both filthy! To the tub with you both!”
“Oh no!” I whined.
“Is that bad?” ThornGrip asked me.
“It is. It is a large container of water where we are forced to bathe. It’s almost torture!”
“Sounds wonderful, lead the way.”
“Be gentle with her stitches.” Harold was sitting on what the two-leggers called the throne. He was absently stroking ThornGrip’s back as he watched Mabel clean me off.
“This is what you are so afraid of?” ThornGrip laughed.
We were stuffed in that small room yet none of us seemed in too much of a rush to be alone.
“This isn’t the first injured animal I’ve dealt with Harold James.” I could tell by her tone she was still angry with him for his reckless act.
She treated me tenderly, even more so than when Alpha was made to clean me. Even the toweling off was a breeze in comparison. This isn’t saying that I enjoyed the experience, just that it was more tolerable than normal. ThornGrip could barely contain herself, nearly shoving me out of the way in her rush to get into the tub, when I was done. I could not help but laugh, she looked like she was going to get stuck in there as she wriggled her butt around trying to force it down into the tub.
“This is divine!” she said as warm water began to touch her.
“You look like a hippopotamus in a teacup.” Mabel laughed as she filled a jug so she could pour water over and onto ThornGrip. We were in that small room for a long time by the time Mabel finished with the bear. I believe there was more water on the floor than in the tub. I do not believe that she cared. She used many fake skins to help ThornGrip dry off, then when she was done she hugged the large animal fiercely. She came to me and did the same, although not quite as hard as I was still in pain.
“Thank you, thank you both,” she said as she pinched our cheeks. “Now get out of here, I have to clean up. That means all of you, even you Harold James.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And get these two something to eat, they must be starving after saving your behind.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“It is funny to me watching the smaller female boss the larger male around.”
“Is it not the same way with you bears?”
ThornGrip paused to think. “I guess it is.”
“I suppose you’ll want these.” Harold was holding two boxes of cereal for ThornGrip.
ThornGrip began to shake, first very slightly at the back of her legs, and then as it traveled down the length of her spine, it intensified, sending sheets of water all over Harold and the room the two-leggers called the kitchen. When she was done shuddering herself dry, she tenderly gripped the boxes out of his hand and came into the room the two-leggers lived in.
Harold was sopping wet, his hand still outstretched as he came to terms with being bathed in bear water.
“What have you done!?” Mabel yelled at him as she came out of the refuse room.
ThornGrip was busy munching down cereal. “This really is the best stuff ever.” Her mouth was full and flakes were falling to the floor.
“Asked you to do one thing Harold James, get out of here with your wet clothes, now I have to clean up in here.”
“It... it was the bear,” he entreated.
“Oh blame it on the bear, she can’t defend herself.”
Harold left with his head hanging low. “This isn’t over bear,” he told ThornGrip as he passed. She snorted. I laughed.
Mabel put a loaf of meat into a bowl, she broke it into small pieces and then brought it over to the couch, which she helped me onto.
“The dog is eating on the couch? You don’t even let me eat on the couch.”
“Please. She’s neater than you.”
ThornGrip snorted again.
“These damn animals understand everything we say Mabel, don’t you find that strange?”
“No. I really don’t.” She started back up before he could question her. “This may sound like heresy given my religious upbringing. Or maybe it doesn’t.” She paused with her hand on her chin, her gaze faced upwards. “Remember when we were talking about how many people we thought were left?”
“I do but I don’t know what that has to do with...”
“Hush! I’m trying to make a point, and I’m not sure if I can.”
He dutifully did so.
“We thought perhaps after the infection and the zombies that three billion people were still alive. What if it’s far less?”
“Okay.” I could see the confusion on his face but I also knew he was smart enough to stay quiet.
“What if there is far less? What if there are way more zombies than we thought and far fewer people? Say around a hundred million.”
“Worldwide?” Harold gasped.
“That would be roughly the same number of people when Jesus was born.”
“Mabel?”
“I told you hush. That was the age of miracles, waters parting, curing of diseases, walking on water to name just a few. What if that was because there was an energy in the earth? A life force, maybe. Don’t look at me that way, I’m not quite ready for the loony bin. So there’s this finite life force and the inhabitants of the planet are tapping into it. Then the world population explodes, you have that same column of energy, only now seven billion people are using it. It would get pretty diluted don’t you think?”
“I... I don’t think I understand Mabel. This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“I know how it sounds, I’ve just always wondered why we’ve never seen the miracles today that seemed so prevalent just a couple of thousands of years ago. Maybe there’s a reason why.”
“What would Father Hickens say?”
“Relax Harold, I’m not saying the Catholic church doesn’t exist, I’m suggesting that perhaps Jesus was a great man who had the potential to tap into a much vaster well than we’ve had, at least up until now.”
“So somehow you’re saying that because there aren’t that many people left, animals can understand us?”
“I guess sort of I am, I wouldn’t doubt in a few more months we’d be able to understand them.”
I was tempted to tell Mabel that as far as I knew, animals could always understand two-leggers, it was only recently that they began to notice.
“I don’t like that at all Mabel.”
“Why?”
“Because that will mean there will be even less people and less of a chance for things to return to normal.” Harold looked dejected.
“You feel it, I know you do. We’re more in tune with nature than we’ve ever been, and we’re already pretty close, considering we once ran a farm.”
Harold said nothing for a few moments. “I don’t know if I want to believe you or not. What do you think pup, has my wife lost her marbles?”
My ears perked up at the question.
ThornGrip growled. Mabel laughed. “The bear doesn’t think so.”
“Why should she? You feed her. You on my side pup?”
I shook my head. Mabel again laughed, this time Harold joined in with her. Harold walked around the room peering through the viewers, when he was confident nothing was coming he sat back down on the couch with me. “Alright girl, we’re going to figure out your name.”
I was curious as to how he was going to do this, and so was Mabel, if the way she was leaning forward was any indication.
“Don’t suppose you can spell?” he asked me, holding up a pen. “Do you know your alphabet?”
I knew the letters made words; that was about the extent of my knowledge.
“I’m guessing probably not, but we can still do this, going to try the phonetics route.”
I had no idea what he was talking about but I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and I was happy to be the center of his attention. He spent a few moments drawing one large character on each page until he said he was done.
“Alright, we might as well start at the beginning. This is the letter A,” he said, holding up a piece of paper with a symbol that I guess was the two-legger version of that letter. I wasn’t sure. “Okay, this can be said either the long way ‘ay’ or the short ‘ah’. Does your name start with either of those sounds?”
I yawned.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I think she told you exactly what she meant, move to the next Harold,” Mabel admonished him.
“This is the letter B, pronounced either be or bah.” He was looking at me rather intently.
I stared back at him.
??
?What is he doing?” ThornGrip asked, leaning over to me.
“I don’t know but he looks funny,” I told her.
Harold was through most of the sheets of paper, and he seemed to be losing confidence that his test was going to work, that was, until he got to the letter he called an R.
“This is an R, pronounced ar or rah.”
My ears perked, and I barked at that second part.
“Alright.” Harold seemed excited. “I think it has to be a vowel next. Back to the A, does your name start Rah or Ray?” I didn’t say anything. “Alright, on to E, how about Ree or Reh.”
Blank stare from me.
“How about I, does your name start with Rye...?”
I barked and stood on the couch cushion.
“So we’re getting somewhere! Good girl.” He scratched behind my ear.
“Think he’ll figure it out?” ThornGrip asked as she laid down.
“I hope so, I don’t like the name pup.”
“Wake me if he gets it.” And with that ThornGrip slid quickly and easily into a deep sleep.
I almost missed the L sound when he finally got to that letter. He had been giving so many name choices along the way I was starting to get confused. Riban, Richael, Ridell, Rifle, and on and on. So when he got to the L and said the el or lah sound, I didn’t hear anything that sounded right, at least until he gave an example of a name.
“Rilead?”
I barked.
“Rilead? That’s your name?” I just stared at him.
“What kind of name is Rilead, Harold? Try shortening it,” Mabel told him.
“Rilea?”
I was still looking at him.
“Rilee?” I jumped over and licked his face, my tail moving back and forth. Here was a two-legger that knew my name. That meant something. If felt good, made this place feel more like a home away from home.
“I think you got it!” Mabel said coming over to give me a hug. “Riley, you are such a good girl.” She buried her face in mine.
“Well, Riley, I’ve got to imagine someone somewhere is missing you pretty badly,” Harold said, looking at my face.
“She lives here now,” Mabel said quickly and defensively, “they both do.”
“How long are we going to be able to keep that bear happy with cereal, Mabel? At some point she’s going to need to go outside and forage for food, that’s what she does, that’s what she’s done her entire life.”