Reason

I crossed paths with them back at the Virginia border and they haven’t left me since. That was weeks ago. This neck of the woods looks familiar. I reckon we’re close to Kentucky now. They’re bickering so loud, I doubt we’ll make it to where I'm trying to go. We’re likely already being trailed. Could be the lions. Or maybe the monkeys. They’re an awfully patient lot... Back when I was travelling with Lassy and Tom, they trailed us all the way from Wisconsin to New York before snatching up the both of ‘em. Tore ‘em apart right then and there. Real slow too. Picked up her heart locket when it was finished. It was the only thing left of her. I saw it all go down from behind a bush. Lassy looked at me with those big, watery eyes of hers, begging me to save her son. I bet she remembered what I told her before. What I tell them all.

“It’s a Wild world out there, na’.”

“What was that Uncle John?” The two finally shut their traps. They usually do when I talk. Whether it’s because I hardly talk to them or because they actually care what I have to say is up for debate. You never know with youngins these days.

“It’s a wild world out there, na’,” I repeat, looking back at the both of them. It’s a wonder they’ve survived so long. Their gangly arms, shallow cheeks, and hopeless eyes lead me to believe they were in one of those human concentration camps I’ve heard about.

“Thanks Captain Obvious,” the man, I believe he said his name was Ben, mutters under his breath, receiving a shove from the woman. “Ouch! What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re my problem! Uncle John has been nothing but kind to us and all you’ve done is nag at him! If it weren’t for him, we’d be animal food by now,” Ball of fire, that woman. She looks and acts so much like my Angie before the gators got her. They got her before they all got smart. Just the gators were smart back then, so I was able to bury her remains. I’ve gotta tidy up her grave when we get to Kentucky. Angie would’ve tore my head off for letting her grave fall into disrepair. She hated weeds, they took the attention away from her flowers. I’m sure she’s awfully lonely too.

“We don’t even know this man!” The man narrows his beady little eyes at me. I hope whatever gets to him picks those out first. “I don’t trust a man that carries a gun.”

“Oh here we go again,” The woman rolls her eyes.

“We both know exactly what he’s been using that gun on!”

“You mean the man eating beasts that literally destroyed society and enslaved the human race? Gee, I wonder why Uncle John would carry a gun around,” I can’t help but snort at that one. She really is so much like Angie. She used to kill me with that sarcasm.

“No, Beth! Poor, blameless animals. They didn’t ask to be changed. The blame is on us. If it wasn’t for scientists messing with things they had no reason messing with, none of this would have happened. The animals are intelligent now. They can reason! Yet, did any global power try to reason with them? No! Of course not. Instead, they’re treated like animals that need to be put down.”

“They’re beyond reason, Ben, but by all means you’re free to leave and try to ‘reason’ with a pack of squirrels. Maybe they’ll let you say a prayer before they gut you. Here, I'll help you out,” Angie cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Aye ferocious predators! Ben wants to-”

“Shh!” Ben quickly covers her mouth to stop her from alerting the entire forest to our presence. It’s too late for that now. They’re not going to make it to Kentucky. They’ve sealed the deal. Since we’re not going anywhere anytime soon, I just plop down on a tree stump and wait for them to finish. My gun needs cleaning anyway.

The woman slaps his hand off of her mouth, “Those animals aren’t the same. They’re monsters now. They’re the monsters that keep us as pets. They’re the monsters that have camps full of humans in cages treated like cattle. They’re the monsters that are probably going to kill us too sooner or later. When I go, I'm taking as many of those bastards along with me. I’ll take you down too if you get in my way,” she points at me, “Uncle John has a gun. He let us come with him. He’s taking us somewhere safe. This man is our best chance at staying alive and the most civil person we’ve come across since this crap started. If you want to leave, be my guest. You won’t last a day, but if I hear another word out your mouth against Uncle John, I'll make the decision for you.”

Ben is silent for a long moment. He looks from me to her, choosing his next words carefully, “what makes us different from them? Their brains work in the same way as ours now. They have families, their own established societal groups, things they care about, and just like us they give into their primal instincts when they are permitted too. I’m not looking for a temporary solution. Killing a few of them isn’t going to stop any of this. What will stop it all is reasoning with them, working things out. We need to give them a reason to want to treat us like equals when we’ve spent centuries treating them as less than.”

The woman lets out an exasperated sigh, turning to me with her hands on her hips, “Uncle Tom, what do you think?”

I’ve heard their positions on this many times before from many different people. I’ve travelled with more people than I care to remember. Each time i’m asked the same stupid questions. What do I think? Do I think the animals deserve to live? Do I think they can be ‘reasoned’ with? Do I think any and all of them need to be wiped off the face of the Earth? Such dumb youngins. I can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh…

They look unsettled from my laughter. Good. They should. I can’t help but laugh louder. Such dumb youngins. It’s possible they could’ve lived another week or so. I was going to let them have a really nice meal back home. It’s good to let them have something nice like that for their minds to linger on while they die. It truly is a shame. I was going to make ‘em some chicken with gravy. Angie used to love chicken with gravy. I’m sure the woman would too. I would’ve loved to see that.

Once I finally catch my breath, I address the both of ‘em. I need some answers before they go, “What camp did you two come from?” It’s clear my question caught them off guard. They’ve got lots of unpleasant memories I'm sure. I can tell by the way they both tense, reliving their time there. I’ve heard stories about those camps that’d make a man as old as me want to use a nightlight.

The woman clears her throat, eyes darting from me to the Man, “I asked you a question, Uncle John.”

“I may be old, Woman, but I'm not deaf yet,” My gun is all cleaned and assembled. Standing up, I turn to face those stupid children, “what camp did you two come from, eh? You’re not moving on until I get an answer”

Silence again. My look must’ve shown that I wasn’t playing this time though. The boy answers after a minute, “San Francisco, sir…” Well paint me pink and call me a nipple, I’ve heard it all.

“San Francisco? Woowee… that’s the biggest one, ain’t it? How’d ya escape?” These two don’t look like much. I can’t see them throwing an entire camp on their own. The Eagles run that camp, If I remember correctly. I don’t know, My mind isn’t like it used to be.

“There’s a group in Hawaii. They have boats and a network of people to help us escape. They aim to free everyone from the camps and bring them to their safe communities. We were brought to one in New York… but it was found by the animals. We barely made it out of there alive. The only other one we know of is the main one in Honolulu. If you know a way I could find a boat, I’d like to try to reach it. They’re pro-animal rights,” He says with a pointed glare towards my Angie, “If not, I’ll find a way myself. I refuse to stay with you longer than I have to.”

“Those animals don’t distinguish between people that are “pro animal rights” or not. They’ll tear you to shreds, just like they did everyone in New York!” My other Angie exclaims, staring at him wide eyed. For all her bravado, she doesn’t really want the boy to die. She cares for him like a sister cares for her brother. Like my Angie cared for her uncle.

To this I smile. All the youngins I've travelled with look mighty uncomfortable when I do. I don’t blame them. It’s not everyday you see teeth like mine. Just like the gator’s. It wasn’t easy either. I had to use my best knife to carve my teeth this pointy.

“Un-Uncle John?” My other Angie stammers, her voice faltering. They both look scared. I don’t blame ‘em. They should be. “Yo-Your teeth! They’re-”

I don’t let her finish. I never do. The gunshot is so loud. I always hate that part. Angie used to hate the sound of my gun. The first time I shot it, my Angie covered her ears.

“What the hell!” Ben yells after the shock of the shot subsides. This Angie falls to the ground. Her eyes are wide and watery. Just like Lassy’s. Just like Angie’s. Damn, she’s already dead. I wanted to hear her ask why. Just like Lassy. Just like Angie. It was just a little outing. There never should’ve been a gator in that pool. Not a smart gator. Not in Kentucky.

Ben runs at me faster than I can shoot. He’s confident he can take down the old man with the gun. Foolish boy. I’m old, but I’m not skin and bones yet. We tussle on the ground for a bit. Once the opportunity presents itself, I bite into his throat. He struggles for a little bit, like my Angie did when the gator got her, before going limp. The deed is all done. It’ll be minutes before the animals trailing me come and finish them up. I might as well sit back down and wait for them. I need to gather up their remains to bury with Angie when they finish. They learned after Lassy to wait until I finished with them first before eating ‘em. Less work for them.

I finished my trip in blissful silence. Angie wouldn’t have liked how loud those kids were. Now they’re quiet.

Just as I thought it would be, Angie’s grave was overgrown. I couldn’t even read her epigraph. When I finally finished tidying everything up, I planted those flowers Angie loved so much.

My yard is getting crowded. It’s hard to find a place to put the two of ‘em. I think I’ll bury the rest of Ben and the Other Angie by Lassy and her boy Tom. Or maybe by Joanne. She was loud too. I’m sure there’s tons more friends for Angie in that community. Honolulu I think it was. Once I finished, I stood back to admire my work. Her grave looks good as new.

“Angie”

“2200 - 2212”

“It’s a wild world’ - Cat Stevens”