by L. S. O'Dea
Bumpers, who had Flea safe between his large body and Topper’s leg, looked over at them and shrugged.
“I think we got them all,” said Topper.
The Guard slowly turned. It was almost as if he didn’t want them to miss even a little bit of the carnage. The other four Brush-Men were dead—stomped to death. Pieces of their bodies detached and lying in the dirt.
“Yeah,” said Stink. “I don’t see any movement in the soil no more.”
“Then we can get out of here.” Topper started walking again.
“What should we do?” asked the little hatchling.
He had no idea. He’d had no idea about anything from the moment he left his egg. He looked toward Bumpers. The large Brush-Man was scanning the enclosure.
“If they catch us, we’re dead,” said Glick.
“I know,” said Bumpers.
“If we drop to the earth we’re dead,” said Flea.
“There.” Bumpers pointed to a bush.
It was near the door. It had a lot of dead branches but green leaves peeked from the center.
“You need to jump.” Bumpers grabbed Flea under the arms and threw her toward the bush.
She hit a branch, her little arms struggling to hold her weight but she managed to pull herself onto the stick.
“That’s a long jump,” said the little hatchling.
Glick had been thinking the same thing but was glad he had kept quiet when Bumpers frowned.
“It’s our only chance.” Bumpers launched himself off the pant leg.
“You first,” said Glick’s smaller companion.
“No. You need to go first.” He wasn’t going to fail again. Bumpers made Flea go first because she was smaller and weaker just like this guy. “I’ll help you.” He tugged on the little Brush-Man’s arms.
“I’m scared.” The hatchling legs shook so hard he almost knocked Glick down to the Guard’s shoe.
“Come on.” Bumpers stood on a branch, partway concealed by the leaves. “I’ll catch you.”
“They both made it. We can too, but we have to go now.” Glick’s eyes kept darting to the door. Topper was almost there. If the Guard left the enclosure with them still clinging to his leg, they were dead. He wanted to jump now but he had to help the little hatchling first.
“O-okay,” said his small companion.
Glick didn’t need to hear it again. He shoved the other Brush-Man toward the bush. He should wait and see if the little guy made it, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He jumped, aiming for the bush.
The hatchling landed first and Bumpers dropped to a lower branch, grabbing the guy. Glick hit the bush, his hand wrapping around a twig but it snapped under his weight. He fell, hitting branch after branch, each one breaking away as if made from straw. The earth loomed toward him. It was going to do more than hurt when he hit. It’d poison him. He’d turn white and flake away. He grabbed at anything that would stop his descent. His hand caught a leaf. It was thin and slippery, but it held his weight. His deep breath of relief froze in his chest at a slight ripping sound.
“No!” He dropped, his hand still clutching the leaf. His arm jerked and he was flying upward again and then back down. His stomach flipped, ready to revolt. He couldn’t hold on much longer but he couldn’t jump in mid-flight. His fingers cramped and his arm ached, but the bouncing slowed and finally stopped. He hung suspended over broken branches and poisoned earth. He stared up at the piece of leaf in his hand—the only thing between him and death.
“Help me!” he yelled as he tried to scramble upward. His feet landed on a stick. He stretched toward a branch, ready to let go of the leaf and lunge when the stick he was standing on broke. Again he was falling, the leaf tearing until nothing but a thread kept him in the air. He was going to die. After all he’d been through, he was going to fall to the soil and rot away. He should’ve stayed in his egg. It would’ve been less painful.
“Hold on. I’m coming.” Bumpers moved from twig to twig, staying close to the center of the bush where the branches were thicker. He stretched out, distributing his weight, and made his way carefully out on a limb, its bark, brown and brittle. “Take my hand.”
Glick’s entire body shook. If he missed, or if that branch broke...He had to focus on something else. “Is the hatchling safe?” He reached toward Bumpers with his free hand.
“Yeah. He’s fine. He’s waiting with Flea.” There was a spark of pride in Bumpers’ eyes.
He’d done it. He’d saved their little friend and had made Bumpers proud. His hand wrapped around the other Brush-Man’s as he half-climbed and was half-pulled to the safety of the dying branch.
“Scoot back, fast.” Bumpers shoved him.
Glick scrambled backward as the branch creaked from their weight. He stopped, leaning against the trunk of the bush, Bumpers by his side.
“Th-thanks.” He’d been pretty sure his life has been over.
“No problem.” Bumpers stood. “We should get back to the others.”
He followed the other Brush-Man up the bush. They stayed toward the center until they came to a section filled with green leaves and healthy branches. They made their way across the live plant.
Flea jumped up from where she’d been sitting next to the little hatchling. “You both made it.” She hurried over to them, giving him a quick hug before wrapping her arms around Bumpers.
“Yeah, thanks to him.” He pointed at Bumpers as he sat next to the hatchling. “What’s your name? I’m Glick.”
“I already introduced myself.” Flea sat, pulling Bumpers down by her side. “And this is Bumpers.” She wrapped her hand in his.
“I’m Speckles. At least that’s what Rocky called me.”
“Rocky?” Glick asked.
“The large hatchling who saved him,” whispered Flea when Speckles didn’t answer.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Speckles nodded as he wiped at his eyes. “Why did they do that to us?”
“I don’t know.” Bumpers pulled Flea into his arms. “But I do know that they are our enemies. They killed hundreds of our kind for no reason. An entire generation of Brush-Men dead, except for us four.”
CHAPTER 3: Glick
Glick sat on a limb with the others, staring out over their world. It was bleak and decaying. A few bushes around the perimeter had spots of green but most were brown and breaking. The grasses were all rotten, leaving nothing but bare soil and the dead. Hatchlings littered the earth—some broken like Rocky but most drenched in poison—their bodies turning white and disintegrating.
The four of them were locked in an enclosure—a desolate mirror of the cage the other Brush-Men inhabited. Where their home was dead or dying, the other enclosure was green and vibrant. Bushes and grasses filled that cage—an abundance of life, both vegetation and the Brush-Men.
“I can’t believe we’re all that’s left.” Speckles’ voice was barely a whisper. “Rocky worked so hard helping us.”
Flea took his hand.
“Rocky was...He was the first to break out of his egg. He could’ve left. Gone to the top, but he didn’t.” Speckles blinked back tears. “He started grabbing those who were escaping and shoving them upward, telling them to run to the top. I was too weak. I couldn’t break the shell. It was too hard.”
“Yours was hard? Mine was almost disintegrated,” said Glick.
“Like a rock.” Speckles smiled sadly. “That’s why we named Rocky that. Even in his shell, we could tell he was strong, but he wasn’t strong enough.” Tears ran down his cheeks.
“How did you get out of the shell?” asked Flea.
“Rocky. He told me to cover my head and he punched his claw straight through it.” Speckles looked away from the others. “I tried to climb out but I was so tired. I would’ve died in there if it hadn’t been for him. Maybe, I should’ve.”
“Don’t say that,” said Flea.
“It’s true. If I’d died he might’ve lived.”
“He wouldn’t have wanted it tha
t way,” said Bumpers.
“You don’t know that,” said Speckles.
“I do.” Bumpers’ blue eyes fell on Flea.
Flea brought Speckles’ hand to her lips and kissed it. “Bumpers saved me just like Rocky saved you.” She looked at Bumpers, her eyes adoring. “I would’ve died down there too. He carried me most of the way.”
“Why?” The word slipped out and all eyes turned to Glick. “I mean, I’m glad you did but I don’t understand.” When he’d seen all the dead, all he’d thought about was fleeing.
“You didn’t try and save anyone?” Bumpers’ tone was disgusted.
Glick wanted to hide but there was nowhere to go. “I...no. They were all dead.” He didn’t want to think about this. “They had been for a long time.”
“All of them.” The look of horror on Flea’s face made Glick shiver.
“Yeah.”
“How long?” asked Bumper.
“I don’t know.” Glick closed his eyes, trying to remember a time before today when there was any sound. “A long time ago, there were noises all around me. The guy next to me was always complaining.” He opened his eyes as the memories continued to trickle into his conscience. “He’s the one who started calling me Glick.”
“Why Glick?” Flea smiled kindly. “It’s a nice name but I don’t understand.” She tipped her head at Bumpers. “I named him that because the big goof was always bumping into me.”
“My egg was too small,” said Bumpers.
She frowned but her eyes sparkled. “He named me Flea because he said I annoyed him.”
Bumpers grinned.
“A flea would be delicious.” Speckles licked his lips.
“The guy next to me said I made too much noise when I ate,” said Glick.
“And he called you Glick because of that?” Flea’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“Yeah.”
“You sure he didn’t say Click or Chomp or Chew?” asked Speckles.
“I don’t know. Maybe, but I heard Glick.”
“Glick doesn’t make sense.” Speckles frowned. “You must’ve heard wrong.”
“I guess. All I know is what I heard.”
“Thought you heard,” corrected Speckles.
“Sure.” This was getting annoying.
“Did you talk to any others?” asked Bumpers, changing the subject.
“No. Not that I remember.” It’d been quiet for so long. “There’d been noises early on but I didn’t talk to anyone. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t get yelled at.”
“I understand that.” Flea shot Bumpers a dirty look.
“I only yelled when you sang or snored,” said Bumpers.
“I don’t snore. You do.” She swatted his arm.
Bumpers laughed. “I know but you sing and not very well.”
“I like my singing.” She elbowed him.
“So, do I.” He entwined his fingers with hers.
Glick wished he had something like the two of them had. Maybe, he would’ve if everyone hadn’t died. “I don’t think we were big enough to sing or snore before everyone...before I woke one day to silence.”
“I’m so sorry.” Flea leaned forward and hugged him. “That must’ve been so scary.”
He hugged her back but didn’t speak. He hadn’t known enough to be scared. He’d just fed on the egg membrane and slept, assuming things would be fine when he woke.
“We should get some rest,” said Bumpers.
“I’m hungry,” said Flea.
“Me too.” Bumpers pulled her to his chest. “Sleep. We’ll look for food later.” His eyes met Glick’s over her head.
There was no food here. Glick yanked a leaf from the bush and sniffed it. It was unappealing. He needed to feed on flesh not plants. They all did and there was nothing in this cage but the four of them.
CHAPTER 4: Glick
When Glick woke, Bumpers was standing at the edge of their camp, his face pinched with worry. He walked over to his friend, his stomach growling. “There has to be something we can eat.” He studied the bushes, but there were no bugs and not even any fruit or flowers to attract them.
“We’ll find something,” said Bumpers.
Glick’s eyes lingered on the carcasses of the hatchlings. Some of them hadn’t disintegrated yet. “I’m going to look around.”
“I’ll go with you.” Bumpers stared at him, his eyes darting back to the bodies.
“We should all go.” Flea stood and stretched, her face opening on a wide yawn.
Speckles sat up, his eyes still dim with sleep.
“No. You two stay here,” said Bumpers.
“I...I don’t want you to leave,” said Flea.
Bumpers walked over to her and kissed the top of her head. “You’re safe. There’s no one here but us.”
“You sure?”
Bumpers nodded.
“Okay, but don’t be long.” She settled down next to Speckles, taking his hand.
“We’ll be right back.” Bumpers pushed through the branches.
Glick followed, not saying a word. They both knew where they were headed.
Bumpers stopped on the last branch before the dirt, looking down at the soil. It was dark and damp and reeked of the poison Topper and Stink had sprayed.
“I don’t think we should touch it.” Glick shifted his feet. They still had white spots on them.
“I don’t know that we have a choice.” Bumpers looked up at him. “They have to eat. They’re both so small.”
“But we’ll die if we touch that soil.”
“I know.” Bumpers sat on the branch. “Even if we run, it’s a long way there and back.”
“I’ve...I’ve seen what it does. Up close.” He leaned against the trunk of the bush. “In my clutch, they didn’t all die in their eggs. Some had broken through the shell but had...I don’t know...gotten stuck or been too tired to move. They’d died, near the egg or hanging out of it. Their bodies turning white and flaking away.” He pulled a leaf off the bush. It was green and alive, opposite of his clutch-mates.
“That’s it.” Bumpers grabbed the leaf from him. “Get as many as you can.” He hung upside down on the branch and placed the leaf on the ground.
“Brilliant.” Glick grabbed more leaves, handing them to his friend one at a time, until Bumpers couldn’t reach any farther.
“Give them to me.” Bumpers dropped to the ground, careful to land on the leaf.
He handed over the pile before hopping from the bush. The leaf was cool and smooth under his feet.
Bumpers gave half of the stack back to Glick and then began placing the leaves on the ground, one after the other, building a sidewalk of green across the dead earth.
When his pile was gone he turned and took the rest from Glick. “Go get more.”
Glick raced back to the bush and climbed upward until he could grab some leaves. He gathered as many as he could hold before hurrying back across the enclosure.
“Load me up.” Bumpers held out his arms. “Keep your eyes open for...food.”
Neither of them wanted to admit what they were going to do. They worked in silence as they made their way across the barren ground. The dead were everywhere. Some were partially emerged from the soil, others had made it out only to be sprayed by the Guards. All were useless to them, their remains nothing but white ash.
“Do you see anything?” Bumpers asked as he placed another leaf. “We should be close.”
“No. At least none that aren’t all white.”
“What about...” Bumpers glanced toward where they’d left Flea and Speckles.
“I think they were to the right of us.” Glick followed Bumpers, refusing to think about what they were going to do. What they had to do.
Bumpers stopped, inhaling sharply. The bodies of the others—the ones who’d survived the earth only to be stomped to death—were laid out in front of them flat and in pieces, yellow blood staining the dark soil. He put the pile of leaves down and glanced at Glick. �
�We have to.”
“I know.” He bent and picked up the leg of the one Speckles had called Rocky.
“Not him.” Bumpers grabbed Glick’s arm.
“Why?”
“He died trying to save them.”
“Right now, he’s only partially white, but the longer he stays on the soil, the more he’ll decay.” This Brush-Man had been a hero and now he was food. “We don’t have a choice.” He pulled free from Bumpers and picked up the leg, flinging it over his shoulder before heading toward their camp.
He stopped at the base of the bush, Bumpers was right behind him.
“We should wrap whatever we aren’t going to eat now in leaves and wedge it in the branches.” Glick snapped a leaf from the bush.
“Good idea.” Bumpers wound several leaves around the two arms he carried before hooking it onto a limb. “We need to get as much as we can before it goes white.”
“I know.” He covered the leg in leaves and stuffed it near the arms before following Bumpers back into the graveyard.
The air was thick with rot, making it difficult to breath. They worked quickly to save as much meat as they could because on each trip, more and more of the bodies were white. By the time they were done, they were both exhausted but they had a small stash of flesh.
“Let’s go back to the others.” Glick rested against the trunk of the bush, his breath coming in gasps from the thick air.
“I think we should pick up the leaves.” Bumpers stared over the landscape.
“What? Why?” He was too tired. “We may need to go out again.”
“Then we rebuild.” Bumpers pointed at the door where the Guards had exited the enclosure.
Glick’s eyes widened. Worried about food, he hadn’t bothered to look outside of their cage. They were surrounded by another room with computers and furniture.
“If any of them see our leaves they’ll know some of us survived.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He wanted to eat and sleep but it wasn’t safe to leave any sign that they were there.
He followed Bumpers to the end of their trail. They gathered the leaves as they walked back and placed them around the base of the plant.