Animalistic

by Nunn, Alexis

  We all exchanged looks before anyone spoke.

  “Alright so?” Feliks asked.

  Fadiyah laughed, “Who wants to ask questions?”

  “Not me,” I admitted, “At least not at first. I hate going first.”

  Fadiyah held her now-fake smile in place, realizing she had to go first. She unclasped her hands and let her expression die, “Fine. Uh, Lee? What are your dreams like?”

  My dreams? What were my dreams like? I contemplated over the basics: surreal, based off real things, sad. Then I got it.

  “I dream in black and white,” I answered, proud of that strange little quirk. Mother always reassured me it was not as strange as it felt.

  Fadiyah brushed back her raven hair under her headscarf, interested. Feliks snorted. He had forgot about that. It was not something important, so it was easy to forget, especially when it didn’t directly affect them. Nod, smile, and tilt head.

  “Wow, really?” She showed her teeth in her response smile.

  I scratched the side of my arm, “Yeah, really. Okay, you. Uh, what’s your… full name?” Nice. Really bad question.

  “Fadiyah Hafsa Schocke?”

  “Oh?”

  “It used to be longer, but Robert could legally choose my name. He gave me my mother’s first name as the middle name. It’s a little weird… I don’t remember my old name. My name has always had Fadiyah in it. However… I don’t believe it was at the beginning. My mother called me by something else, maybe a nickname. I guess I’ve lost it. I feel bad about it, you know, heritage and stuff. It’s a little weirder that he changed it.”

  This made me start to feel bad.

  She instantly perked up, “But so what’s your names?”

  “My name is Darylene Olyver Stern. I don’t have any fancy story behind it beside I think my parents were on drugs. I’m pretty sure none of those are names,” I chuckled at myself.

  Feliks barked, then took his turn, “Feliks Kristoph Dalton Stern. Our mother was of German-Polish descent and our father was Swedish. They came to America in the eighties. I guess we got best of, like, four nationalities in our names. Except her, her’s is gibberish.”

  “American. A lot of modern American names are gibberish," I pointed out. In unison, we laughed.

  FOURTEEN

  Someone decided it’d be funny to wait until my brother had left the house in the morning to creep in and drape a tanned coyote hide on my couch. He had dyed the fur to make it match my Feliks. It was a cruel joke that positively was all on him. Naturally, upon seeing the hide, I was terrified. I had legitimately believed my brother had been skinned and hung out to dry on top of the furniture. Once I took deep breaths and collected myself, using the strong power of denial, I discovered the pelt was nothing more than a common coyote. It was much too wiry to be Feliks, and the legs were too long. My brother had stubby legs, as if his shortness followed him into the animal world.

  I grabbed the coat of fur and, in a fit, I tossed it outside, right into the blazing fire. Splinters of burning wood jumped up when I did that, nearly catching a misfortunate Fadiyah. She was stoking the wood, but paused to gawk at me as if I had caught on fire myself!

  We were stuck in a mutual stare before I broke it and went back inside. The culprit had to be Robert. Her father was a, no offense, dick.

  She didn't even ask, probably the best she didn't. I would've yelled at her. Not that it was her fault, I can't control my hot-headed anger. When confronted, my defenses go wild. I will be quiet, then scream. Unless I'm dead set on something, that's how it always is. I'm so horrible sometimes. Not a bitchy horrible, I'm just predictable. Horrible might be an exaggeration but that wasn't important.

  I turned back around to my doorway and slammed my wooden door shut. Right now I wanted to burn down the world. I had to go settle until I could come back out.

  At that point, Feliks walked out of the kitchen - entering from the back door - and passed through the hall that led to his bedroom. To clarify, Feliks used to stay in the dingy storage room which was a safety room from Robert, but now he resided in the other bedroom. He got the old people room even though he did not need a bedroom, I thought. The whole sleeping but not sleeping thing still confused me. The storage room no longer was his bedroom. My bedroom sometimes was both of ours, which I did not necessarily object to. What was mine was his. Besides, being near him calmed me. Sometimes it warmed that tremor of lingering cold in my skin. I smiled at him, great at façades.

  He waved his tail and tilted his head when he looked at me. His eyes pinched and he opened his mouth with a pull of his cheeks as his smile. Those ears of his were relaxed, waving when he moved his head. Pausing to yawn, he bowed down and stretched his front legs. His tail whisked up then swung low as he brought himself back up. Feliks wagged his tail and pranced up to me.

  "Heyya, Darylene? What's you been up to? What'd you throw in the fire?" He asked innocently with an upbeat tone, "I caught the end when you went back inside, but I smelled burning fur. And skin?"

  Guilty as charged, I told him it had been a hide that I had cast into our fire to be destroyed. That surprised him, considering my typical displeasure at desecrating remains. That rule especially applied to animals. I couldn't describe the look of shock in his face, mostly because it was a perplexed shock. My mind was racked on how to explain this to him, so with cold abruptness, I cut him off to change our topic. I was curious about what he was up to earlier so I decided to ask him about that.

  "How was your morning?" I deceptively simpered, sure I worked it in my favor.

  He broke from his expression, "Huh? No wait why did you burn that skin?"

  Cutting him off before he asked again, I interrupted, "But I asked..."

  "Eh, no-"

  "Who asked first?" I remarked, childish in every way. On top of that I was desperate not to tell him what had happened. I didn't want to plague him.

  As if he could get any angrier, "Whatever," he left a heavy shiver run through him, carrying the anger away, "My morning was fine. I took a quick patrol then returned back here. Nothing too unusual except this clang I heard out it the bushes. It was off to the north of the large rock we swing by on lookouts. It's usually the path me and you take. Well I went up the slope and knocked a few rocks loose. When they tumbled down, they bounced off and when they hit the ground, I heard metal clamp together. Naturally, spooked, I ran back here. I was too scared. It must have been an old animal trap I never saw before."

  It clicked. I never doubted it but I saw his plan now, "Where was it exactly?"

  "Right next to the edge of the path. If you were with me, I would have been on the side, since I walk to your right. I would've stumbled right into it lost a leg!"

  Bingo, I knew it! "So, I would have felt guilty that you walked into the trap. Your injury would attract werebies, and I and you would be attacked. If not, I would be blamed and ran off."

  "Have you... Thought about this?" My quick citation set off a suspicious flag in his mind. In a way, I did have that answer thought out. Fadiyah started the idea and then I factored it out.

  "Yeah, maybe. Don't worry. Robert was just being suspicious and I figured he'd try something."

  "This constant trying to kill me is turning into a clichéd sitcom," He snorted with a roll of his tail. I watched him head to our couch and jump up on it, missing the entire cushion by a paw's width and tumbled over.

  With that short entertainment, I mumbled to myself, "How has that man survived this long... Especially with me."

  His head shot up alert, quickly looking around. I noticed what he was trying to see, so I turned away before I fell in his line of sight. Thinking I hadn't seen his hilarious blunder, he hopped back up on the couch and found a comfortable place. Resting in the worn-in seats, it was easy to get lost in the comfort. Content, he tucked his legs under himself and pulled the throw blanket over his lower half.

  The clock pointed both hands on the bold eleven. It wasn't even noon yet, and I was already fed u
p with today.

  Soon, it would be noon. Robert would do his daily pass by of our house, knock on the door, and order me to work more. After our patrols, the noon knock shifted from waking me up to making sure we were alive and present. Robert did not care about either of those, but since his daughter and granddaughter did, he had to play along. This guaranteed a visit each day. I'd make sure at that time I'd have a pleasant talk with the man.

  There wasn't much to do while I waited. For an hour, I reclined in a puffy chair, thinking about random things. During that time, Feliks suddenly decided to get up and go back outside, leaving me alone to watch the clock tick. My general time consumer question was over how our default house bills were getting paid. It was revealed to me Robert's expenses were paid by his rich elderly aunt, Beverly. She sounded nice since she was so willing to pay for everything, even this house. Was it a package deal? I would bet money she was like a sugar cube to a lime in comparison to her nephew.

  Too bad we had no vehicle to go into the closest town. We would have to eventually once our food was low. That's imminent. We'd have to go at some point in the next month, unless Beverly or her son bring us over things. Fadiyah informed me that Beverly had a grandson my age, so maybe he'd venture into our town to help.

  They said his name was Lewis. I listened to the stories about them to curb my boredom. He would be interesting to meet. He played for his high school band. French horn and mellophone. I was hooked once they mentioned my favorite instrument (well I love the waterphone the most, but who even has one of those?).

  Without any falter, the clock kept up its duty. The ticks bounced off the walls, echoing almost violently into the silence. Calming, serenading. It was the beat of time that hushed over the room, pulling everything into itself. After enough time, after all there was to focus on was the thin, black hand travelling across the wide face, my heart marched in time with it. My heart always was loud in my chest, always able to be felt or heard during whatever I did. Now was different, I wasn’t falling asleep but I felt like it. I was temporarily at peace, actual peace, not just happy peace. A hushed gust rushed over my face, and I lost that experience.

  The door opening had pulled me out of my dreaming-state. 12:04 the clock read when closely examined. I spent so much time in what felt like ten minutes. The hour I was awaiting slipped past me.

  Fittingly, I turned to see just the man I was waiting for. Robert strode into the house, kicking the door shut behind him, completely set to make himself welcome and not to be welcomed. Robert’s newest action only intensified my previous statements on his personality.

  “It is noon, got it? Okay? Where’s your mutt brother? I have to keep tabs on him too.”

  “Have you tried a bear trap?” I uttered without a sliver of emotion. I let it roll off my tongue as I stared back to the center of the clock face. I could guess his countenance shifted since I could hear him take a heavy step back, “I know you left those traps out there to catch Feliks. He found one today. And I’ll tell you this. You have two options.”

  He came closer to me, listening. I could tell he wasn’t too scared of my threats.

  “Choice one, you remove all the traps you set out.”

  “Hell, I never said I even put them out! You can’t order me around.”

  I scoffed at him, continuing, “Second choice… I spill human and werebie blood on the campfire. The scent will spread like a plague. Then a hoard of them will come after you and your innocent family. I don’t like the idea of hurting my friends, but if I lose Feliks… I wouldn’t have morals. I never had much objections to the harm of myself,” I got up at this point, carefully glancing over my shoulder to him. I exaggerated my movements to make more of a scene. The middle-aged man crossed his arms, squinting at me. I squinted back at him to mimic, making him a sharp contrasted blur to the white wall. I probably should look into getting reading glasses, or something like that.

  “Therefore,” I smirked to myself after rummaging for my signature blade. I pulled it out of the drawer, holding it up to Robert’s line of sight, “it’d be awfully easy to draw a line across my palms and toss the blood in the flames. I already burned animal remains, thanks by the way for that.”

  He cursed angrily. His cheeks rose, his off-white teeth clenched tight, “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

  “I wouldn’t?” I scoffed once again, looking down at my left hand. The knife rose up, the tip of the blade aimed at my skin. We locked eyes, me with an unsettling calm grin. He looked much too doubtful for my liking. He underestimated me, so without hesitation I jabbed the blade into my skin. I only shifted with instinctual surprise and made a soft harrumph in my throat. The blade didn’t pierce deep enough to cause a problem; the blade, alas and thankfully, never was sharp enough for practical use. I didn’t exert enough force to do damage, but I watched the bubble of blood well up and start to waver side to side. I quickly brought the wound up to my lips, licking the blood away, all while keeping eye contact with him.

  He slowly hunched together, drawing close together. He bit his lips then gave an uneasy cough, “I need to go back to my family. I’ll consider your suggestions.”

  Like a bat out of hell, he rushed away, slamming shut the door.

  Later that day, the trap by our path disappeared. Feliks swore it had been there, but then blamed it possibly on a reflection or imagination. I knew which choice Robert picked. Sometimes you have to nonchalantly stab your arm to get a point across.

  A tapping sound travelled through the air as I walked down the cleared lane between the houses. I passed the six houses, three on each side, and strode into the store.

  I grabbed a few bottles of water and headed back to my house. The day was nearing late evening and soon the sun would disappear behind the tree tops and let us fall into night. Robert was unseen for the rest of the day after my pleasant chitchat with him. Fadiyah and Lilya stayed inside for today as well. The last I had seen of the fifteen year old was when she was stoking the fire, which I almost ruined and nearly caught her on fire. I did ruin it in a way. It stunk now. Feliks returned to our house from wherever the hell he goes off to. I went inside the living room, softly closing the door behind me and throwing my black jacket on the coat rack, missing as usual, and watching it tumble to the ground limply. I sighed, picking it up and redoing it.

  This new jacket was thicker than the others I had found, and was stiff from not being worn often. Xavier stuffed it to the back of his closet, clearly not liking it, and left it there for me to find. Personally, the black jacket was a refreshing twist in my wardrobe. One top of the plain dark sweatshirts, plaid and flannel long sleeves, and a mix of loose, baggy t-shirts or tight fitting tank-tops, a comfortable slim black coat was nice. I loved the other clothes, definitely, but in the absence of the possibility of shopping, finding new stuff ruled! The jackets were a strange mix-match of styles, ranging from normal hoodies to vests to corduroy. All the pants were the same, except for pair of neon orange jeans and bizarrely mint green boot cuts, all were dark blues or blacks. The oddball jeans fit perfectly, so when it warmed up more, I knew what I was wearing.

  I pulled down the sleeves of my shirt and sat on the couch. Maybe if I could find a book, I could spend time reading instead of thinking. Thinking was important, but sometimes it was nicer to have a world made for your relaxation. Back at home, once upon a time in Indiana, Feliks and I used to read all the time. I’d read a book on the way to school, listening to one of his CDs play through the stereos as he drove. Those days were great, making me longingly desire for my old life. We were damn idiots leaving in the first place.

  That only made me desire a book more. So then after thinking over where books would be, I got up and went into Feliks’s room. The room used to belong to the parents of Xavier and it was impossible for there not to be a book.

  To the far end of the room, next to a pile of unwanted things Feliks dumped to get out of his way, stood a dark brown closet. I had to shove some things out of the way to get i
nside, but I managed to pry open the doors. I was greeted, logically, by clothes, but at the top there was a box. Covers of something poked out of the unclosed box, and I felt glad I found something on my first try. I casually reached up and plucked the box from its spot.

  Inside there were indeed books. The Great Gatsby, Grapes of Wrath, and a bunch more of classics were stuffed harshly into the box. I laid them all out, picking one to read. The one I finally chose had been Catcher in the Rye. I’d already read it, but reading once more would help pass the time.

  The threadbare cloth cover felt smooth under my thumbs. Holding a book was a strange thing. Inside your hand, you held a universe, a life, a story that unfolds before your eyes that you can relive at any point. I took myself off to my bedroom, flipping through the pages.

  Comfortably under the covers, I tucked my knees close to my chest. My face sank in the plush pillow and I opened the book. It upheld the expectation to smell like an old book: mildew and dust. This book in particular was damp smelling, similar to a pond in early summer. The smell reminded me of the days Feliks, Grandpa, and I would tote ourselves down to the town fishing pond and spend summer evenings having fun and challenging each other to get the most fish. Feliks chose to read a book or play with the radio more often than actually join us. He tended to just be there, happily content with not having to join in to be part of the moment. I was always too scared to touch the squirming bait, too mortified to even try. Grandpa would always help bait my hook, but I always felt like I bothered him. When he was busy, I’d run towards my brother, muddy converse stomping through the mushy grass and standing beside our van, baggy khaki shorts wet - I tended to fall in the water a lot - and my long ponytail whipping against my neck. Before Feliks, I’d stand there and hold out the cup of larvae, then hand him my pole. He’d glance over with a smile of crooked teeth, and bait it for me. He was happy to do it. After, I’d run back over to Grandpa, who would be pushing his windshield 50’s glasses back up. We were happy then.