Healer shrugged. “Well, you said we need to destroy it. Here goes.” He took a run at the fleshy horror. His hooves met no resistance as they sank into the slimy red membrane, driving in up to his chest without eliciting any sort of reaction whatsoever. He kicked his way out and stood back to assess the damage he had done. There was no indication he had attacked it at all.
Dreamer could not help but smile. “I don’t think that will do any good, Healer. I misspoke. We don’t need to destroy it. It’s a mental wound. We need to treat it.”
“Oh. Well, you could have said so.” Healer rolled his eyes and took another step toward the scar. This time, he gave it a dose of his special ability. To his surprise, as soon as his healing energy went to work on the blob, it shrank back as if scalded.
“There!” Dreamer cried out. “You’re doing it!”
Healer guided the scar to disperse, causing the red blob to sag down like a deflating beach ball. As it melted down and fell apart, the memory began to move forward once more, with Whisper and the attacking dogs reappearing. This time, they saw what happened.
“Alright,” Dreamer said with a smile. “Now we can see the traumatic event. Thank you, Healer. I’ll take her through it from here.”
Healer smirked. “Oh, sure. Boot me out.”
Chapter 24
“Uh, hey, Swifter. This is Healer. It’s eight-thirty on Monday morning. I’m guessing you’re just running late. If you can’t make it today, please give me a call so I can reschedule your patients. Thanks.”
Healer fidgeted for a few minutes at his desk after hanging up the phone. He’d chosen not to mention in his voicemail that Gobb had not shown up again today either. As he stared at his empty gym, the uneasiness he’d been dealing with for weeks began working itself into full-blown anxiety. Swifter was never late; he’d been as enthusiastic about this venture as Healer from the get-go.
I just need some coffee.
Healer wandered out to the main gym and filled a mug at his coffee machine. He took a slow sip, letting the aroma energize him and calm his nerves.
A loud rapping on the back door startled him into splashing the scalding liquid onto his foreleg. He spun around in anger, suspecting Swifter of trying to prank him.
It wasn’t the athlete. It was Mrs. Flaxer, looking tiny and vulnerable standing on the ground outside the door, her chest heaving with panic as she pecked at the glass with all of her meager strength.
Healer yanked the sliding door open. “What’s going on?”
She jumped back, taking a second to catch her breath. “University… a muh-muh…”
He swept her inside with his hoof and slammed the door. “What’s happening at the school?”
“A muh… a muh…”
Healer dropped his rear to the floor so he could grab her with both front hooves and raise her to his eye level. “Mrs. Flaxer, I need you to stop and collect your thoughts.”
She finally made eye contact and took a deep breath. “University has been raided again… by a monster. Early this morning, before any classes. The red dogs came… wouldn’t let anyone leave the dorms. Professor Caper started to go out to investigate, but the creature had reached my office by then. It wouldn’t let him leave, but it told me to go. It said very specifically, ‘Bring the Healer.’ It told me to come straight here, no stops, no phone calls.” Her voice faltered. Her darting black eyes grew cold and still, as if staring at something Healer couldn’t see. “It had long claws and was very thin,” she said with deliberate enunciation, “and it stood on two legs like that thug, Scurvert. But something looked really off about it.”
Healer turned to head to his office, motioning for her to follow. She fluttered up onto his back. “We’re going to need backup,” Healer thought aloud. “Boxer would be able to get there pretty quickly. I guess there’s no way you were able to tell him what was going on?”
“No. When I went outside, there were some of those ospreys flying around. I was afraid to do anything other than follow the instructions I was given. So I didn’t make any stops or calls. I came straight here.”
“You were right to do so.” Healer pulled open a drawer, produced an appointment book, and dropped it on the desk. “Mrs. Flaxer, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Of course.”
“I’m heading to University.”
“It’s a trap.”
“I know. Stay here and and call Boxer’s gym. Keep trying until you reach him. After that, I need you to cancel all my appointments for the day. Tell them I’ll call back and reschedule. Then, call your family too and let them know you’re safe. Lock this place down and stay holed up in here until I get back. I don’t want you getting caught up in whatever the pigs have planned for me.”
Chapter 25
Once a finely crafted structure that served as both welcoming portal and protective barrier, the wrought-iron gate to the courtyard now lay in a twisted heap in the grass. Some overwhelming force had ripped it off its hinges. The sight put Healer on high alert.
As he passed into the courtyard, he glanced left and right at the males’ and females’ dormitories. Each had half a dozen cloned hounds standing outside its front door. His hoofbeats on the cobblestone path echoed in the otherwise silent courtyard.
He felt the eyes of the dogs on him, but none of them made a move in his direction. He pretended not to notice, choosing to look up at the terrified sheep staring through the second-floor windows.
One face to his left caught his eye. He would know that snowy white fleece anywhere. Swifter was barred in with the rest. The athletic sheep hung his head, his face furrowed with shame and fear.
Healer sighed, wishing he could tell his friend that timid compliance was his best move in this situation. But there was nothing he could do about it right now.
A pane slid up to his right. His head snapped in that direction, as did those of the dogs below. A young ewe leaned out through a bunch of brightly colored flowers.
“They took my roommate!” she screamed. “Dreamer!”
Healer bristled. But before he could say anything, the dogs let out a hideous collective snarl that scared the girl into withdrawing into the room and slamming the window shut.
He couldn’t see her anymore, but he could still see the flowers in the window.
They’re Dreamer’s.
But that wasn’t why the flowers drew his attention. The girl had retreated out of sight, but he still very much felt that someone was watching him from that window.
Forcing himself to look away, he refocused on the lecture hall ahead. The deserted building was a hollow shell of its normal self, a dark edifice reaching up from the mist still hanging onto this cold morning. Once his home, it now conveyed to Healer the same silent threat as the Megatropolis skyline behind it.
He was alone as he walked through the halls and made his way to the second floor. All the lights were off and every classroom door was closed. These familiar halls, usually so warm and lively, now resembled a morgue.
Pushing through his mounting dread, he found the door to the dean’s office. Before entering, he paused to steel himself. Be prepared. Whatever you see in there, you’re not going to like it.
Mrs. Flaxer’s front office was a wreck. The desk and chairs were in pieces, dashed against the walls. Chunks of sheetrock had been knocked loose, coating everything with white powder. The filing cabinets and wall portraits were strewn across the floor. All that was left on the white walls were claw marks and spatters of blood.
Caper lay facedown in the middle of the room.
Chapter 26
Healer rolled the owl onto his side with the utmost care. Caper’s half-open eyes pointed in different directions, his slack beak crusted with blood. Healer cradled the ruffled old head in his forelegs. Even as he began checking for signs of life, his first thought was that the old man was dead.
But as soon as his airway was cleared, Caper drew a reedy, weak breath, making his chest shudder. Healer’s heart surged with
relief. He took a firmer hold on Caper’s head and went to work. The green light cast over his eyes as he scanned for injuries and undid them.
Broken ribs and toes. Concussion. Internal bruising.
With the mending of his chest, Caper took a stronger breath. He blinked a few times and, with effort, focused his eyes on Healer. The downy cheeks lifted in a faint smile. “Thank the Goddess herself,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Healer said. “What happened here?”
With some help, Caper pushed himself to a sitting position. He shook his head and took a look around the ruined front office. “Some horrible pig creature forced its way in here. It looked like a failed clone of some kind.”
“Mrs. Flaxer said it stood on two legs like Scurvert.”
“Yes. But it seemed to be a poor attempt to combine metal with flesh. It had electrodes and trailing wires and mechanical parts. Its back was twisted and its limbs barely worked. But it was exceedingly strong. It did this. It was in a rage.” Caper paused. “Where is Mrs. Flaxer?”
“Back at my clinic. What about Dreamer? Is she alright?”
Caper’s face darkened. “The monster came here with two of the cloned dogs. It sent them to bring her here. Then it destroyed this office and attacked me. After the two dogs showed up with Dreamer, that’s when it sent Mrs. Flaxer for… you. Healer, it was fixated on you. I couldn’t understand all of its ranting and raving, but I gathered that some disaster has befallen the Megatropolis. Someone holds you responsible, and they sent this beast to draw you out.”
“Well, I’m here. If it wants a fight, that’s fine with me. What did they do with Dreamer?”
“They took her and left.” Caper thought it over. “Did Mrs. Flaxer say anything else?”
“No. She said it told her to bring me here.”
“So they are most likely still on University grounds somewhere. We must be careful.”
“I asked her to call Boxer. I’m hoping he’ll show up with a large group of pissed-off old dogs who haven’t forgotten what we did for them.”
Caper nodded. “Are you going to wait until he arrives?”
“No. There’s no telling what that thing could be doing to Dreamer. I’m going to go have a look around.”
“I’ll go with you,” Caper said, getting to his feet.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
The owl smirked. “Why wouldn’t I be? Unless your powers are diminishing with age?”
Healer couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright. Let’s get going.” He led the way out into the hall. A sweep of the building revealed nothing. The pair of them met up again in front of the owl’s office.
“There’s only one place in here left to check,” Caper said with an edge of fear in his voice.
Nodding, Healer set off to the isolated end of the second-floor hall. When he opened the door that would lead them down to the hidden tunnel, he staggered back in horror.
It looked like someone had hurled a bucket of blood down the stairwell.
Chapter 27
Seconds passed as Healer struggled to process what he was seeing. The glimmering red stains on the walls and steps taunted him, evidence of wounds he had not been around to fix.
“Dreamer,” Healer snarled. “They’ve hurt her…”
Shock fell away, replaced by pure rage. Healer screamed, a bellowing bleat that echoed both ways down the hall. His hooves put a hole in the wall.
Caper seized a fistful of wool by Healer’s shoulder. “Control yourself!” he shouted. “Rushing in there will do us no good! Have you learned nothing after all this time?”
“What does it take?” Healer roared. “How many of us have to bleed before they’ll be satisfied?”
Years of anger came to the surface. Anger he had pushed down and suppressed in order to function in society. Every abuse committed by the Megatropolis, toward himself and others, arose unbidden to the forefront of his mind. His blood felt like roiling steam, threatening to burst from his arteries in its mounting pressure. Overwhelming pain pierced his temples, as though someone were pounding white-hot railroad spikes into his brain. His vision clouded over, filling with grey smoke. Caper shook him and yelled, but Healer could not hear it. He was too far gone. Caper’s face, like everything else in the room, faded into the fog, and then he was alone with the pain in his head.
Healer looked in all directions, trembling. Nothing but this otherworldly smoke. The hall, the blood, Caper, even the floor seemed to have vanished.
“Caper?” he rasped. His muscles were still knotted with the adrenaline rush, his heart still pounding against his breastbone. Even his ears could not stay still. “Anyone?”
“I’m here, Son.”
Healer spun around on his unsteady legs and nearly fell. He knew that voice, and he knew the shape of the dark silhouette approaching him. It was not Caper.
He tried to speak, but his breath failed him. He made another attempt. “Dad.”
The grey mist parted in front of him to reveal the stooped but powerful figure of the Old-Timer, the Trampler. “Hello, my son. So you’ve cast off the name of Snapper, which I gave you to hide what you really are. It’s good to see you… Healer.”
The younger sheep stammered, still quivering from his fit of wrath. His eyes watered. “Dad… how is this happening? You were murdered… right in front of me. I’ve missed you.”
“A power greater than either of us has decided to grant us a minute,” Old-Timer said. His stern dark eyes looked up at Healer from beneath his grizzled brow. “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. I only have enough time to say what I’ve come here to tell you.”
As usual, Healer’s defiance failed him when faced with his father. He gave an obedient nod and quieted himself.
“Men like us,” Old-Timer said, “were born with a choice. For hundreds of years, male sheep were faced with the decision whether to become warriors to protect our people from the appetites of dogs and the machinations of birds. Every generation up through mine had the opportunity to make that decision. After the Canine-Avian War, this choice was taken from all sheep. They all suppressed their fighting instincts in order to survive in the new world ushered in by pigs. Eventually, the only ones left of this old way were myself and Shiver. At my death, he became the last. When he dies, men like us will become extinct.”
Healer opened his mouth to ask a question, but caught himself.
“Shiver and I fought on opposite sides of the Canine-Avian War,” Old-Timer continued, “he for the dogs and I for the birds. There were many more on both sides. That illustrates an important point. We had different ways of going about it, but all of us who made the choice to be warriors did so for one reason, and one reason only—we had the best interests of sheep in mind. We disagreed about what those best interests were, but we all single-mindedly pursued that goal at the expense of all else, including our lives.”
Old-Timer paused, and his expression turned to sorrow. “When I found you, I made a conscious effort to deny you that choice. I told you that the way of the fighter had no place in this modern world. I did not believe it myself, but this was the mindset that the pig regime had forced upon us all. I thought it was the only way you could survive. I lied to you.” He stepped closer. “Healer, I was wrong. I have watched you. I have watched everything that has happened since my death. It is clear to me that the warrior is needed now more than ever. The world needs fighting men like me—like you—to protect our people and put them first when no one else will.”
He reached out a hoof and thumped Healer’s chest. “That rage inside you, that anger that I foolishly told you to bury deep or let go, it is a tool. Sheep like us are born with it, and we can never discard it. Today, you feel it in its full glory for the first time. That burning feeling inside of you is what I lived with every day. It is what drove me to fight in the War and it is what fueled me to charge at my murderer to distract him from you. Now it will spur you on to do whatever
has to be done.”
Healer shook his head, causing him to nearly lose his balance. “I don’t understand. You spent so long telling me one thing and now it’s the opposite. What do you want me to do?”
“You must make a decision, my son.”
“I put everything into building up what I have now. If I fight, I lose it all. I’ve already lost Dreamer. Why is this being forced on me now, of all times? Haven’t I done everything right?”
“No one is forcing anything on you, Son. That is my point. She is still alive, for now. You still have a choice to make. Don’t fight—lose her now—and hold onto the life you’ve built for a while longer. Or fight now, and lose what you’ve built, for the chance to save her and all sheep. Your choice. Yours. You will live with consequences either way.”
Healer could only nod. The combination of the pain in his head and the words of his father overwhelmed him. Tears began to run down his face.
Old-Timer began to recede back into the fog. “Go, Healer. Fight for her. Fight for all sheep. Take that will to fight, my will to fight, and use it for the benefit of our people. Stop fighting against that rage and embrace it. Adopted or not, Healer, you are my son through and through… you are just like me. In every conceivable way. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“I understand now,” Healer barely managed to say before sinking to the ground. Going against everything he’d been conditioned to do, he relaxed. He let go, letting the pain in his head take him. A ripping sensation started at his forehead, spreading to his neck, shoulders, and legs. He tried to raise himself for one last look at his vanishing father.
Old-Timer smiled as his face faded from Healer’s sight. “Look at you now. My son, the Healer. My son, the warrior.”
Chapter 28
Despite her circumstances, Dreamer couldn’t help but flash a cruel smile. She sat with her back against the stone wall of the underground tunnel. At each side of her stood a growling red hound, teeth near her face.
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