He got up slowly, nearly tripping on a human head that lay facedown in the grass. He nodded his thanks to Seth.
They sprinted across the yard and poked their heads over the fence. Trash cans and the remnants of a falling-down old garage clogged the small alley perpendicular to the front of the diner. They picked their way through the junk, avoiding the nails, and stopped at the street.
The diner’s light shone brightly in the cloudy afternoon. It was the only electrical light in sight.
“That’s a mistake,” Andy muttered aloud. “The shades should be lowered and the lights off.”
For a brief moment, the diner looked untouched, the windows clear, and then the sun came out from behind a cloud and broken glass shimmered from the sidewalk. The windows were gone. There was no sign of movement inside. Andy’s heart sank. When he’d left, people had been flooding into the diner, because of the electricity. It was the town meeting place.
But the lights also made it a target.
Beside him, Seth was filming. Andy stepped out into the road, heard the camera whirring behind him, and realized he was going to be featured on a show that was broadcast nationwide. If we survive. Too late, he realized that he was on too much of the footage to ask them not to continue filming. There was no way he wasn’t going to be recognized. When this was over, he was going to have to get the hell out of here—preferably to a place without a wild pig population, though he wondered if there was such a place.
He felt a momentary pang of regret. He’d begun to enjoy life in the small town, though he’d hated it when he first arrived. But he’d always known there was a good chance he’d have to start over more than once. The people who were after him didn’t give up so easily.
He laughed. I have to survive the Aporkcalypse first.
Glass crunched under his boots, and he almost lost his footing as they slid along the concrete. A small tool lay on top of the glass, and he picked it up and stared at it. It was a glass punch, like the one he had in the glove compartment of his jeep in case he ever found himself trapped underwater.
Who brought this along? And why?
He could imagine it clearly, a Tusker standing upright before the windows, wielding the tool in its hooves. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t. It struck him with the force of truth. The Aporkcalypse had returned, and this time the Tuskers were prepared.
He made his way through the door, Kathy beside him, Seth hanging back just a little. Glass still hung from the edges, and he gingerly stepped through, his coat snagging on a sharp piece as it split cloth but not skin. Then he was inside.
Between his feet was a severed human hand, still grasping a bloody knife.
It was a slaughterhouse. Pieces of human flesh were strewn all over the floor, and blood splattered the stools and the sides of booths. Broken plates and silverware were scattered beneath and on top of the bodies.
None of the corpses were whole. Andy was thankful that he couldn’t make out their features, for the Tuskers had eaten the soft, exposed tissue first. Nevertheless, he could tell who most of them were. He’d been serving meals to these people for years. Slumped over the counter was the soft pink-coated torso of a woman, wearing a sweater the same color Mrs. Halligan, a retired schoolteacher, wore every day. In the last booth was a body missing a head, clad in the dark, heavy suit that Carl Peters wore for his morning routine of reading the newspaper and drinking six cups of coffee. Andy glanced at the stool nearest the door, and there were the remains of a petite woman, torn down the middle. It was where young Carrie Murphy usually sat, studying for her SATs.
There were no bodies of Tuskers.
A loud caw made him jump a foot, crying out in a harsh bellow. A raven was perched on the cash register. It had a shiny quarter in its beak. It looked at him with seeming disdain, and then launched itself out of one of the broken windows.
Andy almost shot it, then decided the sound of a gunshot would only reveal their presence faster than the bird could because unless he was wrong about what was going on with these animals, it was only a matter of time before the raven tattled on them and the Tuskers returned to finish the job.
Kathy and Seth were waiting to come in. He looked for the extra key to the front door in the register, but it was missing. He grabbed a cardboard menu from the stack near the register and knocked the rest of the glass out of the doorframe. Kathy and Seth entered and stopped in shock. Kathy gasped, and Seth turned around, retching.
“I’m sorry,” Kathy said. She went to Andy and took his hand. “But we can’t stay here.”
Andy didn’t answer. He went into the back room. The door was off its hinges. If anything, there was more carnage there than out front. The survivors had managed to hold out for a short time before the door was broken down.
The fuse box was behind one of the cabinets. Andy tried to move the bulky fixture out of the way, but the bodies on the floor prevented it. “Come here and help, dammit!” he shouted to Seth. He reached down, took hold of a lifeless arm, and pulled a body away.
Seth hesitated, then handed the camera to Kathy. Seth reached out almost blindly, unwilling to look, grabbed an arm, and pulled. They quickly cleared the area in front of the cabinet, then leveraged it away from the wall. Andy reached in and flipped all the switches down.
The back room went dark. The whirring noise that had always been there, unnoticed in the background, suddenly slowed with a whining sound and then stopped. At the back of the room was a walk-in freezer. Small doors on the outside allowed the diner’s staff to grab beer, wine, and perishables. There was a door to the inside as well, a thick, flat piece of iron with a round latch that simply required pressing with a hip to get inside.
Andy pressed against the latch, and the door popped open. He pushed the heavy door inward, wondering what he’d find.
There was a single body on the floor, covered in frost. Sherry was curled up, her hands clutched under her chin. Andy quickly straddled the waitress, bent down, and pressed his fingers to her neck. He felt a faint pulse.
“Grab her legs,” he ordered Seth.
They carried her out. There was no place to lay her down that wasn’t covered in glass or blood except the long lunch counter at the front of the diner. For once, Kathy actually set down the camera. She ran her forearm across the counter, sweeping everything off of it.
The girl began moaning and shaking violently. Kathy went to the faucet and tried the hot water tap. By some miracle, the water was still warm. She hurried into the back and found a shelf of towels. She grabbed a stack, took them to the faucet, ran them under the warm water, and handed them to Seth and Andy, who draped the towels over the girl.
With a cry, Sherry opened her eyes. She reached up and grabbed Andy, nearly pulling him off his feet. She tried to say something.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Andy said.
She shook her head. “I knew you’d come back,” she gasped.
Andy got up onto the counter and hugged her, hoping his warmth would help.
“Just don’t report me for sexual harassment,” he whispered in her ear.
Gratifyingly, she smiled. Her shivering, instead of nearly shaking them off the counter, gradually subsided.
“You’re going to be fine,” Andy said. Sherry started sobbing.
Andy saw Kathy Comfort looking at him with a gentleness he’d never seen in her before.
The newswoman seemed to realize she’d been caught. The softness disappeared, replaced by the hard look she was best known for. “Could you turn the power on again? The battery in the camera is running down.”
He began to refuse her outright, then realized that the longer the foodstuffs were preserved, the better. People were going to need food before this was all over.
“For a short time,” he said. “But first, turn out all the lights.”
She nodded and gave him a quick, grateful smile.
They hurried around the building, switching everythin
g off. The diner was dark when they were done, for the clouds had become darker and darker as the afternoon approached twilight.
“We’ll hide here as long as we can,” Andy said. “The minute we see a Tusker, though, we’ll turn off the power. We’ll take refuge in the freezer.”
“Can we lock it from the inside?” Seth asked.
“It’s designed not to be locked at all. Too dangerous. But they’d have to be able to open the latch.”
He left the observation hanging in the air.
“We’ll block it somehow,” Andy said.
After that, Andy went around the front of the diner, draping towels over the dead bodies. Cleaning up, though he wasn’t sure why he was bothering. Finally, it was too much, and he grabbed a chair and just sat by the door, watching.
He stared out the window as if something was going to happen any moment.
Sure enough, within a few minutes, a black SUV tore through the middle of the street at highway speed. Enrique Flannigan, who had recently returned from Afghanistan, was driving. Andy caught a glimpse of Barry Hunter in the front seat. The backseat was packed with men in desert fatigues, rifles propped up in their laps.
They looked grim, with thousand-yard stares, as if they’d just returned from a battle.
They’re the cause of all this, Andy realized. Somehow. At the very least, they know what’s going on. They knew it was coming.
He remembered the offer to join them. At that moment, he decided he’d make his way out to the barn as soon as he could. He’d take Sherry, and Kathy, and Seth…and anyone else in town who wanted to come along.
If anyone was prepared for the second Aporkcalypse, it was the people at the Pederson ranch.
Chapter Fourteen
The Big Pulse
Napoleon lay quietly, with Marie breathing deeply by his side, trying not to disturb her.
Sometimes, when he saw his reflection in the shiny metal walls of The Machine, he was almost surprised—staring back was a huge, large-tusked wild pig. He spent so much of his time thinking about humans, thinking like a human, that he sometimes fooled himself that he was human.
Yet, at the same time, he loved Marie’s shape, the smell of her skin. Her scent was her own, and it intoxicated him. She was the best of them, for she felt empathy for all creatures, even humans.
Napoleon laid his snout on her belly. He could feel the little lives growing within. It was going to be a large litter, and he could sense the formless thoughts and sharp desires of ten tiny souls. They would be the best of Marie and him—hopefully with her brains and compassion and his cunning and determination.
He would teach them himself. They would not be fed the same hate and revenge that other Tuskers were fed. They would be taught to survive, but also to thrive—to live for something other than the coming battle with humans. With any luck, by the time they grew up, the war would be won.
He had his doubts, but now was not the time to express them.
A tiny hoof kicked against his snout, and he grunted in pleasure.
Marie stirred at his touch. “Do you feel them?” she asked.
“They seem to want out,” he said.
She grunted. “They’ll just have to wait.”
He could still barely believe Marie was his, that she was bearing his offspring. For a long time, could only admire her from afar as she went off every day to work on The Machine with Tesla. He didn’t even realize he’d made his interest apparent. Then, one night, she’d shown up at his door.
“Enough of this silliness,” she’d said. “I’m moving in.”
“I thought you and Tesla…” He fought the joy that was overcoming him, for he didn’t want it to be a mistake, a misunderstanding.
“Tesla cares only about The Machine,” she said. “He has no regard for what might happen when it is turned on, no empathy for those it might affect. I hear you ask questions in class, doubting the wisdom of it. I think you’re right to be doubtful.”
And so she’d stayed that night, and every night after.
Now he asked, “When is Tesla coming by?” Marie was working ceaselessly with Tesla to reboot The Machine. It had disrupted the attack on Pigstown, but for the Tuskers’ plans to succeed, they needed a Big Pulse that would disable the entire country, if not world.
“The Machine is finished,” she said contentedly. “I think it will work better than anyone expects.”
Marie believed that The Machine would keep the peace, that when humans realized what they were up against, they would sue for peace.
Napoleon wasn’t so sure. Is it my doubts that keep me out of the fight? Is Genghis punishing me?
The news about The Machine should have been good news, but it reminded him of his own inactivity. The battle plans for the upcoming conflict were his, and yet he wasn’t in command. After the initial battle, Genghis had ordered him to stay inside with the breeding females and the technicians, while all around him forces were set into motion that would decide the very fate of the Tusker race.
Another tiny hoof kicked against Marie’s belly. He couldn’t restrain another grunt of satisfaction. A sudden fear shot through him for their safety. Perhaps Genghis was right. Perhaps they would prevail over mankind—but Napoleon doubted it would be fast or easy. His children were going to be born in a very dangerous time.
The humans will be back. Pigstown has been discovered.
He scrambled to his feet and circled around the small room.
“What’s wrong?” Marie asked. “Why are you pacing?”
Again, doubts about the wisdom of a war with humans rose in his mind, and again he pushed them back. Genghis was too near. The Great One might be the only Tusker who could read Napoleon’s mind, but he was also the only one who counted. If Genghis sensed his lingering doubts, Napoleon might never be allowed near the battlefront. He didn’t want others fighting without him, especially when it was his strategy being implemented.
He tried to speak his thoughts out loud; at the same time, he tried not to broadcast them. An impossible trick.
“I still think we should wait,” he said. “The humans are too strong; they have thousands of years of experience at warfare.”
“They will not expect us,” Marie said. “When they realize what we have done, they will want peace. When their machines cease to work, they will be helpless.”
“Most of them,” Napoleon said. But not all, he thought. Humans don’t react rationally to threats. In this, we are alike.
“Come back to bed, Napoleon. There is nothing you can do at this moment.”
He returned to her side, and as he absorbed her deep, peaceful breathing, he fell back to sleep.
Genghis’s summons was like being struck in the head. He grunted in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Marie asked, stirring beside him.
“Something’s happened,” Napoleon answered, amazed that she hadn’t felt the summons. Napoleon’s mind flooded with the Great One’s powerful command. His presence was required immediately.
He tried to clear his mind of all questions and doubts. The time has come, he thought. Genghis needs me.
He gave Marie a last lingering glance. She gazed back at him encouragingly. He closed the door and hurried away.
#
“We have succeeded in driving away the human invaders,” Genghis announced. The two Tuskers were alone in the audience hall. Even The Great One’s bodyguards were absent. Genghis’s voice echoed in the empty space.
Napoleon nodded. “They’ll be back.”
“Our hiding place has been found,” Genghis agreed. “It is only a matter of time before they launch a bigger attack. Therefore, I’ve given orders to Tesla to launch the Big Pulse within a day. If it works as I hope, it will be the signal to all Tuskers.”
Napoleon felt his heart speed up, a surge of energy run through his body. While he regretted the coming battle and thought it was a mistake, he couldn’t help but get excited. Pi
gstown had been emptying out for months. Teams of Tuskers were sent to every corner of the country, ordered to breed and prepare. If The Machine worked, they were all to attack the humans at the same time, striking a crippling blow before mankind could recover. Once begun, it would be a fight to the finish.
“I will take command immediately,” Napoleon said, certain that now that the war was starting, Genghis would want him in charge.
“No, I have other plans for you.” Genghis said. “It will require you and Marie to leave Pigstown. Hannibal will give you further instructions.”
“Leave?” Napoleon couldn’t quite take in the word. “I don’t understand. Where will we go?”
Genghis frowned, annoyed that Napoleon was questioning him. “When The Machine is activated, I want an observer near a human city to report the results. You’re the only Tusker strong enough to send me a message mentally from that distance.”
It’s an excuse to get me out of Pigstown, Napoleon thought, and then immediately tried to cloak it.
“An excuse, perhaps,” Genghis said, easily reading his mind. “But it is also true. I need to know if The Machine works. The first Pulse was not strong enough. Tesla assures me that this time, it will have the desired effect, but I want to be absolutely certain.”
Napoleon began to object.
“You are too important to risk in the initial battles,” Genghis told him. “Stay with Marie. Take care of my grandchildren. Your time will come.”
Napoleon thought that was no answer at all. Genghis already had hundreds of ‘grandchildren,’ perhaps thousands. Tuskers were breeding as if their entire species depended on it. Which of course it did.
Again Genghis read his mind. “Your brood will be special, Napoleon,” he said. “Yours and Marie’s. When they grow up, mankind will be but a legend to scare their own children with. They will continue our legacy.”
Napoleon began to object again. “But I don’t see why…”
“This is an order,” Genghis rumbled. The dark depths of the Great One’s eyes roiled, hinting at the anger beneath. “You will do as I say. Hannibal is waiting to give you further instructions at the North Hill.”
The Omnivore Wars Page 10