Before We Die Alone

by Ike Hamill

  “Let’s go,” I say. “Let’s see what you can torture out of me.”

  This bluff is only going to work if I really believe it. If I have any fear, the bear will sense it. It’s a funny realization—I actually do believe it. I’m perfectly willing to die right here. Forget all the drama and chaos coming. For me, the end can be bright and vivid, and short. No more anticipation.

  I believe he senses it, but as his giant lips part and his snout comes to within an inch of my nose, I’m pretty sure he’s going to call my bluff. His breath is warm and humid. It smells of blood.

  When he finally speaks, his voice is just a low buzz. “If the planet were worth saving, the vote would have gone the other way.”

  I tilt my chin up a little. It might appear to be an act of defiance, but I’m really just trying to get my nose away from that tickling breath. “I understand,” I say.

  “Do you? Do you understand how bad it’s going to get?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “The first escapees have already fled to the future. That fate is sealed,” he says.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I understand that it’s wise to show no hesitation in a negotiation of this sort.

  “I don’t care.”

  “There will be no money,” he says. He cuts his eyes to the side and then sits down. I finally have enough room to breathe. “But the rock will be diverted. Now where is he?”

  “Prove it.”

  “What?” he asks, coming back to full alertness.

  “How do I know that the asteroid will be diverted?”

  He shifts his weight back and turns his paws towards the sky.

  “If you can’t prove it, then how do I know I can trust you?” I ask.

  “This isn’t a theory,” he says. “There’s nothing to prove. The evidence is the trajectory.”

  “Yes, perhaps, but I don’t have a way to verify that.”

  He snorts out a frustrated bark.

  The bear raises a paw to my face. I flinch. To my credit, I only flinch a tiny amount compared to the size of his paw.

  Something terrible and amazing happens.

  ---- * ----

  Sometimes when I close my eyes at night, and attempt to drift off to sleep, I imagine the voices of people from my past. They say nonsense words and phrases. Tiny tidbits of conversation that I half-remember float through my brain. Often, it’s not the voice itself that reminds me of the person, it’s the idea of them in my head.

  Divorced from shape, color, sound, or smell, my brain holds the concept of my father and my mother. Even my brother has taken residence in there.

  This inherent knowing, that’s the form of the wisdom that the bear imparts to me.

  ---- * ----

  I am a single atom. No, that’s not true. I am what Dalton conceived of when he thought of an atom. I’m an indivisible unit of energy, vibrating itself until it has one of the components of mass. Combined with my myself, I become a proton, a neutron, and an electron. Together with myself, I become hydrogen, helium, and lithium. My state is excited, and when it jumps back to its lower state, I become a photon, moving at the speed of knowledge.

  I’m everywhere in my own frame of reference.

  The universe is infinite. I am the universe. I am infinite.

  This is the transitive property of psychedelic, bear-induced hysteria.

  Just for clarity—the word “hysteria” comes from the belief that irrational, volatile behavior only existed in women, because it stemmed from their lady parts. It was sometimes treated by a doctor manually inducing an orgasm in the patient. It all starts from this. The universe is a giant ejaculation.

  I am that messy load.

  Once I graduate from photon to a clump of cells, the first thing that comes into focus is the top of my head. I see myself, standing before the towering bear. He might as well be a furry god next to me. He has the power to create and destroy.

  We’re standing on top of a building, under the night sky.

  The atmosphere of the planet is a tiny skin of gas clinging to a swirling ball of rocks and water. Our satellites are nothing but dust and debris.

  I am the whole world. I’m every electric light and atomic weapon. I am the food that goes to waste and the starving people who harvest it. I’m a complex machine that absorbs sunlight and produces nothing but the occasional fragment of matter.

  I’m starting to master this bear’s-eye-view of the world. I can pull back until the dizziness of altitude subsides and Earth is so small that it loses its meaning.

  I see the moon.

  Then, with an amazing spark of recognition, I see it. The agent of our destruction is there, crossing the unknowable expanse at breakneck speed.

  This doesn’t help me at all. I still don’t have any idea if the asteroid is going to hit the earth or not. The bear’s vision hasn’t proven or disproven a thing.

  “Don’t just see now,” he whispers. The bear is nothing but this whisper. His actual form is unimaginably small from my current vantage point, but I hear his whisper just the same.

  My own voice booms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “See always,” he says.

  The first thing that appears to me is the connective tissue of all this matter. The moon is tethered with golden ropes to the earth. Everything is held by a golden leash from the sun. And the asteroid, its movement is dictated by its own bonds. I can see the path that brought it here. It’s like a string pulled tight between a set of moving nails.

  “See always,” the bear says again.

  I realize that the future course of all these objects is the same as the past. All I have to do is allow myself to see it. This is how Earth will spin. This is how the moon will pull at the asteroid. This is the course it will take. Only a couple of small objects will intersect with the atmosphere. The rest of the asteroid will pass close, but not hit.

  A question occurs to me—how do I know that this is true? How do I know that the bear somehow magically changed the course of the asteroid, so it would avoid the planet? The answer is simple.

  The answer is me.

  I am the asteroid. I’m Earth, the moon, the sun, and every other atom out here.

  As soon as the feeling is undeniable, I feel myself streaking back to the tiny cluster of living, breathing, cells that I inhabit.

  ---- * ----

  “Where is he?” the bear asks.

  I need a second to get myself back together. I’m afraid that the trip out into the depths of space was nearly too much for my brain, and it feels like if I even blink, the world will collapse around me.

  “Let’s go,” he says. He bats my shoulder with his paw, nearly knocking me over.

  “Yeah,” I manage. My whole body tingles as I start walking. It’s gets easier as I go.

  I lead the bear between the tables and down the section of sticky hall. He walks on all fours. I hold the door open to the stairs. His descent is a barely-controlled fall. Watching his shoulders move under his fur, I wonder if I could ride him. I wonder if I could straddle his back and grab ahold of his fur. I’m tired, and he looks almost comfy.

  He glances back over his shoulder, as if he has heard my thoughts. He’s waiting for me to open the door.

  I slide by his bulk and push it open.

  “How many people did you kill?” I ask.

  His answer is just a grunt, but I take it to mean, “Huh?”

  “Never mind.”

  I’m not wearing a shirt. I left it up on top of the building with my jacket. It’s just bothering me now as we’re out on the street.

  “Which way?” he asks.

  I point towards the corner.

  He takes the lead. Out here, the bear walks with a strange swagger that I haven’t seen before. I follow him diagonally across the street.

  “Where?”

  I point.

  He has his nose pointed towards the sky as he walks. As we get closer to my apartment, I start to sense that he do
esn’t really need me to say where to turn anymore. He’s using his nose. It seems odd that he needed me at all. He was so close to the black bear all this time.

  I decide to test my theory as we grow close to my door.

  “Where?”

  “How do I know you won’t back out on the deal?” I ask.

  He turns around to face me.

  “How do I know that you won’t change the course of the asteroid again? And how did you change it so easily? I thought that as the thing grew closer, it got harder to alter the course.”

  He points with his paw. “I know you live there. I smell you all over that door. And I can smell him too. That means you’ve aided a felon. If you were a more evolved creature, you would stand trial for your crimes. Since you’re just a human, you can’t really be held accountable, but I’ll punish you anyway. Get inside.”

  There’s something in his eyes that forces me to obey. The planet will be spared by the asteroid. I would like to live to make sure.

  I lead the way inside and press myself against the wall. He just barely fits through the door, and rubs both walls of the hall to the stairs. As soon as he moves past me, I realize that I could just run. There’s no way this bear could turn around in time to stop me. I’m curious though. I want to know what happens when he catches up to that other bear. I want to know what the bear has done to make himself so valuable. As far as I know, the promise of capturing the black bear has just secured the safety of the whole planet. His crimes must be epic.

  I’m almost afraid to climb the stairs after the bear. The creaking and crunching of the treads speaks of structural damage incurred from his weight. The trim on the doorway pops as he moves down the hall towards my bedroom. I hear the black bear snoring down there. He’s oblivious to the judgement coming his way.

  I hang back a little near the doorway to the TV room. I wonder if Adam is listening to this.

  “Stand up,” the brown bear bellows. “And face your accuser!”

  I can’t see him—the brown bear is filling the hall—but I hear the black bear snort and cough his way back to consciousness.

  The black bear lets out a frustrated moan. It doesn’t sound like the anguish of a hardened criminal, trapped once more after nearly escaping. It sounds like a teenager who has just been told that it’s his turn to take out the garbage.

  “I’m serious,” the brown bear says. “Stand up.”

  “Fine,” the black bear says.

  He mumbles something that I can’t hear.

  Despite the narrow doorway, the brown bear streaks forward. There’s something odd that happens when the brown bear moves very quickly. Even in the dark, his fur flashes. I think I’ve seen it happen with bears on TV, too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that there’s something magical about this bear’s fur. I mean, it’s strange enough that this bear seems to be some kind of bear police officer. And, of course, he’s a talking bear, which already makes him magical. Still, the flashing was unexpected and beautiful in a way.

  All I can see of the fight is the back of the brown bear. My little apartment is filled with growls and roars and the sound of walls being slashed and furniture splintered.

  I take a step back.

  This would be a great time to run, or hide, or run and hide.

  The brown bear spins and faces me. He moves so quick that I don’t even have a sense of how he pulled off the turn.

  “I find you guilty of harboring this fugitive,” he says.

  “I’m the one who told you where he was,” I say.

  “Snitch!” the black bear yells from behind the massive brown bear.

  “You tried to use him as a bargaining chip to get what you wanted,” the brown bear says. He takes a step forward. He’s actually hunched over a little in the hall. If anything this makes him look bigger.

  “Before that,” I say, “didn’t I willingly take you to the spot I had last seen him? I didn’t have to seek you out either time, but I did. That should count for something.”

  The black bear yells again. “I fucking hate a snitch.”

  “I’ll let you go, on one condition,” the brown bear says. He’s advancing towards me, and I’m trying to back out of the way.

  “Anything,” I say.

  “You’re to never assist this bear again. Provide him no aid in the future, and I’ll consider this matter closed.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “Sounds like a bargain.”

  “Now move,” he says.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * Ambush *

  I DON’T HAVE ANY choice. He’s towering in front of me and backing me towards the stairs. Unless I want to try to crawl under his legs—and I don’t—I’ll have to go right out onto the street before they can get by. No big deal—it will give me a chance to lock up behind them. I’m already looking forward to getting my apartment back to myself so I can get my life back in order.

  I swing the door open all the way and step to the edge of the sidewalk.

  I look up and down the street. I’m not sure why, but I would prefer if none of my neighbors knew I had an apartment full of bears.

  The brown bear pops through the doorway and turns. The black bear is on his hind legs. His front paws seem to be stuck together. He waddles out join us on the sidewalk.

  The black bear turns to me. “I can’t believe you turned me in. You’re despicable.” He doesn’t use the lisp, but he’s clearly delivering the line of a cartoon duck.

  I tilt my head, not sure if he’s serious. I fold my arms across my lacerated chest.

  What will happen to this bear? What was the terrible crime he committed? I would ask, but I don’t want to do anything that will delay their exodus from my life. I want to go back inside and turn on the TV to find out if the world has discovered that it will survive. I want to watch order return to society. I want to wash my sheets to get the bear off of them. I want to clean myself up again and then put on a shirt.

  I see the brown bear look to the right and I look too. It’s a homeless guy coming from between two cars. At least I assume he’s a homeless guy. He has long stringy hair to match his beard and his naked torso is pretty dirty. I’m already breathing through my mouth as I anticipate his smell.

  “What is this?” the brown bear asks.

  What is what? We both look to the black bear. If it’s even possible on an ursine mouth, the black bear is smiling.

  The homeless guy comes around the trunk of the car. He’s not just naked from the waist up, he’s fully naked. He’s holding a short spear. I back up and stumble down the curb into the street. When I catch my balance, I see more of them coming from the other direction. They’re just as dirty, just as naked, and they’re all holding spears.

  There’s a flash of light as the black bear pulls his paws apart. He bolts and dodges between two of the naked guys. The first spears come within jabbing distance of the brown bear and he strikes out with a lightning-fast paw, smacking one away. It clatters to my feet. I take another step back. A rough hand grabs my elbow from behind and I nearly scream.

  The brown bear roars as he swats again. One of the naked men cries out a startled yell.

  Another hand grabs me by the other arm and I’m pulled backwards. I’m trying to turn to see who is pulling on me as I lose my balance. I fall backwards, supported by their weight. I see another naked guy run forward and grab my ankles. He has black hair that hangs over his face, but it doesn’t completely hide his dark, glittering eyes.

  “Let me go,” I say, as I thrash. They pick up speed. Their bare feet are slapping on the pavement as they run. I’m bouncing in their grip—it’s a painful, jostling experience. The sound of their feet goes silent and a moment later we’re crashing through leaves. I’ve lost track of where we are, but we’re going down a hill and then their feet are slapping again.

  “Hey!” I yell. “Hey! You’re killing me here. I’m injured, you know?”

  My statement seems to have no affect on them.

  “Put m
e down, would you?” I ask, flopping around in their embrace. “I have to pee.”

  Mercifully, they slow down. I’m lowered to the ground and I kick my legs from their grasp. The cement is murder on my bare skin, so I push myself up to a seated position. Chuffing like a freight train, a giant shape runs up out of the dark. He comes to a stop at my feet. It’s the black bear.

  “Christ,” I say.

  He grunts something to one of the naked men and they start to run with him.

  I let out a relieved breath and try to get my bearings. They’ve left me next to a dumpster, behind some building. There’s a small parking lot on the other side of a metal guardrail, so we must have gone down towards the park a bit. I’m not sure how far they’ve carried me, but they probably did me a favor. Hopefully, the damn brown bear will be gone from my apartment building by the time I walk home. I won’t stay there long. I’ll just pick up a couple of things and then find a way to get out of town. This city is getting more and more strange every second.

  I’m only up on my feet when the nightmare continues.

  A giant man appears from around the brick corner of the building. I put my hands up and start to back away. I roll my eyes when he comes out into the light and I see that he’s naked, too. He looks different from the other guys though. Instead of long, dirty hair, his hair has been chopped off. I wouldn’t say cut—that word is way too refined for what was done to his hair.

  “Can you run?” he asks.