Free Stories 2015

by Baen Books

  “And now scarecrow, for you a heart,” I joked.

  “Man, are you nuts? That was a lion out there!”

  “Two, actually, what of it?”

  “Look, I don’t care what you think of them, they’re still dangerous. Wait for the boys in blue next time.”

  “If we waited for Animan Control on every call we would never get anything done. Besides which they would just talk him into going to the ER. This way he’s only wasting our time, and less of it.”

  “Is it worth your life?”

  “What’s he going to do, steal my beer?” I laughed. “Oops, left it at home. King of the beasts? Overgrown niphead pussycats.”

  “Predators,” Nick reminded me.

  “Obsolete tourist attractions.”

  Nick shook his head at me. “They say they’re the smartest animals now since enhancement.”

  “Actually, we’re the smartest animals, Nick. Yes, they responded well to genetic drugs, so what? What do they do with it? Drink, sleep, fuck, and beat up their families. Wow, that’s an enhancement for you.”

  “They’re not all like that.”

  “Yeah, when’s the last time you were inspired by a lion? I mean really impressed, not in an after-school-special-he-overcame-his-challenges kind of inspired. When have you ever thought, ‘god, I wish I was a lion.’”

  “Okay never, but maybe if they were able to live like lions they would be different. Maybe if they could still hunt?” Nick shrugged. “I don’t know but maybe.”

  “They’d be too busy hunting the nip to—”

  “721.” Interrupted again.

  “21.”

  “Emergency response. Baboon Park. Leopard fight in progress.”

  “21 clear,” answered Nick. “Please have Animan Control en route.”

  “Leopards,” I crowed. “Now that’s a respectable animal; independent, reclusive, never calls 911.”

  “This one did,” Nick responded to my jibes.

  “Bet you lunch it’s a third party caller, non-leopard.”

  Nick just shifted into drive and we glided down the street. He didn’t take the conventional route back the way we came and across the plains, he was going straight ahead. The pavement dropped away and we drove towards a break in the trees. Flying the canals was dangerous, and if Nick were a rookie driver I wouldn’t have gone for it. The canals were quick but there was always the chance of hitting a hippo. Hippos remain a basic species, too stupid to dodge traffic, but strong enough to knock it over and totally intolerant of accidents.

  Despite my arguments, Nick’s point about the hunting was true. After enhancement lions faced all sorts of challenges. Many of the staples of their diet had also been enhanced, making them citizens and therefore off limits as prey. If that wasn’t enough, the lions were generally outnumbered by everyone. In a democracy that doesn’t work to your advantage. The buffalo in particular were merciless in their pursuit of legal sanctions. Some even called for reparations for millions of years of predation. The biggest blow though was a general restriction on hunting. It seems it wasn’t enough for the lions to avoid the intelligent Animan, they also had to avoid hunting the non-enhanced in any area where they might disturb herbivore Animan. Since the Lions were so outnumbered, hunting-free areas grew exponentially year after year until most lions subsisted off processed meat from the store or, more often, the state.

  Sure enough, I was right about the caller. A zebra mare with a pair of foals stood talking to the cops as we arrived. “This is the third night in a row for this nonsense,” I heard as we walked up. The cop looked at her patiently, notebook in hand. “My children can’t sleep like this, I tell you.”

  “So if it’s happened three nights in a row why did you call us today?” asked the AC officer.

  “I don’t get involved in leopard business as a rule. But this has to stop. Tonight they went on for a long time and I think this one over here is hurt bad.” She gestured with her head to the left.

  “Well, did you see anything, ma'am?”

  “No, those leopards are hard to see but they sure make a racket when they fight. Are you going to put a stop to this or not? I can’t sleep, my children can’t sleep, this ain’t no way for decent people to have to live. I think all of them, lions, leopards, the whole bunch ought to be locked up or moved away or something.”

  The cop sighed and turned towards the direction she had indicated. We followed him into some trees and looked around. “I’m up here,” came a voice over our heads. Looking up I saw a leopard that had obviously got the worse end of a serious social discussion. One eye was swollen shut and his shoulder was bleeding.

  “What’s going on, sir?” asked the officer. The leopard shrugged in answer.

  “You all right up there?” I asked.

  “Yeah, man,” he answered. “I’ll be okay.”

  That was enough for me and I turned to go. Nick was more persistent. “Well, come on down and let us check you out. It looks like you need stitches.”

  “I don’t believe in human medicine,” said the leopard. “I’ll be all right, thanks.”

  “We’re getting complaints from your neighbors,” said the cop. “What’s going on between you and this other leopard?”

  “Man, I’m just protecting my property. Where were you when that big bastard was stealing my stash?”

  “Your stash?” asked the cop.

  “Over there,” the leopard gestured at another tree.

  “Someone robbed you?”

  “Not someone,” the answers getting louder now, “that big leopard across the street stole it.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “Look at those claw marks on the trees. That didn’t come from no baboon. And there’s only one leopard I know with claws that big.”

  “Okay, so what’s missing?” asked the cop.

  “Mostly food. A little cash.”

  “Nip?” asked the cop looking intently.

  “Man, do I look like I do that shit?” answered the leopard disgustedly.

  “No. Leopards never do it, they just sell it.”

  “Man, fuck you. Do you want to investigate my robbery or do you want to bust my balls?”

  “Okay, but I’m going to need a look at your stash in order to file a report.”

  “Do what you got to do. I ain’t got nothing to hide.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” asked the cop, “you ever heard of a bank?”

  “Man, I’m a leopard; we keep things in trees, okay.”

  The AC officer called for a detective and a print team to check the claw marks. We walked over to the other leopard’s grove. This leopard pad was a different set up all together. Viewed from the outside it was a just another collection of trees. Inside, however, was primitive luxury. It brought to mind those safari camps of the well-to-do that were often pictured in the history books where the books reminded everyone of how horrible we had been to animals before enhancement. There were lights in the trees and three huts in a half circle with air conditioners running off a generator. A small campfire warming skewers of fresh meat completed the circle. On the other side of that fire was a leopard print couch. As we got closer I saw that the couch contained a leopard perfectly camouflaged against it. The leopard sat up and I saw that he was indeed a big leopard. Lying next to him was a young female leopard. “Take a walk, doll,” said the male, and the female slipped off the couch and went into a hut. “How can I help you gentlemen?” he asked.

  “Hey, is that real leopard?” I said pointing towards the couch. I got a sneer in response.

  “You get in a fight today?” asked the cop.

  “I was attacked and I defended myself.”

  “Do you know anything about his stash getting robbed?”

  “Wasn’t me, man, was a lion.”

  “Lion?”

  “Yeah, you know lions, always trouble.”

  “Lions don’t climb trees,” remarked the cop.

  “This one does. Enhancement m
an. He’s learned and adapted. Sneakiest lion I ever saw. He’s hit me twice already. Why do you think I got all the extra security?” The leopard nodded upwards. In the trees, manning the lights, several baboons stared down at us. They were invisible as we approached because they were behind the spotlight casings. In our new position I could just make out their outline and see the eyes, but I couldn’t tell if they were armed.

  “You hire baboons?” The officer shook his head. “Baboons working with leopards, what next?”

  “It’s a new world, man,” said the leopard. “I’m an equal opportunity employer.”

  “What do you do for a living exactly?” asked the cop.

  “Oh, security, repo, hunting. You know, leopard stuff.”

  “Leopard stuff, you mean sneaking around, robbing stashes, nip, that sort of stuff?”

  “That ain't what I said,” answered the leopard. “Look around, do I look like I need to rob stashes?”

  “Well, then can I take a look at your stash?”

  “You got a warrant? No? Then I guess not.”

  “All right then, I’ll let the detectives talk to you. You ever been arrested?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Good,” said the cop, “that will save us from having to take a claw print.”

  “You can take them if you want,” answered the leopard, “they won’t match. It was a lion, I’m telling you.”

  As we got back in the truck I said, “I think I’m in the mood for some good old fashioned un-enhanced chicken.”

  “I was thinking Chinese,” Nick responded.

  “It’s your dime.”

  #

  There is a critical time that all in the emergency veterinary service must face daily. That is the time between when you pay for your food and when you actually have it in hand. I’ve never discovered what property of the digestive system makes hunger intensify once cash leaves your hand, but our wait in the Chinese take out stand was filled with the usual apprehension and fear of interruption.

  “721.”

  “21,” Nick groaned into the radio.

  “721. Lion attack, Mbogo Homes. Animan Control on scene.”

  Mbogo Homes was a mystery to me. Why would anyone name a lion project after a word that means buffalo? Nothing made sense down here anyway so I had long since given up wondering. As we pulled into the project all we had to do was head for the flashing lights. There were AC patrol cars everywhere. We followed the general trail of boot prints and walked into an apartment. Inside a lioness was acting hysterical while two others tried to calm her down. “Ma'am!” said the cop standing in front of her obviously exasperated. “Can you just tell me how this started?”

  “It’s the same old reason as always,” she said. “He wants to kill the children so me and my sisters will have sex with him.”

  “So he’s the new pride leader?” asked the cop.

  “He ain’t my pride leader,” she answered. “I don’t need another man. I just want to raise my kids."

  Having lived through enough of these scenes I was bored already. “Hey, anybody hurt here?” There was a general shaking of heads and I turned to leave. One of the cops stopped me and said the perp needed some attention. We went over to the patrol cars and lying on the ground, all cuffed and smelling strongly of pepper spray, a male lion moaned his displeasure. “There is nothing I can do for you, bud,” I started. “That stuff just takes time to wear off.”

  “Man, you gotta help! It burns! I can’t breathe!”

  “You’re breathing fine or you wouldn’t be yelling at me,” I answered. I put my stethoscope in my ears and listened to his lungs just to make sure.

  When I was done Nick started asking him questions. Nick was always generating paperwork for me. “What’s your name?” Nick asked. The lion answered with a gargled mixture between a purr and a growl.

  “Not your new name.” I said, “The one on your license.”

  “Leo,” the lion answered.

  “Oh, your parents were original,” I half laughed.

  One of the cops handed Nick the lion’s ID, bringing a halt to the questioning for a while. He then turned to me and said, “He’s got a dart in his back.”

  Lion darts, or restraint darts as they have been politically renamed, were a wonderful invention. The dart had a wire that made it act as a big tazer knocking lions flat. The darts also injected a cocktail of Haldol and Versed to keep him down. They also had a barbed tip, which meant they had to be cut out. This wasn’t too difficult to accomplish in the field. The trick was getting a pepper sprayed lion to lie still while you did it. Despite the challenge, we were on our way shortly, after a quick slice of the scalpel and some minor suturing.

  “You got anything for the spray?’ asked the cop with the license. “He has to ride in the back of my car all the way downtown.”

  “Try Johnson’s baby shampoo. It’s the best neutralizer,” I answered.

  “You got any?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you guys carry that?”

  “Why don’t you?” I asked. That got a blank stare out of him. You can sum up the trouble with, and the need for, the public safety apparatus in four words: "That’s someone else’s job." In fact, you can sum up most of life's problems that way.

  Walking back to the truck I couldn’t help but express my sense of humor. “Why is it always Leo, or Aslan, or Mufasa? Does everyone have delusions of grandeur? Where’s Lambert, where’s Clarence, where is the cowardly lion, I ask you?” Nick ignored me and drove towards food.

  #

  We managed to eat this time, but at a different place since we were far from where we started. This meant Nick had to pay off the bet twice, once for the lost meal and once for the one we got. With food in his belly Nick becomes philosophical. “You ever read Aesop?” Nick asked as we were pulling away.

  “Once or twice, why?”

  “You ever hear the one about the lion who wanted to get married?”

  “Let’s see… The lion wants to marry a human girl and the father is afraid to say no, so instead he expresses fear for his daughter. So the lion removes his teeth and claws to appease him and they just laugh at him for it.”

  “That’s the one. Did you ever think about what that story's about?”

  “Well, I believe the official explanation is ‘love will tame the wildest.’”

  “Yeah, well, I got a different take on it,” Nick explained. “I think these lions today are all just like that lion.” I raised my eyebrows in interest. “They’ve given up their claws and teeth, figuratively speaking, and no one respects them. Nor do they know what to do with themselves anymore.”

  “Well, that’s interesting, Nick,” I responded, “but I have an alternate opinion.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “He who gives up his teeth and claws deserves all the pain and suffering he can get.”

  Nick let out a disgusted sigh at that. “You thought of that yourself did you?”

  “No, it’s actually from Ben Franklin.”

  “Ben Franklin said that?”

  “Well, it’s paraphrased,” I answered. “The actual quote is he who trades freedom for security deserves neither.”

  Nick was quiet for a while after that, but then he started up again, all psychological this time. Nick read a lot and couldn’t help but share his opinions about his partners. “You know, man, I don’t think you really hate lions.”

  This was true. My feelings about lions ranged from frustration to disgust, but I never really hated them. Yet I was intrigued by his statement, so I sat back and gave Nick my most inquisitive look. “Oh?”

  “No, I think you hate yourself.”

  I responded with a head tilt and thoughtful frown to egg him on further.

  “I think somewhere you’ve lost your teeth and claws and don’t know what to do with yourself. I think you’ve lost respect for your job and take it out on your patients. And it ain’t fair to them or me.”

&nbs
p; “Hmm,” I responded. “Now that you mention it, I think I hate my mother and father as well. I think I’ll retire now and go grow roses or something. Any other advice, Dr. Spock?”

  “Yeah, quit. Retire. Find something else to do before you drive me and yourself insane.”

  “Well, I tell you what Nick, you step up and trade those EVT numbers for medics and I’ll step down and leave it all to you.”

  “721!”

  “No rest for the wicked,” as I keyed up. “21.”

  “Lion Attack. Corner of Simian and Abbey. Multiple calls, possible multi patients.”

  Nick looked at me in alarm. “Hyena Town!” was our simultaneous exclamation.

  I have often wondered why God created lions. And I have often come to the conclusion that it must have been to kill hyenas. The legendary warfare between the two species had continued long beyond enhancement until one day the world had had enough. In a major “stop the violence” campaign, also known in less polite circles as the "get these damn hyenas off my lawn" campaign, an old solution was brought forth. The hyenas were given a reservation. The state provided the hyenas with a large tract of land complete with stocks of un-enhanced game, and security to keep out the lions. Of course the lions resented all of this, as they made up too small a voting block to have their own land grant, but they really hadn’t lost out. It took the hyenas a short decade to render their paradise into a slum. Wild hyenas were efficient eaters. They ate everything up to and including the bones. Being hyenas with a free meal ticket, however, they ate the choice and left the rest to rot. It got so bad that for a time the EVT’s kept losing personnel to Hyena Town hazmat, as there was so much need to clean up the carcass-ridden reservation they were paying top dollar to anyone willing to do it. Add to that a population boom, fueled by the combined forces of zero competition and zero murder by lion, and pretty soon the hyenas had traded their lush forests for a jungle of concrete and glass.

  Of course, every goodhearted lion still held genocide in mind for hyenas, as did all hyenas for lions, but the forces of authority had eliminated the natural solution to both problems. They say that the two species share such enmity because they are food competitors. Today it seems to me they compete over nothing but sleaze. As in all things, an individual hyena cannot compare in that category to a lion, but the problem was that you never dealt with an individual hyena. I have been to car accidents in Hyena Town that were apparently so catastrophic that they shook the earth with the force to give squads of sidewalk bystanders whiplash. I have delivered little hyena babies to the tune of laughing males crowding around for a free peep show. I have even beaten hyenas off of other hyenas that were comatose from drugs or seizures and unable to protect themselves from theft. Lions were lions, but Hyena Town just sucked.