They woke as the black night gave way to a dark gray day. No sun had risen to greet them. Although it was known to be off their left flank it could not be seen—not even in dim outline. They looked warmward, to the lands of many growing things, with a flesh hunger in their eyes. Despite their huddled warmth, the night wind had been cruel and the food of yesterday had largely been spent fending off the cold.
He stepped out ahead to scan the horizon with his keen eyes, even as the pack struggled to use their snouts under a soot-drenched sky. Far off to the west could be seen forest. Far off to the east could be seen a scatter of stunted trees indicating marshy land. In the distance, to the south, where warmth waited them, could be seen a tree-lined depression, indicating a river, such a river that he—as a Two-leg, would choose for a lairing site.
With all eyes on him he took off at a jog toward a dim spark off near the forested hills to the right, to the west. It might just have been another ember falling from the cruel sky. He thought that this ember had not fallen, but risen, and set his Two-leg sense for its location. With Feed! on his mind, the pack was infused with a demand for satiation, leading them on a course that must end in shredded ruin for whatever creature now lurked at the base of those distant trees.
Posie had remembered to brush his teeth as if Mom were there ready to scold him for not doing so. He was now off to explore the world of children. The Man in the Gray Suit and Mom had always been adamant that other children were either too fragile to play with or to bad to be worth his bother. Posie was a curious boy, lonely besides; and, more importantly, had an urge to know more about children other than what he read in books and saw on TV. He had seen the occasional child in the distance—the both of them looking at one another—until Mom or The Man in the Gray Suit would direct him away. Such times had always felt like missed opportunities. Posie wanted a friend!
Off he was to school, skipping, whistle-walking, and even hopscotching across fence tops he was so happy.
“Nah-nah, nah-nah, nah, off to school I go!”
Posie knew where the school was. Besides, with Mom having left in such a ‘not coming back’ way, and The Man in the Gray Suit visiting only twice a month, he would need some schooling, just like Leave it to Beaver. He was so excited that he just had to get there as fast as possible. He had even put on a shirt and tie, with a pen in his shirt pocket and a marble book in his hand. He looked like The Beaver—well, except for his being special and having no hair.
He ran along the fence tops so that the dogs could play at nipping his heals. But most of those stupid yard dogs just cowered and whimpered in their cozy places when he came running along their fence.
Eventually he made it to school. Big groups of kids were scattered all about the campus. They were bigger older kids, but still kids. Besides, he was special—big kids would be ideal playmates!
He saw where kids were crossing the street from the McDonalds, that mysterious place where he was not permitted to eat, that had the big plastic ball playpen in it. The Man in the Gray Suit had always said that when one infiltrates a facility that, if it must be done during daylight operations—and who went to school in the middle of the night anyhow—than he should imbed himself with a group who belonged in the facility.
He was kind of surprised how big the kids were close up. One had to be bold at such times. So, as this group of two boys and two girls—girls! He had never met a girl—stepped up on the sidewalk he introduced himself to the larger boy who was every bit as large as The Man in the Gray Suit.
“Hello, I am Posie. I would like to go to school with you. What are your names?”
The four of them gathered around Posie with the one he addressed—blonde-haired like The Man in the Gray Suit, but wearing a baseball cap impractically turned to the side—looking down at him and smirking like Eddie Haskell would when Mister Cleaver was not around, and speaking in a strange dialect, “What up lille G?”
“This is a test of your observatory skills, answer accordingly.”
“I’m up for school G. Are these girls, real girls?”
The assembled older kids laughed with a deep mirth. The other boy, smarter and smaller, spoke up, “Now that shit is fuckin’ funny Yo—seriously funny. Of course these bitches be our girls Junior G. And when you get to be a full-fledged gangsta’ like us, you can have a girl too.”
Posie liked the little red haired girl with the big blonde boy, smiled at her, and said, “I like you. You are beautiful, like a sweet little Mom. Could you be my Mom?”
The tall boy stepped closer and snarled, “Whad da fuck yo, is you a retard or sometin’?”
Posie stood his ground as he had been trained. The Man in the Gray Suit did this drill with him all the time. 64% of the time the taller aggressor would push the top of your head. But one did not let on that this has been predicted, and should continue with the conversation.
“I am not retarded, Yo. I am special!”
The tall blonde boy sneered at him, “A course you special yo—now step the fuck off.”
Just as the two girls were protesting at his action the tall boy moved his hand to Posie’s forehead and began to emulate 64% of tall bullies, which set him up perfectly for the Archie Moore slip-and-slide Mongoose punch. As hard as he had ever been able to dig his little fists into the punch, the stomach of The Man in the Gray Suit had always been as hard as the bottom of the punching bag. Even when the ‘meat-thwacking’ sound had come, the man simply rated the punch according to PSI [Pounds per Square Inch]. Posie was good for 200 PSI, and was assured by his Guidance Counselor in the gray suit that as a full grown man his punching power would increase ten-fold. Of all of the many times he had fantasized about a man’s belly folding round his fist in some adult Magnificent Seven battle, he had never thought it would feel this good, or that a belly could be so soft!
The girls squeaked and the tall boy groaned as he fell to his knees clutching his belly, rocking, and crying, unable to breathe. The skinny boy said, “Holy shit yo—fuckin’ retard strength from hell! We good G—weren’t messin’ wit yo or notin’ like dat—we cool, right?”
The boy was frightened, the one on his knees was hurt and terrified, and even the girls were frightened. He felt extremely sad all of a sudden.
“I just wanted to make friends, to go to school.” He then looked to the red haired girl and felt a tear well up in his eye as he continued, “My Mom ran away yesterday—and I can’t have friends!”
The smart boy said with a cruel bight, “A course yo moms ran away en nobody wan’s ya ‘cause you the fuckin’ devil child boy; fuckin’ Damien en whatnot droppin’ outta da sky!”
The boy and the black haired girl then helped up the hurt one, who was crying like a Mom who had run out of her happy pills, and started off down toward the school. He looked down and saw that his marble book was still in his left hand and that tears were dripping on it. The red haired girl kindly knelt down and looked into his face and lifted his chin.
“Thank you Posie, for telling me I’m beautiful. A girl likes to hear that. My name is Ellen. How about if I walk you over to the McDonalds and get you something to eat? My Aunt Jane works over there. She will look out for you until your family can be contacted.”
They hugged impetuously and he wiped his tears off on her sweater-covered mommy parts, before they held hands and she walked him across the street. His tears were all gone by the time they walked through the door and smelled the delicious burgers cooking. Ellen held his hand the entire time and paid for his food, and walked him over to the seating area near the big play pen. She eventually had to go to school, with the assurance that a nice lady would be on her way to help him. Aunt Jane had called the ‘Nice Lady Organization. Hopefully he would be getting another Mom—or best of all—getting his own sad Mom back. He did love her, and her leaving him like that left a big void in his belly, which he continued to try and fill with burger after tasty burger. But somehow, he remained empty.
They tore across the broken plain toward the forest and the spark that was still there, even as the smoldering cinders fell from heaven in increasing quantity. Then they smelled it, the smell of Two-legs burning meat for their greedy weak-jawed dull-toothed mouths.
He felt ashamed—a shame attached forever to his Two-leg kind.
As they leaped over a fallen tree and surged around two boulders they saw the Two-legs, two of them, and he snarled with fury—a snarl answered by six ravenous throats. The men barely had time to rise and grab weapons. The smaller human grabbed a fire log and began to lay about. He shoved the pack leader toward him and all six members of the pack descended on that unlucky man in a ravenous surging of hackle-haired bodies and flashing fangs.
The larger man, about Pozer’s size, hefted a heavy thrusting spear. Pozer unshouldered the bear hide and draped it over his left arm as a shield and charged in, catching the first thrust up in the loose hide and plunging his lightening-scorched splinter into the man’s neck just above the collarbone—and the gurgling of men and the snarling of wolves accompanied the music of tearing flesh and cracking bone under the pitiless gray sky.
