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Card 16: The Tower

Gunnar emerged from the bathroom still wet from his shower. A towel was casually placed around his hips, and drops of water pitter-pattered down to the floor. A beefy, wide-bodied Pit Bull with light brown fur (except for a star-shaped patch of white on his chest), Gunnar went into the kitchen. More drops of water dripped down.

“Beer?” he called out. His deep, rumbling voice echoed out.

“Yes, please,” I replied, raising the volume so he’d hear me.

I was in the room with the pool, sitting with my feet in the water.

“Guess we’re going, huh?” he asked, pressing a cold beer into my hand.

“Guess so.”

“Well, shit, might as well. We’re almost out of beer.”

“Almost out of food, too,” I pointed out.

By way of reply, Gunnar grunted. He removed the towel from his waist, and he began drying his fur. Drops of water flew everywhere.

“There are a lot of apartments, and a whole lot of stores, in this area, and it looks like we’ve already gone through most of the food,” I continued. Telling him things he already knew. “Not just us, of course. All the folks who live around here.”

Gunnar grunted again, and drank some beer. Fur nearly dry, he went to his bed, which was near the pool. He had set up a chair, a laundry hamper, and a dresser. Clothes were heaped in random piles on all of those things, and - apparently - there was a system. Gunnar knew which clothes were dirty, which were clean. From somewhere, from one of the piles, he pulled out a pair of underwear and his favorite pair of shorts.

Then, he went to the pool. He did not get dressed right away. He stood, for a moment, drinking his beer and holding his clothes, looking at the water.

“It’s weird that I’m so reluctant to go,” he said. He glanced at me, then turned his eyes back to the shimmering water. “I used to be - I dunno how to put it - down for anything. I guess that’s a good way to say it? Any kind of party, any kind of adventure, whatever, I was down to try it. Didn’t matter if it was risky. In high school, if someone said - hey, let’s go trespassing in that empty building, or hey let’s throw a loud party at four in the morning even though we know the neighbors will call the cops, I was always down for stuff like that. So it’s weird I’m reluctant to go. And that’s not the only thing I’m thinking about.”

He paused, while he set both his beer and his shorts on the damp floor.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Gunnar put on his underwear, then he reached for his shorts. He slid them up and into place, then he sat down next to me. “I really like this apartment. I feel like - I know we’re not leaving, we’re just going out and exploring, but I feel like - if we’re not here, there’s a chance someone will find this place and take it over. It’s probably stupid to worry about that. We got the windows boarded up, and we can lock the door. And - you know - there are all those fancy-schmancy expensive apartments in this neighborhood. If someone needs a place to squat, why would they come here instead of one of those fancy places? From the outside, you would never know this place has a pool.”

“True, but it’s normal to worry. In my opinion.” I glanced at him. “This is the first time you lived in a place that you cared about, right?”

“Right,” he affirmed. “So I guess you are one hundred percent correct - it’s normal to worry.” He drank some beer and burped. “Ario’s right, too, you know. We need to get out there, find out what the rest of the city is like. We need to explore. Even though it could be dangerous. Even though it’s probably dangerous.”

“Yep,” I agreed. I looked around. This place had become a home. The world outside had fallen into chaos, but here . . . Here, we’d managed to create a cosy place where we were safe. We had doors we could lock, we had a generator which gave us electricity, and we had each other.

It made sense that Gunnar didn’t want to leave. We were only going on a brief expedition to explore other parts of the city - we wouldn’t be gone long. True. Still, it would be tough to leave the apartment empty for however long we’d be out there.

From the other room, we heard the sound of the door being unlocked. It opened, then swiftly closed. Soon, Ario and Nat were greeting us. Ario, a Wolf who’d been a college student when the world fell, was holding a large bag. Nat, a slender Fox, was carrying two incredibly large bottles of water. The two of them, I realized, practically radiated excitement. They were like two kids on Christmas Eve, waiting for the moment when they could at last open their presents.

It made sense. The next day, very early in the morning, we were going to set out on our plan to explore the city. In a way, it would be like Christmas, for Nat and Ario. They’d been the ones to come up with the what and the how of the whole thing. They’d been the ones who’d looked at the maps, planned the route, talked the rest of us into going.

“I’ve got some canned stuff,” Ario said. “For lunch and dinner today. I’ll start heating things up on the stove in a minute.”

“Where are Rex and Julia?” Nat wondered.

“They said they’d be here,” I replied. “They just didn’t say when.”

Ario went to the kitchen, and returned with two glasses. He poured out water for himself and Nat. Nat, I noticed, glanced at the cans of beer Gunnar and I were drinking so early in the day. She made no comment, as usual, and her expression of neutrality hid her opinion. But I felt that she disapproved.

“Looking forward to tomorrow?” Ario aimed the question at both Gunnar and myself.

“Yes,” I quickly said. I both was and was not looking forward to it. I wondered if I should try to recapture the - the what? - the mental state? - I’d had as a soldier. Back then, I’d never been one of the planners. Instead, I’d been one of the many who simply went where they were told to go, who did as they were told to do. Any opinions I had about my orders I made myself ignore.

I also told myself to push aside any selfish or egotistical thoughts I was having. Because this wasn’t about me. This was about our situation going downhill fast. Yes, we were running out of food. But there was another problem, and it was a problem that everyone in our neighborhood was having. The Bear and his gang were still out there. Robbing folks, beating up folks. Spray painting anti-human sentiments on buildings and fences.

When Ario and the rest of us went out to explore the rest of the city, what would we find? If anything? Would the trip be a failure, or a disaster? Or . . . would we find food? Would we find folks who would help us fight back against the Bear and his gang?

The potential rewards, it seemed, just might outweigh the certain risks.

And who knows? Maybe there were communities of folks out there, somewhere in the city, who were living better than we were. Maybe they were growing their own food, maybe they didn’t have a gang problem. Maybe we would find a better place to live.

We had to find out. We had to know.

Rex and Julia did not arrive until late in the afternoon. They, too, radiated excitement and enthusiasm. They’d been keeping to themselves lately, staying at Julia’s place. The rest of us had rarely seen them. And, at first, they hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic about Ario and Nat’s plan. However, at some point, they had come around, and they had eagerly agreed to come with us.

Why the change, I could not say. I had meant to ask Rex, but I never had a chance to. And perhaps I was simply grateful that they hadn’t fully withdrawn from our little group. Certainly, I was glad Rex would be with us. The Great Dane was like the brother I never had, for one thing. For another, we’d kept each safe and sane during the chaotic days and weeks just after the bombs had gone off. We had a strong friendship which had been forged in a dark time.

The six of us formed a loose circle, and we ate, and we talked for some time. We shared memories of what the city had been like Before (putting that capital B on the word before without deciding to do so first), and we wondered what the city was like Now.

Without radio stations, without television stations, without phones, without any kind of news - we had no idea what was going on beyond our neighborhood.

At first, during the early part of summer, a few folks had come to our neighborhood from other parts of the city. They reported that things elsewhere were much the same as things where we were. But the city was so vast, and so sprawling, and it had been home to so many anthros and humans before (or, I suppose, Before) the bombs had gone off. Now that it was the middle of August, what was the rest of the city like? What was happening out there?

We imagined situations, likely or otherwise, and we discussed (yet again) the ways we could (or should) approach and talk to other folks. We went over (again) the plans for what to do if anything bad happened.

Eventually, Ario made us all go to bed. We needed sleep, he pointed out, and we would be getting up very early. Quickly, we washed the plates, and we made sure (again) that everything was packed and ready for the next day.

An hour or so past midnight, I was awakened by the sound of an explosion. At first, I thought I was dreaming. Perhaps, I thought, I’m dreaming about the past - the past where I was a soldier, and I experienced combat. Combat, and firefights, and explosions. Then I heard another sound, and I realized it was the sound of fireworks. Someone outside, somewhere in the neighborhood, was setting off fireworks, or firecrackers, and the sound was loud and percussive.

I closed my eyes and I tried to get back to sleep.

Then I heard the sounds of yet more firecrackers exploding - but it sounded like gunfire. Was it gunfire? I tried to decide. Then I heard a scream - the sound loud enough to travel through our boarded-up windows, through the living room, and into the room where I was trying to sleep. Had someone gotten hurt while shooting off firecrackers? Or . . . had I actually heard gunfire?

“ . . . fuck is going on out there . . .” Gunnar mumbled, half awake. He tried to sit up.

I stumbled out of my bed, which wasn’t far from Gunnar’s, and I made my way into the main room of the apartment. Rex, Julia, Ario, and Nat were standing in a loose circle by the door. With the windows boarded up, we had no way of knowing what was going on outside.

We all looked at each other.

Still not fully awake, Gunnar emerged from the room with the pool, where he and I had our beds.

From outside, more screaming. More explosions.

“What the hell’s going on out there?” Rex wondered aloud.

“I wonder if anyone needs help,” Ario said, his face grim and his voice low. “Is someone getting - I don’t know - attacked?”

“It sounds like everyone is getting attacked,” Julia voiced her opinion.

“If someone needs help, we should go out there,” Nat said, firmly.

“We just don’t know what’s happening,” Gunnar pointed out.

Just like we did not know what was happening in the rest of the city, I thought. I almost said it out loud, but I didn’t. The city (like the rest of the world) was a mystery. And yet, we all knew that we had to go out and explore it. Partly to find food, partly to find other folks. Partly just to see what was going on.

And what was currently happening - an hour or so past midnight, in our neighborhood? That, too, was a mystery. Should one or more us go out there, explore, see what was going on? It could be dangerous.

“I’ll stick my head out,” I volunteered. “Look around.”

In the army, I’d been successful partly because I’d never hesitated to throw myself into dangerous situations. (What that says about me, I don’t want to know.) I looked at our locked door, I looked at the boarded up windows, I listened to the sounds coming from outside, and I felt that old, familiar churn of nerves and adrenaline.

“Not alone you’re not,” Nat stated. She stood close to the door, as if ready to stop me from rushing through it.

“Yeah, we should all go,” Gunnar said. He sounded a bit more awake.

“Someone should stay here,” I said.

Everyone resisted that idea, and they all began speaking at once. Ario raised a hand, then, and called for silence. He didn’t see himself as a leader, but someone had to take charge of our motley group. No one else was willing.

And, as well, slowly but surely, we had all started to follow Ario, to go where he pointed.

It made sense. He’d been the only one willing to point out the obvious - that we needed to go out and explore the city. He and Nat, collectively, had been the driving force behind the plan to collect maps and plan out various routes.

“Are we sure we want to go out there?” Ario asked us. “We’re not cops, or superheroes. It’s not our job to rush out and - um - save folks, I guess, or fight the bad guys. Although -” He looked at me, a slight smile on his face. “One of us did use to be a soldier. Are we sure?”

We all nodded. And so we dressed and set out. I noted with satisfaction that everyone put on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. Even Gunnar. For perhaps the first time since I’d met him, the big Pit Bull was wearing jeans instead of shorts (or jeans with the legs cut off). In my opinion, it made sense to cover ourselves as much as possible, for safety reasons. What if someone tried to start a fight? Or maybe someone would throw things at us.

We carried flashlights and baseball bats. I had my gun. We turned off all the lights in the apartment (so as not to draw attention to it) and we slipped quietly into the darkness of the street.

Smoke (from the fireworks and firecrackers, no doubt) was everywhere.

Nothing was happening on the street, but the sounds of shouting and doors slamming rang through the still air. Something, some mysterious and awful thing, was happening, nearby. Cautiously, we began walking.

I whirled around, quickly, when I realized that someone was approaching us. The elderly Badger was someone we all knew. He lived in the neighborhood, he was friendly and enjoyed small talk, and we often saw him out and about. I could not, for a moment, remember his name.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“Gang members - it looked like the whole gang, I guess - just showed up and started chasing folks back to their homes,” the Badger replied. He looked angry. “They were yelling and setting off firecrackers. They didn’t steal from anybody, or anything like that, but they did hit some folks with their - whatever they are - steel batons, or pipes, or whatever. And nobody fought back! Everyone who isn’t a gang member just ran - all the folks who were out here - they just up and ran screaming like all the fiery devils were after them.”

“How many folks were out here - at this hour?” Nat asked.

“Too many. For one thing, Darla kept that makeshift pub of her’s open way too late, though she knows better. For another, that idiot Wesley decided to have a little get-together, right there on the sidewalk in front of his place.” The Badger spat. “Everyone knows that when it’s this dark out here - the moon’s just a sliver, and the clouds are hiding the stars - the gang will come around. Idiots.”

“We came out to see if anyone needed help,” Ario said.

“I’m sure some folks got injured by those batons, or pipes, or whatever,” the Badger replied. “But they all went inside their places and locked their doors, just like the gang told them to do. It’s what I’m going to do. It’s what you should be doing, too.”

Without another word, he turned and headed off into the darkness.

“Well, I guess . . .” Julia began to say.

“Hey!” The shout was jagged, harsh. “I said, everyone had to get indoors!”

We were at the intersection. I peered around the corner. Several figures, their features shadowed in the darkness, were facing a lone Lion. A few of them held their flashlights up, directing the beams into the Lion’s face. I could tell the Lion was female, and she did not look afraid. Instead, she looked angry and defiant. In her left hand, she held the metallic lid from a trash can.

“You don’t get to tell us where we can go,” the Lion spat out.

“What?” The gang member who’d shouted Hey at her shouted again. The voice was familiar. “But these streets belong to us. And the rule is, you only get to walk these streets if we tell you that you can. That’s the rule. It doesn’t seem too complicated, does it?”

From his tone, it was clear he was mocking her.

And I say his and he because I suddenly knew who the gang member was. It was Max, the Beagle with the crooked nose. We’d fought earlier that summer. Supposedly, Max was the Bear’s second in command. But I’d been wondering if Max was really the one in charge of the gang.

And now . . . Now, Max had been the one shouting at the Lion. Max was clearly in charge that night. The others stood slightly behind him, waiting for his orders. The Bear was not there.

I wanted to help the Lion, partly because it was the right thing to do. Partly because - well - the old craving came back. The need for a fight was strong, suddenly, and once again adrenaline rushed through me.

I glanced at my friends, and I could tell that they also wanted to help. Ario started to say something, but didn’t. We’d have to be careful, I knew. In the darkness, I couldn’t quite tell how many gang members Max had with him. We would need to quickly come up with a plan, and we would have to act fast, before the Lion got hurt. We would need to -

“Hey!”

This time, the shout came from our left. There were more gang members, shadowy figures walking quickly towards us. We now had Max and his group (who hadn’t noticed us yet) ahead of us, and the new arrivals on our left.

One of them aimed a powerful flashlight into my face.

“We got a human here!” Someone yelled. “Max! Max, is this the human you were looking for?”

“Holy shit.” Max spun around.

Then many things happened at once.

The Lion saw a chance, and took it. She lunged forward, driving the trash can lid into Max. He flew backwards, and tumbled ass-first into the street. For a moment, the gang members surrounding him froze. Then one of them (just one! I noted, with both surprise and amusement) rushed at the Lion, steel baton raised high in the air.

From the shadows, however, bits and pieces of concrete and brick began flying at Max’s troops. Apparently, someone had gone to the fenced-in construction site (which had been closed and empty for nearly a decade) and they’d filled a large bag with small pieces of concrete and larger pieces of crumbled brick. What they’d collected, they were now throwing (with wonderful aim) at the gang members.

Acting without thinking, I pulled out my gun and I aimed it at the group who were on our left. They’d been distracted by what was happening to Max and his group, and the beam of the flashlight left my face.

“Freeze!” I yelled. Helpfully, someone’s flashlight illuminated the gun.

Helpfully, too, my friends were now shining their flashlights into the faces of the gang members who’d been approaching on our left.

“You can’t shoot all of us,” someone hissed.

But they stopped walking. They stood still, holding up hands to try and block the beams of the flashlights.

Trying to think of a plan, I glanced in the other direction. The Lion had knocked down one of her would-be attackers, and she’d taken his baton. Like some kind of medieval knight, with a weapon in one hand and a shield in the other, she began swinging with precise strokes. Like wheat before a thresher, gang members went down.

And she wasn’t alone. A Dalmatian emerged from the shadows. He’d been the one throwing bits of concrete and brick, and he now rushed forward holding what looked like a length of old fence post. He, too, began swinging.

Up until that moment, I had thought we’d need help fighting back against the Bear, and Max, and the gang. Folks in the neighborhood had seemed unable to fight back. Unable, or perhaps unwilling.

Yes, the Lion and the Dalmatian were the only two fighting back. Everyone else had run to their homes. Still, it was tempting to feel a bit of hope. This could be the start of something. And of course, the Lion and the Dalmatian weren’t alone. I was there, and my friends were there. All in all, there were eight of us. This could, I knew, be the start of something.

For a moment, a beam from a flashlight struck the Dalmatian’s face, and I recognized him. It was Zeke. A flicker of hope, warm and bright, went through me. I thought of Zeke in the bar, our knees touching, his hand on my leg.

I’d never been a leader, but suddenly I saw the way forward. I would tell the group on our left to lay down their weapons and leave. If they refused, I’d shoot one of them in the leg. I’d shoot another, and another, until they complied. And I’d tell my friends to run and help Zeke and the Lion.

I opened my mouth, ready to shout orders . . .

And a gunshot exploded into the night air.

I did not see what happened, but Gunnar did. Gunnar saw the Lion spin around in a half-circle and crumple down to the sidewalk. Gunnar also saw Zeke freeze for a moment, stunned in surprise. A gang member hit Zeke so hard he dropped the fence post, and then two others grabbed him. One gang member held his right arm, and the other held his left. Zeke looked dazed, possibly because he’d been hit so hard.

Gunnar would not tell me these things until much later.

Startled, I looked over and I saw Max walking quickly towards Zeke.

Max, large gun held in both hands, had shot the Lion, and now he was pointing his weapon at Zeke.

“I know who you are,” Max said, loudly.

Another shot rang out.

Without looking at them, I realized that the gang members on our left were advancing. With no hesitation at all, I turned and shot one in the chest. The others hesitated, slowing down just a bit. I shot another. The rest changed course and ran towards Max.

And Max - Max was now pointing his gun at us.

“Go,” I told my friends. “Run!”

“We can’t -” Nat started to say.

“Not without -” Rex said at the same time.

Max fired, and the bullet missed my face by inches.

“Situation’s changed,” I said. “He’s got a gun.”

Behind me, Ario said something. I didn’t hear what it was.

He led the others away. They hurried along the street, hiding in the shadows.

On some level, I was aware that I was now alone. And I was aware, I could see, that a gang member (a rail-thin Hyena) had been splattered with blood. It was Zeke’s blood, I knew. I was aware, on some level, that Zeke’s body lay on the sidewalk not too far from the corpse of the Lion.

Mostly, however, all I could see was Max. Mostly, all I felt, at that moment, was the overwhelming need to kill him.

Max, gun still firmly in hand, began walking towards me. The gang members who hadn’t been knocked out by the Lion followed a few feet behind Max, as though he were royalty and getting close was not allowed. I held my ground, and I kept my gun close to my leg.

If either one of us had - at that moment - an ounce of common sense, things would’ve gone differently. If either one of us had - at that moment - an ounce of self preservation, we would’ve made different choices. I could have tried to run away. Max could have ordered his followers to attack me.

However, at that moment, common sense and self preservation had (apparently) been submerged under a tide of blood lust. At that moment, I wasn’t much more than someone who wanted to kill Max, because he’d killed Zeke. And Max? I can speculate. Max had been knocked on his ass, in front of his gang, by someone Max had assumed would submit. Instead, the Lion had fought back. Zeke had fought back. Max had been surprised and embarrassed, and things had not gone as well as he had assumed they would.

As well, Max had his near-obsessive hatred of humans.

And so he fired another shot towards me. As I ducked to my left, he fired again. The bullet tore into my left leg, passed through it, exited out the other side. The force of it knocked me down, but as I fell I fired my own gun in response.

Max looked surprised, as the bullet sliced through the flesh of his arm.

My second shot hit him right in the abdomen.

I was on my knees, but I could not stand. Waves of pain radiated outward from the wound on my leg. I had two bullets left, and I would not have time to reload. The remaining gang members looked at Max, dead or unconscious on the ground, then they looked at me. My hand shook, and I wondered who I would shoot at before they got me. I felt calm. I felt certain I was about to die.

However . . . yet again, someone began throwing sharp-edged pieces of concrete and brick. They cut through the air, they cut the skin of anyone who got hit. Startled, the gang members turned and tried to react, but Nat and Gunnar were on them, swinging baseball bats into their faces. Ario and Julia were still throwing rock-sized projectiles. And Rex held a flashlight in each hand, as he aimed the beams into the eyes of the enemy.

My friends had not fled.

Ario had led them around the block, so that they could sneak up on (and attack) the gang. And the gang members seemed lost without Max. None of them spoke, or shouted. None of them tried to rally (or lead) their companions. As they began to fall, one of them turned and ran away. Then another did the same. Besieged by projectiles, bats, and light, they fled, one by one, stumbling and clutching their injuries.

As for me, well, I could tell I was still bleeding. I knew I should make a bandage or a tourniquet. Perhaps I should take off my shirt and use that? However, I discovered I was having trouble laying down my gun. It seemed unimportant. I felt cold, and wondered if I was going into shock. That, too, felt unimportant.

When Gunnar appeared at my side, my brain was finally able to tell my hand to holster my weapon. Feeling no sense of urgency, I told Gunnar he should take off my shirt and press it on my leg. That, or tie it around. Instead, the big Pit Bull removed his own shirt.

“Guess we’re not going, after all, are we?” I asked.

“Guess not.”