Beast Machine (34 page)

“
I said, ‘I want the boys
to kill their own dog.’ I want them to slit their own dog’s throat
like he is an enemy. There should be no empathy found in these boys
after they are finished in the Hitler Youth. I will
not
repeat myself
again.”

The smaller man gulped
loudly before saying, “One last thing, sir.”

Hitler turned to the man
with a look of annoyance. He nearly gave the signal to dispose of
the man, before the man spoke.

“
Do our benefactors, I know
you do not want us to say their name, know about this? The Hitler
Youth program?”

Hitler laughed. “Of course
they do!” Hitler grabbed the smaller man’s cheeks and laughed
loudly, “They’re the ones that actually came up with the idea for
the kids to kill their dogs!”

-----

“
HITBEAR! WAKE UP! WAKE
UP!” yelled Tubman. She slapped the bear hard and repeatedly with
her paws.
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop,
bop-bop-bop
. “WAKE UP, HITBEAR!”
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop,
bop-bop-bop
.

She looked up at Owlbert
and shouted, “He’s not waking up. Is there anything you can do,
Owlbert?”

Owlbert was flying over
forty feet above the two mammals, still searching the area for any
humans that might foil their plan. He had only seen other wildlife
in the area. The sun was setting so Owlbert felt safe enough from
any outsiders to fly down to his companions. “Ja, ein moment!” he
replied. The barn owl beast dove down near Tubman and Hitbear,
coming close to crashing into the earth, but landed safely on his
two feet just beyond the unconscious Hitbear and the fist-frenzied
Tubman.

Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop,
bop-bop-bop
her fists went once more,
ignoring the graceful landing by Owlbert.

“
Vas seems to be ein
problem, frau?” Owlbert peered over Hitbear’s face and leaned his
beak into Hitbear’s mouth and then into his nose. Owlbert was
looking for any items that could be blocking the bear’s airways,
but found nothing and realized Hitbear was breathing perfectly
fine. He removed his beak from the bear’s nostrils and shook his
head viciously to remove any bear snot that had accumulated on his
beak.

“
Well, he’s still
breathing, so that was completely unnecessary. He’s just not
conscious. He fell over after he furiously began to dig this… this
giant hole…” Tubman glared about the area that was supposed to only
have one hole to dump Doctor Borehole’s body, but there wasn’t a
human sized hole – there was a crater.

Hitbear had dug so
furiously after taking a short water break that he had made a
crater. He had made a crater so large that it could be confused for
a resting spot for a fallen space rock or the result of an
earthquake.

Tubman had not noticed
Hitbear digging furiously until he dug through her dig site,
obliterating any semblance of a balanced hole. Tubman watched
Hitbear continue to obliterate the dirt of the open grassland until
he suddenly had stopped and collapsed.

He was now unconscious in
the middle of the crater with his two beast companions trying to
desperately awaken him before Gora, or another human, got to them.
The mission of trying to kill then bury Doctor Borehole was the
last thing on their minds. They didn’t want to be seized by anyone
and become separated from Gora.

“
Ja, this ist not gut,”
Owlbert hopped around Hitbear’s lifeless body. “Have du done much
other than hit zee poor fellow?” He looked on at Tubman; she had
continued to once again pummel Hitbear with her paws.
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop,
bop-bop-bop
.

“
Well, no, but,” said
Tubman, still hitting the bear.
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop
.

“
Du enjoying this, ja?”
laughed Owlbert.

“No! It’s just; I can’t
think of anything else!” she said loudly.
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop
.
“I hit things when I panic! And I’m panicked, damn it!”
Bop-bop-bop, bop-bop-bop,
bop-bop-bop
.

“
Ah, I have ein plan; step
back!” Tubman leapt off Hitbear and stood roughly six feet away.
Owlbert nodded at Tubman and then dropped his beak deep into the
hairy crevice known as Hitbear’s crotch. Owlbert’s beak found,
after some rummaging into the hairy abyss, one of Hitbear’s
testicles. He gingerly placed his beak around the
testicle.

Owlbert prayed to himself
that the behemoth would not slaughter him upon this next
action.

CRUNCH
.

Tubman gasped and held her
paw at her mouth. There was a momentary silence that felt like an
eternity, that is, before Hitbear finally woke up in a fit of rage
that would rival a tyrannosaurus in heat.

“
JESUS. FUCKING. GOD. DAMN.
CHRIST,” roared Hitbear with a refrain he learned from Gora. He
soared up from the ground, tossing Owlbert into the air in the
process. “WHAT THE FUCK?” Owlbert couldn’t manage to fly properly
whilst spinning in the air and landed roughly on his face. Owlbert
slid and tumbled across the dirt crater.

Hitbear began to swing his
paws around and roared loudly. His eyes were shut tight.

“
Oh shit,” yelped Tubman.
She hopped away quickly from the enraged Hitbear.

Woosh
went Hitbear’s swinging paws in quick succession.
Woosh woosh woosh
.

“
Are you all right,
Owlbert?” shouted Tubman. “We’ve got to calm him down
now!”

“
Ja,” said Owlbert weakly.
“I need ein moment, fraulein.” He flew up to a low hanging branch
to find a safe spot to examine his body for any injuries. He had
many feathers missing and had bleeding scrapes on each wing.
Although it was nothing dire, Owlbert was satisfied with staying in
the tree to regain his energy. He was happy to leave Tubman to the
enraged bear.

“
It’s us, Hitbear. It’s
us!” cried Tubman to her companion.

Woosh woosh woosh
went Hitbear’s paws toward Tubman’s voice.
Woosh woosh woosh
.

“
Don’t kill the dogs!”
screamed Hitbear. “Don’t kill the dogs! Don’t do it!” A final few
swings –
woosh woosh woosh
– by Hitbear were made before he fell down to his
knees and began to cry. He rubbed his eyes harshly.

“
I don’t want to hurt those
dogs, or anyone that doesn’t deserve it. Please don’t hurt the
dogs,” cried Hitbear loudly. His crying turned to wailing and his
eyes finally were opening, only to be filled with bear tears the
size of Texas.

Tubman, albeit warily, made
her way to the crying bear. “What dogs, Hitbear?” she asked. “What
dogs are you talking about?”

“
Tubman is that you? I’m so
happy to see you,” said Hitbear through his tears. “I had a vision
of my past life. It was horrible, I hate it. I hate him. I hate
me!”

Tubman, now sitting in
front of Hitbear, placed her paws on her companion. “Remember what
Gora told us? We aren’t them. Anything our human side did – good or
bad – does not, should not count towards our current
lives.”

“
But why do I feel such a
strong connection to that fucking monster?”

“
I’m not a scientist,
Hitbear,” said Tubman, “but all I can surmise is that it has
something to do with that machine Gora used to create us. She
likely added our human side’s, um, historic achievements. Your –
his, I mean – achievements just happened to be absolutely
ghastly.”

“
Ugh! I hate him, I fucking
hate everything he did or stood for!” cried Hitbear. “I’d much
rather have visions or dreams from my bear side! Why can’t we have
the animalistic side for our visions?”

“
I just don’t know
Hit-“

Tubman quickly stopped
talking and put one of her fingers to her mouth to signal Hitbear
to be silent. She could hear footsteps coming toward them from a
distance.

“
Hitbear,” whispered
Tubman, “we need to head into the woods. There are people coming! I
don’t think it’s Gora! Go, go!”

Hitbear nodded and swiftly
made his way into the nearby woods; Tubman hopped behind Hitbear,
making sure he made it into the woods.

The pair, forgetting about
Owlbert, made it fifteen or so feet into the woods before turning
around to face the crater. “Have you determined if it’s Gora or
not?” asked Hitbear.

“
No,” replied Tubman with
her paw making the shushing command again, “but stay quiet and keep
your breathing as soft as you can.” Tubman’s ears, normally droopy,
perked up and widened to optimize her hearing ability. One ear
faced toward the ground to pick up any vibrations while the other
ear faced toward the original incoming voices and
footsteps.

The voices were too faint
for even Tubman’s powerful sensing ears, but the footsteps were
generating enough vibrations. “There are only two people,” said
Tubman quietly. “Their footsteps are pretty distinct.”

Tubman was correct about
the distinct footsteps. One set of the footsteps were sloppy and
all over the place, like an excited puppy.
Pit-pit-pat, pat-pit-pit,
and
pat-pat-pat
the footsteps
went, in seemingly no order. The other footsteps were methodical
and, mostly, hit the ground with little to no ruckus. Tubman was
only able to pick up on the softer footsteps after the person
apparently got stuck in a muddy or sticky patch of forest.
Tip-tap, tip-tap,
and
tip-tap
the methodical footsteps went.

“
What do we do?” asked
Hitbear quietly. Hitbear hoped Tubman had an escape plan in her
mind, while his mind was still quite scattered and mush-like after
that horrible vision. Hitbear was going to rely heavily on his
companions for survival, if this turned out to
not
be Gora. He couldn’t think
straight, he couldn’t think much at all. “Where’s that damn owl?”
Hitbear looked around quickly and found nothing by plant
life.

“
God damn, do I have to be
y’all’s babysitter? Shut up and let me listen in to these
footsteps, I can somewhat hear them now.” Hitbear frowned and
rubbed his head, hoping to cease the visions somehow.

“
It’s definitely two women,
which fits it being Gora and that doctor,” relayed Tubman to
Hitbear, still rubbing his head. “They’re talking about… ah,
they’re talking about volcanoes and whale semen? What the
hell?”

“
That somewhat sounds like
a topic Gora would enjoy,” said Hitbear.

“
True; however, wouldn’t
they be talking about that global climate warming thing?” asked
Tubman.

“
That stuff is bullshit and
you know it,” said Hitbear loudly.

“
Shut up! This is not the
time to argue over that, damn,” said Tubman angrily. Her ferocity
made Hitbear slink back and return to rubbing his head.

“
But what does the semen
from a great blue whale have to do with ocean acidification?” asked
one of the incoming voices to the other.

“
It has everything to do
with it,” said the other voice. “Their semen, which is
extraordinarily salty, kills off species that would help fight off
any and all of the acidification!”

“
That sounds like complete
nonsense.”

“
I wouldn’t expect someone
like
you
to
understand the complex processes that our oceans go through every
single day; so, where’s this natural source of pollution I’m
supposed to be seeing?”

The voices stopped, as did
the footsteps.

“
What is happening?” said
Tubman. “They were walking and talking then suddenly everything
went silent.”

“
What were they saying?”
asked Hitbear.

“
Something about a ‘natural
source of pollution’?”

“
That’s Gora! That’s
definitely Gora!”

The voices and footsteps
abruptly began again as quickly as they had stopped, much to the
irritation of Tubman.

“
It’s this way!” said Gora
loudly. “My GPS was off by a few ticks! No troubles,
though!”

“
Finally,” said Doctor
Borehole lethargically. “It wouldn’t have been a Gora trip without
a Gora screw up.”

Gora gave the pompous
Doctor Borehole some side-eye glare, but smiled because she knew
Doctor Borehole’s minutes were numbered.

“
Oh
you…
” said Gora sweetly. “It’s just
through this brush!”

“
Okay.”

“
And here is the…” Gora’s
voice fell short. She was peering out into a crater, instead of
open grassland with a hidden pitfall. Her GPS was swiftly pulled
back out and she began to recalculate the coordinates.

“
Where is it, lovely? It’s
rather dark out tonight, even for my strong, beautiful eyes!”
clamored Doctor Borehole. “Are you sure we’re in the right
spot?”

Gora’s GPS reiterated that
they were in the correct spot. “Yes, so says my GPS, but,” said
Gora nervously, “there wasn’t this large hole. It was open
grassland with a spout shooting out carbon-dioxide.” Gora sat down.
Her face was a combination of confusion and sadness.