Animalistique

[WP] Aliens effortlessly overran the human population, but didn't expect such fierce resistance from local wildlife. British badgers, Indian tigers, African elephants, Alaskan wolves, Australia - nature rises in defence of Earth.

*****

It’d felt like a kick to the gut, although this had been a thrashing tentacle and not a boot to his side. Still, Biscuit knew what a kick felt like — he’d been a shelter dog before Anna, and before that, well he didn’t like to remember the times before that.

The alien had wrapped a tentacled arm tight around Anna and had been dragging her out through the splintered front door. Anna was gasping for breath, her lacerated skin shining red.

That’s when Biscuit had launched himself at the creature. He’d sunk his teeth into the meat of the tentacle but the creature hadn’t so much as yelped. Then a second later came that explosion, that kick to the gut, that burst of old stitches and pains and memories.

He’d remained sprawled out in a pool of his own urine, helpless on the hallway’s wooden tiles, as Anna was dragged away from him. They‘d locked eyes a last time. Anna mouthed: Good boy.

Biscuit attempted a bark but barely managed a whimper.

That had been a week ago now. Many dogs had died trying to defend their owners on invasion day, and in his survival Biscuit thought himself fortunate, but also found himself heavy with guilt. Why‘d he survived when Anna had been taken? Couldn’t he have peeled himself off the floor and attacked again? Driven the creature away.

Bad biscuit, he thought. Bad bad Biscuit. Sometimes he’d call himself by his old name, the one associated to everything terrible that had come before Anna had found him. A name he felt he deserved again. Dirt.

**

There weren’t enough of them left, that was the problem. If the dogs had been organised! Then, Biscuit thought, then these creatures would have had a fight on.

“This is it,” said Alastair, the old matted bloodhound, giving the asphalt a final satisfied sniff.

”Are you sure?” Biscuit asked, ears pricked.

”Am I sure? I did this for a living, pal,” said Alastair. “For most of my life. Missing people are my speciality. And from the rag you gave me, yes I’m sure.“

“It wasn’t a rag. It was her favorite t-shirt.”

Alastair rolled his bloodshot eyes. ”All the same, I’m sure she’s in there.”

Alastair had been a police tracker once, roving the hills and following scents. Then one day, his owner — an officer called Kenny — was stabbed while trying to stop a shoplifter. Died. Alastair decided then it was time to retire, for him to go missing. He’d been living behind dumpsters for months before the aliens came.

”I can’t believe she’s here,” said Biscuit. “I can’t believe she’s still alive!”

”Hush down or you’ll get us both caught.”

They sat in a bush the rest of day watching the place, hoping for a chance. It was a factory, of sorts. Although not like a human one — this building was crystalline, a rippling and ever transforming pink. It stretched like a stomach depending on how many aliens entered or left.

But it was only ever aliens that entered and left. Humans only entered.

”Four guards outside,” said Biscuit. “That’s two to take down each.”

Alastair laughed. “Pal, I’m as old as a mountain and can barely run. And you’re in far worse shape than me. Not to mention one of them beat you. What chance do we stand against four?”

Biscuit covered his eyes with his paws. What could they do?

**

The neighbour’s cat, Honey, had found him. A fluffy white ball of a cat. It used to like sitting on the fence in the yard and teasing Biscuit. Would ask how he’s enjoying his temporary stay. Would say dogs came and went with Anna all the time — she never kept them.

”You’re lying!” he’d say.

Then he’d bark and scratch the fence and Honey would stretch lazily, eventually leaping down the other side to go play with her many feline friends in the neighbourhood. She was a big shot here, unlike him. No doubt Honey and her cadre would be going to find another dog to tease.

But that day, when she’d found Biscuit, she licked his wounds where the stitching had burst. Had brought him a mouse and nosed his bowl of water near to him. Had treated him like a puppy.

”Eat,” said Honey. “You’ve been lying there two days by my count. You need to eat and you need to drink.”

”What’s the point?” Biscuit had asked.

”Ugh,” said Honey. “I get it, you loved your owner. But she’s gone now. You’re not. Our lives go on and you need to get used to that.”

For whatever reason — maybe she felt sorry for Biscuit — she nursed him those few days, got him back to his feet, brought him meals he’d rather not have eaten but did anyway.

On the sixth day, Biscuit had said, “What if she’s still alive?”

”Oh not this again,” said Honey.

”But what if she is! And I’m here letting her be hurt. Letting her die, maybe.”

”And what are you going to do about it?” said Honey. “You already tried once and almost died. Look at you: what chance do you think you stand now?”

He whimpered. None, he knew. “Together, maybe! If we gather all the animals in the neighbourhood. We start a call to arms and we plan—“

Honey laughed. “Not all of us loved our humans quite so much as you. Not all of us think it’s worse now — or at least we don’t feel it’s bad enough to risk dying for. Listen, dog, it’s time nature moved on. Forget about the humans. It’s time we found our own way forward.”

And with that, Honey had strolled out of the house and jumped back over the fence.

**

“I’ve got to try!” said Biscuit, running excited circles behind the bush.

”You’ll die!” said the bloodhound.

“Some things are worth dying for.”

The older dog sighed. “Once upon a time, maybe I’d have agreed.”

Biscuit stopped, looked Alastair in the eyes. “I know your owner is gone. But what was he to you? Didn’t he ever mean anything?”

”He meant the world,” whispered Alastair. “The world, you impertinent pup. Ah, fine! How much longer have I left to live, anyway? Perhaps it’s time for this old dog to stop being such a coward and give living a final chance.”

Biscuit yipped in satisfaction.

Then they waited. Waited until nightfall. Perhaps their eyes were better in the dark than those of the alien creatures. Maybe they’d have a strategical advantage.

“On my command,” said Biscuit, as the night darkened the factory to a dull pink glow.

”Ready...”

Biscuit waited until the aliens turned, until they looked away. “Charge!”

The two dogs flew towards the guards, forgetting the pains they wore, throwing years off themselves with each and every step. They barked and frothed and bared their teeth as they neared, and they thought only of their owners.

The aliens turned. Was that a laugh, Biscuit wondered?

He leapt! Alastair jumped at his side.

But the aliens were faster.

One caught them both, plucked them out the air with its wrapping tentacles.

And then it began to squeeze the life out of them.

”Please,” whimpered Biscuit as stars danced too close to his eyes.

”We— we tried,” said Alastair, sucking in hard breaths. “That’s more than— Than I thought I’d ever do again.”

Blackness rolled into their heads, into their eyes, like a storm. Huge clouds blacking out the skies.

And then it happened.

The aliens screamed.

They whipped their tentacles against themselves and the two dogs fell free to the ground.

For a moment it looked to Biscuit like the aliens were wearing strange, moving clothes. Sweaters and pants that didn’t fit. Were far too tight.

Then he saw them.

Saw Honey, and maybe fifty friends she’d gathered up. Their claws lashed at the aliens. The aliens tried to whip them but they moved too fast. The tentacles were like tails to the cats, like mice, like something to chase, to destroy.

The aliens bled green as they fell.

Honey sat by Biscuit and Alastair when it was all over, licking the green goo off herself.

”I thought you didn’t care enough to help,” whispered Biscuit, as happy inside as he’d ever been.

”What can I say,” said Honey. “We liked the easy life, getting fed and all that. That’s something worth fighting for, I suppose.”

Biscuit laughed. He knew a lie when he heard one. They loved their owners every bit as much as the dogs did. As he did.

”Thank you.”

”It’s not over yet,” said Honey. “Not by a long shot. We’re going to need to organise. We’re going to need more animals on our side.”

“But we’ll do it, won’t we?” said Biscuit.

“If this can happen, dogs and cats together, then anything can,’ said Alastair.

The cat leaned forward, stretched. “I think we have a chance. That’s all. A chance. Now come on. Let’s find your owner.”

*****

THE EN