Макс Брукс - Devolution - A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre

“Go home, Yvette.”

And it was done. Mostar relaxed, shoulders sagging, weight resting on her back leg, the semblance of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Just go home, okay?”

Yvette straightened, cheeks and lips completely white. She backed up another half step, glaring at Mostar as fear gave way to anger. But she didn’t say anything this time, didn’t even look at us. She gave this little half-hearted faux chuckle, which ended in a clownish grin. She turned quickly, heading for her house, and grabbed Tony by the wrist. Tony. Face lank, eyes down, trying to swallow his bottom lip, as his wife led him away.

The next few seconds were a blur. I think I almost passed out from the tension. I remember Dan’s arm around me, shaking, nausea.

The first clear vision I had was the group starting to break up. The Boothes’ backs, Palomino being carried inside by Carmen.

Then the voice.

“Um.”

It was Reinhardt, of all people, and of all things, muttering to Dan, “I… uh… couldn’t help but… um… well, if you’re already cleaning your own solar panels, I was wondering if…”

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure,” Dan mumbled, suddenly snapping back to the moment, trying to catch up with a flurry of affirmative hand gestures. “Yeah, totally, soon as I finish and—”

“And what are you going to do for him?” Mostar, cutting him off, standing beside him, facing Reinhardt, blood dripping down the spear onto her hand. “If you need Dan to do something for you, then you need to do something for him.”

Her voice was loud, louder than it needed to be at that distance. Loud enough to make everyone turn back and take notice.

“Well, I… naturally, yes, yes.” Reinhardt tried to shrug it off like that was a given, then, I could see, got a little worried when he realized what he was agreeing to. “What would you…”

“Food.” Mostar’s head jerked in my direction. “Danny needs to replace all those calories he’ll be spending. And that’s why Katie will be going with him to catalog everything you have in your kitchen. And so, if you ever need his help again, and you know you will, he’ll know exactly what to ask for in return.” No room. No questions. All he could do at that point was refuse. Which he didn’t.

“By all means.”

And as he waddled away, Mostar turned to Dan and said, “Need. That’s what makes a village. That’s what we are now, and what holds us together is need. I won’t help you if you don’t help me. That is the social contract.”

I couldn’t really process what she was saying. Still trembling, I felt like crying. All that tension whooshing out like a balloon. I must have grabbed Dan’s arm harder than I wanted. My legs buckled. My head swam. All I wanted to do was go home and lie down.

“And you…” Mostar snapped me back to attention, eyes front, staring into her utterly befuddling smile.

“I knew you had it in you.”

I didn’t understand. I opened my mouth to ask.

“When you ran toward Palomino.” Mostar beamed. “I’m sorry I almost speared you.”

Toward!

I honestly had no idea what she was talking about, and when Dan said, “Yeah, you totally got in between her and the cat.” I looked at them both like they were crazy, then down at the ground I was standing on. It was, in fact, right in the puma’s path. How did I get there? I literally cannot remember!

“That was pretty badass, you know.” That was Dan, surprised and, what, a little aroused?

“You didn’t even think about it, did you?” Mostar asked pridefully. “All instinct, eh?”

Before I could come up with a response, the sound of footsteps turned our heads. Palomino came running over, holding what looked like a pillowcase in her hands.

Mostar started to say, “Hello, Little Doll, what have you…”

But she ran past us, into our house, then a few seconds later, came right back out, and gave Mostar a big hug. Mostar returned it, kissed the top of her head, and sang, “Thank you, Lutko Moja.” [20] Lutko moja: Little doll.

Then she turned and hugged me! I just stood there like an idiot, frozen for a second, before awkwardly rubbing her back. She didn’t seem to mind. She looked up at me with a big smile, gave me another squeeze, then ran back to her house.

After a moment of shared puzzlement, we traced her steps inside, and found the pillowcase resting next to the garage door.

It was full of beans, or rather, it was full of her little beanbag fidgeters that were spilling their beans out from cutoff corners. There’re over a hundred in total. I haven’t stopped counting since. Red, black, white, speckled brown. I don’t know all the types, and I can’t imagine that all of them will germinate. Again, do I soak them? Wet paper towel? No idea. I’ll probably just stick them straight into the mud. There’s enough here to fill the whole garden. How much food will that produce? Enough to feed the whole neighborhood?

Village. Need.

Thank you, Pal.

Screams! They woke us up tonight. I felt the bed bounce as Dan jumped over to the window. I got up groggily and followed him out onto the back balcony. The first thing I noticed was the night’s chill, coldest yet. Then more screams, echoing clearly from the woods. Not human. The same hissing growls I’d heard from the mountain lion that afternoon.

Rrraaawww. Rraaaawwww.

But they weren’t alone. Another sound, underneath, like the bass in a song. Deeper, fuller. At first, I couldn’t make it out, but then it rose to the same howls I’d heard before. That first time when I’d been hiking, the second time when I’d been chased. But it was much louder now, as powerful as the heavy, spoiled smell. Again, familiar. This was real. Not a figment in my head, not a spot in my eye. There was definitely another animal out there with that cat.

Those screams, the sharp hisses. The puma sounded angry or scared. The howls boomed, then rose to high chatters. I’d never heard anything like it. No, that’s not entirely true. I’d never heard anything exactly like it.

I’ve heard monkeys before. From nature shows, and at the zoo. Monkeys or apes. But much louder, much more powerful. It was like I could feel the sound waves hitting me, like the windows might rattle if they’d been any closer. The cat’s screams suddenly changed, from growling rage to rapid, staccato yowls.

Rawrawraw!

Fighting.

Quick, sharp. Grunts of muscles working and muffled growls trying to escape a full mouth?

Then a roar, rising above the rest. Deep, bellowing, as the puma’s voice cracked into this horrible wail.

And then it was all over. Utter silence. I realized that Dan and I had been holding hands tightly, so tight that I could feel the blood rush back into my fingers when he let go. He said, “Wait,” and went downstairs. I started to say something after him. He paused at the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back.” It was so quiet I could hear him locking the front and back doors. I’m not sure why. Not like animals can open a door. Can a bear? Can they use their paws or claws or whatever they have to manipulate a knob? It has to be a bear. At least I know I’m not crazy. What else could fight a mountain lion?