Bayou

Chapter 30 ~ War

Chapter 30

It started as a whisper, a distant cry that multiplied as every species joined together one by one to give the call. Treetops shook as birds took flight, and Croc cawed to them, matching the ear-splitting clamor of the flock. Cranes, herons, cardinals, and crows all bled into one, building a twister. I gaped at the sky, then at him. He walked sideways, hand outstretched, closing the few feet between us without looking my direction. His attention remained skyward, on the birds, on himself as he cried out to the mother. To the brothers and sisters. His voice shifted in and out of character, one animal to the next, hammering out instructions on the frontline of a war. This was a war. He ducked as he hissed, drawing snakes from the water, the branches. They slithered across the yard, down the bank, past our feet. He croaked, and frogs hopped after them. He conjured a plague, like Moses against the Pharoah, performing miracles.

When he reached my side, his hand rested on my back, but he still didn't look at me.  "We're okay." He followed the words with a series of grunts, and monstrous, squealing rats sprinted out of hiding places.

"You sound just like them." I didn't sound like me. My voice was too small, as if I were a mere mortal speaking to a god. He was impossible, but impossible was our reality. One central government was impossible, until it wasn't. Mass killing citizens was impossible, until it wasn't. Things ever getting any better was impossible.

Until it wasn't.

Croc's fingers slid to my shoulder. "Watch this."

He roared at the sky, and the mass of birds darkened, thickened, dove. 

Screams erupted. Then gunfire. Bullets became fishhooks, yanking feathers from the sky. Hell had found a crack. Hell was on its way. I watched the formation struggle, migrating closer, knowing what that meant. The Greater Good was here, and they were coming for us. It was only a matter of time. An icy chill settled over me. They wouldn't bother with IVs, not now. They'd have bigger tests for us. Horrible tests. The thought of Croc strapped to one of those chairs, alone and suffering and surrounded by lies.

He cried out as if he already were, and the sound broke me like the world never could. His eyes, crazed eyes. Like the women in my group. Like the people at the store. Like the men who cleaned the trash-coated streets. Like Lita on the day this all began. They were killing his family, forcing him to watch.

I wanted to block his view. I wanted to pick him up and run. Croc wasn't like the rest of us. Croc was still human. The last human on Earth.

Croc gripped my forearm. "New plan!" He dragged me with him to the trees, threw me over his shoulder, then jumped. I squeaked, clinging on as he raced through the branches.

He deposited me behind a curtain of moss, then pulled one of the kitchen knives from my belt and slid the handle into my palm. My fingers curled around it; his curled around mine.  "If you stay here, those things can't get you."

Those things. He'd barely listened when I tried to prepare him, too caught up in offensive strategy. He squeezed my hand, and for a blessed final moment, I had his full attention. Croc studied my face. I memorized his. 

I couldn't lie to him. I wouldn't paint our fate. He needed to know, and better he hear it from me than learn the hard way. "They're too big, Croc. They can get us no matter where we hide, and I—"

He palmed the sides of my face, and his look said it all. Don't question. Don't doubt. He needed me to believe in him, and I couldn't take that away. I leaned in, brushing my nose against his, breathing him in for the last time. I'd give him everything I had. Everything that was left.

Croc took my mouth as if it belonged to him, making promises he couldn't keep. I let him. I melted into him. For a split second, I slipped away. This could be the last of our broken rules, and I wouldn't waste a single second on worry.