Continuing treatment of Patient #307. – Parce
With the threat of pig retaliation hanging over our heads, Shiver didn’t want to push me and Swifter to exhaustion. He just wanted to keep us sharp. In retrospect, he was probably venting some frustration on me about Dreamer, too. But I didn’t mind.
We had all the gym equipment pushed to the outsides of the room. A treadmill blocked the front door. My padded mat table was on its side up against the sliding door to the backyard, braced by Swifter’s weight set. Half the folding mats were spread out on the floor, with the other half propped up against a wall. Shiver was right; it was a great space to train.
Just like before, Shiver was trying to get me to throw a decent punch, but I couldn’t do it. All I had in me was shoving, grappling, and throwing. At least now I understood that it was because the bit of my soul that could manifest real violence was residing in Mauler. I wasn’t sure if I would tell Shiver about that, or how.
One benefit was that Shiver started focusing more of his attention on teaching Swifter, resulting in me getting hit less. Swifter was a fast learner and his natural strength and speed translated over to sparring pretty well. That didn’t surprise me. It hadn’t been that long ago that Swifter had been close to beating the crap out of me outside Caper’s classroom at University.
Shiver had me practice hitting the folded mats instead, which I had no problem doing. Stacked up against the wall like that, they formed a pretty good substitute for a heavy bag. While I was busy with that, Shiver was showing Swifter some different moves I never could have pulled off. He taught him how to meet a dog’s bite head-on, taking the teeth to the forehead, and slipping past to smash the dog’s throat with a shoulder or foreleg. He showed him how to take advantage of the dog method of wrestling and smothering; Shiver would get underneath and sweep a leg or toss Swifter off his feet.
“Some of that looks like what we learned from Boxer,” I said.
“Some of it is,” Shiver answered. “Boxer was a good fighter. He and I taught each other a lot. There’s a difference between duels for status and the dirty fighting dogs did in the war. And against a big and fast guy like Swifter here, you have to fight dirty. OK, here’s the next lesson.”
He waved his hoof at me and I stepped out of the way. He lowered his head, ran past me, and headbutted the folded mats hard enough to shake the windows upstairs. Then he stepped back and slapped the mats. “Swifter, go.”
Looking nervous, Swifter took a run at the target. He slowed down at the last second and hit the mats by whipping his head forward.
“No. Do it again. Full speed.”
Swifter tried again, but his nerves got the best of him and he hit it at barely over a trot.
“No, no. Healer, your turn. Ram it.”
shrugged, backed up twenty feet, then dug in my hooves and rushed the mats. I closed my eyes and forced myself not to slow down. On impact my head and shoulders jammed together with my hips following close behind. I felt my spine compressing, shooting a nauseating spasm through my guts.
“Jeez,” said Swifter.
“Yep,” said Shiver. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
I got my balance. “What did I do wrong?”
“Everything. Your father never knew how to explain it, so this is how he taught me. There’s a way to line your bones up so that you can charge straight into a brick wall and not feel a thing. Basically, if it doesn’t hurt, you’re doing it right.”
“Very helpful,” I grumbled.
“Do it again.”
The next time I charged, I flinched just like Swifter had done. I turned my head away to avoid the jarring pain in my neck, colliding with my full body weight against my collarbone instead. I felt something crack and I fell down shouting things so vile I won’t repeat them to you.
Shiver was laughing. “You’re crazy. Nobody runs that hard the second time. If it wasn’t for that power of yours, you’d be out for months. Now get up and try again.”
After the training, Swifter piled up some of the mats and fell asleep in the gym. Shiver and I went upstairs to keep an eye on Dreamer. We sat out on the balcony and watched the glow of the dying embers in the backyard.
Shiver tapped his hoof on the railing. “This place is really impressive, Healer. You’ve done some good work here.”
“Thanks.” I thought for a minute. “I know Dreamer coming here wasn’t what you wanted. I had planned to be strong and keep her away like you said, but I gave in. That’s my fault.”
Shiver sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Here’s the thing. I’m old. I’m not as old as your dad was, but I’m getting up there. I can’t defend my daughter as well as I used to, and I hate thinking about that. So I act like no one else in the world can protect her. But like I said, I didn’t want to face how bad things are getting. It very well may be at the point where she can’t just hunker down in that University anymore.”
“I would say so,” I said.
“And even besides all that—even if things weren’t going crazy—no matter what my opinion may be, she seems to think you’re good for her. And in a lot of ways, you are. If things are really about to go sideways, I’d rather she be with you than with some tail-tucking city sheep back at school.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well, look at what we’ve done today. Not many other sheep would be interested in learning how to defend themselves. Especially now that horns are gone.”
I ran my hoof over the scratches I had made in the railing with the point of my father’s horns. “Are they gone for good, though?”
Shiver set his jaw. “That depends on us, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at me. “This stays between you and me.”
I nodded.
“Alright then,” Shiver said. “Back in the days before the war, horns were a choice. Some men chose to grow them and others didn’t. After the war, well, I think you know how that went. Only your father and I were left alive. The pigs made a deal with us—we were more useful to them as examples. At first we just went along with the idea that horns were bad for society. Then he and I started to believe it ourselves, in different ways. Eventually he and I just had something of an unspoken pact that we just wouldn’t share our prewar knowledge with anyone. That was the pigs worst fear, you know. Having a bunch of sheep just decide to grow horns again. We didn’t want another war to flare up, so we were ready to let horns pass out of existence. We were cowards. I could have told you before, but I didn’t. I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “You were both probably right to keep that from me when I was a kid. I don’t think I could grow them now anyway.” Once again, I debated whether to tell him what Arghast had said.
“You might, if you get mad enough. It’s not as easy as that, though. It changes you.” Shiver paused. “Not everyone needs them. Your friend is getting pretty good at throwing hooves. The sheep fighting style is designed to be done with or without horns, you know. Once you get the hang of it, you can do just fine.”
“I don’t know if it’s because Boxer’s gym is where I got my start, but the dog style just makes more sense to me.”
“Nothing wrong with that. You know, I teach you the sheep style because that’s just what our bodies are suited for. But, man, that dog fighting stuff is effective. And it’s cool to watch. I’ve heard that there’s something divine about wrestling. Being good at it can put mortals on an even footing with the gods.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The legend goes that Karkus wrestled with his dogs in the days the gods walked the earth.”
I nodded. “Wow. I didn’t know that. But my father sure liked to train that dog style. He was great friends with all those Tooth & Claw guys.”
“Yeah,” said Shiver. “He was a good man, your father. One of the best. I’ll never be as good at fighting as he was.”
“Why go against him, then? Why were you two on opposite sides of the war?”
“It was never just about him and me,” Shiver answered. “Just different ideas. Your father, bless him, he thought everyone could eventually get along. Best fighter I knew, but one of the biggest pacifists. He thought the birds could lead everyone to an age of law and order. I knew better—well, that’s the wrong phrase. I thought different. I thought the dogs were the ones who had it figured out: we’re all savage creatures at our core, and we need strict discipline and a chain of command if we want peace.”
“I guess the dogs were more right than the birds, in the long run,” I said. “The pigs use force to maintain their power.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Shiver. “They may have won the war that way, and it’s a big part of the way they run things. But there’s more to it than that.”
“Yeah. I know. Caper gave me a long talk about how they keep everyone else divided, between races and within each race.”
Shiver jerked his head toward the roof. “That old pecker, excuse me, that old bird, thinks he knows everything. He thinks sheep can be taught to override their nature. That’s the real key to pig power. Sheep want to be ruled. They don’t want to be free.”
“I want to be free.”
“That’s because you’re a ram in here.” Shiver thumped my chest with his hoof. “But most of those sheep in that city, they wouldn’t know what to do with freedom. If the Megatropolis, blew up tomorrow, dogs and sheep would both figure out a way to end up enslaved again. I don’t know who would be their masters, but I don’t think it matters.”
“The birds?”
“They sure think they belong on top. I killed a lot of birds who tried to kill me over that one. Maybe they were right. But you’re missing the point. There will always be someone to fill that power vacuum, and sheep won’t do it for themselves. You and I could go kill every pig working at the Chugg Corporation and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference for the average sheep. It’s not in our nature to want to be at the wheel. We need someone else making decisions for us. It’s why we’re so quick to turn on anyone who fights back.”
“I’ve seen that one for myself,” I said.
“I know you have. Anytime you see a sheep get fed up and try to take on one of these pigs, you know what everyone else does.”
“Those sheep that fought back, the ones that got dragged off to be sacrificed… they were the ones who would have been rams.”
“That’s right. The pigs are so good at weeding them out because the rest of the sheep are eager to help them.”
“If they’d known they could grow horns…”
“Yeah. I know. But we’re not talking about those sheep. We’re talking about the average sheep, the emasculated city sheep and the Quarry workers with broken spirits. To them, a sheep’s purpose in life isn’t to do things, it’s to have things done to them. It’s easy for them to let it go when someone does harm to a sheep. That’s just nature. But the worst sinner, in their eyes, is the sheep who defends himself or, Arghast forbid, takes revenge. That goes against what it is to be a sheep.”
“To them,” I said, “the worst monsters of all were you and my father.”
“That’s it. Rams aren’t sheep to them. We’re something else. Some unnatural horror that wears a sheep’s skin but is worse than any pig or dog. The sheep has disowned the ram. Your professor will tell you that’s pig propaganda, but we rams were pariahs before the war broke out.”
“It has to be worth it, though, or none of you would have made that choice.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know it would be like this until after.” Shiver pointed at the broken stumps on his head. “No one backed me up when Scurvert did this to me, did they? Yeah, I know your dad would have. But two rams wouldn’t have been enough. If the workers want Scurvert and his crew out of that Quarry, they have to move as a unit. They almost did, you know. I had some hope when the workers were getting out of control after your dad’s last visit. But then Scurvert cut Dreamer up and took my horns, and that was it. They were all beaten right back into submission.”
“Scurvert.” I shook my head. “There’s no stopping him, is there? Even though we struck that deal, he hasn’t slowed down at hurting Quarry sheep. We even had him one time—Mauler fought him and would have won if it wasn’t for whatever those pigs have that makes them invincible. Scurvert’s under the protection of Chugg and he’s never going to face justice.”
“That’s because what he does is just part of life,” said Shiver, “but taking him out would be against sheep nature. Monsters killing sheep is fine; sheep killing monsters is an atrocity. And besides, it’s not that he won’t stop. He can’t.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s his thing. He won’t stop until somebody makes him.”
“OK, yeah, but then what?” Shiver had an edge in his tone now. “Every day I think about going back there and chaining him up and trying every killing method I know until something finally works. But that goes right back to what I’ve been telling you. Killing Scurvert won’t help the workers. Someone else will take his place. He's just one piece in a giant machine. A machine that the sheep allow to exist, because it’s better than having to choose their own fate. And it's my fault just as much as anyone else’s.”
“How is it your fault? You fought back.”
“And look where fighting got me. Remember how I acted when you and I first met? I was just as eager to keep my head down as any other sheep. Lots of us told your father to shut up and keep us out of trouble, you know, but the only one he listened to was me. I blamed old Trampler for the attack on Dreamer for so long. But he wasn’t the one at fault. The rest of us were for not listening to him. We’re all afraid of change, afraid of consequences. Especially me.”
“It can’t be like this forever,” I said. “Sheep have to make a change. Maybe what they need is a leader.”
“Like that whacko friend of yours, Ponder?”
“Maybe.”
“He’s a step too far in the wrong direction, I think. A leader would be willing to fight, yeah, but also have to know when not to.”
That was it. I couldn’t bite back on it anymore. I broke down and told Shiver everything. The way I’d felt when my dad died, how a piece of me had found Ponder and brought him to life, and how another piece had broken off and restored Mauler after I was put on Dopemol. How Karkus had sensed that these shards were actually his own scattered parts. Shiver looked a little put off by the whole thing, but at least he let me talk.
When I was done, he was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “How did you and Dreamer learn all this?”
I pointed past him. “He told us.”
Shiver turned and looked along the railing. The orchid he had given to his daughter was standing there in its pot. He walked over to it and gaped at it. “I told her Arghast could speak to her through this,” he said. “But it was just a myth.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I’ve seen it for myself.”
Shiver looked at me. “Well, you should be whole. They should give those pieces back to you.”
“Those pieces are what’s keeping them alive,” I said. “I think they’d die if they gave them back. If they even can give them back.”
“Well, after what Ponder did to my girl,” said Shiver, “I’d be happy to kill him myself just in case.”
I was about to answer, but something caught my eye. I turned and looked over the rail. In the plains, somewhere outside the fence, I thought I saw a red light out of the corner of my eye. But it wasn’t there anymore.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?” Shiver asked.
“I thought I saw—”
Dreamer’s voice came from inside the darkened bedroom. “Dad? Healer?”
We ran to either side of the bed. “We’re here, baby,” said Shiver. “Are you OK?” He cradled her head with more affection than I’d ever seen him show before.
Her eyes looked bleary, but she could look from her father to me and back. “I’m alright,” she said. “How long was I out?”
“All day,” I said. “It’s nighttime now.”
“The power’s still out,” she observed.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Shiver. “What did he do to you?”
“Ponder didn’t hurt me,” said Dreamer. “I was just stuck in the visions for a while. I had to sort everything out without Healer’s help.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“I tried to read Ponder’s mind,” she said. “I saw him building bombs. He put them on some buildings in the Megatropolis. He mailed his designs to Caper for safe keeping. He…” She trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Hey, never mind,” I said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No, I need to tell somebody. I saw him make Mauler throw that sheep into Toxid’s boneyard. Then I saw him force Mauler to kill Wilter. I can see it now. Mauler didn’t want to, but he…” She shuddered. “Then Ponder turned it back on me somehow. He used my own power to open my mind instead. I didn’t expect it, and it scared me. But I’m fine.”
“What was Ponder looking for?”
“He saw what I showed you over the last few days,” said Dreamer. “First he saw the memory from Caper, with him and your father in the cloning lab. He saw your father kill that pig that walked on two legs. Then he saw Whisper’s memory of being in Scurvert’s dungeon. He was fixated on my dad’s horns mounted on… oh.” She covered her mouth with her hoof. “Oh, no.”
Shiver glanced at me and then rubbed his daughter’s shoulder. “What is it, baby? You can tell us.”
“Ponder figured it out from my memories. And now I’ve figured it out too. He knows. Oh, he knows. This is going to get so bad.” She finally made eye contact with him. “Ponder knows how to kill them. He can kill Scurvert. He can kill Chugg. He needs horns. Ram’s horns are the only thing that can break the protection that Toxid gave them.”
I had to sit down. “I should have made the connection. That’s why Ponder insisted I don’t bury these.” I went to get the points of my father’s horns and brought them back to the bedside. “He wanted me to hold onto these just in case.”
“Where’d you get those?” Shiver asked.
“My father’s skull was destroyed when Ponder fought Entomber,” I said. “Caper and I buried the rest of the pieces right after you showed up.”
“All this time, it was the horns,” Shiver said. “The pigs kept your father and me alive so they could make horns into something to be rejected. ‘Let the old ways die,’ they always said after the war. But when we got to be too much of a liability, they took horns away for good.”
“But Entomber kept my father’s skull, and Scurvert’s got your horns,” I said. “A trophy for victory? Or a backup in case they were betrayed by Chugg?”
“I think you nailed it,” said Shiver.
“If Ponder tries to kill Scurvert,” said Dreamer, “or worse yet, if he actually does… they’re going to come for us. And they’ll send more than just Entomber.”
Just then a high-pitched shriek rang out and then a thud on the roof filled the whole room. Shiver was the first to react, jumping up to slam the bedroom door.
“Close the balcony!” he yelled. I ran and grabbed the handle to the sliding door. But I was too late.
A canister landed on the balcony. I had just enough time to think what’s that before it burst, stabbing my eyes with a white-hot flash and my ears with the concussive force of the blast. I couldn’t see or hear, but I felt something hit the back of my head and then I couldn’t sense anything at all.