The Puppets

“The animal instinct for survival is strong,” the balding professor droned on.

As the second hand on the big, industrial clock at the front of the room ticks, the light filtered in through grungy blinds, casting vertical lines across my desk. I imagined myself a mouse in a maze, searching for the way through the bright lines to the hunk of cheese at the end.

I’ve been listening to Professor Nathanson expound on his ideas about the primitive instinct driven brain of this and that reptile. His premise is that given a certain stimuli these mindless creatures will react in predictable patterns, "they are nothing more than the product of their evolution!" finishes our esteemed preacher with a flourish, while he and I both seem to wait to hear the “Amen” from the choir. The “Amen” never comes, but the moment is saved by the tolling of bells. It looks like we'll continue our exploration of the animal mind next time.

As we stumble from our pews to the world outside we're left with a parting message from Dr. Nate, "Next time, we will pull back the conscious mind and examine a trained animal's true being. You will not want to miss it."

I flip open my cell phone. Can they hear me now? Yes, I've got more bars. I make my daily calls, keeping in touch with all my peeps. I’ve gotten a new text. It’s from mom. She’s learned that she has to text me, because I avoid her calls. Her texts are hilarious to me. She always spells out all the words and uses punctuation.

Things weren’t always like this. I never thought I’d go to college, let alone this college, in this town. The people in town, the “townies” as we call them, exist for our pleasure; we’re almost treated as rock stars when we’re in town. They thrive off of the prestige of our name. It’s not like any of them could even make it into this school. But, as long as they can look down at the rest of the country for not living next to this University they will be happy. So long ago, in what seems like a previous life, I remember a much more humble time.

****

Back on the farm, I was just another son working in the early morning hours on his daddy’s tractor, or milking the cows, like countless other guys. Then it was off to school, where I got good grades. My dad always pushed me to excel in school. He and mom sacrificed by working harder than most parents in the area so that I could focus more on my studies. There was never a time I remember waking up when dad wasn’t already out working, nor a day when dad got in before I did.

Not that dad worked too much. He always believed in putting his family first and after that came his community. He never volunteered at the soup kitchen, that wasn’t his way. But there was never a sick neighbor that didn’t get their hay cut by dad, or their dinner made by mom until they were back on their feet. “It was nothing,” they both said. It was what neighbors did.

When graduation rolled around my friends began thinking about marrying their high school sweethearts, finding a piece of land to work as their own, or maybe taking a factory job. I admit, at the time the idea seemed really appealing. I’d been with Anne Marie for most of my time in high school, and I could see us making a life for ourselves. But, in the end, I decided I was going to college.

Mom and dad were very happy with my choice. They were both fairly educated and, although neither had gone to college, they were well read and valued learning. When I was accepted, it was one of the happiest days of my life … that is until I saw the costs of tuition and books. My dad, realizing what was going on, took me aside and said, “Son, don’t worry about it.”

I was sure I was not going to college. The next day my dad woke me up early and asked me to help him. I remember being angry and sullen. It wasn’t until that night that I realized the prized steer we were loading was going to auction.

The steer was a beauty. He was strong and graceful, and his coat had a sheen that other steers just couldn’t match. He was a fine animal and would have made for one of the best siring beasts in the county. It is not with much surprise that Angry Angus, as we called him, brought in a record prize.

We walked back to the truck and dad turned to me, “Son, I want to talk to you.”

“Alright,” I answered.

“There’s something I want you to know,” he said. “Your mom and I are real proud of you. You’ve worked hard and you deserve what you’ve earned.”

“I just don’t see how I can do it, dad. It’s too much.”

“That’s what this is for,” and he slipped Angry Angus’ check into my pocket. “Now, when you’re there, remember who you are and where you came from, and then come back a better man.”

“I can’t take this,” I began, but I could see dad’s eyes moisten with unshed tears. I’d never seen him cry before and the tears in his eyes made me choke up until all I could do was hug him.

****

I’m walking to my class, enjoying the fresh air and blue skies. The path is lined with trees and grasses where students lay out in the sun. My buddy Andrew calls out and runs over from the group of coeds he’s been entertaining. I honestly believe he must know every girl on campus.

“Hey man, can you believe that English assignment?” he begins.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” I agree.

“I swear, half these guys here think they’re Che Guevara. The other half want to be him, but they’re too afraid of losing their tenure and their studio apartments.”

“Yeah, but maybe the world needs a few more Ches,” I respond before he has to take off running after another pack of young freshman he hasn’t introduced himself to yet.

“Catch ya later!” He calls over his shoulder.

I enter the building, the lights seem to be out, but there is plenty of light coming in from the outside. I wonder if there's going to be another rate hike, this place never seems to be able to pay their light bills. As I walk towards Nathanson's sanctuary I think back to our last class, hoping I don't have to fill out another quiz. Let me see, he talked about instincts. I open the door and I'm pushed back as another girl slams into me running out of the class room. I'm shocked more than hurt, allowing her to easily push past me. Inside the room is chaos. There is a large metallic contraption at the front of the room. It looks like a stainless steel refrigerator, with blinking lights and gasses escaping from the seals. The lights in the room dim and surge in rhythmic time. It's time to get out of here, but as I turn to run when I see Professor Nathanson sprawled on the floor. It's too dark to see him well, I don't even know if he's breathing. As the lights begin to dim again for agonizing milliseconds I debate leaving him. I even take a step out of the door. I just can't do it. I’m such an idiot.

I reach Professor Nathanson and bend over him. It is too loud and dark to tell if he is breathing. I’ve got to take him with me. He's even lighter than he looks, so it doesn't take much to sling him up over my shoulder, a lot like carrying a lost lamb back to the pen. With my package now in place I'm able to make myself back to the door and stumble out. It seems like a good time to be anywhere but here. The hallway is bathed in shadows as I try to make my way out of the building.

The hallways are pure chaos, the bells, no longer the student’s relief, release a piercing alarm speaking to an impending doom. Students are running through the halls, their --our arrogance--  in never learning the closest escape routes is now coming back to haunt us. Some run up the hall, some run down. Many collide into each other in the artificial twilight. I shift my package, adjusting my grip around Dr. Nathanson’s thighs because a big jock pushes me against the wall as he runs by. I can't believe we ever made fun of this man for being so thin. His lack of flesh allows his every rib to dig into my neck and shoulder.

Reverberations begin to shake the pictures on the wall. I can actually see dust begin to fall from the ceiling and the pictures rattle before I feel the vibrations in my legs. Before I fully process that the world is moving in incorrect ways, my senses are overcome with a roar of noise and I am enveloped in a wave of black dust. I turn away and stumble back down the hallway, groping along the wall. The roar gets louder and louder, and it feels like wind is whipping through my hair and clothes, pushing me harder and harder. It's darker than night in this hallway and I can't find my way. Suddenly light surrounds me; light so bright I can't see anything. I feel myself lifted from the floor and slammed against ... something.

****

I think I’m going to be sick. There’s a dull roar in my ears, but it feels like it’s coming from inside my head rather than outside. Even thinking about whether the sound is in my head or not is difficult. I realize I can’t see anything, but slowly I realize it’s because my eyes are closed. With a great deal of effort I’m able to force my lids apart. I can see the sky is a light shade of red. That doesn’t seem right, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. Everything is upside down, but that might just be me. I’m outside now, I think I might have come through the wall, but I can’t remember very much. I see that reddish gray blocks and dust cover my legs.

I’m able to pull myself free from the stones—it takes a lot of time because my fingers on my right hand no longer seem to bend the way their supposed to. I’m able to roll over onto my hands and knee. One leg won’t bend, but with effort I get to my feet. Looking back I see the smoking hole I must have come from. The building is destroyed. The sight of the building reminds me of something … I had something, it was important, wasn’t it? What was it and where did it go? I turn, slowly because my leg isn’t working quite right.

I scan the grounds nearby. There’s too much chaos to process. I rub my head, and it comes away sticky. There’s blood there, patches of hair, and something sticky. I don’t know what it is, but it burns faintly. Looking away from my arm, my eyes fall upon a nearby tree. The leaves look red and something about that tickles something in me. Even more strange, there are two legs dangling from an upper branch. I don’t even need to think about it to realize that this isn’t right. It’s Professor Nathanson; I guess it’s game over for him.

My vision is still tinted red, hazy and blurry for me. The world feels like it’s tilting to the side. I start to notice others hobbling out of the smoking hole in the building. Some are covered in scorch marks, half their clothes smoldering on their bodies. Watching them make their way out of the building reminds me of marionettes, puppets being controlled by strings. The first few come out, turning into dozens and then hundreds. Soon they are everywhere.

The puppets are making their way across the green, limping, tugging trailing limbs. The sound of sirens pulls my attention the other way. Ambulances and fire trucks are arriving, along with people rushing in. It’s the sweetest sight I think I’ve ever seen.

By now many of the puppets have twitched passed me. I open my mouth to call out, but only a mumbled groan escapes my lips.

I see an object drop from the tree in front of me. It’s Professor Nathanson. I can scarcely believe my eye when I see him stand and begin leading the others into the mass of incoming bodies. How could he have? I have no time to complete the thought, as his and the shuffling puppets near him have twisted from slow twitching movements to sudden and violent attacks. The first responders: paramedics, EMTs, firefighters, and students don’t have a chance. In a sudden fury my fellow blast victims have turned from suffering victims to monstrous attackers.

I am right in the thick of the action. I’m not sure how I got over here, but maybe it’s a good time to get out of the middle of everything, before I’m attacked.

At some point I know I will have to fight. I may not be in the best condition, but I feel pretty confident. After all, I didn’t wrestle all those steers back home for nothing. I feel like a swift, decisive attack to the head will incapacitate my foes faster than anything else.

I turn my head and I am confronted with my first adversary. I see her eyes; they seem to be full of madness. Her skin is white and clean, and her every moment seems to be a jabbing attack towards me. There’s a definite aura of anger and aggression settling around us like a dense fog. I feel my heart race and my body seems to go into overdrive as adrenaline floods my system. I can hear the beating of my heart in my ears and feel the pulsing in my eyes, a throbbing glow of red that threatens to redden everything out.

Before I realize it, the whole thing is over and I’m standing over her. She’s completely still, almost peaceful now. In contrast my hands are shaking, and I feel everything but peace. I can feel my body slowly returning to my control, my hands slow their shaking and the thumping in my ears slows to a normal beating. I’m feeling much better now. Stronger. Safer.

I feel like my face is wet and sticky. It’s not raining. I rub my arm across my face and mouth; I look down at my hands and see that they’re covered in something slimy. How did that get there? I wipe them off on my shirt, and I feel something pop. Looking down, I see a finger has popped out of socket and is now dangling. I think I better get over to an ambulance.

I make my way over to a grouping of three ambulances. Strangely, there’s nobody there. I vaguely remember there was a reason the people were gone, but now it won’t come to me. I lean against the ambulance. I hear a commotion on the other side of the ambulance. Shouting, confusion, anger, fear, terror, and hatred. I look over and I see. Of course, it all comes rushing back to me. Dr. Nate is there, at the front of an army of twisted, broken bodies attacking and, I think I’m going to be sick. They are feeding on their victims!

I turn away in disgust. What was that? I think I heard something from inside the ambulance. I make my way back to the rear and throw open the doors, hoping for help.

When the doors open I’m confronted with a snarling beast. Crouched against the back of the ambulance is a dark haired man, his eyes glint with danger. I know he’s preparing to jump out and attack me. My heart starts beating in double time, the throbbing in my ears the pulsing of red filling my vision. I jump, fury filling me. I will not let him stop me.

I emerge out of the back of the ambulance a few minutes later. I’m glad I could save myself. I feel full and sated. I see Dr. Nate out in the field, standing tall and proud. How did I ever think that there was something wrong with him? I can see it much more clearly now. He’s the visionary; he’s the true man who is willing to do what is right. He understands better than others what needs to be done and is willing to do it.

It is the others who are full of madness. Their fear and weakness it reflects in their eyes. I cannot help but be enraged by it. The paramedic, he wasn’t a snarling beast. He was quivering in fear when he was faced with a superior being. Were there others? I cannot even remember, nor does it matter. The world is in the future, not in the quaint traditions of the past.

It is with pride that I take my place at his side.