A Heart of Darkness Chapter 17: Falling Down (RandomAirPeople)

Chris spent nearly ten minutes on the phone, for what must have felt like the longest ten minutes of his life. When the phone call was over, Chris took his phone and threw his phone far away. He yelled in frustration, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Chris collapsed on to the ground and grabbed at his hair, he was shaking with anger. The Veterinarian had finally called Chris about Indy and the conversation did not go well. Chris picked himself up and walked towards the barn, the conversation continued to play inside Chris’s mind as he searched for tools to finish everything.

“Mr. Carter, this is Doctor Bradshaw, I am the Veterinarian overseeing Indy”

“Doctor Bradschaw, how is Indy? Is he ok?”

Chris grabbed the monkey wrench he had beaten the brown rapist with, his blowtorch, and a small burlap sack. He silently walked back to the pen, and glared at the surviving fluffies from the feral herd that had ruined his life. He counted them: there were seven beta-scavengers, four mares, five weanlings, six talkie-babbehs, and eight chirpy babies. Their annoying, high pitched voices were like nails on a chalkboard to Chris, incessantly whining, singing, complaining, or chirping. He felt his blood boiling, he stepped into the scavenger pen, slamming the gate behind him to announce his presence.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Carter, but the wounds Indy sustained are too severe for us to do anything more.”

“What do you mean? There has to be something you can do!”

Chris kicked the first beta scavenger as hard as he could in its ribs, sending it flying across the pen. He grabbed the large monkey wrench and swung it at each fluffy that was near, mercilessly beating each of them in a frenzy. He began to stomp on the down fluffies as hard as he could, beating their faces in with the Monkey wrench, knocking their teeth out with each swing. Chris then started to smash the monkey wrench against their legs, breaking them so they couldn’t move from their spot. Chris stopped what he was doing and threw his wrench down onto the ground. He went back to the barn, and came back with a small tin container of lighter fluid. He grabbed the sobbing and terrified scavengers and tossed them into a pile in the center of the pen, dousing them with the entire contents of the fluid can. Chris then turned on the blow torch and pointed the flaimat a fluffy on the bottom of this makeshift fluff-pile. Instantaneously he ignited, spreading the fire up the fluff pile. The Scavengers screed at the top of their lungs, squirming and flailing, unable to get far from their broken legs. Chris stared at the smoldering pile of fluffies below him, the scent of burning shit and fluff reminding him of the burn pits of Camp Dwyer. Chris watched the scavengers all burn to death,grabbed his monkey wrench, and left their pen moving onto the Mare and Foal pen.

“Mr. Carter, you have to understand Indy’s wounds are too severe to treat, he can’t live like this. It is unfair to force him to suffer.”

“But you can’t take him away! I need Indy, he’s all I have left! Please there must be something you can do!”

The mares were cowering with their children in the far corner, listening to the horror Chris was causing in the other pen. Chris marched forwards to the mares in the corner and saw the absolute fear in their eyes, desperately trying to protect their foals. The wholesome but sad image of the mare’s protecting their children, only further reminded Chris of his own failure as a parent. How how foals loved him and in their last moments were nothing but fear and agony. Chris reached and grabbed the first mare, violently tossing her away from her babies. He began to stomp and kick her violently in the face. She begged and pleaded for Chris to stop, but her incessant pleas only made Chris angrier. His foals probably begged someone, anyone to help and these mares were all complicit in watching them die. He kept stomping harder and harder until the mare’s head completely caved in. Chris then grabbed another mare and repeated the process, until he had ended the lives of all four mares. He looked down at their corpses in contempt, their motherly instincts failed to kick in when four precious babies were being mangled to death. Chris grabbed their corpses and chucked them over into the scavenger fire, their own bodies catching fire and burning into ash.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Carter, I know it’s very difficult to say goodbye to a pet, they are often like family to us. As a Fluffy parent, you unfortunately have to do what is right for them, no matter how painful it is. Indy can’t make this decision himself.

“I-I know…Do I at least have time to say goodbye?”

The foals cheeped for their dead mothers, and cowered together in a large fluff pile. They were terrified, violently shaking and crying. This monster had just murdered their mothers and despite all their cheeping there was no one left to save them. Chris looked over the terrified foals, he felt conflicted because for all intents and purposes, they were simply babies born into the wrong herd. Chris grabbed the foals, one by one placing them in the burlap sack. A Chorus of screes, and crying as Chris threw them inside, the talkie babies begging for their mothers as the bag was too dark for them. Once all the foals were in the back, Chris shook the bag violently letting loose a fearful symphony of shrieks and involuntary defecation. The shrieking inside the bag made him uncomfortable to listen to, and he swung the bag against the pen’s fence. The surviving chirpies and talkies sobbed in agony and fear, they were hurt and scared in a bad smelling, dark, claustrophobic sack. He marched back to the pond with his sack of foals, and threw the sack into the water. He listened to the shrieks of terror coming from inside the sack, as it sank all the way to the bottom of the pond. Chris watched the final air bubbles cease to rise, and felt utter disgust in himself for what had just transpired. The Feral herd that murdered his foals, maimed Indy, ruined his home, and ruined his life; have now all been eradicated. His mission was complete, but all that remained inside Chris was a feeling of emptiness and disgust.

“We are planning to euthanize him tomorrow at four pm, again I am so sorry Mr. Carter”

“I’ll be there, thank you for doing all you could for Indy”

“Take care Mr. Carter”

“Thank you, Dr. Bradshaw”

Chris sat down by the pond and threw rock into it, he felt hollow and empty. It was all for nothing, he tried his hardest to save Indy, but he was doomed from the start. Chris began to feel guilty about the whole situation, Indy was going to be put down and he had spent this entire week torturing a feral herd to death. He should have been there with Indy at the vet and dealt with the ferals after, but instead he let his anger get the best of him and eat what time he could have had left with his last remaining foal. Chris looked at his bloodied hands, how could he even face Indy with what he had done during the week. He had single handedly murdered forty-one fluffies, annihilated an entire herd from existence. It wasn’t just the perpetrators he brought to justice, but like a violent tornado of hate, he killed them all. Chris began to wonder to himself, if that was all he was good for, destruction. He couldn’t save his foals, he couldn’t save Indy, he couldn’t even save his own platoon mates back on that awful day in Afghanistan. Though Chris knew he could kill. He killed the insurgents who ambushed him and his platoon as he killed the herd that ambushed him and his foals in their quiet little home. Death and destruction, it’s all Chris felt he was ever good for and it disgusted him. He never deserved the four angels that briefly graced his life and now he was once again alone with his thoughts.

Chris watched the sun set from the pond, the sun slowly hiding behind the dense thicket of trees westward of his home and sighed. His foals never got to watch a sunset, they were too vulnerable to be able to be outside. Perhaps Chris was too overprotective, and denied them the opportunities to see the less cruel sides of nature. Unfortunately, there was nothing more that could be done and shortly after tomorrow, his foals would be reunited with one another. They came into this world together, orphaned by the unfortunate fragility of fluffy biology, but they will rest in eternal bliss together. Perhaps they will get to meet their unborn brother and deceased mother, in some sort of fluffy paradise. Chris sighed and got up, he walked away from the sunset into the darkness covering his own home. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day, but Indy needed him more than anything else. The sun finally set on the Carter homestead, with the dark blanket of night claiming all under it’s silent dominion.

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Damn.

Without Indy, I’m not sure Chris will make it. If he does get to talk to him one last time, it’ll probably be all he can bear.

It’s heartbreaking.

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I’m hoping he gives another group of foals a chance, but at this point he just might not be able to handle that emotionally.

He is just as broken emotionally as Indy is physically.

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I am quite worried he’s going to kill himself. Or be incredibly self destructive from here on out.

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I kinda want Indy to find out what he did. See him find one of the Foals that survived hidden and beat it to death or something.

Chris really doesn’t deserve blind trust now.

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I guess it depends.

Presumably Chris wouldn’t have hurt his charges unless they went really bad. He was even taking steps to curtail smarty behavior and being responsible otherwise. Though that was Chris then. Chances are worse on him being a good owner now. But then, chances are worse on him being a good human in general now.

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The second greatest Irony of the story, is Chris could have spent the last seven days with Indy at the hospital. However, his rage was too uncontrollable and he was so afraid that this would be the outcome; he just couldn’t do anything about it.

Indeed it is heart breaking, but that’s how life can be sometimes. Happiness is fleeting, its best to savor it while you can, than to loose yourself in darkness. Hatred and anger are intoxicating emotions and I hope I was able to illustrate it well.

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Unfortunately for Chris, blind trust isn’t really what he needs right now. In the past nine days, he has been spiraling and degrading rapidly. He is a severely emotionally damaged man, who has been isolated way too long. Unfortunately, this tends to happen to a lot of veterans in real life. People willingly ignore dangerous signs, because veteran is synonymous with strength. We got one last chapter and an epilogue, hopefully it will be enjoyable to read.

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I don’t think Chris would ever hurt Fluffies he saw as family. I don’t think Fluffies that knew the truth would hate him for it.

But he doesn’t deserve the absolute faith. That bit if doubt, that understanding of the darker side, is important.

He can always justify to himself. But if Indy could ask something like “Bud what babbehs du? Indy miss babbehs. Would hab wubed Smawty’s babbehs, Chwis make dem gud babbehs.” it would be something he couldn’t ever shrug off.

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I remember he went off his meds but don’t remember if he was advised to do so by his psychiatrist or choose to do so himself.

Just a thought. I’m slowly getting off my meds, year 1.5 of weaning. I’ve had family have to go off a medicine, wait, then try a new one because the old one wasn’t working. Or try the genetic which wasn’t quite right somehow.

Meds can be challenging stuff, so I’m wondering if he inadvertantly set himself up to fail.

Yeah, you really did. Sometimes the things that haunt us never leave and we lose sight of the things that might save us.

I’m anticipating the conclusion with sadness.

Essentially yes, Chris would never hurt his own fluffies. He was going through extreme lengths to make their lives literal paradise. The best formula, the best bed, a custom built saferoom with all the highest end fluffy toys. The foals gave Chris purpose, perhaps he overcompensated for it because he had lived for so long in a fog of misery. But that sort of the tragic downfall, the emotion of joy (much like anger and hatred) was equally intoxicating for someone who lived in such a depressing state, that he neglected his other responsibilities (Failed to make the rest of the house safe).

Although the ferals are directly responsible for the deaths of the foals, Chris unknowingly provided them with opportunity. If Chris wasn’t so emotionally starved for affection and joy, perhaps this al would have been avoided.

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In Chris’s situation, I think that he just quit his meds cold Turkey. They weren’t doing a lot for him to begin with, which is why he sought companionship to begin with. Its very possible that this extreme behavior is partially due to his abrupt cessation of medicine, but Chris also has other significant problems that accompany it. Its entirely possible.

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Chris needs a dog, man

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Sadly he can’t, he’s allergic. That’s why he got athe foals to being with lol.

@anon68543914 Poor Indy :sob: but im so sad seeing Chris turned into this state, even the death of the mares and foals…he was hesitant, that would at least stops him but his anger and war trauma gotten really worst :cry: nothing was left red shit herd’s bloodline gone for good.

Will wait for the finale. Nice story as always :+1:

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A futile gesture.

Indy would have been just as likely to produce spawn like Smarty. Smarty’s young could have integrated almost seamlessly into Indy’s family as (and I say this will all due delicious malice) casualty replacements.

Chris has merely become a human Smarty. A tribal warlord.

Dishonorable conduct shames the dead more than the living after all.

Technically Indy would not longer have been able to bear children, the smarty deliberately castrated him during the initial raid in the saferoom. Indy never be capable of doing so, but you’re right in the sense that really any fluffy can potentially bare a smarty bastard.

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