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.