Episode Twenty-Two God Bless? We’ll Need It

S hanna

Chaska's bright. Intuitive. Something about what he said in the van calmed us all down. Evidently, it needed to be spoken out loud, because it cleared the air.

I riffle through one of the bags I brought into the back seat and ask, "Reese's anyone?" as I hold up the orange-and-brown wrapped candies I grabbed from the store. We're all in agreement that life turned to shit. Why not eat candy?

It lightens the mood, and we drive the rest of the way to our cabin on a sugar-fueled high.

Luckily, our vehicle was designed for rough conditions, because we ride through two-foot-high grass filled with potholes as we cruise the perimeter of the property. Not taking any chances, we're looking for anyone hiding in the tall grasses. All we see are two bunnies we routed from their hidey-holes.

"Rabbits," Ro says ruefully.

As we planned on the ride, the guys surround me as we make our way from the vehicle to the front door, all of us armed. Ro takes point entering every room, shouting "clear" just like in the movies after he ensures no one is here.

We offload all our goods, and before the sun sets, Chass and Alex go to the outbuilding and return with enough plywood to cover all the windows.

I grew up on a steady diet of post-apocalyptic movies. When asked, I'd say it was my favorite genre, although I don't think that's even a thing. Between being steeped in those thoughts and images, and the endless erosion of both women's and human rights over the past few decades, perhaps I've feared for a long time that something like this was coming.

Was it an accident I pushed for a less grand house in exchange for one with more acreage? Was my subconscious preparing us for this in the few years since we bought this place?

You'd certainly think so when you look around. There may not be a lot of nutritional food, and certainly no stockpile of steak for Alex, but there are hundreds of packages of ramen noodles, cans of veg, and even a surprising amount of canned ham. None of us even eat that. But there's a corner in the extra room filled with it.

I never mentioned my little hoarding problem to the guys. Interestingly, none of them asked, though they must have seen the plastic bins filled with all that shit. I think in the back of my mind I was anticipating this.

It was I who insisted we needed an electric generator. I convinced my husbands to spend the money on a second genny for the well. I may die soon, but I've left the three of them in a position to live through this cataclysm.

This makes me feel good.

We get terrible reception here on the best of days, so I don't know what possesses me to tune into the station from the Azores. Bingo! Maybe it's because nothing else is broadcasting and there's no interference. Their signal comes through better than at our house in the city.

I guess the networks shut down when the newscasters turned into animals before the viewing public's eyes. Or maybe the folks in the control room couldn't function anymore because their claws prevented them from being able to manage the tech.

Either way, there's not much on the airwaves.

"Hello. Hello." It's a British man. "Welcome, if you're just joining us. Our signal was jammed for a while, but we managed some workarounds. We've gotten hundreds of shortwave radio contacts asking our exact location. Sorry. We only have so much infrastructure. We can't invite you here."

I have to admit, I'd had that thought. If I live, I'd wondered about finding a way there, where it's safe. We're certainly not going to be safe here, not with roving gangs of wolfmen in the neighborhood.

"To be honest," the announcer continues, "we wouldn't know what to do if the dozens of species we're hearing about began arriving here. Humanoid wolves, lions, tigers, elephants, small mammals, avians, and if one informant can be trusted, some mythological beasts like griffins. Mind-boggling."

As Alex and Chaska bring in the last pieces of plywood, I wonder what the announcer would think of the shimmering blue-green fire-breathing dragon not fifteen feet from me. Alex joins Roman and me on the ugly orange plaid couch that was here when we bought the place.

Chaska sits at my feet. It takes him a minute to wiggle his wings between my legs so we're both comfortable. Nothing's the same. Not the feel of his skin, which is now softly scaled. Not the way he gingerly settles his head on my knee while being careful not to spear me with those spikey things surrounding his head. Not even his scent.

But it feels divine to have my males next to me, no matter what species they resemble. They're my guys, my husbands, my mates. I love them.

"We've gotten additional information since our original broadcasts yesterday. Some women are being turned into animals. That makes sense. The powers that be probably want some of these species to continue to provide endless slaves for the Up Above. To do that, they need breeding stock of both genders."

That explains the male and female lions this morning. Dear God, to be considered breeding stock is so heinous. To think that 24 hours ago I thought not being able to work, vote, or drive was the worst that could happen.

"Also, more than 10% of women are surviving. That initial information was bogus. It appears the plan was for billions to die in the initial mutation—many didn't make it through the first night. We believe the rich and powerful are watching via drones and satellite footage. Who knows if they'll be viewing this as entertainment as you engage in fights for survival in the days, weeks, and months to come?

"There may be enclaves of you who endure, but don't expect to keep the lights on or maintain the infrastructure. This plan has been in the works for decades, even while your governments were dangling the possibility of escape to other planets. This was always their backup plan."

A swell of hatred washes over me like a wave. It's hard to tamp it down as he continues.

"In the short term, we still recommend stockpiling food and water. Those of you with generators may not want to use them to keep the lights on after dark. You will be a target for thieves and ne'er-do-wells."

Alex leaps off the couch and flicks off every light in the house. The broadcaster is right. Anyone who sees we have power will be coming for it and whatever other resources we may have.

"We'll keep broadcasting as long as we have information to share. God bless you all."