Animals Attack Humanity

Hunters.

And there is silence, pure unadulterated silence, a silence only broken by the whistling of the wind in the soft, white, chalky air and by the drip, drip of the dirty gathering condensation on the burnt blades of grass. In the air, the ghosts, the ghastly giants appear, the empty shells, the husks, the shattered ruins of a once great and powerful species. There goes another relic now, the prey, through the silence, a specter, an empty shell like the empty buildings. For days we’ve been tracking him, and now he’s ours, he keeps moving discreetly across the rubble, peering into burnt out cars, his eyes keeping wily. He’s trying to keep quiet, but it’s too late for that, he should run, that would make it so much easier for us.
A beast dressed in ragged clothes, singed and burnt by the fires which had been lit several days earlier. In truth, he’s a rather sorry and pathetic example of the last of humanity in this region of the world.

We are proud to bring you this, proud of this moment, proud of what we have achieved.
The silence, the fake peace, is broken by a hoot, then a bark, then several chirps, spaced apart like speech, the others have broken silence, he now knows we are here, he knows were hunting him and he should, we are hunters proud and free. A week ago, with the help of our other animal brethren, we struck back, we hunted them like they had hunted us, we were just as merciless as they had been with us. We killed they’re monstrosities, their cheap attempt at playing god, their domesticated slaves, our imp like friends destroyed, disable, took over or burnt every important production center or city they had. All this was done in one massive fire ball attack. We killed; we killed the hornless goat, obliterated the long pig, we fed off their flesh and when we were filled we kept killing. We used the weaknesses of their own technology, their own stupid, false sense of security against them. We "cleaned up the mess" as our rat friends tell us. We have worked tirelessly to hunt every single one of them down.

Yet,

Some still remain. And these, like our rummaging friend, who’s groping his way through this once familiar city, are the most dangerous, they are the ones who are beyond luck, they are the true survivors, the ones who deserve to live, the ones who ran the longest, who took the most risks, who gave it all up to survive, everything else was easy, every other kill was simple, not them though, not he. He is, in a way, human potential, raw and pure, he, he is the challenge.

I cant help to think though, what was he like before all this started, did he have a family? Was he happy? What did he do? I can’t help to think, what if things had been different? What if we had made contact with the humans peacefully? Would they have helped us? Would they have rethought there ideals? Would they have helped themselves by listening to the pleas of mother earth? The rats said no. The lemurs said a peaceful outcome with the humans was impossible. The Meerkats did not even contemplate this question and we, we took the first chance we got at revenge. But now that I look at him, now that I can see him and now that I understand what he’s been through, I can see some kind of honor, some kind of redeeming quality within him, I can see that, even with all the clothes, all the mindless narcissism he, his race, still came from the earth, that in a way, albeit a very general way, we are brothers.

He whispers in my ear now, not the man, but the rat, this rider, this so called vermin, there’s ten of them on me, thirteen of my brother to the right of me, and seven on my sister to the left. They ride us like humans ride elephants or horses; they give us orders, these biting, gnawing, angry creatures, armed with small, home made, versions of human weapons; pikes, scabbards, swords made from box cutter blades, nails, ropes, anything they could find. For the last seven days they have been cutting a bloody swath through human civilization, they were the original master minds behind these attacks, they set the fires, they sabotaged whatever they could get their hands on, they made the bombs go off, they commanded the main attack forces that went into the cities, now is no different, he commands me to kill the human, and so I will.

I give my sister a quick glance, she knows what it means, she moves quickly to flank left, her little friends holding on tightly to her fur as she runs off into the mist. My brother moves silently to flank right, but before he does so, he drops off his rats, I do the same; the rats will stay here, they’ll act as a buffer in case the human gets away from us, they may be small, but a dozen of them can take down a full grown adult human with no effort; if he does get away, he wont get far. I begin to move forward, we know exactly were he is, he’s in my sights now, we are closing in.

Our mistake.

Like I said these ones are different. It all happens in a flash, my sister attacks too early; the human reacts by swinging out a blade and striking her right in the eyes, she rolls on the cracked pavement killing many, if not all, of her riders. Now, my brother attempts to strike, the human ducks down, and has my brother leaps over him, he pulls his blade up, his guts spill in the air and land in a splash on the ground, a short scream of agony, followed by a death rattle, echoes throughout the ruined city. Its just me now, he knows this, I know this.

Once again, this city has become silent, has become dead. I can see fear in his eyes, just as he can see rage in mine. I don’t think he was expecting me though, I mean, I know he was expecting another wolf, obviously; we always hunt in pacts of three. The thing that I think he was not expecting was the fact that I would be so large; I’m larger then my now dead brother and dead sister combined. We stare each other down now and for little while we stand firm, hunter to hunted.

He flinches.

His mistake was that he dared to show weakness.

I charge him.

What a price we have to pay for this victory, that this much blood be shed for our mother earth; it is insanity. It makes sense though. Would you cut off a finger if it was badly diseased and it could not be cured? I think you would, we all would if it meant the survival of the greater whole, it may be selfish, but its logical.

The hunt was good tonight, as I howl at the bleach white sky, with my prey, dead, underneath me, I break the silence indefinably and usher in a new age, the age of the animal, the age of earth.

We are hunters, spirits and flesh, fear us because we are better, fear us because we are coming.