He began to read. “‘Preparations proceeding smoothly. Weapons and ammunition have been procured, and a force is ready for the command. We expect no resistance when we move in.’”
Galika switched off the projector, and the image vanished. “Now, if that’s not preparations for at least a battle, I’m not sure what is.”
Lucama opened his mouth as if to speak, but only managed a strangled whine. His eyes flitted around the room, watching as all the other delegates turned to face him.
Ezrachi Saticol stood, his eyes narrowing with rage. “How could you?” the cheetah asked, incredulous. As usual, Galika had to suppress the urge to wince at the annoyingly-high tone of the other feline’s voice. “You were willing to jeopardize our unity for your own personal gain? You’ve betrayed us all!” The others rose to their feet, clamoring in anger and accusation.
For a moment Dario glanced around him, looking like a rabbit cornered by hounds. But then, he seemed to grow calmer. He glared at the other delegates, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You had to go poking where you didn’t belong. In truth, I had fully intended to simply keep control of the mines, nothing more. But apparently there is a law against trying to make a simple profit. Whether you wanted a war or not no longer matters.” He slid the portfolio across the table to Galika, along with a withering stare. “War it is.”
No sooner had he finished than the whole room seemed to explode. Everyone began talking and shouting at once, leaping to their feet and hurling accusations at the Tiger’s leader. Hoping for a quick exit, Dario motioned for his assistants and made for the door. The other delegates tried to stop him, and for a moment there was a struggle as those nearest threw themselves in his path. However, Dario simply pushed them aside, bowling over the smaller representatives and clearing a path for the door.
With Dario gone, the remaining delegates quickly began to turn on each other. Accusations were tossed about, and soon blows began to be exchanged. The officers stepped forward to halt the violence, but were simply drawn into the fighting as fists flew and claws flashed. Through it all, only one feline remained calm: Galika Lukanol. A sense of immense satisfaction had filled him, and he struggled to contain the grin he could feel fighting to get free. ‘The last piece falls into place. Now the game begins.’
Within hours, the media was screaming out the news; ‘War Declared’, ‘Distrust Takes Hold’, ‘World Holds Breath for First Move.’ The hammer had fallen, and now all that everyone could do was wait.
For Matakh, it was a crushing blow. With the first report he could feel something in him break, all of the hope he had been clinging to replaced with crushing despair. Tearing his eyes away from the family v-screen, he dashed to his room and shut the door behind him. Even if Meea hadn’t heard the lock engage, she knew better than to try.
Inside, Matakh collapsed onto his bed, trying to come to terms with what had happened. He had been betrayed by his own people, and all over a few stupid rocks. Try as he might, it was just too much for him to process. He reached for his v-book and pulled up his Bible, frantically scrolling to a specific verse.
“‘Psalm 140; Rescue me, O lord, from evil men; protect me from men of violence, who devise evil plans in their hearts and stir up war every day. They make their tongues as sharp as serpent’s; the poison of vipers is on their lips.’ Dear Lord, I feel the same way as King David did when he wrote this Psalm. I feel helpless, vulnerable, alone. Like it said in those verses, I’m faced with people who stir up violence with poisonous words. But I know that you can stop this. You can turn the hearts of our leaders, make them see that there are other ways. I don’t want to get caught up in a war, and neither does my family. Please, please keep this war from coming. I’m begging you. But… if war is part of your plan, I pray that you would give me the strength and the faith to trust in you through the hard times. In Your Son Jesus’ name, Amen.”
That night, as the family ate dinner, the usual conversations were absent. A solemn air had descended over the household, particularly on Matakh, and all four of them ate their meal in relative silence. Afterwards, Matakh returned to his room for the rest of the evening, reading his Bible and praying in earnest. Finally, when he could no longer keep his eyes open, he settled down in his bed with a final plea to heaven and slipped off to a sleep filled with troubling dreams.
Two weeks after war was declared, in the dead of night, the first blow was struck.
Matakh was locked in a horrid nightmare. He was running through his house, but something was very wrong. The air was deathly silent, and the lights were all off, though dingy moonlight streamed through dusty windowpanes. He tried the switches, but to no avail. Beginning to panic, he called out for his family. His voice echoed ominously back at him, the only response to his cries. He raced to check the other rooms of the house, first his parents’ and then Meea’s, but they were all abandoned, and the once-bright furnishings now lay in ruined heaps. It was as if a fire had stormed through their home, leaving only ashes in its wake.
A faint sound came from the direction of his room, and he ran to open his door, daring to hope that he had found his loved ones. But when the panel swung open a horrid blackness rolled out at him, a dark fog that seemed to have a mind of its own. It roiled and twisted about him, ghostly tendrils reaching out like vile snares. One of them swiped against his arm, and a rush of fear and despair traveled up through his body. As he stared at the apparition in revulsion, a pair of gleaming red points appeared in its core, winking at him like sinister eyes. Caught in their malevolent stare, he felt an icy chill take hold in his heart and spread to his limbs. He wanted to run, to scream in terror and flee for his life, but he had been frozen in place. All he could do was stand there as the thing began to envelop him.
As the phantasm closed in around him, Matakh heard a cold chuckle that seemed to come from everywhere at once, and a flurry of whispering voices from inside his own head. He cried out and tried to block his ears, desperate to shut them out, but it did no good. They echoed on in a dreadful chant of pain, despair, and death that mixed with the mocking laughter to form a hellish chorus.
Suddenly, the darkness seemed to break, and a cluster of glowing figures appeared before him. They quickly sharpened until he could make them out, and he felt a thrill of hope as he recognized his family, friends, and the little fennec. He reached out a hand for them, and they all began moving to take it, their faces beaming.
He saw Meea reach out for him, saw her lips part to speak. But just before their fingers could touch a crimson cloud appeared in their midst, morphing into a hideous face with a fanged maw. Whatever Meea had meant to say was lost in her screaming as it fell upon her, and Matakh could only watch as the horror devoured his sister before moving on to the others. One by one their cries of terror rang out as they were caught and consumed, and try as he might, Matakh couldn’t move to save them. Tendrils had wrapped around his limbs, holding him in place and forcing him to watch.
When the last of them, the fox, was swallowed up, the horrible image turned to face him, baring its fangs in a hungry smile that dripped with crimson blood. He fought to escape the blackness that held him, but it was to no avail. He was trapped, pinned down like an animal in a snare. Then the mouth opened wide and leapt for him, and Matakh screamed out in despair…
“Matakh!” his mother’s voice suddenly shouted in his ear.
In an instant he was wide awake, panting and sweating as he looked around him wildly. As his eyes began to focus, he saw the face of Linalia hovering over him. Relief filled him. “Oh, Mom, it’s you. Thank God.” Then he saw the look of worry on her face, and a new kind of fear filled his heart. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
Before Linalia could answer, a dull boom reverberated through his room, and he saw a flash of angry red from outside of his window. A faint tremor ran through the house, rattling the trinkets on his shelves. There were other noises, too; the keening wails of emergency sirens, and above that the dull, foreboding drone