Before he took his new name, before the animals rose up and overthrew their oppressors, before there was talk of prophecies and saviors, the great warrior Mort(e) was just a house cat known to his human masters as Sebastian. It was a time that now returned to him only in dreams and random moments of nostalgia that disappeared as quickly as they arose. All of it except for Sheba. The memory of her was always digging at him like a splinter under a nail.
Sebastian’s mother, a nameless stray, gave birth to her litter in the cargo bed of a pickup truck. If he tried hard enough, Mort(e) could see brief flashes of those days spent suckling with his brother and sister. He could recall the warmth of his mother’s fur, the rough surface of her tongue, the sound of her cooing, the smell of his siblings as they climbed over him, the wetness of their breath.
He could not, however, remember the circumstances that separated him from his family. There were no records for him to consult once he became sentient. All he could do was imagine the truck driver—most likely a friend of the Martinis, his eventual owners—discovering the destitute brood while loading the vehicle one morning. Sebastian’s mother probably hissed and scratched when the humans removed her kittens. But in the end, she must have been grateful to be relieved of them. Instinct told her that she had fulfilled her evolutionary role and was still young enough to have more kittens.
From that morning on, the days dissolved into one another for little Sebastian. Janet and Daniel Martini were a young couple then. The newlyweds spent their first year together renovating their house for the children they planned to have. Left to himself, Sebastian believed that he owned the place. He crept into the rafters and slunk through the newly constructed ceilings and walls. The workmen covered up the wooden beams, shooing Sebastian away from his favorite hiding spots.
Once the living room was complete, Sebastian would recline in the square of sunlight on the carpet, drifting in and out of sleep, watching the dust motes floating around him. During the day, while the Martinis worked, the house was quiet. At night, Sebastian would visit his masters at the dinner table, sometimes reaching his paws up to Daniel’s lap. The man wore jeans that carried the scents of his print shop: chemical cleaners and metal and ink. The manufactured odors would sting Sebastian’s nostrils if he inhaled too deeply. Daniel would then lead the cat to the basement stairs, where he kept the water and food, along with the litter box.
Sebastian rarely thought of his siblings or his mother, until one morning when a family of strays marched in single file across the front lawn. The mother led two kittens who obediently hopped behind her. Sensing they were being watched, the mother stopped and pointed her tail in the air. She eyed Sebastian, who stared at her in return, his paws propping him up on the windowsill. She hissed. Sebastian hissed back, mimicking her. Then she extended her paw, and three sharp claws emerged from the tips. Sebastian flinched. Satisfied, the mother cat kept walking. Her young ones gave Sebastian a final once-over before following.
A dog’s bark sent them scurrying out of sight. The dog was Hank, a brown mutt who lived across the street. Hank seemed to have no purpose in life other than barking until he was hoarse, while his red nylon leash strained to keep him at bay. He often focused his anger on Sebastian, who slept on the windowsill when he wanted to feel the cool glass on his side. On this day, Sebastian let Hank holler for a little while before stepping away from the window. It was an act of mercy.
Sebastian gazed at his own paws and noticed for the first time that the toes were not as long as those of the other cats. The digits had been sheared off. That seemed impossible, for he should have remembered such an incident. Regardless, this observation produced a moment of clarity for him. There were probably many things he did not remember about his past, living by himself in this house, sleeping away the time. Moreover, there were cats and other creatures beyond the walls, and he had been one of them. But now he was here, separated from others like him. He knew there was no way out, even though he had never searched for one.
Though it may have been terrifying, the moment drifted away, along with most other memories. There was warmth and food here, along with other wonders and distractions. A new plush carpet in the living room was even softer than his mother’s furry belly. An enormous gaudy mirror took up nearly an entire wall of the living room, leaving him baffled for weeks after its installation. Not only was there another room, but another cat! This stranger had a white chin with an orange streak that draped over his forehead, extending along his spine to his tail. Though Sebastian was relieved to discover that the other cat was an illusion, he still had to remind himself of this fact every time he walked by the mirror.
He dedicated entire days to the new television, with its flickering screen, endless looping wires, and whirring circuitry. When the Martinis left the attic door open, Sebastian had a new world to conquer, filled with toys, cardboard boxes, holiday decorations. His first expedition lasted from one sundown to the next. From the window he could see gray roofs, green lawns, streets that glistened in the rain, and a never-ending stream of cars rolling along the horizon, the edge of the known world.
And then Janet brought home a young one of her own. A few days later, Daniel picked Sebastian up—something he never did—and carried him into a bedroom where the baby boy lay on a towel on the mattress. Daniel spoke softly to Sebastian, rocking him gently before placing him on the bed. Sebastian sniffed the baby’s soft, clean skin. The baby gurgled and waved his arms. Daniel let Sebastian sit there for a long time.
Sebastian liked the child, whose name was Michael. And he was happy when, perhaps a year later, Daniel brought him another infant, a girl named Delia. These were his people, and he belonged with them. This was home. He was safe here. There was nothing else to life. There didn’t need to be.
FOR MANY ANIMALS, things began to change when they were first exposed to the hormone. For Sebastian, the real change began when Janet started sleeping with the next-door neighbor.
The neighbor appeared out of nowhere in the Martinis’ driveway one day. Janet chatted with the man while the babies were asleep upstairs. Sebastian observed from the window. The neighbor was tall, with long hair that flopped behind his ears and a pair of round glasses that reflected the light in brief flashes. Beside him, fidgeting at his knees, was a dog. Large brown eyes. A white coat with an orange patch extending from the hip to the shoulders. Mysterious and exotic, a creature from another world. The man would occasionally grasp her collar in order to hold her still.
Sebastian was convinced that the dog was about to attack Janet. He pawed at the window in an attempt to warn her. If only he had those sharp claws like the stray cats, she would have heard the scratching. The neighbor gave the dog a whack on her side, and she sat down and remained still. This animal was clearly the man’s property, and posed no threat. The use of force to subdue the dog surprised Sebastian, for the only time he could recall being disciplined was when he sat in the recliner. Janet had swatted him out of it so many times that he began to believe that the chair was somehow connected to the woman, and could summon her instantly.
It wasn’t until the neighbor was saying goodbye that the dog finally spotted Sebastian. She cocked her head, trying to figure out what this little creature was. The man yanked her collar one more time, and she left with him.
Her name was Sheba. A few sunrises later, the man and the dog performed an odd ritual in their yard. He tossed a fluorescent green ball, which the dog would chase down and return to him, over and over. Both of them seemed so pleased when the task was completed that Sebastian again wondered if the dog somehow ruled over the man. But then the man dangled a piece of food until she sat and waited for it.
Sebastian once dreamt of the dog invading his house and taking his family from him. He saw himself on the other side of the window, in the forbidding cold, while the dog stared at him from his spot in the living room.
Some time later, the Martinis invited another stranger to the house. A teenage girl named Tanya. The couple dressed up in new clothes—Janet in a long silvery dress, her sandy hair tied in a bun, and Daniel in a jacket and tie. They kissed the children goodbye and left the house together for the first time since Delia had arrived. Tanya sat on the couch watching television. She smelled weird, like candy, flowers, and mint. Every once in a while, she would go upstairs and check on the children. Sebastian kept his distance, spying on her from behind a chair or underneath a table.
Something had happened to the family. Tanya had split them up somehow. She was clever. She said hello the way all guests did, with a smile and a gentle hand. Sebastian ran away from her. She could not be trusted. A predator was in his house. Sebastian was on his own. He had to protect this place by himself.
Each time Tanya visited the children’s room, Sebastian stayed on her tail while still remaining far enough away, in case she pounced on him. In case she had claws. It went on several more times until he could barely stand it.
She went in once more, and he waited in the hall. He could hear the girl speaking softly, her palms sliding down the fabric of the sheets. The lights dimmed. Something was happening.
Furious, Sebastian charged, butting the door with his head. The sound of the collision was like an explosion. Tanya was the first to scream. Sebastian began screeching as he never had before. He pawed at the door. Inside the room, both children were crying. Tanya whispered in response, trying to soothe them. Sebastian would have none of it. She was trying to trick them, the same way she had tricked the Martinis. Don’t believe her, he tried to say. I am here to protect you.
Eventually, the Martinis’ car pulled into the driveway. Sebastian stopped yelling, relieved that he was able to summon them so quickly. While the children continued to cry, the babysitter stuck her head out the window and called to the Martinis for help. She was loud enough to get Sheba barking from next door. Janet arrived first. Sebastian let her walk by, proud that he had held off the intruder long enough for his masters to see. She tried to open the door, but it was locked from the inside. She banged on it for a few times before Tanya let her in. The girl’s face was slick with tears, her eyes red and raw. Janet hugged her, then went to the children’s cribs and rocked them to sleep. Defeated, the girl sat in a chair and wept.
Sebastian walked downstairs, where he found Daniel leaning against a wall. The man’s tie was undone, his skin yellow and wet. Sebastian noticed a new scent on him, a putrid version of Janet’s perfume. Daniel stared at himself in the great mirror, a line of drool hanging from his bottom lip. Sebastian went to him, hoping for some kind of explanation, but the man nudged him away with his foot. Sebastian stood there, stunned. Meanwhile, Janet walked the traumatized girl to the door. She and Daniel exchanged angry words. Years later, Mort(e) imagined her saying something to the effect of, “Your cat showed more concern for your children than you did.” And then she must have said something about his drinking. She ignored his angry reply. Tripping on the first step, Daniel managed to drag himself to his room, where he promptly fell asleep.
The house fell silent. Sebastian was alone to contemplate what had happened. It was he who was the enemy, the intruder. He was a prop for this house, not to mention its prisoner. They had mutilated him so that he could guard the house in name only. He pictured the days stretching endlessly before him. He realized that he would die alone in this place.
When the moment passed, he wandered over to the window. Tanya was gone, and Janet stood in the driveway speaking to the neighbor again. The dog was with him. This time, Sebastian did not have to wait for the dog to make eye contact. She stared at him, her tail wagging. Dogs seemed incapable of controlling their tails. Minutes later, the neighbor and the woman sat at the kitchen table sipping tea and laughing the way the Martinis used to years earlier. Sebastian did not have the energy to stand up to yet another stranger. Besides, he was content to stay by the window. Sheba remained in the driveway, her leash tied to the doorknob.
The glass separated them. Sebastian drew closer. Sheba pressed her paw to the window and licked the glass in a vain attempt to get to his face. Sebastian sniffed the trails of saliva but could smell nothing. This continued into the night, while the two humans shared stories and jokes. It was not long until all the evening’s events were forgotten, replaced with Sheba’s warm brown eyes and lapping tongue.
A NEW RITUAL began. Several nights a week, Daniel left for night classes at the local community college. Janet would put the children to bed. And then the neighbor would sneak across the yard, Sheba in tow, sometimes mere seconds after Daniel’s car pulled out of the driveway. Janet would greet them in the kitchen—first the dog with a pat on the head, and then the neighbor with a passionate, longing kiss. One time, they went at it for so long that Sheba barked at them. After exchanging small talk, they would retire to the master bedroom.
Sebastian observed from a perch on top of the cabinet. Up close, the neighbor was so different from Daniel. Whereas the master was short and stout, with a growing bald spot, this man was tall and lean. He had a darker complexion, and he wore his hair in long strands, almost like rope. The neighbor’s name was Tristan, and he was a literature professor at a nearby college. Sebastian did not understand why such a man would be the object of Janet’s affections when her husband was clearly the protector of the house.
Tristan tied Sheba’s leash to the leg of the kitchen table and headed off with Janet. Sheba moaned a bit, and the man returned to soothe her. The woman hooked her finger through Tristan’s belt loop and pulled him toward the stairs, trying to distract him from his whining pet. This dog couldn’t be left alone, Sebastian realized. She depended on her master too much. And Janet must have refused to meet at Tristan’s house. Leaving behind the children would have been even worse than having the dog around.
Sebastian heard movement on the second floor. Sheba stared at the ceiling. Sebastian was unsure of what to do next—the window had provided a safe barrier between them, and he was not ready to get close to this stranger without it, no matter how fascinating she may have been. He had to settle for watching from afar until Tristan returned and walked her out.
The next time Sheba visited, she urinated all over the kitchen floor. Janet screamed when she found the mess, pulling her hair in frustration as the puddle crept onto the rug by the door. Tristan tried to calm her down. He stepped outside, which made Sheba howl in agony. It sounded like a child. The shrieks made Sebastian’s ears turn. No wonder her master had to tow her along on his visits. She would have alerted the entire neighborhood to what was going on. Tristan returned with a roll of paper towels in one hand, a plastic bottle of green, foamy liquid in the other, a pair of rubber gloves in his pocket, and a mop under his arm. He removed the rug and cleaned everything so ruthlessly that even Sebastian could no longer smell what had happened. The next night, a new rug greeted Daniel when he came home from work.
After that, Tristan put Sheba in the basement. If she had another accident, at least it would be easier to clean and hide. Sebastian waited for Tristan and Janet to start making their noises in the bedroom. Then he visited Sheba. She stared at him as he paced the floor. When he was within range, she sniffed his head. He wondered what her tongue would feel like, and then the next thing he knew, she was licking him from his eyes along his skull to the back of his neck. Sebastian retreated. Sheba stepped toward him, but the leash restrained her. Sebastian rubbed his head with his paws until it was dry. When he went back to her, she licked him again, more gently this time. He nuzzled against her, feeling her fur mingle with his own, and hearing her heart thud against her chest, the breath going in and out. Within minutes, they were huddled together and dozing off as though they were animals in the wild groping for warmth from other members of their pack.
SEBASTIAN HAD NEVER known what happiness was. Now that Sheba visited, he had someone in his life who understood. Someone who forgave him for who he was.
Because he was neutered, with no exposure to cats since his birth, cuddling with Sheba was the closest Sebastian had ever come to experiencing physical intimacy. But it was more than enough. The simple act of determining the positions in which they slept became a profound, almost sacred, act, every bit as complex as outright mating. Typically, Sheba preferred to be the big spoon, since Sebastian was so much smaller. Throughout their sessions, they would have to shift in order to facilitate breathing or circulation. Sometimes they were content to merely touch foreheads, or for Sebastian to rest the crown of his head on the middle of Sheba’s back. If it had been a particularly long day, they would face each other in an embrace, their legs overlapping. Sheba, being the more fidgety of the two, would normally be the first to break the pose. Sometimes Tristan and Janet would have to wake them up. The couple seemed happy to see their pets so friendly with each other.
After some convincing, Sheba joined Sebastian on his regular patrols of the house. They explored the basement together, sniffing around the old tools and sports equipment. Once, when Tristan failed to secure the leash properly, Sheba broke free and followed Sebastian upstairs, through the many rooms of the second floor, under tables, behind shelves, into closets that had been left open. Sebastian led her past his masters’ bedroom and into the far reaches of the forbidden attic. Though Sheba was scared at first, she soon found the place as irresistible as he did. It was their secret world, a conquered land. Her presence made it seem new again.
There was a moment as the summer sun was going down when Sebastian remembered that terrible thought he had had so long ago: that one day, he would die in this place. If he had shoulders, he would have shrugged. It no longer mattered if he died here, whether it was in another ten years or that very instant. Sheba’s breath was heavy on his neck. His head rested on her outstretched legs. Everything was now, in the present moment, and it was perfect.
SEBASTIAN LEARNED TO recognize the sound of Sheba’s feet hitting the grass when she played in Tristan’s backyard. There was a large tree, its branches humming with beehives, and its trunk choked by a pack of slithering vines. It may have been Sheba’s favorite place in the world. When she was there, she did not always notice Sebastian. If she did, she would bark a few times to say hello. The stray cats occasionally teased her, but she chased them away before they could unsheathe their claws.
One day Sebastian was surprised to see Hank, the dog from across the street, in the Martinis’ driveway. He walked slowly, exhausted. Sensing something was terribly wrong, Sebastian scanned the backyard for Sheba. He spotted her reclining in the shade of the tree. Hank trotted off, his eyes fixed on Sebastian. The dog’s expression suggested that he had gotten away with something.
IN A WAY, Sebastian was fortunate to not yet understand that nothing lasted forever. He was unaware of the war that was brewing while he and Sheba held each other. And when Sheba began to act differently, he failed to notice at first. After a while, it seemed that all she did was sleep. They no longer performed their cuddling ritual. Sebastian would often find her already passed out, and he would have to creep up next to her. More than once, she woke up and irritably pushed him away. He ignored it, repositioned himself, and fell asleep again.
There were other things going wrong. Whenever Janet was alone, she would huddle by the television and watch the ghostly people on the screen. It was always the same: a river of text flowed beneath explosions, people running, buildings on fire, green trucks rolling along highways, men and women with helmets marching, building bridges, demolishing things, using flamethrowers to burn massive hills of dirt. And in between all the images were videos of creatures that Sebastian had seen crawling in the grass outside the window: ants. They were always on the television, always marching in a line, sometimes covering entire fields and picking apart dead farm animals. Sebastian saw people running away from ants the size of the Martinis’ car. The monsters could walk on their hind legs, and their jaws were strong enough to lift a human at the waist. This footage went on for a few days until Daniel came home and switched it off while his wife was watching. They yelled at each other, and when they were done, Janet sat in the room by herself, crying. After that, she turned on the television only when her husband was out of the house.
By then, Michael was walking on his own. One time, he refused to go to sleep, and she agreed to let him watch. All the channels were playing the same thing now. Nothing but ants and fires. But this time, there was footage of a new creature. A pack of wolves, walking on their hind legs, approaching the camera. One of them carried a club in his hands the same way Daniel would hold a hammer. This was followed by a choppy clip of a group of animals marching alongside the giant ants. Sebastian could hear people screaming. Michael cried when he saw it. Janet shut off the television and cradled the child until he quieted down.
Soon after, Daniel began carrying cardboard boxes filled with water bottles, canned vegetables, and jars of peanut butter to the basement. One night, he hid a strange object behind the shelf where he kept his tools. It was a long metal tube with a wooden base. He placed small red cylinders into a hole in the side of the object. Then he propped the wooden base on his shoulder and aimed the tube at Sebastian, making a popping noise with his mouth. After his master went to bed, Sebastian sniffed the device a few times before giving up on figuring out what it was.
A few days passed, during which Daniel occupied the basement, his body odor lingering in a cloud around him. Sebastian took to hiding in the attic. There were trophies, old record players, photo albums, winter coats hovering on hangers—an entire lifetime’s worth of objects. But they had been sitting there for so many years. Too musty and old. They could not compete with Sheba. For a brief time, he held out hope that she was hiding somewhere in the attic. He would meow and wait for her to answer, or he would nap on an old comforter and expect her to be there when he woke up. Nothing worked.
A FEW NIGHTS later, when Daniel was away, Sheba returned at last. The ritual ensued as it always had, with Janet hugging Tristan, the two of them leading Sheba to the basement before disappearing upstairs.
Sebastian could tell right away that something was wrong. Sheba hunched down, claiming the spot for herself, her paws balled into fists. She growled at him. He hoped that it was some kind of game that she was playing, so he continued walking toward her. But then she barked and bared her teeth.
Sebastian ran to the attic. He sighed and let out a meow that he hoped Sheba would hear over the moans coming from Janet’s bedroom. He thought about dying again, but the feeling soon passed.
A litany of unfamiliar sounds rattled the window. When he peered outside, Sebastian saw the ramp to the highway jammed with the same vehicles from the television: large green trucks and moving metal boxes with long tubes sticking out the front. The engines rumbled, smoke rising from their tailpipes. Though Sheba’s tree blocked the view from the other side of the house, Sebastian was sure that the vehicles surrounded the town. A siren howled in the distance. It was some kind of alarm, like Sheba crying, only many times louder. These intruders had something to do with Sheba’s behavior, he was sure. They were influencing things, making the Martinis hostile to one another, making it so that Sebastian now ate only once a day rather than twice. The children cried more. The radio no longer played music—only angry, tense voices. The television flashed monsters on the screen. Janet often sobbed while folding her hands and whispering to herself. Everything was falling apart.
Then Janet started screaming. Sebastian arrived at the basement to find Tristan running up the steps. The man grabbed a roll of paper towels and a dishrag and returned to the cellar. Sebastian crept behind him.
On the third step down, he had a view of everything. Sheba lay on the floor, panting and exhausted. Splayed out before her were three shivering puppies. Tristan frantically tried to wipe up the mess. He yelled at Janet. Sebastian could smell the fear in their sweat. They would not be able to clean up before Daniel returned.
Sheba would not look at him. She was hypnotized by the little ones.
Then the car pulled into the driveway. Tristan and Janet argued in a whisper. She put her hands on his shoulders, begging him to leave. Tristan ran out the back door as Daniel walked in the front. Janet switched off the light to the basement.
Husband and wife embraced—the first time they had done so in weeks. Upstairs, Delia started crying, so Janet went to the nursery.
Sebastian got closer to Sheba. When she finally acknowledged him, she acted as though she did not even remember her hostility from a few moments earlier. I know you, her affection seemed to say. Where have you been? The little ones were lolling about. Sebastian sniffed each of their foreheads. Then he pawed at Sheba and leaned into her warmth. With this movement, he purred to her, Don’t worry. Don’t be sad. I am strong. I will not leave you. I am strong.
After the Change, many of the animals reminisced about the time when they first achieved self-awareness, like humans talking about where they were for important historical events. This was Sebastian’s moment: a brief recognition of friendship between two beings separated by species and circumstance. He was lucky. So many others recalled watching television, or deciphering a street sign, or staring at some interaction between humans. Sebastian, on the other hand, had a true moment of bliss, a welling of joy and peace.
But it soon faded. He knew that he would lose her. She would leave with her children, and he would be trapped in this haunted house alone. There would be the familiar sounds and smells. Perhaps another child for the Martinis. There would be food and water when he needed it, along with the litter box and the square of sunlight in the living room. But there would be nothing else, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Sensing that her master was not in the house, Sheba began whining, a sort of weak squeal that escaped with each breath. Then she howled like a wolf, startling Sebastian. He told her to be quiet, that it would be okay. Footsteps approached. Janet intercepted her husband at the top of the stairs, trying to talk him out of going down to the basement. The lights came on. Sebastian’s pupils shrank into painful slits.
Daniel froze at the sight. Sheba saw him coming closer, realized that he was not Tristan, and continued howling, as if this would transform the man into her master. Janet pretended to be shocked as well.
The man went quiet. His wife asked if he was okay. He backhanded her in the jaw, knocking her to the ground.
The man grabbed Sebastian by the scruff of the neck and tossed him aside. The puppies were still prone on the ground. Janet screamed. Sheba rolled onto her feet and tried to shield her pups from danger. Daniel kicked her in the ribs. Sheba yelped. She stood on her hind legs and bit into the man’s arm. Daniel kicked her again, another hard shot to her hip. She snapped at him. Unafraid, Daniel gripped her by the neck as she pawed at him. He shoved her into a wall. The sound of it made Sebastian jump. Daniel was trying to kill her. Sheba had to run away. Taking a last look at her pups, she sprinted up the stairs past Sebastian. The man pursued her, his feet stomping against the old wooden steps. Sebastian stepped into his path. Daniel had to awkwardly jump over him. The move bought Sheba time, and she was able to run out the back door.
With Sheba gone, the man turned next to Tristan’s house. No one answered when he banged on the door. Enraged, Daniel went to his garage and returned with a bright yellow mop bucket, which he carried to the basement. Sebastian hid under the kitchen table. When the man climbed the steps, all three of the puppies were in the bucket, squeaking helplessly. Janet was close behind, begging him to stop. When she reached for the bucket, her husband pushed her away with the heel of his palm. He went into the bathroom and slammed the door. With the water running in the bathtub, Janet leaned against the wall and slid down until her head rested on her knees. She caught sight of Sebastian and began to cry.
The puppies stopped squealing.
SEBASTIAN RETURNED TO the kitchen. The door was open. He had never left the house before. It was as though some invisible barrier had locked him in for all these years. Now, leaving seemed no scarier than taking a nap in the living room. The clarity of it was so blinding that he could hardly imagine having been afraid of the outside world before. So he walked out, guided by the scent trail that Sheba had left until he lost it in the middle of the yard. He called to her but knew that she could not hear.
Behind him, Janet closed the door, and she and her husband began fighting again. Sebastian was not frightened. He did not want to go back inside. Instead, he had an urge to explore, to learn things. He had never examined a bird’s nest up close or traced the connecting lines of a spider’s web. His mind ached for more knowledge, a thirst that could not be quenched. A pack of vines strangled the tree on Tristan’s lawn. A clump of ants dragged a wounded grasshopper to their lair, dismantling the struggling creature along the way. A sad woman packed her children into a car weighed down with luggage and drove off. In the sky above, menacing helicopters and fighter jets cut through the clouds, racing toward the explosions and the great plumes of smoke to the south. Long after the Martinis had exhausted themselves with their fight, Sebastian wandered the neighborhood, cataloguing everything. He was not simply storing things away and recalling them. He was asking why.
He realized then that things did not last forever. They decayed. Or they left. Or they died. Or they were lost. Or they were taken away.
That night, while he sat behind the Martinis’ garage, the hair on his paws fell away. He was not alarmed. He simply brushed away the remaining strands, stretched out the toes into fingers, and rubbed the palms together.
More jets streaked overhead. Explosions thumped in the distance, getting closer. Sebastian climbed to the roof of the garage to see over the hedges. Miles away, a city burned. Helicopters hovered over the flames like flies above a carcass. Massive fireballs bloomed amid the wrecked buildings. Then the electricity went out in all the houses in the neighborhood. The faraway conflagration provided the only light.
Sebastian stayed up all night watching, thinking, remembering. He knew that when the sun came up, more things would change. Or be taken away. Or die.
STILL ON THE roof of the garage, Sebastian woke to the sound of glass breaking in the house. His eyes opened. A column of black smoke obscured the city on the horizon. He turned to the house and tried to listen. Janet burst out the door. She wore a hiker’s backpack and held a child in each arm. Sebastian had never realized how strong she was.
Daniel trailed behind her. “We have to stick together,” he said, his voice breaking. This made Sebastian pause. He actually understood the words!
“We’re not staying in this house,” she said.
Sebastian mouthed the words: we’re not staying in this house.
Daniel ran inside while his family headed to the car parked at the front of the driveway. It was a silver SUV with mud streaks on the side and children’s seats in the rear.
When Daniel stepped outside again, he held the black metal tube in the crook of his elbow. “You’re not taking my children,” he said.
Janet ignored him.
“Mommy, what is Daddy doing?” Michael asked.
“Do you hear me?” Daniel said.
“Go ahead and shoot us then, Dan!” Janet said, her face puffy and red. “We’re dead anyway! Go ahead and do it!”
Daniel had no response. Blinking, his lip twitching, he leaned the tube against the side of the house and walked inside.
The girl was crying, while the boy kept asking questions.
“Get in the car,” Janet said.
While the mother fussed with Delia, Michael caught sight of Sebastian on the roof. “Mommy, look!”
Sebastian realized that he was standing on his hind legs like a man. But before Janet could see, her husband emerged from the front door of the house. He grabbed Janet by the hair and pulled hard.
On her back, dragged from behind, she tried to cradle the screeching baby in her arms. “Daniel, stop it!”
Michael was torn between his unhinged parents and the demon standing on top of his garage. The boy called to his father, but the man did not answer. Soon the entire family was in the house again. The door slammed shut, sealing off the noise.
A few minutes later, Sebastian could hear Daniel walking toward the porch, probably to retrieve the metal tube. Sebastian knew that his master was going to use it on the family. He pictured the man bringing the wife and children into the bathroom and running the water until the squealing stopped. Sebastian jumped down from the roof and raced to the object.
Daniel exited the house to find Sebastian before him, standing erect, brandishing the weapon. The fear and despair in the man’s eyes infuriated Sebastian. Did he not recognize a member of his own family? Did he not remember when Sebastian had protected the house from an invader, or when he accepted the responsibility of watching over the children?
“You do not recognize me?” Sebastian asked. The words felt strange rattling in his throat and leaving his mouth. It seemed as though they had always been there, waiting to be unlocked. The act of speaking felt like shaking his head until the right phrases fell out.
The man’s lips moved. No sounds came out. Sebastian stepped forward and pointed the weapon at his head. “Do you understand my speech or not?” Sebastian said.
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Yeah.”
Three fighter jets swooped above the house, their engines vibrating the windows. More explosions thudded miles away.
“Get inside,” Sebastian said. “We talk there.”
Daniel complied, leading Sebastian to the living room. The smell of sweat and blood grew strong. There, Janet lay on the floor beside the recliner, still clutching Delia. Michael knelt beside her. Blood leaked from her split eyebrow and dripped onto the plush carpet.
“See?” Michael said to his mother. “I told you!”
The child recognized him. Janet, dazed, didn’t seem able to comprehend what she was seeing.
While Daniel told Michael to be quiet, to be a good boy, Sebastian could not resist watching his reflection in the mirror as it moved with him. He could walk upright. And he had grown taller than his master, with lean muscles underneath his fur. His limbs were long and thin. His paws had become functional hands. If he’d had claws, he could have sliced Daniel into bleeding strips of flesh if the man tried to resist him.
Daniel sat on the couch and, for the first time, offered Sebastian a seat on the recliner. Sebastian obliged, cradling the weapon on his lap. Sitting in the forbidden chair so close to Janet, he experienced a moment of panic. But things had changed, and she was in no condition to discipline him now.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
“Sebastian?”
This sounded familiar. The Martinis, even the children, said it all the time. The word had once meant so many things: stop, here, eat, sit. But it had actually been his name. Sebastian. Se-bas-tee-yan.
“It’s impossible,” Daniel said through trembling lips.
“You gave me this name?”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes fixated on the ghoulish pink hands that cradled the tube.
“Are you my …” Sebastian searched for the word before finally settling on it. “Father?”
“How are you able to talk?”
“No questions,” Sebastian said. “You answer me now.”
Daniel seemed to expect his wife to say something. She did not speak, so he laughed nervously and shook his head.
“Answer,” Sebastian said.
“I’m not your father.”
“What are you to me?”
“You are—” Daniel said, pausing. “You were our pet.”
“We owned you,” he said, almost pleading. “You were ours. We fed you, you lived here …”
Sebastian considered this. “Something has happened here,” he said. “Explain.”
Daniel nodded. His hands shook, and his bloodshot eyes fluttered in their sockets as he searched for the right words. There was an ant infestation that started in Africa and South America, he said. It began as an odd occurrence. An anomaly. Soon it became clear the ants could not be stopped. Entire cities had to be abandoned. Then the giant ants emerged, like nothing anyone had ever seen before. Practically bulletproof. Able to bite through metal. And then there were reports of animals changing shape, walking like humans. Somehow the ants had become smart, and the animals were becoming like them. Enormous towers of dirt and clay began to rise all over the globe. Scientists detected an ultrasonic signal coming from a turret at the top of each tower. The humans would try to destroy them, only to find that the ants had repaired the structures within hours. More of the insects continued to spring up no matter what the humans did. And then, out of nowhere, a massive island rose from the sea, somewhere in the Atlantic. The ants had created it. One day it wasn’t there, and the next day it was.
Daniel rambled about the war, the evacuations, the retreat in Europe, the slaughter in Asia, the mass suicide in Saudi Arabia, the detonation of a nuclear device on the Korean peninsula. And Tristan. Every day, another part of Daniel’s world had unraveled, all leading to this moment, when his own pet stood before him, brandishing a weapon and calmly asking questions. As the man spoke, Sebastian saw that Michael was old enough to understand some of these things. The boy was probably learning about them for the first time.
Daniel was in the middle of explaining the failed attack on the island in the Atlantic when Sebastian interrupted him. “Where is the dog?” he asked.
“The dog?”
Sebastian glared at him.
“Sheba,” Daniel said. “She ran away. Haven’t seen her. I’m sorry.”
“You killed her little ones,” Sebastian said. “And then you were going to kill your own family.”
Daniel’s face was shiny with sweat. By now, Sebastian knew how to get a reaction from him, even if he was not entirely sure how to operate the tube. When he pointed it at Daniel, the man was eager to speak.
“I have nothing left,” the man said. “I was angry. My wife …” He buried his face in his hands.
“It’s like she said,” Daniel continued, fighting away his tears. “We’re dead anyway. I probably did those puppies a favor, you know?” He waved his arm to indicate the madness around them.
“I should kill you for what you did,” Sebastian said, more to himself than to Daniel. “And for what you were about to do. But I think you are telling the truth. You really are dead.”
Daniel pursed his lips and said nothing.
“There are a lot of words in my head,” Sebastian said. “I am not sure how they got there. I dreamt of them and then woke up this morning with them in my mouth. One of the words is love. I loved your family, but I was just a toy. I loved Sheba, but now she is gone.”
Sebastian rose. He stared at the square of sunlight on the carpet for what he thought would be the last time. He gestured to Janet and the children. She rose unsteadily to her feet. With Delia in her arm and Michael holding her hand, she walked quietly past her former pet. Michael reached out and touched Sebastian’s tail. Janet slapped his hand away.
Sebastian waited until he heard the door open and shut. Then he turned to Daniel and said, “Goodbye.”
“Bye,” Daniel said.
Sebastian left the living room, the weapon held loosely in his unnatural hands. He trudged to the kitchen. He had to find Sheba, even if she was dead, even if he died.
As Sebastian reached the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against wood, a hissing shuh, the sound Janet made when she prepared to cook. Sebastian turned in time to see Daniel charging toward him, steak knife in hand. Sebastian lifted the tube to block the slashing blade, but the serrated edge bit into his knuckle. The man swung again, opening a deep gash in Sebastian’s ribs. An eerie warmth blossomed in his side. Sebastian tumbled backward, his head slamming on the linoleum. The man jumped on top of him. Sebastian had to let go of the weapon in order to grasp the attacking hand, now smeared with sticky blood.
“You thought you were gonna take my family away?” Daniel growled, a line of spit oozing from his teeth.
Sebastian tried to bite Daniel’s wrist, but the man pulled his hand out of reach.
“I killed that bitch Sheba!” Daniel said. “Shot her while she ran away!”
The tube lay beside Sebastian’s head. He kept his eyes on the knife while trying to nudge the barrel closer with his tail.
Daniel twisted the blade toward Sebastian, using his weight to bring the knife down. Sebastian was losing his grasp. As quickly as he could, Sebastian reached out his left hand, gripped the barrel, and swung the weapon at Daniel. The wooden stock smashed into Daniel’s face. The man clutched his forehead as he fell away. Sebastian rolled onto his side and got to his feet. He had the weapon securely in his hands but did not know what to do with it. Daniel rose, holding the knife with the blade down. A cut opened above his eye, pouring blood down his cheek and neck.
“Shoot him,” someone said.
The voice came from outside the door. Both Daniel and Sebastian turned to see the mother stray cat, now hideously grown and standing like a human. She peered into the screen window.
“Like this,” she said. She held out her left hand and cupped it, the nails pointing skyward. The other was at her side in a fist. She extended the right index finger and wiggled it.
The realization dawned in Daniel’s eyes that Sebastian did not know how to work the device. The man could have run away then. So many years later, Mort(e) would still wish that he had. Instead, his master charged again, knife raised.
Sebastian held his breath and slid his hand down the barrel until the finger caught the trigger. He fired. The blast opened a glistening hole in the man’s chest, dropping him to the floor beneath a spray of red mist. The knife twirled in the air before clattering on the countertop. Daniel moved his mouth in a vain attempt to speak. A strawberry-colored blob of blood and spit bubbled up to his lips. His right shoe shook and came to rest as the pool of blood spread out from his body, catching the light from the windows.
Sebastian felt an almost irresistible urge to crouch before the body and sniff. Instead, he turned around, opened the door, and walked out. The mother stray stepped aside. Standing behind her were her two children, also on their hind legs. Janet and the human children stood flat against the wall of the house. The wound on Janet’s chin had begun to turn a purplish-red. Michael sobbed. She did not try to comfort him. There was nothing left to go wrong for her now.
“Was Daddy really going to hurt us?” the boy asked. All she could do was place her palm on his head.
“You did the right thing,” the mother stray told Sebastian. One of her offspring whispered something to her. She hushed him.
Sebastian walked to the center of the yard. Such a short distance, but one that he once thought he would never travel. He would not simply gaze at the world through a window anymore. He would be in it. He would be a part of it. It would be a part of him. He could not unlearn, or undo, or unsee.
The strays said something. Sebastian did not listen. He pressed his palm against the wound in his side. “Did you see the dog?” he asked.
“Which one?” the mother replied.
“The white-and-orange one. Like me.”
“She ran off that way,” the mother said, pointing toward the city. “Maybe you’ll pick up her scent if you keep going. But everything that way is dead. The ants are coming. The humans are destroying things as they retreat.”
“Have you seen others?” Sebastian asked. “Others like us?”
“We saw Hank.”
“Hank?”
“The dog across the street. He killed his masters, too. Everyone is doing it.”
The mother stray asked if there was food left in the house. Sebastian told her that she could help herself to it. She told one of her young ones to check the refrigerator.
“You and I will take care of these,” the mother stray said to the other cat. They approached the humans. Michael let out a helpless whimper.
“I’m starving,” the mother stray said.
“Sebastian!” Michael screamed.
Despite all his disappointments with trying to protect the house, Sebastian felt compelled to obey this command. It was a call for mercy from the innocent, rather than an order from a dictator. This was what he was supposed to obey, now that things had changed.
Sebastian aimed the gun at the cats. The third cat inside the house must have sensed something was wrong, for he abruptly opened the door. His furry mouth was covered in Daniel’s blood.
“You can’t be serious,” the mother stray said.
“I just killed my master,” Sebastian said. “I am very serious.”
“They’re the enemy!” the mother stray said. “They tried to kill you!”
Sebastian kept the rifle trained on them. After a few awkward seconds, the cats stood down. With his free hand, Sebastian waved the Martinis on. Again, the humans strode past him, eyes averted.
“Woman,” Sebastian said. Janet stopped, but kept her gaze on the ground. “I’m going to find Sheba.”
“Sheba ran away!” Michael said. “After Daddy—”
“Quiet,” Janet said. She forced herself to face Sebastian. “I hope you find her,” she said. “I’ll be praying for you.”
He had no idea what that meant.
The Martinis walked down the driveway to the SUV. Doors opened, feet shuffled in. The doors closed. Thunk, thunk. Janet’s fists clamped to the steering wheel, her knuckles bulging through the pale skin.
The vehicle drove off. Michael watched Sebastian, his palms stuck to the glass.
Once the car was gone, Sebastian lowered the gun.
“You should head west,” the mother stray said. “It’s not safe here.”
“I need to find her,” Sebastian said.
“The dog?” she said, snickering like a human. To her young ones she said, “You see this? This is how you get yourself killed: protecting humans and looking for lost lovers.”
“I suppose it is,” Sebastian said.
The mother stray stared at Sebastian until he had no choice but to look her in the eye. “Cheer up, kitty cat,” she said. “You won’t need your puppy girlfriend. You’ve got this now.”
She pointed at her temple.
“Before this week,” she said, “you were no more than a mouth and an ass and some genitals. Well, maybe your genitals aren’t what they used to be. Anyway, you’re something else now. Maybe you don’t appreciate that, living in this mansion all fat and happy. But now you have a mind of your own. Use it or die.”
The mother stray ordered her children to join her inside the house. Sebastian did not stop them. Everything was quiet. Even the explosions in the distance ceased. His jackhammer heart came to rest in his rib cage, and he was able to think again. Clarity returned in short instructions: Sheba is out there. I have to find Sheba. (Sheba is probably dead.) Sheba went south. I have to find Sheba. (Sheba is dead.)
Sebastian gripped the barrel of the shotgun and started walking.