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McBrid stared down at the little Brush-Man. Charlie hadn’t been kidding, this thing was tiny. From Scottsmoor’s notations, it was probably the size of a hatchling but it’d been months since any eggs had hatched.
After he’d heard about the small Brush-Man, he’d pored over Scottsmoor’s notes. He’d even searched the computer’s hard drive for deleted files. Things were seldom truly gone. He’d managed to locate part of a file where the other scientist had mentioned that a few had survived the initial poisoning but they’d only lived long enough to break through the soil. Scottsmoor hadn’t been able to study them because their bodies had disintegrated due to the chemicals.
He bent. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The little Brush-Man trembled.
This didn’t bode well for the creature understanding him as Charlie had claimed. “You’re different from the others.”
It was very small and its skin didn’t look healthy. Not only was it a dark brown but it looked tight and dry. Basically, the little thing looked like a dead stick instead of a healthy part of a tree limb.
If this creature had survived the poison and all those months in that noxious cage, it probably wouldn’t live long. He needed to study it, but first he had to get it into a smaller container. The problem was, how did he do that? Dropping a net over the little creature might hurt it or scare it to death but the only other option was...
“Why don’t you go into the smaller cage? I promise, I won’t hurt you.”
The Brush-Man didn’t move.
Gruntshit, he should’ve known better than to get excited about the thing understanding them. He’d give it one more try. “The meat’s in there. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
The Brush-Man glanced at the cage.
McBrid’s breath caught in his throat. Maybe, Charlie was right. “Look, I won’t hurt you but I have to hide you.” He glanced at the door, hoping the thing could understand him. “There are others”—he was going to gamble—“like Scottsmoor who’d love nothing better than to cut you open.”
The Brush-Man’s bowels emptied and his body almost convulsed in fear.
Score one for understanding. He needed to hide this thing. “If anyone finds out about you, they’ll take you away. I won’t be able to stop them.”
The Brush-Man clicked and chirped.
“Get in the small cage and I’ll hide you. Keep you safe.”
The Brush-Man shook his head, yanking on the wires.
“I can’t let you out. They’ll find you for sure.”
The Brush-Man shook his head again, still pulling on the cage.
He had to keep trying. “Please. I swear, I won’t hurt you.”
The Brush-Man kept clacking and chirping.
Honestly, he wouldn’t believe an Almighty either. He needed to prove himself but he couldn’t let the little thing go. He headed for the door. The Brush-Man’s chirps grew in frequency and volume.
McBrid quickly closed the door behind him and hurried to his office. He grabbed some food and water from the refrigerator before going back to the lab. The Brush-Man had quieted but was once again running around the cage, searching for a way out.
“I brought you some food.”
The Brush-Man stopped, staring up at him.
“I thought I could prove that I don’t want to hurt you.” He lifted the top corner of the cage and dropped a tiny hunk of a sandwich inside.
The Brush-Man didn’t move.
He sat on the floor. “It’s not poison.” He took a bite. As soon as he swallowed, he said, “See. It’s good.”
The Brush-Man crept closer and sniffed at the food before grabbing it. The creature’s tiny face opened unbelievably wide, giving McBrid his first up-close view of a Brush-Man’s long, thin mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. He’d seen the bigger ones eat, but they were always covered in blood and snapping at one another.
When the Brush-Man was done, McBrid made a point of taking a drink of the water. The creature’s eyes never left the bottle.
“Are you thirsty?” McBrid almost wet his pants when the Brush-Man nodded. The creature really could understand him. All the other actions could’ve been his imagination but this was communication. “I can give you a bowl with water if you get in the other cage.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes narrowed.
“Or, I could dump some on the floor. Personally, I don’t like to drink off the floor.”
The Brush-Man bent, slapping the tile.
“Floor it is.” McBrid wanted to race out of the room and tell the world about this little guy, but just like with Fersia, this had to be kept a secret.
He poured some water into the cage and then stood. The Brush-Man dropped to his knees but stared up at McBrid.
“You saw me drink it.”
The Brush-Man waved his hand in the air.
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” He bent over the top. “Unfortunately, I can’t understand you.”
The Brush-Man chirped.
He shook his head. “Sorry.” He straightened and the Brush-Man ran toward him. He had to brace himself not to take a step back. Even though the creature was little, he’d seen what a group of the small ones could do.
It shook the cage.
“I can’t let you out. The only choice you have is to go into the little cage. If you do that, I can keep you safe and maybe...” He frowned, pretending to ponder something and then shook his head. “No. I could never trust you not to run away.”
The Brush-Man’s chirp was quieter than before.
“If I could...If you could trust me and I could trust you, I could let you roam this room. Maybe, even set you free in the forest one day.” He could never do that, but his job was to sell hope to the hopeless. He inhaled. “Imagine the fresh, cool air. The breeze dancing over your skin and the sun warming you.”
The Brush-Man’s little eyes glistened with tears.
McBrid shrugged. “But you have to trust me first.”
He’d done all he could for today. If the Brush-Man didn’t go into the cage on his own by morning, he’d have to use the net. For now, he’d given the little creature something to think about. He turned and left, locking the door behind him.