The Animal's Game

By Dwayne Kimbrough

Man is threatened only by fellow man. Great is that threat because man, throughout history, has fought fellow man. All impactful nations of our world fight other nations and must spend enormously because they must be ready to fight. It seems that we cannot outgrow fighting. This book imagines a world in which man does not engage in war. Animals are surrogates, and only animals engage in fighting to the death. Such practice is beneath civilized man, but he is not totally removed. Humans are obsessed with watching animals fight to the death. The animals do not mind. What happens when kids try it? Once the passion for fierce fighting enters the blood, can humans resist the urge to engage in war? Yes, they are superior to animals, but can humans refrain from doing the thing they believed they were too smart to ever do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889601760

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The Animal's Game

Dwayne Kimbrough

Copyright © 2023 Dwayne Kimbrough

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-164-7 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-176-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Forethought

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Chapter 118

Chapter 119

Chapter 120

Chapter 121

Chapter 122

Chapter 123

Chapter 124

Chapter 125

Chapter 126

Chapter 127

Chapter 128

Chapter 129

Chapter 130

Chapter 131

Chapter 132

Chapter 133

Chapter 134

Chapter 135

Chapter 136

Chapter 137

Chapter 138

Chapter 139

Chapter 140

Chapter 141

Chapter 142

Chapter 143

Chapter 144

Chapter 145

Chapter 146

Chapter 147

Chapter 148

Chapter 149

Chapter 150

Chapter 151

Chapter 152

Chapter 153

Chapter 154

Chapter 155

Chapter 156

Chapter 157

Chapter 158

Chapter 159

Chapter 160

Chapter 161

Epilogue

About the Author

Forethought

There is a great scourge in our world. It's called war. War is a very terrible thing, and yet the most highly educated and powerful men in the world still declare it to resolve disputes and land grabs.

Is war the only way to resolve disputes, or is it that the most highly educated and powerful men feel that war is the most practical way to resolve them? War, however primal, seems to be the method of choice, even by the most highly educated and powerful men in the world, to resolve a dispute or subdue a neighboring nation.

Personally, I hate war.

Lots of people hate war, but lots of people seem to love it. I think that for us to continue to evolve, we must cease declaring it to resolve disputes or subdue smaller countries, and we must abhor it the same way that we used to abhor and ban four-letter words. Before we can even begin to solve such mysteries as traveling at the speed of light, we, civilized human beings, must cease campaigns to kill masses of other human beings in imaginative and horrible ways.

We do not deserve to evolve any further if we cannot come up with a more humane way to settle disputes.

We must stamp out war. I wish I could stamp it out.

A troubling thing is that to sustain, one must kill. We only continue to live by killing and feeding on other organic entities. Without killing, we cannot survive, thus making killing a necessity.

Efficient killing is an asset. We have industrialized it for the providing of meat. Good hunters were probably very popular in the days before industrialization and before refrigerators! Before name-brand packaged food and restaurants (only a few centuries ago), it took a good hunter, an efficient killer, to feed a family.

Killing for food is not a bad thing. We simply must kill to sustain ourselves. The scourge of humankind is not killing for food. The scourge of humankind is our primal tendency to kill fellow human beings, and in warfare, we kill in imaginative and horrible ways.

I thought that if I were to use all my creative energy and write a book that mocked war, people would read it and perhaps never want to have anything else to do with the savagery of war!

I am not the first person so naive to think that he or she might somehow provoke deterrence to war by mocking it. Should not humankind at least be on the brink of wanting to evolve from something as medieval as campaigning to kill mass numbers of men, to resolve disputes?

Of course, there is that troubling thing that man must forever kill to sustain himself. For that reason, is it even possible for humankind to stop killing other men?

Is there a world in this great big universe where men do not kill other men?

Is there a planet where there is no war?

That question raises another question—is there another world?

Is anyone else out there?

Astrological scientists now claim that there are quite a few planets in the universe that are similar to earth. That means that there are probably other planets inhabited by carbon-based units…somewhere. If other life forms exist out there, there has been no official declaration…yet.

We have recently learned, thanks to those enormous telescopes, which we have aimed at the sky, that the universe is so enormous that for every grain of sand on earth, there is a galaxy of stars! In a universe so enormous, one might think that life exists on more than one small planet.

I, not long ago, heard that the universe is not endless but that it has boundaries. The one who made that claim was very smart. The truth, quite simply, is that you have to be very smart and very good in math to be able to argue such a postulation as the size of the universe!

You have to be very smart and very good in math to be able to explore outer space and to attempt to solve the mysteries of outer space. It takes a great deal of math and, therefore, a brilliant, mathematical mind to formulate equations and solve the great mysteries of the universe. Answers are revealed only by way of ridiculously hard math theories or equations, which, when formulated, can be verified. Such math formulations are fittingly called proofs. The brilliant minds that formulate and the only ones that can read these proofs are as important as great athletes are. However, brilliant minds do not earn the type of pay that great athletes earn. That is because there is no great demand to watch people do the math. Nevertheless, without thankless eggheads, we would still think that the world was flat! More importantly, without those very smart people, we would not have TV, phones, or GPS mapping, and we all want our TVs and our smartphones! We definitely want to know how to get to the mall when we enter another city!

In addition, whether we admit it or not, we want to know if anyone else is out there.

I personally couldn't tell you how a toaster works, much less how GPS works, and I couldn't attempt to answer such questions as how big the universe is or if there is anyone else out there because, quite frankly, I'm not smart enough to even attempt to find out. As great athletes are born with their incredible agility and prowess, so also are brilliant minds with their incredible ability to do math.

I personally was not born with great athletic jumping ability or physique, nor was I born with a brilliant mathematical mind. What I know is that on a cloudless night, the universe seems to just go on forever!

I have trouble trying to imagine forever. I cannot even think that big, but if the universe were endless, or at least bigger than we can imagine, you would have to think that there might be another world inhabited by other intelligent life forms…somewhere.

Scientists have not formally claimed the discovery of extraterrestrial life. They do, however, claim to be searching, and our great minds are reaching further into the vastness of seemingly endless space and seeing more and more space and solving more mysteries of our great universe. The mysteries are complex, and the universe is enormous, so it is taking a while…at least that is the impression I get.

Though there has been no official confirmation of extra-terrestrial life, there have been all sorts of sightings of unidentified flying objects—UFOs.

I've never seen a UFO, and I don't know anyone who has.

Come to think of it, I've never seen an American president with my own two eyes. I'm pretty sure they exist, though.

Many of the accounts of UFOs, whether photos, film footage, or eyewitness accounts, are very hard to believe. The fact is that most accounts of UFOs are not credible. On the other hand, there are accounts of UFO sightings that have merit. There are documented instances of UFO sightings by sober airline pilots and documented UFO sightings by United States astronauts.

Licensed pilots, and astronauts, wouldn't just make something like that up, would they? Shouldn't the account of an airline pilot or an American astronaut be considered legitimate?

So what is with Area 51? Was that thing in New Mexico all those years ago really just a weather balloon? Do we have stuff from another planet warehoused?

I want the truth!

Would Big Brother simply tell me, You can't handle the truth!

If there is evidence of extraterrestrial life, we ordinary folk probably could not handle it…

Let it go.

We have achieved great accomplishments and great strides in technology. Our great mathematical minds continue to amass amazing discoveries in our seemingly endless universe. Yet we continue to kill and maim each other, on our little planet, in all sorts of imaginative ways. When an act of war is declared, we cut loose and allow ourselves the right to kill until we're blue in the face without the threat of indictment!

When I began this work, my aim was to begin a crusade to stamp out war! However, once I started, it did not take long for me to realize that war on our earth is as inescapable as the weather and as inexhaustible as the oceans!

We have to kill, to sustain ourselves, so the first basic requirement is within us, though we have humanely cleaned up the slaughtering of the animals, and the packaging and shipment, of slaughtered animals, to supermarkets, for daily consumption.

We expand on our nature to kill by practicing war. We simply cannot go very long without declaring one. There is a war going on somewhere on this planet right now.

Can you even imagine our world without war? I attempted to imagine it. I stretched my mind! I dreamed up an imaginary world where man has not declared war. In this imaginary world, the word war exists, but war is just a game.

The bleak truth is that war and game are synonymous on our earth in spite of the fact that the intention of games is recreation and fun, whereas war is atrocious and horrible.

War, sadly, is a game even though war includes horrible atrocities. The fact is that war exercises on earth are referred to as games.

Another similarity between war and games is that there is either a winner and a loser, or a draw, in both wars and in games. You could say that war is the ultimate game.

So I created another world for the sole purpose of writing this book, to tell of a world where they have not declared war yet. On this imaginary planet, humans are the supreme beings. What is different about this imaginary world from our earth is that everyone speaks the same language because there are no borders. There has never been a war to divide the people.

To keep this novel simple, the language is English, and to make my imaginary world different, I made it a planet on which animals talk.

There is one thing that exists in my imagined world that exists on earth, and that is death. Death is something that I couldn't imagine an organic form being free of, probably because anything organic on our earth dies. I could not imagine a world free of the scourge of war, either, and I really had to rack my brain in my attempt to create a world without war.

I realized that, in my mind, a world without war is ridiculous!

In the end, I came to the realization that just trying to imagine a world without war is far-fetched, but so what if my work of fiction turns out to be far-fetched! Every car chase scene since the movie Bullitt is far-fetched!

The real question is, Why did I have trouble imagining a world without war?

In this novel, I stretched it as far as I could to convince myself that no large body of people has campaigned to fight to the death, another large body of people. The humans of my imaginary world have never campaigned, against one another, in any way that would inflict great harm, or cause a massive number of casualties.

However, there is war, to death, on my imaginary planet. It is orchestrated by man, but it only exists between animals. Man has escaped the curse of war, but not entirely, for they find it greatly entertaining, watching animals engage to death.

In this novel, humans have come to call these wars between different species of animals, The Animal Games, and man justifies The Animal Games by claiming them to be an effective deterrent for humankind engaging in the practice of war.

The Animal Games is a business. It is the most controversial business on this imaginary planet and, ironically, also the most profitable. The planet, which, of course, is utopian, consists of two continents, simply referred to as the East Continent and the West Continent. The two continents do have differences between them, and they are growing further apart in values and mannerisms, but their differences have not become so great that they have begun to kill each other. Since all people are still one person though they are on two continents, there are no identifying flags to kill or to die for, and there are no national anthems.

How much would it take to destroy utopia? How much would it take for one body of people to call another body of people the enemy?

Having crossed that line, how much of an enemy before saying, "I am going to assemble a large number of like-minded neighbors, and we are going to kill as many of you, and yours, as we can!"

Once hostilities have sparked, and madness, in the form of mass killing, has erupted, is it conceivable to abide by any sets of rules and guidelines or to trust a bitter enemy to do so?

Is being able to kill within rules, even though it may further jeopardize one's own life, what constitutes being civilized? Is the ability to put limits on war what separates us from mere animals? When someone is trying to kill you, and you must resort to killing to survive, will you be careful to follow the rules or guidelines?

Applying and obeying rules to keep war civil—that is the mother of all law-abiding, even as war, it seems—is the mother of all necessary evil.

What an incredible challenge it must be, trying to keep something as wicked and as sinister, as war, fair and balanced, as though it is just a game!

Chapter 1

It was midway through the off-season, and the annual Animal Games talks were convening, in the city of Revoldi, located on the east coast, of the West Continent.

Revoldi, though hardly the oldest, was the largest city on the planet, with a population of just over twenty million people.

The annual Animal Games talks were held by the thirty owners of the participating species of animals, as well as the owners of the landmasses on which the games took place. The major subject of scrutiny, one week into the talks, had become the defending champions, the South Silverland Warthogs organization. It looked as though the South Silverland Warthogs would face formal charges for rules violations. It would not be the first time that the Warthogs organization had come under scrutiny. It was a recurring theme.

The charge against the South Silverland Warthogs organization, this time, was of extreme genetic alteration with the intent to enhance future Warthogs' livestock.

The South Silverland Warthog brass vociferously denied the charges against them and used the same defense they always used when accused of cheating. Their simple defense was great breeding, proper training, and natural evolution.

Also, in response to charges brought against them, the Warthogs organization claimed that other organizations were simply using desperate measures in an attempt to bring an end to South Silverland's domination of the games over the last decade.

The written rule was that science could not be used either to change or to enhance the physical makeup of an animal. The enhancement of animals in ways other than natural evolution was a major violation punishable by fines, suspension, and even expulsion from the league.

There had been no expulsions of organizations from the league, but there were heavy fines against organizations for genetic tampering.

This time, it looked as if there would be enough evidence to bring a conviction against the infamous Warthogs organization, but there seemed to be enough evidence in the last four cases. All the previous cases were within the last decade, and in each of the previous cases, nothing was proven in courts of law against the Warthogs. Also, following every successful defense filed against them, the South Silverland organization fielded another formidable team of Warthogs that gnarled their way into the playoffs and on to victory in The Super Game.

Whether you loved or hated those Warthogs, they sure grabbed your attention!

As for the planet, over the last couple of decades, it had enjoyed a myriad of technological breakthroughs, as well as groundbreaking discoveries in electronics and in the sciences. Space exploration was on the verge of a giant leap, and advancements in electronics and in medicine were catapulting the planet onto a new horizon.

The new dimensions of evolution seeped into the planet's number one source of entertainment, which was The Animal Games, and not all the advancements were honorable. In recent years, nine animal organizations had been busted for using unfair means to gain an advantage. Most infractions were for steroid growth enhancement, but recent charges were for cloning, and gene alterations, which were very complex and very scientific. All organizations now hired highly specialized doctors and scientists for breeding and training.

The Animal Games had been officially licensed for over a century, but only within the last couple of decades had it become a financial giant. Animal Games was now the most lucrative incorporated on the planet because people, however unspoken, seemed to love war. In recent years, great advancements in visual and audio technology allowed animal wars to not only be televised but in incredible ways.

The Animal Games became popular long before television because people had always been captivated by the ferocity and incredible agility of fighting animals. When they finally found a way to televise The Animal Game, they were rewarded with an explosion in popularity.

The amount of money now generated by Animal Games was ridiculous, and the fortune made, even by losing organizations, was envious. Organizations that won became a whole lot wealthier and made the city it represented a whole lot wealthier. The ultimate prize of being crowned champion of Animal Games had become immeasurable, which resulted in owners and organizations pushing the envelope and taking greater risks to win the crown. Tactics and methods to make animals more ferocious were coming into question. Raising smarter and tougher animals for the games had become science and, in turn, had led to finger-pointing and accusations of cheating.

What was cheating?

It was that question that provoked into being the annual Animal Games talks. The annual talks were to establish and reestablish rules and regulations and to scrutinize and evaluate each team and each contest. It was an effort to keep things fair, and though the organizations did not admit it, it was obvious that the annual talks were also the launching pad for advertising the upcoming season. Television networks and public relations of organizations worked, hand in hand, during the annual talks to aggressively up-play the drama within The Animal Games organizations. Broadcasters, to Animal organization's delight, worked diligently to turn every little dispute into soap-opera drama to spike public interest, which spiked ratings.

In the modern electronic age, animal organizations were pouring more and more millions into arenas that the animals competed in to reinvent the action of the games and keep the public interested. Organizations spared no expense during the off-season or the regular season and during the playoffs, especially The Super Game. There were no holds barred. They constantly introduced riveting camera innovations. Viewers at home were now right in the middle of the action during the games, thanks to tiny mobile cameras.

The animal organizations were spending ever more millions, but every year, they were grossing more than the year before.

This year, however, something different was brewing. For the first time, The Animal Games midseason talks were overshadowed by another event. It was the time of the annual talks, and it was supposed to be the time that everyone started getting excited about the upcoming season, but there was another story, disturbing and sinister. It was too ugly to turn away from, a horrible nightmare that refused to desist. It was a story that involved The Animal Games…but not the animals. It involved humans, specifically young adults and only the young adults of the Western Continent. West adolescents had begun to engage in brutal animal aggressive like fighting against one another.

There were no such disturbances on the East Continent.

Bentley Cray, a freelance journalist, was presently making his way, to the Bryson Convention Center, amid a mass of other journalists, all of them in the hope of getting a hot, new Animal Games scoop. Maybe one of the owners, or one of the general managers, would make a cameo appearance and give a media bite to write about. There was the daily scheduled press conference, but since it was only midway through the talks, there were no scheduled speakers today. Low-ranking public relations people might stand in front of the microphones to make a statement, but the heavyweights only spoke to the press at the beginning and the end of the talks. Today's midweek press conference more than likely was not worth the time or effort, but Bentley, like so many of his peers, was there just in case.

Finding a parking spot was not a problem in the massive parking lot, but Bentley had to park a couple of hundred yards away from the Convention Center because journalists of every kind were there, and Bentley marched, along with the dozens of other journalists, toward the Convention Center, without much conversation, and perked ears and eyes peeled. The journalists were like wolves on the hunt. They were reporters doing their job.

If you were a reporter, being lucky helped. Bentley Cray had always been sharp, and he'd always been lucky. He likened himself and his peers not to wolves but rather buzzards, hovering with scanning eyes.

Lo and behold, Bentley, however faintly, suddenly overheard something striking. "Did you hear what he just said?" one of his peers asked.

No, what did he say? was the reply.

He said that humans have hands!

Bentley, along with dozens of others, shot their eyes in the direction of the comment. Bentley did not recognize the reporter who had made a comment, but he did not care whom. It was the comment! Bentley quickly stepped towards the reporter.

The reporter was focused on something, and Bentley followed the eyes of the reporter to a very well-dressed older man standing a stone's throw away. On cue, the well-dressed man blurted, It's just the way evolution unfolded! He had directed his comment at an angry young man that was standing in his path. The angry young man snapped. Why couldn't you be content with just exploiting them! Why do you need to change their chemistry?

The well-dressed old man harshly cleared his throat, shook his head, opened his mouth to respond, and thought better of it. He clamped his mouth.

Men had been exploiting animals for centuries and were multibillionaires because of those thirty species of animals included in The Animal Games. Humans were exploiting thirty species of animals for billions of dollars, and for it, those very wealthy men were constantly forced to defend against staunch opposition to The Animal Games.

The well-dressed older man, now on the defensive, was, of course, an officer of an animal organization and now challenged by a pair of radical lefts.

Radical lefts were zealot animal advocates who fiercely fought the Animal Game establishment, even willing to put their lives on the line for the animals, turned into killers and pitted against each other in duels, often to the death, though death was not a requirement in The Animal Games. The radical lefts preached that the vicious killing, for entertainment and profit, by cruel, greedy men should be condemned!

There was something that all radical lefts seemed to have in common, and that was a fiery passion in their eyes as if they had been brainwashed. It was argued that they were. To gain acceptance into their membership, you had to be subject to intense initiation. Radical lefts were quite confrontational, towards anyone affiliated with Animal Games organization. In spite of the unsettling, frenzied ways that they came at Animal Games officials, the radical lefts were usually very well organized.

One of the two radical lefts now confronted the officer of an animal organization and snapped, That's how you explain corrupting the DNA of a species by saying that you have hands?

We're not corrupting them! the old man defended. It's evolution! Just for the record, humans did not always have hands! Over the course of time, we, or the apes that we evolved from, came to have them! It's evolution! If yet more animals begin to form hands, that's evolution! Who can say that Warthogs won't be the next species to grow hands?

Bentley Cray gasped, as did all the other journalists within earshot, even as the mass of journalists converged, on the old man, especially now that they realized he was an officer of those infamous South Silverland Warthogs!

One of the radical lefts challenged, Did you say that Warthogs are growing hands? Well, I say that you're growing horns! Both zealots waved their arms, pointed at the Warthog officer, and yelled, Here's your story, guys! Gather around!

The old man cringed. How had he allowed himself to get suckered in by a pair of kooks! They rubbed his emotions raw! All ranking members of the South Silverland Warthogs organization passionately resented those meddling radical lefts, even more than they resented the prying journalists now pushing in on the one lone Warthogs officer. He should have known better than to open his mouth! Now thanks to his big mouth, he was the target of every salivating news gatherer on the West Continent! His mouth could cost him his job! He threw up his hands and, adamantly shaking his head, announced, I have no further comment!

Of course, he was panicked.

What are you hiding! one of the radical lefts taunted.

The South Silverland Warthog officer stepped around the two radical lefts and marched briskly toward the main doors of the Convention Center. As he marched, his eyes shifted upward onto a huge statue, which was just in front of the main doors of the Convention Center. The statue was that of a bear—an actual bear that had become legendary in its fierce competitiveness and bravery in games that it had participated decades ago. There were now dozens of such statues scattered over the planet—monuments erected in honor of heroes that weren't human. It had gotten rather contorted. All the great heroes were lions, tigers, and bears.

It had been nearly half a century since the first monument was erected. When news came out, of plans, for the very first public memorial in the largest city of the East Continent, there were protests from elected officials. Authorities forbid the construction of a statue of an animal! Immortalizing murderous beasts was not a good thing! It should not be a man looking up to animals, but the other way around!

There were serious threats from lawmakers throughout the groundbreaking, but there was never any delay or hesitation in the construction of the monument. The first city, called Blue, turned a deaf ear to the authorities and sculpted its magnificent granite structure. The granite image, when finished, stood twenty feet high and forty feet long, mounted on an elegant oblong ten-foot-tall gold-plated stand.

The protests from elected officials backed by social scientists continued long after the construction, but it was like trying to stop a volcano.

The masses wanted statues of their heroes!

The first monument was erected right on schedule, a roaring lion named Gordon. His name was carved, in capital letters, on the oblong, ten-foot-high gold-plated stand. The truth was simply that Gordon of the Blue Lions had become bigger than life, and whether endorsed by social scientists or not, Gordon was a hero of iconic proportion in the hearts of the people of the great city of Blue and The Animal Games.

As the officer of the South Silverland Warthogs subconsciously gazed upward at the statue of the greatest Revoldi warrior, a bear named Orton, the dozens of reporters that were trailing him did as well, and the South Silverland officer reminded his nemeses of something: Not a nice day to be outside.

As Bentley Cray jockeyed for position with his peers, he gazed upward upon hearing what the Warthog's officer said. In fact, all of the reporters shot their eyes skyward.

Having come under siege by the myriad of reporters, the stewing South Silverland Warthog officer tried to outpace them to the doors of the Convention Center, but there was no chance of escaping. He only looked ridiculous for trying, and he finally stopped in his tracks and turned around with a stiff upper lip.

One of the radical lefts, who remained right on his heels, took the opportunity to taunt. Your slip is showing! The other baited. Is evolution what's making your cheeks turn red like that?

Once again, it looked like the South Silverland Warthogs would be the focus of the nightly news during the midseason talks. However, there was another story taking the steam away from the Warthogs and making The Animal Games like Wednesday's casserole.

Perhaps the Warthogs would regain the spotlight now that the media had the horse's mouth right before them, embarrassed and ripe for picking. One of the reporters pitched a loaded question, in formal press conference fashion, as though it had become a press conference. This is James Evers from the Big Red Post! Did you just say that Warthogs have hands?

The South Silverland Warthog officer snapped, This is not a press conference!

But, sir, did you not just say that South Silverland Warthogs have hands?

I didn't say anything of the sort! And I am not answering any more questions!

But I overheard—

No comment!

Another journalist shouted, Is there any truth to the rumors of your organization putting your sows through—

"Hey, have you guys forgotten?" the Warthog officer shouted at the mass of journalists.

Forgot what?

Have you forgotten the public warning?

Everyone shot their eyes skyward once again. No one had forgotten.

It could come down anywhere…anytime! the Warthog officer said emphatically.

The odds are a million to one! one of the reporters replied.

Why take the chance? the Warthog officer put to his antagonists. He hiked his brow and asked, Besides, you should be looking into the real story!

A question shot out of Bentley Cray's mouth. What's the real story!

The Warthog officer hiked his brow and yelped, The kids! Shouldn't you be asking what's going on with them?

Bentley Cray froze. The man was right! What was happening with the kids truly was the real story! Bentley thought that if something new were to come up here at the Convention Center, there were a hundred of his peers to report it in a hundred different ways!

So what was he doing here?

Bentley made an abrupt about-face and began away from the Bryson Convention Center and the grand statue of Orton. He had to push through a throng of reporters. As he finally pushed into the clear, he looked up at a cloudless blue sky. The warnings had been given by the Space Program. A satellite was going to plummet from the skies sometime today.

Satellites began falling from the sky nearly four years ago. This would be the twenty-third satellite to lose the atmosphere and plummet back to earth.

Eleven people, and various animals, had lost their lives due to these man-made cataclysms. The terrible oddity was that all twenty-three satellites had come down on the West Continent, and nearly always, on top of something. In all instances, there was no trace of debris, either of the satellite or of whatever the satellite landed on.

Chapter 2

Jodi Haps opened his eyes, and his first thought was that it was time to get up and move.

Had he even slept? He was not sure. He was unsure of anything anymore. Lately, he rested his eyes, but merely closing your eyes was not proper rest.

Jodi Haps was nearly legal, as in twenty years old. He was almost old enough to partake of adult privileges without it being called a misdemeanor, but Jodi felt much older than twenty nowadays.

Only one thing could cause someone so young to feel old…

Jodi Haps began listening, for noises, in the hope that nothing was close. As he lay on his back, listening, he narrowed his eyes to slits as though to scrutinize the dark ceiling. It was not an attempt to find something in the ceiling. He was preparing to attach a vision to whatever he might hear.

They were getting pretty crazy out there.

He heard the faint, firecracker sounds of gunfire. Someone may have been going all the way…but that was beside the point. The point, right now, was how close the firecracker sounds were.

The sounds of gunfire were far away, nothing to fret.

The white ceiling, in spite of the darkness, came into clearer focus, not because his eyes had adjusted but because the sun was coming up, and a small amount of light was seeping through slight openings in the curtains and striking the ceiling.

Jodi relaxed in the reassurance that nothing was close, but he would stay focused. He groped, with his right hand, for one of those adult privileges, his cigarettes, found them on the mattress, right next to his body, and he nimbly began working one out with his fingers. He did not bother to look. His eyes remained on the shadowy white ceiling, staring distantly as he continued to listen. As he pulled a cigarette out of the package, lifted it to his mouth, and squeezed the butt between his lips, his eyes shifted onto the curtains that covered the window, namely the slightest hint of light seeping through the crevices. It would be daylight soon.

It was time to get a move on, though he had no specific agenda. He groped, without looking, once more, this time for his lighter. He found and readied the lighter, but before igniting it, he held his breath and, again, listened for sounds. Again, he heard the faint firecracker-popping noises of gunfire.

Maybe they were starting early, but that was beside the point. The point was the sounds weren't any closer.

Jodi flicked his lighter. It cracked, like a miniature whip, and produced a miniature flame. He quickly lit the cigarette between his lips and stopped the lighter, pulled the tars and nicotine into his lungs, and held his breath.

Again, he listened.

This time, he heard no sound at all, but he held his breath as though he expected to hear something. Perhaps the shooting had stopped for a while.

Had someone gone all the way?

Jodi blew the smoke out of his lungs and, again, relaxed. The nicotine helped.

Maybe he was wound too tightly. That was what this Animal Game did to you, but man, was it a rush! No drug could match it!

The game made Jodi feel so alive!

Maybe that was why it was escalating all over the place so rapidly!

Yeah, it was twisted, but man, what an incredible rush!

On the downside, Jodi was battered and bruised. He did not intend for this to turn into a thing that would not die! He was realizing exactly that. It would probably never be over, not for him. He had a reputation bigger than any local celebrity and perhaps as big as Animal Games heroes had!

Well…maybe not that big…

The fact was that Jodi had become a celebrity of sorts and much bigger than he realized.

Jodi had recently realized another negative of The Animal Game that it included a very real chance of dying! There was a horrible irony, and that was that dying was what made the Animal Game so exhilarating! Nothing Jodi had ever done before was as exhilarating as this flirtation with death!

If you lost this game, there was the chance of losing your life, and that was an awful lot to lose! Jodi had learned something else. To keep from losing brought out things in him that he didn't know he had!

He cleared his throat, which was something that smokers often do. A high-pitched whimsical sound immediately followed. The odd sound was both a shriek and a whisper. It came from a corner of the room and was aimed at him to shush him.

Jodi's eyes shot in that direction. There was a little gray squirrel, hunched in the corner of the room, in the shadows, barely visible. Its beady little eyes were fixed on Jodi. The little squirrel had shushed Jodi.

Jodi had named the squirrel, Trident, and in the same high-pitched, whimsical whisper, he snapped at Trident, "You be quiet!" He stared challengingly at the squirrel only briefly and then rolled his eyes away and took another drag from his cigarette.

"Don't do that!" Little Trident hissed in his whimsical voice.

Shut up, Jodi grumbled, and he again stared challengingly at the little figure. He was barely able to see the squirrel in the shadows, but he was able to.

The squirrel turned away and gnawed like it was chewing on something. It was just nervous energy.

Jodi took another drag from his cigarette, which provoked the squirrel to jerk. The squirrel shot its black beady eyes nervously all around and then back onto Jodi, and it watched Jodi blow smoke out of his lungs. With tail quivering, Trident turned away and nibbled. It was perturbed.

Jodi said in defense, Smoking helps me wake up.

"You say it for sleep!"

Yeah, that too.

The squirrel continued to nibble fussily and stare at Jodi. He said, "I hear you breathe! You sound like a propeller!"

Jodi sat up and, with a sour grin, asked, Where in the world did you learn about a propeller!

The squirrel turned and looked all about, but he could not keep his eyes away from Jodi for long, and he returned his stare to Jodi.

Jodi dismissed the squirrel, pushed his shoulders back onto the mattress, and then tilted his head from side to side. That was as close to calisthenics as he would get. He pushed his legs out of the full-size bed, fully made, with covers unturned, and stood to his feet. He winced as he stood. He was very stiff and felt a fair amount of pain in his joints. Animal gaming caused that sort of thing.

The reason that Jodi did not get under the covers was that Animal gaming caused fretful anxiety.

"Be careful!" Trident suddenly warned.

Yes, dear, Jodi grumbled.

"Get your weapon!"

Jodi's expression soured. It was a simple natural reaction to someone, or something, fussing at him. Even so, Jodi bent down and snatched up the hunting rifle. He coursed over it with his eyes and fingers, and then he aimed the rifle at an imaginary target. He had only taken to carrying a rifle a few days ago. He was rather surprised at how well the squirrel had taken to it.

He could not recall telling the squirrel about propellers!

He subconsciously placed his cigarette between his lips and took another drag.

Trident fussed at him, "Put that out!"

No.

"Why don't you just wave it around over your head!"

Jodi chuckled and quipped, So you're cracking jokes, now? I'm really rubbing off on you.

Jodi took another long drag from his cigarette just to spite Trident. After taking the drag, he pushed the cigarette out of his mouth with his tongue, and the instant that the cigarette hit the floor, he ground it into the carpet with the butt of his rifle.

He winced. The floor had very nice carpet, and Jodi had just put a permanent burn hole in it! Why?

The carpet was expensive and very clean, but it would not remain that way if he kept putting out cigarettes in the manner he just had!

He knew better than that!

Living the way Jodi had been living for the last couple of months was leaving a stain on his soul!

Would he be able to clean up his act?

Was the stain on his soul as permanent as the hole he had just left in the carpet?

Trident said something to grab Jodi's attention. It had nothing to do with the hole that Jodi had just burned into the carpet because Trident couldn't have cared less about carpet upkeep. "Humans have everything! You eat and drink poison!"

Jodi rolled his eyes and grumbled, We call that recreation, Trident, and you have no capacity for understanding human recreation.

"What does it mean?"

Recreation means to play for fun. Sometimes it comes at a price.

"That's dumb! Trident spat out. While scratching, he said, We play—"

I don't wanna talk about it, Trident, Jodi snapped. Just be quiet.

"Humans like to play with death! You make animals play to the death for you!" Trident fussed.

That little scatterbrained squirrel could suck Jodi in! He considered and replied, That's because animals put on quite a show.

"Not squirrels! Trident charged. You don't see us doing that in your games!"

Because nobody's going to pay to watch squirrels fight!

Trident jerked and said, "Humph! He looked away, only briefly, and then threw his beady eyes back on Jodi and asked, Are you going to play today?"

Jodi shrugged and gave a shake of his head, but he remained silent.

"He wants the house back!" Trident said.

I beat him, fair and square, for this house. It's mine.

"He'll be back to play again!"

Jodi flinched at the mere thought. It was another downside of The Animal Game. Once you committed, it was no longer up to you whether or when you played. You could decline all you wanted, but sometimes, especially when it came to something like a new car, or a nice house, you could not get out of having to play again. You got what you played for, all right, but you got all the retribution too.

"You shouldn't have picked this house! Trident nervously fussed. Somebody will pay you for it!"

Jodi frowned at the suddenly wise little rodent and gave a regretful nod. He distantly said, It's a pretty nice house, isn't it?

It was indeed a very nice house, new and completely furnished—quite a bounty! It also just happened to be in the zone that all the young humans that wanted to be like their animal warrior heroes were flocking to, which was too bad for the rightful owners. There were no broken windows, at least not yet, and privacy curtains still hung over the windows. There were even clean linens. There was currently no electricity. Jodi figured that he could probably, get electricity, one way or another, if he really wanted, but that was thinking too far ahead.

There was no telling where he would be in the next couple of days.

He probably wouldn't be here.

He tried to force the unsettling thought of what might lay ahead for him out of his head. He needed to concentrate on what he was going to do today.

It had all gotten very crazy very quickly.

Jodi walked to the bedroom door, grimacing as he did. He'd bruised his ribs, during yesterday's fierce contest, for the house, which was now his. He hoped that he had not suffered anything worse than bruises. There were scrapes but no open wounds.

He would simply have to hope for the best. What he really hoped was that there would be no playing today for him and no waking up tomorrow to new bruises, cuts, scrapes…or worse.

He wouldn't mind being spared the incredibly intense contest for a day. As he stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, Trident asked, "Why did you let him live?"

Jodi turned around and faced Trident. The squirrel immediately turned away and began to fretfully scratch and nibble.

Jodi interpreted the little animal's motions as anger, and he frowned and said, I let him live because he surrendered Trident.

"Never let them live!"

Jodi batted his eyes, gave a shake of his head, and said in defense, He laid down the keys to the house, and he promised that it was over.

"He's going to play you again!" Trident retorted, and Trident looked all around.

Jodi sighed because little Trident had probably spoken the truth. It probably was not over, and that was probably the real reason for Jodi's anxiety right now.

"He'll be back to play you again!" Trident chided.

Jodi walked next door to what happened to be an identical bedroom to the one that he had just exited. The door was open. Jodi did not enter. He became tense and held his breath. He cautiously slowly poked his head inside the room. There was a figure lying on the bed. Jodi scanned the shadowed corners of the room. Nothing seemed suspicious.

Everything was fine.

Last night, Jodi had convinced the figure, now sound asleep on the bed, that everything was fine and that they could sleep in different rooms. Jodi now called out in a whisper, "Hey."

The figure on the bed flinched and then was still.

It's Jodi. Everything's fine.

The figure sprang up and lunged for his rifle.

Eddie! Jodi cried out.

Eddie froze, and his bugged eyes locked with Jodi's, but Eddie's eyes seemed unrecognizing of Jodi and full of terror.

"It's Jodi! Relax!"

Eddie seemed to relax a bit. He gave a stiff nod.

Jodi blew an exaggerated amount of air out of his lungs and put to Eddie. What's the matter with you!

Eddie was only seventeen, three years younger than Jodi. An awful lot of development took place between the ages of seventeen and twenty.

Eddie opened his mouth as though to say something, but he remained silent and simply stared through more than at Jodi. After a moment, Eddie's eyes sifted upward onto the ceiling, and he panned the length of the ceiling. He slowly returned his eyes to Jodi's and distantly muttered, It wasn't a dream.

It's our house, Jodi said with an empty smile that somehow betrayed him. There was no thrill of victory in his voice or his expression.

Eddie's eyes intensified, and he snapped, You should have killed him!

Jodi retorted, He surrendered, Eddie!

Eddie grimaced severely and hissed, I can't believe you fell for that!

Eddie, he surrendered! Jodi snapped.

Yeah, he surrendered all right when he realized he couldn't win! Later today, he's going to come back and kill us!

He said that it was over—

That was a tactic, Jodi! Eddie snapped. The animals never would have let him live!

We're not animals, Eddie.

Eddie pounded the bed with a fist.

Jodi attempted to change the subject. "We'll go sign up for work today, okay?"

Eddie spat out, Yeah! He jerked away so that his back was to Jodi and snapped, After we get back, he'll be waiting to ambush us! Guess what else, Jodi? He is going to bring friends, and they will probably bring guns! Did you think about that?

Jodi gazed at the far wall and sighed. He did not say it, but he had thought about it all through the night. It was the reason he now carried a long gun and a pistol.

Things were getting very crazy.

Chapter 3

Chief Gerilius Swoop sat at his cluttered, disheveled, unmarked desk, distantly gazing through more than at his computer monitor, which now displayed very sensitive information. The medicinal smell of his desk and monitor was always in the back of his mind and probably in his clothes because the smell was throughout the century-old enforcement building and, therefore, just a part of enforcement in the small town of Chesterfield. His canine, Sheba, was stretched out on the floor, right behind his chair, and looking up at the monitor as though she was reading it.

No, Sheba couldn't read.

Here is the thing. Sheba was a dog, and ownership of a dog on this planet was nothing short of outrageous. Gerilius used to use, as an excuse, that his dog, Sheba, was part of the force, but he no longer used that excuse. He now simply confessed that Sheba was his private dog and, for his bold admission, was severely frowned upon by nearly everyone.

Allowing an animal, a killer, to roam unfettered inside a public place was unheard of! Nevertheless, he allowed his beast to roam inside the public municipal building. He dared remain way out of sorts!

There was no such tolerance for this kind of dangerous indiscretion in the big city, but Gerilius did not care for big cities, anyway.

Outside his terrible fetish of allowing a ravenous beast to run loose inside his enforcement station, Gerilius had impeccable credentials as a law enforcement professional. Nobody's perfect, but Gerilius seemed to come close…if not for that large killer animal now stretched out behind him.

There were presently six other enforcement officers inside the front office of the Chesterfield station, all within sight of each other, and all of them silently going about their chores and tasks.

Gerilius was the only one with a desk, and that was because he was the chief. Law enforcement was the only job Gerilius had ever known. He had always gotten good grades for his performance in law enforcement, which was why he had his own desk. He was just born to do this. He was always on duty and couldn't stop any investigation until he'd seen it through to the proper end, whether he got paid for it or not. He never griped to subordinates, and he always carried himself like he was on the clock, whether he was or not. And he had a pair.

Yes, the only black mark on Gerilius Swoop's record was that he allowed all sorts of bizarre privileges to a killer beast.

Though Gerilius Swoop was the classic white hat, he secretly dreamt of being something else, but who doesn't?

Actors want to be rock stars, and rock stars want to be athletes. Everyone dreams of being something else because grass is always greener on the other side.

Law enforcement was where Gerilius was meant to be. He couldn't complain. Not only was he a good enforcement officer, but enforcement had been pretty good to him in return. He was high up the ladder for his age, twenty-eight, and making a decent amount of money for it. His silent, and vain, wish was that his job be more glamorous. Actors and rock stars had glamorous, enviable jobs. Gerilius's job wasn't enviable. At least he didn't feel that it was. Sure, he turned heads. Enforcement officers always get attention, whether they're openly strapped or not…but they don't get the kind of attention that actors get.

So Gerilius wanted something more glamorous. What's wrong with that…as long as he continued doing a good job?

As for allowing a dangerous fanged beast, capable of ripping one to shreds, to wander freely about inside a public municipal building, the pressure was mounting. On this planet, people viewed dogs the same as lions, and because of that, Gerilius, in the not-too-distant future, would probably have to make a choice between dog and career. He was giving more thought to the coming choice that he would have to make. Would he choose his career or the dog?

Gerilius had yet to admit that he would probably choose the dog. The fact was, and he was dreading it that in the very near future, no matter the size of the town, there would be a law against untethered animals indoors. Large animals simply did not gain the favor of humans being how animals were brutal killers.

The sole purpose for canines on the planet was to remind humans of why humans were superior in that humans have the capacity to refrain from killing each other.

However, humans did find watching animals fight to the death quite thrilling.

There was opposition to the violence of animal fighting, but the government tolerated it because it was something that humans were too intelligent to do—that is, until recently…

The sensitive information now displayed on Gerilius's computer monitor was the growing list of infamous youth, and it was a blacklist that grew longer each day. It was classified strictly for the eyes of law enforcement, but it was a secret that everyone knew about. What was disturbing about the list of names, the blacklist, was that they were guilty of engaging in stuff that Gerilius was guilty of fantasizing about when he was a kid.

It was just kids doing kid fantasy stuff.

The problem was obvious. This generation of kids had found the nerve to jump the fence. They had gone beyond the boundaries of the imaginary. After centuries, a generation of kids had finally found the nerve to take that dangerous step, and that was very disturbing for the adults.

Humans had never taken The Animal Game to this level before, but these kids had simply started pitting themselves against one another in the same manner as the animals. What was more alarming than the phenomena of kids behaving like animals was the rapidly escalating intensity in which they were going at it. The violence was escalating at an alarming rate. When it first began, casualties were minor, but casualties were growing in severity at an alarming rate.

Within the last week, at least two had been shot. Both were alive and recovering.

The epidemic seemed most severe in Gerilius's jurisdiction. Kids were taking things to another level, and it was disrupting the peace. Unruly kids were being put out of their homes by parents, which only seemed to aggravate the matter. Last week, law-abiding citizens in the area had abandoned their homes because violent kids, who no longer had a place to live, had invaded them. No charges of wrongdoing had been brought against those guilty of the egregious trespass of home invasion, at least not yet.

Enforcement seemed reluctant to accept that it was really happening.

Centuries ago, humans had begun the practice of training animals to fight against one another for sport and entertainment. In later years, it was done for profit. Within the current century, animal fighting, called The Animal Games had blossomed into a multibillion-dollar industry. It was hugely profitable because the product was easily produced and worked for peanuts.

The games, from the beginning, were a huge success because they were incredible to watch, and over time, the incredible thrill and energy of watching The Animal Games seemed to bring people together. In modern times, despite overpopulation and a constantly depressed, stagnant economy, people could escape everyday doldrums and depression by watching The Animal Games. When weather hurled a disaster or a natural catastrophe, The Animal Games took the mind off it. Animal Games provided great memories, but all of a sudden, The Animal Games were being practiced by kids! As far as West Enforcement knew, this sort of disturbing, violent behavior was only happening on the West Continent, and that of itself was disturbing, but what made it more disturbing was its degree of rapid escalation over the entire West Continent.

Gerilius Swoop didn't have kids. He'd never allowed enough time to commit to a woman. Besides, he was married to his profession. There were periods when Gerilius pitied being alone, especially on holidays and during vacation but not of late.

He focused again on the monitor that was now displaying the list of names that everyone in law enforcement denied existed—the blacklist that everyone knew about. Gerilius, in fact, visited this sight more each day because the list grew with more rapidity each day. Now nearly every day, Gerilius found himself sucking air and then muttering, "His kid has gotten mixed up in that?"

It all began with something that seemed rather harmless. It was something that no one ever thought would become rooted the way that it had.

When it began, everyone in enforcement thought that it was something as simple as a hiccup and quickly forgotten…

But it didn't go away. It escalated, and it kept escalating.

It was now growing at an alarming rate.

Why was it only happening on the West Continent?

Chapter 4

There had been nothing but passive days and peaceful nights for the thousands of years that Homo sapiens populated the planet. Not even a revolution until now. When it finally happened, it was in the most unimaginable way and yet natural. It consumed the West Continent like an avalanche that had been building for a very long time. It was indeed an avalanche, an unstoppable force, building in momentum as it moved.

Gerilius Swoop's eyes narrowed as he read, for what seemed his thousandth time, the two names at the very top of the blacklist—Jodi Haps and Phatz Simmons.

Jodi Haps and Phatz Simmons started the avalanche several months ago. Both were in their second year of college. Emotions may have been raw at the time they started it, for it was the beginning of The Animal Games playoffs. The Warthogs were strong, as usual, and the Elephants, surnamed The Giants by humans, were playing great, crushing their opponents swiftly and effectively, but the Giants often let their enemies live off their own volition. Mercy endeared those lovable giants to humans. The Giants (elephants) allowed any who surrendered to live.

So The Animal Games playoffs had begun, but everyone knew that