Green as Grass

Green as Grass

I had chosen my apartment carefully, within the available limits of budget and SCAB tolerance. It overlooked a park on the one side and a small river on the other, and the view from my corner balcony was pretty decent. The scents were even better, with lots of living greens and cool watery cleanliness when the wind was right. The other two sides of the building faced busy thoroughfares, with a bus stop on each corner to take me wherever I needed to go in town.

If I had ever gone anywhere. That's a problem for a lapiform SCAB like me. Leaving home can get me killed in more ways than I can list. Rabbits are fearful, timid creatures for a reason- they can be eaten, run over, chased for fun, harassed, and even skinned or burned alive by some freak SCAB-hater. And we lapines, whether of human or true rabbit background, really can do little about it, except avoid trouble. It's hard for us to be aggressive even when cornered. And back then I had even less confidence, even more fears, even less control of my emotions than I do now. So I sat at home a lot, rabbitlike, and watched the world go by.

And watched.

Sure, I did other things. I called a few old friends, but they were really uncomfortable with my squeaky new voice and cute form. Factory workers, they were real masculine types who wouldn't want it known that they had once trusted and liked me. It hadn't taken me long to realize I was the one initiating all the phone calls. Several had been brave enough to visit me in the hospital while I was first adjusting, but even they didn't have the stomach for an extended friendship. I couldn't blame them really -- the social pressures were intensely against it. Gradually, we drifted apart.

And I played with computers sometimes, making a few e-mail acquaintances. But since I hid my ears and fur from them, I always found myself poisoning the friendships with lies. Yes, I had tried the new T-bone steak instant dinners. Yes, I liked the new style electric drills and the way they fit the hands I don't have. Bought one last week in fact... And sooner or later, I was trapped in a deceit, and had to vanish in shame. I couldn't even achieve VIRTUAL normalcy anymore...

So, after the first few weeks, I found myself sitting in the sun on my deck a lot, grooming and sniffing the air when the wind was right, and feeling not the least bit human at all...

It's bad for all SCABs, having some kind of change to their bodies. We animal-type SCABs generally spend a lot of time figuratively (and in the case of some unfortunates not so figuratively) chasing our tails over our humanity and lack thereof. After you've gotten over the immediate upset of the physical change, you begin to really appreciate the mental alterations. My forepaws, for example, were far easier to get used to than my new fear of dogs. I didn't miss being able to wear shoes or pants of any sort so much, but the first time I NEEDED to groom myself it freaked me out in a major way. My hypersensitive hearing took some getting used to, but dealing with the way I evaluated every new situation first and foremost by figuring out where I could hide RIGHT NOW if I needed to was spooky. Having your thought patterns altered involuntarily is WEIRD. Your very identity is changed. In an intensely real way, the old Phil was dead. These new feelings and impulses were and are as much me as anything the old Phil ever thought or felt or knew. This is the real disorientation, the real suffering of SCABS. And I had it bad.

I couldn't decide if I was a rabbit or a person. Major identity crisis...

My recent time in a lapine colony had made it worse of course. I'm STILL feeling the effects of it; even now I never speak of it. But back then the influence was still just tremendous. The hospital sent me there as a matter of routine, and only the maneuverings of my lawyer had gotten me sprung. I'm still the only heavily-morphed lapine I know of that lives at all successfully in the real world, so the blame is not entirely on the hospital. They probably thought they were doing their best for a sad case like me. The colony had been horrible- I had been forced into a dominance fight by an attendant who considered me a "smart-ass" and promptly lost to a large but hare-brained bunny who insisted that I go entirely rabbit. He was the terror of the whole colony -- speech was strictly forbidden around him, and feeding was by pecking order only.

Dominance is heavily hard-wired into the lapine brain, and I was no exception. Once I lost that fight I became a virtual slave. No talking? OK. Wait till almost last to feed? It was only to be expected. Be scent-marked like property? Naturally. Be required to snuggle with bunnies I hated? What else? We rabbits are pretty easy to push around anyway- throw in the instinctive hard-wiring, and, well...

By the time my lawyer got me out, I BELONGED in a colony. I could remember being human, but didn't think of myself as such any more. Speech meant little to me -- I understood the words but they had no impact, no MEANING. I viewed the world and myself entirely as a rabbit views these things. In fact, if she hadn't kept me as a caged animal on her own, talking to me for hours while I was still unresponsive and withdrawn, I would have never gotten my soul back at all.

I still tremble, thinking about it. It's the most awful thing that ever happened to me. Bar none. Worse than the physical change, by far...

Barbara stayed at it, though, talking to me and loving and cherishing me as a person until I came to see myself that way again as well. Eventually, she helped me get a human life together. I will be forever grateful to her, and always think of her whenever I hear a SCAB say something about "those damned Norms"...

And so I found myself on yet another empty Spring afternoon, fidgeting and grooming myself in the warm sun, hoping that the alfalfa and hay would be fresh when the delivery came that afternoon. The scents from the river and park were just overwhelming, and the hay in the 'fridge was SO stale...

Presently, during the second time through my grooming routine, the groceries arrived. Slobbering slightly, I chewed the hay bag open...

Rotten. Wet and rotten. So was everything else.

Damn! I was paying good money for this stuff! I ought to call up that store right away and...

...and...

...and nothing. I would put up with it, rather than starting a conflict. Rabbits hate conflict with anything that might become dangerous. Which pretty much covers everything in the known universe...

<sigh>. Why couldn't I have been a wolf-morph like everyone else? Resignedly, I returned to the deck and tried to nap.

But, damn, that park and river bottom smelled delicious!

It was torment, that scent. I tried to force down the hay I had on hand, but it gagged me. I even made the move of ultimate desperation, watching TV to get my mind off of my hunger. But the commercials seemed to be all for salad dressings, featuring beautiful green lettuce fresh with droplets of dew from the garden...

My stomach grumbled. Rabbits eat a very low calorie diet. In other words, we have to eat a lot of stuff to get the fuel we need to run our high-performance bodies. And I had been letting my appetite build for the afternoon delivery...

I paced. I laid motionless. I drank huge amounts of water. I tried everything including hopping around like a mad thing, making so much noise that my downstairs neighbor called to see if all was well- I was usually a very quiet tenant. But I couldn't get my mind off the greenery in the park and the river bottom.

Slobber dripped down my chin...

Finally, I guess I went a little mad. Several times I actually made it all the way through the pet-door I used in the entrance to my apartment and pressed the elevator button before realizing what I was doing and dashing back to safety. It was after doing this for the third time that I knew I HAD to graze. I could do it either with dignity, as a human, or I could get so worked up that instinct took over completely and I grazed as a dumb animal. But graze I would...

Knowing that I was going to give in helped. I held out a couple hours until the safety of darkness fell, sneaked to the elevator, pressed the button, and went out into the world for the first time alone.

Yes, it was the very first time. Before, I had walked alongside my lawyer, trembling in fear. Or stood straight and mechanically marched forward like a zombie to impress a shrink who wanted to see how I was getting along -- we lapines have to be re-evaluated regularly. When nothing else was possible, I had even asked cab drivers to come up to my apartment to carry something for me, so as to have company the whole way. But there was no scenario I could arrange to have company while grazing. It was too humiliating, too inhuman. Scared as I was, I'd rather have my privacy while I behaved as an animal.

Besides, who would I call?

* * *

When the elevator opened on the ground floor, the reality of my position struck home. I hadn't visited the lobby in ages, and the street beyond looked as huge to me as it does to a child of similar size. Soaking wet, I weighed about a hundred pounds after SCABS got through with me.

Unlike a child, there was no one to hold my hand. Er, paw.

A bus roared past, followed by a truck that vibrated the building itself. Damn, they looked big... And the street was so open...

But fortunately I didn't have to cross the road. The park and river were out back. I edged through the glass portal, and panic built as I realized I was away from cover and exposed. Terrified, I dropped to all fours and hopped like mad around back, a streak of white in the remnants of twilight. A trash dumpster loomed, and I dove under it with a terrific sense of relief. For a bit I just laid there and panted, catching my breath. Really, I should get more exercise...

Distantly, I heard a dog bark and my ears came as erect as the bottom of the dumpster would allow. A dog could arrange plenty of exercise for me... But I heard no more, and with time and the good cover even came to relax some.

Until the hunger pangs resumed. The greenery that lured me on was closer than ever, just a few yards away. I salivated again, and began planning my next move. There was a pine thicket just off to the left, I knew from my many visual explorations, and a winding path down toward the river ran through it. The tenderest, most appetizing scents seemed to be coming from that way, and the cover would be good. Open ground lay dead ahead, and the street was off to the right...

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to get down into that river bottom. But I was so new at this! Green as the grass I was after! ANYTHING could be down there!

But I had to eat, too. Had to.

Presently, I gathered up my hindlegs, and in a series of powerful leaps entered the thicket. Rabbits had survived this for millennia, I told myself. At least some of them...

As soon as I found my next cover- an area of scrub pine so thick that even my white fur was totally screened -- I began grazing. I had eaten au naturale before, at the colony, but I wasn't prepared for the rich variety of scents and flavors spread before me even in this sparse, sun-starved growth. There were at least four varieties of grass and several edible weeds. But there wasn't much of it, and soon I had eaten it all without taking even the edge off my hunger. I scanned extensively for danger, found my next cover (a child's play structure on a playground), and sprinted for it. There was nothing to eat there, as the concrete tube sat in a sandbox, so I checked again and headed for a brushpile at the very edge of the natural drop down to the river's bank.

I set myself, dashed, and...

Startled hell out of a raccoon just waking up for her night's activities. Grumpily she protested my clumsiness and stalked off, leaving me shaking at the realization that this might well have been a dog or who knew what else... Almost, the thought took the edge off my hunger, made me realize the stupid chance I was taking. But not quite. The river was SO close now...

And I descended down the last little slope to the edge of the water itself. Where I was intoxicated by the delicious aromas around me. The scents were like drugs -- I didn't even check for danger, just fed and fed and fed...

So did the little herd of whitetails all around me. And the dozen or so cottontails in sight. I had hit the herbivore jackpot. This was the best greenery I had ever tasted -- clover, and timothy-grass, and dandelion sprouts, plantain, you name it. All of it in the first tender growth of Spring. I couldn't think of anything else but food, and my dinner-partners obviously were as entranced as I was. So wrapped up was I in what I was doing that several times I drank from the river as I had seen the deer do before I realized that I was ingesting impure water. Then I mentally shrugged it off -- if I was going to be a rabbit tonight I might as well go all the way...

And while feeding by the little waterway, I enjoyed being a rabbit. For the first time. Ever.

Eventually I had so stuffed myself that I could ingest no more. The deer were still packing it away, but they were mostly bigger than I was and presumably had bigger stomachs. My fellow rabbits had all evaporated away, presumably to sleep off their feast as I needed to do. I was tempted to find a bush to nap under so as to dine by the river again in the morning, but immediately the thought made me uneasy and I knew I would have to go back home. It was the only safe place around.

So, I began to retrace my steps. Or hops. Whatever.

Dinner was weighing me down, and I felt generally sluggish and lethargic anyway. I wasn't so bad off that I walked upright -- I would stand out far too much that way. But I hopped leisurely and slowly, my former caution and fear much reduced by the spirit of well-being engendered by what I had experienced. A few more trips like that one, and I might cancel the grocery deliveries entirely. Unless the store got mad at me when I was on the phone with them...

When I got to the child's concrete tunnel, I decided to take a rest and check for danger a little more thoroughly than I had so far done. I paused for a bit, and sniffed and listened.

Nothing, except for the growl of traffic and the gentle burble of the river.

Nothing at all.

I continue to lay there for a moment, enjoying the sense of laziness my overfull gut gave me and watching the little rapid bursts of fog my breath made in the chilly Spring night air. I almost went to sleep on the spot, but finally roused myself to make a halfhearted dash for the pine thicket. I made a slow hop, then another...

And fire erupted down my back...

My reaction was instantaneous as my body took over for me. Adrenaline dumped into my system as I dug my claws in and threw up great gouts of sand into the face of my tormentor, who I still had not seen or scented. My pupils dilated wide, lungs and heart pumping like the engine of a racing car, I shot like a crossbow bolt for the "safety" of the pine thicket. But the thing chasing me was damned fast too -- twice I felt my hindtoes literally brush the nose of whatever chased me during my sprint, spurring me on to greater efforts for a leap or two until I brushed again.

It was that close.

The pine thicket clearly wasn't a very safe refuge -- I wasn't at all sure what was after me, but it was BIG and meant business. And I am a sprinter, not a distance runner. Even without an overfull gut. I was rapidly running out of steam and a few thin trunks and some visual cover wouldn't help me a bit. Fortunately, I didn't have to reason this all out since I didn't have time. Without thinking about it I swerved hard to the left, back toward the river. Being lighter and the initiator of the maneuver, I gained perhaps a foot while the predator after me skidded a bit and matched course. Then, I cut back hard right and entered the thicket at rocket speed...

Through a tiny gap between two pines, leaving white fur on both...

My pursuer was apparently too entranced by the nearness of my bobbing white tail and my recent dodging to pay attention. It hit the trees. Hard...

And when I recognized the yowling, my blood ran cold and new energy flowed through me. My God, it was some kind of big cat. A SCAB gone feral, most likely. Hunting. Me... Grimly, I dug in and continued across the open ground toward the busy street beyond. If the cat was sentient at all, it would not kill me in front of witnesses...

But its blood lust was up. It voiced its frustration in a bass roar terrifying even to humans, and continued after me, hardly losing a step.

I had a hundred yards to cover, roughly, before I hit the street, and a lead of perhaps 8-10 feet thanks to the helpful pine trees. But I was weighed down with food, out of shape, and tiring. The open ground seemed to extend forever though we covered it in a bare handful of seconds, and when we hit the area lit by streetlights I knew the feline was right on me again. Though I was giving all I had, body and soul, I was losing.

That's why I closed my eyes and plunged blindly into traffic.

There was a horrible squealing as brakes engaged all around me -- I can hear pads engage the rotors since my big change. They sound like chalk squeaking on a blackboard. Almost instantly this was followed by the blare of horns, and a sudden impact that caught me off balance and rolled me head over hindpaws until, stunned, I came to a stop and rolled aimlessly about while the world slowed down for me a bit. Then, while I was still only slightly recovered, I was off again, more terrified than ever. I had finally seen what was after me...

An honest to God, real, genuine Holy Shit Bengal tiger! Almost certainly a SCAB, and therefore probably highly intelligent. It (I still wasn't sure of its sex) had been hit far harder than I, but was still trying to rouse itself... I was pretty sure what its first instinct would be...

A little thing like being run down was nothing to this level of threat, and I took off as best I could. Which is to say stiffly and slowly, until I collapsed a few feet away. My right hindleg was broken. Moving as best I could, I continued to drag myself away from the danger, lapine distress calls beginning to emerge from my throat.

The sound of a hurting rabbit is unforgettable, much like that of a crying human infant. We make that sound to warn others away, not to help ourselves. Think about it -- wailing gives away our position to our enemies when we are weak and hurt.

We only utter that cry when we think we are dead for sure, and can maybe help others escape...

I was dead.

Almost immediately the tiger howled in pain and rage, and began to come for me. It was dragging its guts, and one of its forelegs was useless, but onward it came. Slowly. Right for me.

I stopped moving, frozen by my oncoming fate. When I was a boy, I had dreamed of dying in combat, or in a car wreck, or an atomic attack, or, hopefully, in bed.

Never like this. Never. No human should have to die a wounded rabbit, helplessly watching Death come for them...

But there I was. I'd known since waking once upon a time in the hospital with a warm and fuzzy feeling that just wouldn't quit that someday I would have to die a rabbit's death. It was inevitable. And someday just happened to be today...

The tiger towered over me, 600 lbs or more to my 100. It roared its triumph, and sank its teeth into the good-eating solid flesh of my broken thigh. I screamed in agony as bones crunched...

And didn't even flinch when the shot rang out...

The tiger collapsed onto me, drowning me in evil, bloody scent. I passed out...

And came to in the hospital, with a SCAB cockroach medical type looking down at me. I felt weak, but was in little pain. He was trying to communicate, but it was too hard for me. I fell back asleep.

When I awoke again, I was healed.

Yes, it sounds miraculous. It especially seemed that way to me at the time.

It seems that I'm a chronomorph as well as a lapiform unamorph. My body tries to maintain one exact age, one invariant physical state. And broken bones and torn flesh and such just aren't in the plan... I had no idea until then. Physically, I could walk right out the front door...

But mentally it was a far different story. Being hunted is a very personal thing, and the scars go deep. I'll never recover fully, not unless they cure SCABS and get me back into a human body. And perhaps not even then. The nightmares will last forever, at the very least.

I considered going back into the colonies.

Yes, being hunted was THAT bad. Giving up my humanity looked like a bargain to avoid another hunt. And knowing I was a chronomorph made it worse -- I can NEVER die in bed. Why shouldn't I shut off my brain, accept a submissive role, graze and groom and snuggle? I was sorely tempted. Long life isn't nearly so appealing when you have to spend it wondering whose dinner you'll end up being. And when you got right down to it, who was to say my life would be long? By all appearances, I was a lousy bunny, almost getting eaten my first time out on my own. Personally, chronomorph or no, I considered myself a poor life insurance risk...

I went so far as to dial my lawyer's number from the hospital, to tell her to have them pick me up. It was the lowest moment of my life, lower even than losing that dominance fight that screwed me up so badly. And I would have done it, except that her machine answered. I've always hated talking to machines -- it's one thing that the blue eyes and tail haven't affected. So I hung up, figuring to call back later.

Derksen was running tests on me all day, up to and including inflicting minor wounds and timing the healing. I hated it, but it was important and necessary. Even I, a factory union type, knew that I had a very strange and wonderful condition. If it would help the big brains learn something, I'd accept a couple cuts and abrasions. Especially when the nurses stroked my fur and brought little tidbits from the cafeteria to help me through the ordeal. This stroking and feeding had gone on some time before I realized that I was finding another thing to enjoy about rabbithood. Women could pamper me to no end, and I didn't have to feel any shame at all...

But that wasn't what kept me out of the colonies, though it helped me along in its own way. Trav Pearson did that.

Dr. Derksen came running (scuttling?) across the lab that afternoon in a clearly agitated state. I was bored with being stuck and scraped, so I followed. Bryan, not noticing me, headed into an examining room and closed the door behind him. None of my business, I figured, and started to head back to my own bed. Until I realized that I scented a rabbit on the other side of the portal...

Now, I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I couldn't help myself. This time. And I am remarkably well equipped for the role. It soon became obvious that Trav, the patient and newly minted lapiform SCAB, was just regaining consciousness. His wife was there, and she and Derksen were trying to get a response.

But, seemingly, no one was at home.

They tried for a long time. Hours, even. But got nothing except rabbit-type responses.

I had known many Travs in the lapine colony. They were rabbits, through and through. Their physical forms varied -- some were practically human. But so often in lapiform SCABS the minds were gone...

I had kept my mind. Yeah, it had changed some. But I was unquestionably still me.

What right did I have to throw that away by going rabbit voluntarily?

What would Trav give for the choice?

Jesus...

It was there, standing in that cold, aseptic hospital corridor that I began to realize how lucky I am. Sure, I have bad times and legitimate beefs. But not like Trav. Never like Trav.

As rabbitlike as I sometimes seem even to myself, my soul is still human. And a human soul is the greatest gift, the most precious commodity in the universe. Watch one being lost sometime, if you want proof, and look the empty body in its eyes... You'll have no further doubts.

Ask Trav's widow.

So it was that I decided to try and face the world again. It took time before I could leave my home and graze in relative peace, and even longer before I was able to actively seek out company among my fellow SCABs and begin a new life. But in the end I did. The road was rough, but not impassable.

I've posted this story here under "lapiform SCABS" in case somebody else like me comes along, someone who has a human mind and mostly a rabbit's body and scent. Someone else who is having a hard time learning to live as prey. There are three things I would have you learn from me.

One is that your soul is human, regardless of instincts. You need human company, human friends, most of all human love. And your humanity is the most precious thing there is.

The second is that life as prey is STILL life. There are new experiences waiting for you, if you can summon the courage. Wonderful new things like grazing, belly rubs, ear scratchings, and visits to the groomer. They will go a long way towards balancing the bad, if you will but let them. Be who you are, not who you think you should be.

And third, never, ever forget to check wind direction while scenting for danger. Tigers often attack from downwind....

The End

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