The Day We Remember
The day was September 11, 2041. In a small tavern in Manhattan, three large muscular figures sit at the bar sipping beer. One, a mountain lion colored blacker than darkest night. Another, a fox with eyes bluer than diamonds. And the last, an otter with emerald green eyes and fur the color of milk chocolate, a guitar resting against the bar. They sit, not saying a word. Finally the mountain lion pulls out a cigarette. The fox leans over and produces a flame.... from his claw tip. The mountain lion, unphased leaned forward and lit his cigarette. He looked to the fox. "Gracias, senor. Interesting parlor trick, no?" He whispered in a slight Hispanic accent. The fox nodded. "Aye, 'tis a great way to impress the lasses." He replied in his moderate Scottish accent. The burly otter reached over and tapped the black feline's shoulder. "I vould prefer if you did not smoke." His German accent still audible in his English. The cat put the cigarette out. "Sorry senor...?" The otter held out a paw. "Deyna Tibberius Otter, but my associates call me Deyto." The feline extended his paw and shook the otter's. "Manuel DeCacas, but my friends call me Shadow." The fox held up both his paws. "Don't ask for me real name. Ah'm only known by the name Alta." "Hey quiet up youse guys. The program's on!" All three looked up at the TV screen over the bar. "And that's all for local news, now we head over to our editorial department to hear from Candice Bergman. Candice?"
The golden retriever femme looked straight ahead without outward emotion. "3,025. A number that sent America to war with the former dictated country Iraq. On this day forty years ago, several members of a terrorist group known as Al Queda abducted four commercial airline planes. One would crash into a field of Pennsylvania; killing those who were brave enough to try and take the plane back from the terrorists and everyone else on board. One would crash into the Pentagon, killing hundreds. But two would crash into one building that would send the scariest, most horrific yet memorable message since Pearl Harbor in 1941. Two of them crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center causing fires and explosions. And hours later, those magnificent buildings would crumble to the ground." She stopped. "My mother and father died during that attack. My youngest brother lost his life from being trampled by the tens of thousands of people trying to escape the burning debris. My eldest brother joined the Army and was in one of the first troops to liberate Baghdad. He was also one of the first soldiers executed by radical Jihads." A picture of a handsome golden retriever dressed in army fatigues came on the screen. "I was orphaned at the age of 13. I had no family to go to and was immediately shipped off to the local orphanage." She paused again, steadying herself. "To me, Nine-Eleven will always be the worst day of my life." She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "No, Jer, I can do this." She said to someone off screen. "I'm inviting all of those whom lost someone or knows someone who lost somebody during the attacks to the grand opening of the new Twin Towers. Made of the new alloy Infinium, they are five times stronger and won't yield to anything." She looked away at someone off-screen and smiled. "But with every new beginning there must first come an end. An end to suffering. An end of memories fading with the years. Every story's floor is carved granite. Inscripted in these enormous slabs is the name of each and every person who lost their lives in the attack and in the years of payback that followed." She got up and walked off screen, crying freely. "I'm sorry, I can't go on." Not one person spoke in the small pub. It was the disturbing sound of reminiscence.
The barkeep reached up and turned the TV off. "Everybody, if you could raise your glasses, I'd like to propose a toast." Every tankard, mug, glass, flute and cup went up silently. The Italian greyhound raised a shot glass of whiskey. "To Joey Giovacinni, my best friend who died on this day forty years ago." He slammed back the shot and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked to Deyto, who held his mug of German lager higher. "To meine freunde Mikhail Chercovsky, who died January 23rd, 2008 on zeh battle fields of Um Qsar." He leaned his head back and gulped the entire mug. Shadow raised his shot glass of tequila. "To my Uncle Ricardo DeCacas, who died on this day forty years ago." He slammed the shot back and threw the glass on the cement floor, a tradition in the Mexican ghettos of New Sacramento. Alta held up his glass of ale, fighting back tears. "To me dear friend Arnold McPhearson, who died May 14th 2024 on the battlefields of Jerusalem." He poured the pint on the floor. "One last drink for ye Arnie." The toast went on for several minutes, each person saluting his or her lost ones in their own fashion. When everyone was done, there was a moment of uncertainty. Some sat silently. Others cried openly. But most pulled out the symbols of their religion and prayed in their own language, like Shadow, Deyto and Alta.
Shadow's deep bass voice hung below the other voices as he prayed in Spanish, his rosary of solid platinum shining with every teardrop that fell from his muzzle. Deyto's soft baritone voice joined the voices of others as he prayed in German, glasping the golden cross his mother wore when she was alive. Alta's higher tenor voice mixed genty with everyone's as he prayed in English, holding his husband's wooden cross. "El padre divino, nos dirige en esta hora de la oscuridad y nos conduce en la luz de la gloria. En el nombre del padre, en el nombre del hijo y en el nombre del fantasma santo, rogamos. Amen." "Himmlischer Vater, führen uns in diese Stunde der Schwärzung und führen uns in das Licht des Ruhmes. Im Namen des Vaters, im Namen des Sohns und im Namen des heiligen Geistes, beten wir. Amen." "Heavenly Father, guide us in this hour of darkness and lead us into the light of glory. In the name of the Father, in the name of the son and in the name of the Holy Ghost, we pray. Amen."
As the hours went by, the patrons of the tavern slowed to just three solitary figures. Shadow, Alta and Deyto sat there at the bar, talking in soft voices. "So joo are married to John MacIntosh who runs my British branch?" Alta nodded. "Oh, aye. Been happily married for the last ten years." The older otter pointed a finger at Alta. "Oh, you are lucky meine freunde. I remember vhen it was illegal for me and Matthew to get married, Gottrest seine Seele." The three bowed their heads. "God rest his soul." "Resto del dios su alma." The barkeep came to them and presented them with their tabs. "Closing time boys. Don't have to go home but ya can't stay here." Then he moved over to the closet to get the broom. The three each withdrew their billfolds and deposited two hundred dollars each. Neither of their bills were more than $50. Deyto reached down and picked up his guitar, and the three left without a sound.
They stood staring at the skylight of the beautiful city. Deyto was the first to break the silence. "Vell, vhat now?" Shadow slipped on a pair of yellow sunglasses. "We could go to towers. I want to find my uncle's name." Alta smiled. "Aye, and I'd like t'find Arnie's name. But we'll travel in style, eh wot?" He closed his eyes and breathed in. When he opened them, they were glowing in a deep crimson. All three began to rise from the ground. They flew for about forty blocks and then landed in an alley just two blocks from the new towers. Deyto was the first to voice his opinion of the experience. "Oh, Scheiße!" Alta laughed merrily. "I'll take that as a compliment." The three new friends talked as they walked the remainder. When they entered the new square, their voices fell. The sanctity of the place made every word seem unnecessary. It had been several hours since the memorial service ended and only a few stragglers remained. Deyto, Shadow and Alta stood at the small set of stairs that led to the front doors of the new buildings. Deyto sat down and rested his guitar on his lap. Shadow and Alta sat with him. "So do ye play that thing, or do ye just like carrying it around?" Deyto held the guitar and strummed a few chords. Some other furs turned their heads to the sound of the metallic strings being plucked. Shadow smiled. "Know any appropriate songs?" Deyto closed his eyes. "Yes, I know a perfect one." He strummed a few chords and then cleared his throat. He breathed in and started singing in a lovely baritone:
"American Girls, and American guys
We'll always stand up and salute, we'll always recognize
When we see old glory flying, there's a lot of men dead
So we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our head.
My daddy served in the army where he lost his right eye.
But he flew a flag out in our yard til the day that he died
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me
To grow up and live happy in the land of the free.
Now this nation that I love is fallin' under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flyin' in from somewhere in the back.
Soon as we could see clearly through our big black eye,
Man, we lit up your world like the fourth of July!
Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list
And the statue of Liberty started shakin' her fist
And the eagle will fly and there's gonna be hell,
When you hear mother freedom start ringing her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you.
Oh, brought to you courtesy of the red white and blue!
Oh, justice will be served and the battle she'll rage
This big dog will fight when you rattle his cage
You'll be sorry that you messed with, the 'U' 'S' of 'A'
Cuz we'll put a boot in your ass it's the American way!
Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty started shakin' her fist
And the eagle will fly and there's gonna be hell,
When you hear mother freedom start ringing her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you.
Oh, brought to you courtesy of the red, white and blue!"
Deyto strummed the last chord and wiped his eyes. Shadow sat looking at the ground. Alta was suddenly considering adultery. "Twas a beautiful song Deyto." Deyto smiled. "Danke. It is an old one called 'The Angry American' by a golden lab named Toby Keith." Shadow looked up and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I was a soldier." The other two looked at him. "Were ye really? That's odd cuz I still work for the MI6, so I'm a soldier too." Deyto nodded. "Me also. I'm a member of the reserves." They all chuckled. "Just a bunch of soldiers sitting and reminiscing of days gone by." "But vhy?" Shadow turned to Deyto. "Beg pardon?" "Vhy did you leave the service?" Shadow pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it and breathed out a cloud of smoke. "I lost faith. My fellow soldiers died left and right. I finally found no point in continuing my service. I was withdrawn because of an injury and I never went back. Why are you still in the service, old man? What reward could there be for fighting a war that nobody won"?
A small lion cub came up to the trio. "You said you were soldiers?" They nodded. She reached in and hugged each of them. "Thank you." She walked over to her mother and they both walked away. Deyto smiled and pointed at the cub. "That is all the revard I need."
The End
Deyto, Shadow and Alta are (c) me
The Angry American is (c) Toby Keith
*** I've been meaning to write this story for some time now but have had no real reason to start. One night around 2 A.M., Toby Keith's song came on the radio. After I listened and cried, I sat down and typed this story. I did not lose anyone in the terrorist attacks, but it still shook me in a way that still haunts me to this day. I have mixed feelings on the whole war in the Middle East. I wanted to take the bastards who attacked us down but I did not want to take over their country. I still pray that God will guide us through this dark time. ***