FSE

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There were huts with corrugated tin roofs, scrap walls, and mud floors. Some walls even seemed to have bullet holes. Was I in Detroit? The easiest thing to notice aside from the scenery was the people. All of them were hybrids of sorts, like me. Men, women, and children. All of them seemed sad, not even the youngest of the children were playing, all of them portraying the definition of poverty. One lizard hybrid was trudging through a pile of junk, occasionally picking up scraps for reasons unknown. Some of the hybrids were wearing uniforms that betrayed their old lives, such as UN outfits among others. The only humans were the UN soldiers at a large wooden gate, wearing their sky-blue Kevlar helmets with the white "UN" letters painted on. They were armed with SA80 rifles, showing their British allegiance.

I sighed and stepped out of the mud, standing on the dirt path surrounded by scrap and junk. I deer mother cradled her child, also a deer. The child started crying, and the mother carefully shook the infant in a futile attempt to quiet it down. I walked down the dirty street, the stench of sickness wafting into my nostrils. I was struggling to keep the contents of my stomach, wandering aimlessly through the slum. I was startled as a tin door fell from a nearby hut, crashing onto the ground. I passed a space between two huts, but stopped when I heard a voice.

"Hey, you! Over here!" the voice said from the alleyway. I craned my neck, seeing what appeared to be a horse-hybrid. He gestured me to the alley. Now I didn't trust this place at all, but I had no idea what else I was going to do. Cautiously, I approached the alley, stepping into the shadows. Then I got a full look at the horse. He was wearing cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt. I may have had the more dangerous body, but this guy could best be described as a workhorse, there was no way I was stronger than him, "You a Marine?" he asked.

"I was," I responded, thinking, "Well, semper fi and all that, but that might only apply to humans," I instantly regret continuing, praying I didn't run my mouth off. I looked at the stranger, trying to avoid eye contact. The man, err, stallion, held out a hand.

"I'm Joe," he says, shaking my hand, "I've never seen you here. What camp did you come from?"

"Camp?" I asked.

"Yeah, of course. The government calls them 'adjustment camps,' but we all know they're just slums. Why were you in the hospital anyway?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"I was hit in Afghanistan, I was in a coma until today. I wake up and I'm some fuckin' animal," I sigh.

"Damn," he responds, "well this must be confusing as hell for you, but the world has changed. People changed, and it's still happening, but nobody has any idea why, of course, no government has told us why. So, do you want to live in this shithole?" he asked, shifting on his hooves nervously.

"Not particularly, no," I said statically.

"Follow me, we need you," he said, walking off behind the huts.

Still on edge, I followed him around a muddy, brown watered pond, a mound of trash in the middle. I followed him, noticing the "clip clop" of his hooves on the ground. He went to an outdoor cellar entrance, the kind usually on the side of a house. With an ear-piercing creak, he threw the door open, the thin metal panel landing with a thud.

"Here," he said patiently. I looked at him with suspicion, and he smiled, "I understand if you don't trust me, but o be honest we need you more than you need us," I thought for a moment, then took a leap of faith, stepping down the stairs into the ground, the stallion following.

I stepped off the stairs, momentarily surprised by the dirt floor. The dusty air makes me cough, and I blink as a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling is clicked on with a pull chain, leaving it swinging, creating moving shadows on the walls. I cover my eyes as they adjust to the dim light. In the room are a variety of hybrids, including birds, reptiles, and plenty of mammals. All of them with determined expressions. Welp, this is how I die.

"I'm afraid I never got your name," Joe said.

"I'm Elijah Caivano," I say as Joe nods, turning to the other figures in the room.

"Hey guys," he said, "this is Elijah, he is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan, and woke up from a coma today, not knowing what was happening. We've been looking for someone like him for a long time now."

Everyone in the room looked rather focused, almost relieved. However, they all remained silent, until a cheetah woman spoke up, "How do we know we can trust him?" she asks, "Clearly he is, or at least was a government employee."

Joe nods, "He was asleep for years before the event that did this happened, and we need his skills."

"How do you know that for sure?" she asked, still skeptical.

"Look at him," Joe said, "he's terrified. To any of you who had been in the hospital before, have you seen the room that never opens? That was his. If anyone goes in, they'll see it's empty now."

The cheetah nodded, satisfied. I sighed, the stressful moment having passed. Joe was right, it did seem like they needed me more than I needed them. I looked to Joe, but he didn't return the glance. Clearly anything that was going to be said had to be said by me. I walked up to the old wooden table in the center of the room, placing my hands on it. I looked to everyone, and spoke, "What is this meeting anyway?"

Someone, who at first I thought was a lizard, approached from the shadows, arms crossed. I saw a flap of leathery wings, showing he was no lizard, but instead a dragon, "You have been recruited for the resistance," he said darkly.