Jasper's Story: A Groundhogs Pandemic Nightmare

The reborn shafts of sunlight illuminated the once dark tunnel, and Jasper realized the time had come to go to work. He ambled up the dirt cylinder into the light and poked his head up in caution to pan right and left. His nose pumped air, in and out, in short bursts, a part of his long-range defense.

He detected a tangible change around his den. Jasper suspended his breath to listen and retreated into his shelter to reconsider his safety. Silence, the absence of the typical day's clatter, startled him. Groundhogs couldn't see well but tracked food two hundred yards away and relied on their astute hearing for defense. They could make out an ants poot from a hundred yards.

His courage gave him an advantage over the rest of the colony because they wouldn't cross the great black path. They subsisted on the dull roots, bugs, bark, and plants nearby. Community elders thought him a fool for the danger he undertook, but he believed they envied his stored fat.

“You are a fool for partaking of the human’s food. You cannot trust them. One of these days, you will not return home,” the chief of the colony said.

The surrounding environment had changed, and though hesitant, his stomach churned from hunger and compelled him to take the risk.

A simple security system in his mind operated much like a traffic light. When he sensed green, he was secure; with yellow, he proceeded with caution, and red, danger, he sought safety or ran.

****

Only brave from hunger, Jasper charged out the tunnel into the odd day and stood on his hind legs to better scout for danger. The black path the iron monsters traveled was clear of movement, and the air seemed cleaner. Some days the toxic fumes they belched made the air hard to breathe. Prior to now, he couldn't remember a single day when they weren't present.

The monsters came in all shapes and sizes and endangered his life when he crossed the black-stone path to his forage grounds. Some were loud, and others were eerily quiet, almost sneaky. If he stayed out of their way, they ignored him. Sometimes, Jasper thought himself invisible, but he learned the truth when he mistimed his sprint one day. The giant iron monster, with glaring white eyes, had screamed in rage. The blare of a thousand geese hurt his ears and left him shaking for hours.

Where are the monsters? He thought and sensed yellow. Their absence added to his nervous caution, and he shuffled faster when he crossed the empty black-stone path.

****

Jasper slipped safely into the shrubs after his crossing and followed his worn path through the woods. His nose had not picked up the scent of food from his food depot only a hundred yards away. Sometimes the wind limited his abilities.

He arrived and crawled into his emergency burrow at the edge of the woods under a shrub. The hole bordered a black-stone field. On the edge of the black patch stood an iron container, his food depot. The usual bill of fare, lettuce, celery, and many other vegetables made quite a buffet. On an average day, many iron monsters were here, but today only one. What a strange day, he thought.

The lone iron monster emanated the scent of Azalea's, and he recognized she was nearby. Azalea's body fragrance reminded him of the lush blossoms he loved to eat in the spring. She had given him the name Jasper, though he couldn't say it.

To his ears, her voice sounded like the careening of a bird's song, and when he tried to imitate her, he only managed, chuck-chuck, chuck chuck. The first contact with her had been red, and he ran. Over the past year, she had set lettuce out for him, and ever since, he sensed a soft yellow.

Jasper sensed green, shuffled to the bush by the container, and climbed into his dining hall. The metal box was empty except for a few decaying remnants stuck to the walls.

Confused, he hurried to his hideout as his stomach rumbled.

"Jaspar, are you here?" Azalea called out.

Jaspar sensed the trepidation in her voice and stuck his head out of his burrow.

"I'm sorry, we have no food for you. A pandemic is raging across the country and many people are dying. We are closed. The food trucks haven't delivered in days," she said and walked closer, sat in the grass and cried.

"I don't know what we are going to do for food. Those who aren't sick are afraid," she said, "My NaNa got sick and went to the stars in the sky. Do you understand me Jasper?"

Jasper couldn't understand her words but perceived she was sad. Yellow.

"You must be hungry like me."

"Chuck, chuck, chuck," Jasper said. Green.

Azalea slipped an apple out of her pocket.

"I have an apple I will share with you," she said, "Come get it."

Jasper stared at the offering and hoped she would toss the food closer, but she didn't. Yellow.

"Here... boy, this is for you. I won't hurt you," she said and slid closer. Yellow.

Jasper's stomach pains over-rode caution, and he moved out of the burrow to a few feet away from her. She dropped the apple, and he sank his teeth into the fruit. He nibbled through the skin into the sweet pulp, and apple juice saturated his furry chin. Green.

He focused on the remainder of the apple when his mind signaled. Red, Red, Red. Too late, a wire loop slid over his neck, and he tried to run to his hole, but the metal loop tightened the more he tried to escape. Jasper squealed in panic for Azalea to help him. A wood bat flashed by his vision as she struck him in the head and stunned him.

From the darkness of a coarse burlap sack, he heard her voice.

"I'm sorry Jasper, but a girls gotta to eat," she said.

Jasper, an uncounted victim of the pandemic, never returned home.