Insomnia
I wake up.
Not groggy, not tired, but alert. Something woke me up.
I'm getting less sleep these days. Probably the weather changing; it rains at odd times, sometimes at night. The thunder wakes me up too. And sometimes passing vehicles that sound just a little different from the regular traffic.
Ha, guess I'm just a light sleeper.
I get up, stretching, and walk across to get some water.
Everything feels quiet. In the very early hours, everything is silent. As I drink, a thought crosses my mind, then another follows. Strange. Thoughts usually don't come so fast. I'm more of a deliberate thinker. I lift my hands and let them drop - firm. I'm definitely not groggy. There it is - another thought! Why am I so alert? What woke me?
The hair on my back raises as I hear a scurrying, scratching sound. I stop drinking, stop moving. This must be it, the disturbance of a tranquil night. I walk across the corner and peer behind the wall. My eyes adjust to the darkness remarkably well; it's as good as daylight now. I scan the room, once quickly and then again slowly.
The walls are almost breached.
We can almost smell it, we're that close to getting in. Digging, digging. The job calls for patience; there's security inside. We don't have to get in today, we can always leave and come back tomorrow. But it's been days now and we're very close, close enough to smell it. The anticipation is pushing us to be careless. I just replaced the first guy because our Decibel Alerts started beeping - he was recklessly loud. I've got a bad feeling we woke up the security inside.
We pause, putting our Scopes to the walls to listen for movement. And we wait. Patience is a gift we prize highly, one we use routinely.
After sufficient time, I put in two others to dig. Distribute the load, lower the sound, hasten the dig. I monitor the Decibel Alert; the pointer jitters slightly, but the rhythmic scratching shouldn't trigger any internal alarms.
I think we can get in today after all.
I close my eyes to listen. I hone in on the sound and its source. I smile; I know what's happening. They'll take some time, so I can relax. I know who's coming.
I wander to the window facing the street; it's quiet out there. The silent night and mild winds make this a meditative time. Peaceful. I yawn, stretch, and take a couple deep breaths. It's a waiting game, and I'd rather wait by the window than stare at the wall. Even with no vehicles moving, I like looking outside.
I keep one ear perked, monitoring the sounds. I'm no longer sleepy.
We're almost through. The dig is slow but precise. Every scrape of our tools is measured, controlled, calculated. The Decibel Alert ticks quietly, but nothing significant enough to raise alarms. I allow myself a brief smile. We've planned this for weeks, watching, waiting for the perfect time. The digging isn't easy, but the payoff will be worth it.
Suddenly, I hear a faint noise. My ears prick up. Not from our side, but beyond the wall. Someone's moving out there. I motion for silence, and the others freeze, all tools stilled. We press our Scopes to the walls again.
The steps move towards us and slowly away until there's silence. It doesn't make sense; we stare at each other - a couple of us had our digging arms raised in attack mode and they were just as confused.
This doesn't feel right; this feels like a trap. We should abort today.
But I'm a lone dissenter, so the hive mind decides to go forward. I step away sulking, but the voice in my head won't stop.
This feels like a trap.
Alright, that's enough sitting time. Time to meet our new friends. I hear them finishing the last stretch.
I get up and walk. Quietly. That's one of my special powers. Generally, I'm a silent walker, but when I put my mind to it, I can be deathly quiet. So many times I've surprised people by appearing as if a ghost suddenly came up behind them. It's a gift. I sometimes fear their over-reaction - swinging limbs can be powerful when combined with fear.
I flex the knives in my hand as I approach the corner wall. And I crouch. Push from the legs, as my mother used to say. Push from the legs, your hands hold fine knives but the power driving them should come from your legs. I'm at maximum alert now.
I wait. Patiently. Fun times ahead.
As we breach the final layer, I call my comrades back. I still want to be first through the hole to check the scene. My senses tingle, alert for danger as I cautiously look around. Seeing no one nearby, I take hurried steps forward for a better vantage point.
Big mistake.
With a huge thud, something heavy lands behind me. I can't turn back, so I scamper forward, zigzagging to avoid being hit. But I don't hear footsteps, just another muffled thud right in front of me. Right where I'd have been in a split second. I stop. The only sound is blood rushing behind my ears.
The giant paw has razor-sharp claws, and I see it rising. Taking my chance, I rush out from under it. I make it out, away from the paw. I take a left and continue sprinting. Then two things happen that throw my head into a tizzy. The ground gives way while sudden crushing pain courses through my back.
It takes a moment to realize what's happening. It takes my last moment. I realize I'm in the mouth of a giant, my armor crushed by enormous spikes, while I'm hoisted in the air. The pain is excruciating. I can't escape; there's no purchase for my feet, my legs thrash helplessly.
As the lights fade, a chilling thought crosses my mind - I don't know what just attacked me. I don't know what I could have done to save myself. This is an unknown enemy we weren't prepared for.
I'm dying, and so will my comrades in a while.
As I kill the last of the intruders, I hear my stomach grumble. In a different era, I would have eaten them. My body senses the kill and signals me, saying the digestive processes await. But I don't eat them. I'm strict in my diet; I only eat the one balanced meal I always eat. Never anything else.
As I drag the roaches' carcasses and lay them at their feet, I can no longer ignore my hunger. It's time to wake them up so I can eat my food. I like to be watched while I eat. It's a thing, trust me.
I wake my person with persistent meows. They grumble, sit up, and turn on the lights. They look at the roaches at the feet of the bed and sigh, "thbshj kuifyu, giiidcg hub" they say. I never really understand them. I meow again so they can watch me eat. I lead them to the kitchen and tear through the kibble. I need about 7 to 8 mouthfuls.
As they head back to clean up the roaches, I curl up in my favorite spot. I'm tired, but I keep one eye open. "thbshj kuifyu" my person says, reaching down to scratch behind my ears as they go back to bed. I purr in response, basking in the warmth of their approval.
I go to sleep.
