FREE STORIES 2012(105)

Renard glanced across the room at the jury—rigged nest. "Too late."

"What?" Jack's tail stopped wagging.

"I told you it was too little, too late in the year."

Jack bound to the nest and peered into it. The tiny featherless bird inside lay on its side, smelling of death. Despite the heat lamp and curtain to keep out wind, the chick had been dead for hours. "Damn."

"Not your fault; they always die."

Which was nicer than what Renard usually said. Jack realized that the cat was still staring intently at the body.

"Fine! Take it."

The cat picked the dead chick up in its mouth and slunk away.





Alfie was asleep in the small room off the garage. Jack could never understand how the pony slept standing up. The little hairdressing robot was fussing with Alfie's long silky black tail that contrasted sharply with his gleaming golden hide. The robot had brushed out all the dirt and matted knots and was currently tying bits of bright colored ribbons into it.

Jack had learned to keep a safe distance from the sleeping pony. "Yo, Alfie! Alfie! Time to make hay!"

A flick of the ear was the only warning that the pony was waking up. His rear hoof lashed out, caught the hairdresser square on and kicked it across the room.

Jack winced, torn between the knowledge it could have been him that gotten kicked and the fact he would have to fix the robot if Alfie had broken it. "Hey, watch it now. That's the last one. I won't be the one pulling briars out of your tail if you broke this one too."

Jack righted the hairdresser. "You all right?"

"All right." The robot stated but it still sounded a little whoozy.

"Alfie, look what you did." Jack pointed to a hoof—shaped dent in the hairdresser's chassis.

Alfie snorted. "Serves it right; it's an annoying little fucker." He flicked his tail in irritation. "Stupid little bows."

Jack shook his head. "Come on, let's get cracking. Got to get this hay and stored before the frost hits."





They had been working most of the year toward surviving the next winter. The last one had been the first for all of them to experience, so it had taken them off guard. Jack and Renard pulled through thanks to the fact they could eat everything from bugs to mice, but Alfie was skin and bones by the time the grass started to grow again. It had taken all summer for him regain all his weight. He didn't have the fat to survive another brutal winter.

Renard researched ponies and learned about hay. They'd found a field with the correct mix of grasses. They'd watched over it all summer, watching it grow tall and lush. But when they went to cut it, their plans fell apart. The starter battery on the forklift was dead. Some idiot had designed the forklift to disconnect from the broadcast power grid while not in use. The only way to reconnect it was through a start procedure that needed a minimum charge in the starter battery. Jack couldn't understand why anyone would think it was a good idea, but there it was, blocking all their plans. Worse, it was a design flaw common on every semi—manual vehicle they could track down. The only thing operational was the fully automated systems but they all had a mind of their own. It'd taken half the autumn to build a battery charger once they discovered how screwed they were. With Alfie plodding in a tight circle as he powered the generator, Jack finished the modifications to the controls.

Unfortunately, it left the pony too much time to think.

"I still don't understand why we can't just use the lawnmower down by the river. We took the blade off it. Can't we move it to the hay field and put the blade back on it?"

Jack sighed from deep inside the forklift's motor housing. He tried to explain this before to Alfie. The pony was heaped high with common sense but was completely thickheaded when it came to machines. "The lawnmower knows where it's supposed to be and what it's supposed to do and what it's not supposed to do. It's supposed to cut the grass in the afternoon when it's reached a certain height, avoid all obstacles whether stationary or mobile while doing so..."

"So it could cut the grass in the hay field."

"No, it would just map its way back to the park and cut grass there."

"But why?"

"I don't know!" Jack cried and then swore as the bolt he'd been trying to coax into place slipped through his fingers and tumbled into the engine's guts. He peered through the machinery, searching for the bolt. "It just will and I can't change that. It's not the simple lever and gears and belts and hydraulics that I know how to fiddle with. It's the thinking part."

Jack spotted the bolt deep inside the housing, but his stubby fingers couldn't quite reach it. He squirmed, growling, trying to wedge himself closer.