In a Coma State Dream Chapter 18

In a Coma State Dream
Chapter 18

The canine Peter watched Tom, the human, asleep on the floor. Not sure what to do, he breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the back door slam, and the feline geneticist Lucy returned to the cottage with a bunch of herbs in her hand.

“What happened?”

“He keeled over again, but I think he’s just asleep this time.”

“Typical. Although, chewing on that seaweed pod would knock out an elephant. I'll liquidize these into a drink, which will help return his adrenalin to normal if we can get him to drink it."

She headed to the kitchen to return with a glass full of green liquid.

“See if you can wake him up, Peter, but no need to slap him so hard this time.”

Peter crouched down, pulling Tom to sit him up. Tom blinked and seemed to come around. His head was still floppy, looking as if he were a little drunk.

“What?”

“Tom, you need to drink this... Please, Tom.”

Lucy implored as she offered him the glass.

Tom tried to focus his blinking eyes on the glass and took it in his hands as Lucy guided it up to his lips.

“Ugh... Yuk. It stinks. What is it?”

“A few herbs that should neutralize the effects of the seaweed pod, but you need to drink it.”

Tom looked up at Lucy, smiled, and sipped the drink.”

"Ugh... It's like drinking a salad."

“Well, think of it as penance. Now, drink it all up.”

Tom grimaced as he finished the glass. The three waited, expecting some homeopathic fireworks, but Lucy broke the silence after several minutes of raised eyebrows.

“How do you feel now... You, okay?”

Tom nodded, handing Peter the empty glass with some leftover gunge. As Peter left to fetch him water, Tom had to sit upright, cross-legged. Tom gulped it down, trying to wash the taste away.

“How do you feel?” Lucy asked.

"Not sure," Tom replied, getting up and walking up and down, a lot slower this time, feeling more down to earth now.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “One day, we’ll have to sit down with a few more pods and get you to recap all those stories. We could make a mint, as they sound great.”

Lucy rolled her eyes at Peter's ever-present entrepreneurial spirit.

“Come on, we’ll walk back with you if you feel up to it. Peter, bring those cameras.”

The three walked out to head along the back of the row of cottages to Kitty's pub. Tom was a little shaky initially, but he seemed to return to normal when they reached the pub. Peter and Lucy left him there to walk on, and Tom headed for the kitchen for a cup of tea, with Lucy's warning not to chew any more seaweed pods ringing in his ears.

Tom entered the kitchen to find everyone else sat down with mugs of tea except for Brenda, who was in full flight, controlling multiple pots and pans of boiling or frying food ready for lunchtime. He poured himself a mug, and Kitty warned them that because Tom's success encouraging guests to eat outside, they were expecting a delivery of tables and benches for the garden that afternoon.

Kitty and Sarah were the first to leave, warning that lunchtime guests were due any minute. Half hiding behind her mug of tea, Becky thanked Tom for his skullduggery that morning with Thomas. She didn’t have to say anything more, but he knew that having heard Thomas confess his love for her had been a substantial romantic step forward.

Sarah popped her head around the door, confirming guests were arriving. Tom joined Sarah as their afternoon flew by in a haze of serving lunches and welcoming more arrivals. Becky worked seamlessly between helping Brenda and clearing the hatch.

The diners were a mix of couples and families of various cats, dogs, and humans. Some were overnight guests, while others were midway through their coastal walks. The weather was prominent in discussions, with diners asking for a local viewpoint. One minute, Tom glanced up to see blue skies, then saw dark grey clouds flying by, noting that the winds were picking up and hinting at the storm coming.

At one diner’s request, Tom glanced outside to confirm the weather and saw two stout British bulldogs unload a flatbed wagon of timber garden tables and chairs. They both carried off the archetypical bulldog caricature, wearing waistcoats and bowler hats. Kitty appeared to ensure they positioned the tables as she wanted to save anyone moving them around later.

As diners left, more arrived, keeping everyone busy. The weather was closing in, as retired captains confirmed there would be no fishing trips for tourists that afternoon or tomorrow. A few walking guests returned to settle in for an afternoon in front of the bar’s open fire with a pint.

Concern grew for the crab boats and fisherdogs as the skies darkened, but news soon came that the first boats were returning. A gradual line of bedraggled fisherdogs made their way into the bar, eager for a pint and a warmup, adding to everyone's workload.

While removing empty glasses from the bar areas, Kitty informed Tom that a parcel had arrived for him, and she’d put it up on his bed. Tom was keen to look at the scientific equipment his fake list given to Balthazar had brought them, and he was also excited that their ruse had worked.

The afternoon they were melted into evening, with dinner guests now arriving. The poor little pub was now rammed with bodies, canines, felines, and humans, all enjoying the warmth and atmosphere of the pub. Fisherdogs came in from working for a quick beer and a chat to return later in dryer casual clothes. Captains and the top dog, Captain Brown, also drifted in to settle at their table.

While the atmosphere was busy and light-hearted, Tom noticed a few tense looks, mainly from the village’s canine single bitches, all glancing around the single fisherdogs, causing him to wonder what he was missing.

The fisherdog captain Thomas returned to the bar to a rapturous welcome customarily reserved for Captain Brown, confirming that there was more to this evening than usual. One of his crew accompanied him, carrying an old-fashioned squeeze box accordion. Both were promptly toasted and given drinks to quaff.

Tom was too busy to notice exactly when the music and singing started but recognized one tune, something akin to `Sloop John B.' He couldn’t remember the lyrics the bar was singing and could not concentrate on as he worked in the tightly packed pub.

Thankfully, Tom had a brief respite when all the dining guests were mid-course. He settled in the connecting gap between the lounge and the bar, leaning against the wall to watch the singing. He half recognized a sea shanty-style song but could not remember the lyrics again.

He recognized the scent of Lucy as a white-furred paw wrapped around his waist, pulling herself in close.

"This is a rare treat, Tom."

“I don’t know, I can’t understand the lyrics.”

“They’re mainly singing in Cornish, with a mixture of English and a little French thrown in. Peter told me about Thomas and Becky... Can you see all the canine bitches looking expectantly?”

“Yeah, what’s that all about?”

"They heard the squeezebox was out and a rumor that Thomas is choosing his mate... This is rare as I can’t remember the last time a captain has done this.”

Tom looked around again and could see the hunger in all the bitch dog’s eyes. Captain Brown was sitting with his wife at the captain’s table, both bursting with pride, anticipating the result. The top dog shot Tom a look that told him he had better be right about Thomas and Becky.

The whole pub drew its breath as the musician stood in the less crowded center of the small bar to start a new song, being joined by another fisherdog.

“This is it...”

“I can’t understand a word.”

“They’re Thomas’s crew, challenging him as their captain to choose a mate. So, he will focus on bringing his boat and shipmates home safely. They're calling on him to choose out of the local talent.”

Thomas proudly stepped into the center of the bar. All the single bitches that previously hung on his every word now puffed their chests out and jostled for prime position. Thomas played the crowd, singing his part in the song, pointing at each eligible candidate, only to dismiss them. He even teased Kitty and Lucy, bringing laughter from the ranks of canines.

“Isn’t this chauvinistic?”

“Maybe in your world, Tom... Here, it’s romantic. Look at the disappointment in the failed applicants... Oh, Thomas is calling out that one challenger is missing..."

Tom didn't need to know Cornish to realize Becky's name was being called out. The entire bar joined in, and the sea of bodies parted, giving a clear path from the kitchen to the center of the bar. The kitchen door opened, and a shocked Becky came out, being frog-marched from behind by Brenda, who chanted Becky's name with the crowd.

As Becky reached the clearing in the center of the crowd, Brenda released her, and Thomas went down on all fours to walk around her, nuzzling her to sniff at her rear, beneath her tail! Then Becky dropped to walk behind him, reciprocating the tail sniffing. Tom was stunned, but to all the onlookers, this was the same as swapping wedding rings.

While most villagers and guests cheered for the couple, a few single bitches screamed their disagreements, to be held back by friends, fisherdogs or captains. Captain Brown made his way to the couple. Thomas rose, placing his arms around Becky to be greeted by the top dog and receive his approval, to another unanimous cheer.

Lucy kissed Tom and squeezed him.

“I hope you don’t mind. Peter told me I’m your favorite kitten?”

“No, I don’t mind. Yes... You’re my favorite, but don’t tell Chrys or Clair.”

“You’re not jealous about Peter and me?”

“Of course I am, but I also like Peter. You both make a lovely couple, and you suit each other.”

“Well, now that Thomas is gone, there is a whole new pool of candidates for you as the next most eligible bachelor of the village.”

“Eh?”

"Your super sex toy nickname has become village-wide knowledge, not helped by your constant hard-on tonight.”

Tom went to check himself, looking down to see his shaft fighting to escape his shorts. He couldn't help but notice several other pairs of eyes were on him around the bar as one bitch weaved her way through the crowd in the bar towards him. He blushed, realizing he’d constantly had to adjust himself with his raging stiffness all afternoon and evening since his seaweed pod chewing incident.

“I’ll leave you to your own devices. Peter’s coming over later, hoping to have some news.”

Lucy unwrapped herself from Tom and slid back into the crowd before he could tell her about the parcel.

“Ah, Tom... It seems you are pleased to see me.” The poodle-like canine said as she stroked the length of his stiff cock, barely hidden beneath his shorts. “With Becky no longer having a claim on you, maybe it’s time we got better acquainted?”

Tom desperately looked for help, but it came from another quarter. He caught Becky looking at him amid well-wishers in the bar, wagging a paw of disapproval and giving a snarl of her teeth, reminding him of her threat to bite his cock off should he engage with the other bitches in the village.

“Er, no, I’ve got to get back to work; thanks all the same.”

Suitably encouraged by Becky’s reminder, Om broke free, twisting back to return to the lounge, hearing the canine promising to catch up with him. With Becky otherwise engaged, Sarah, Tom, and Kitty picked up the slack, keeping them busy. The entire pub was in a joyful mood, with more sea shanties being sung and beer flowing all around.

Tom sneaked off to the kitchen during a lull and guzzled down some water, fighting against sleep, as once again, his long stint awake was catching up. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. He reached into his pocket to pull out another seaweed pod and popped it into his mouth. This time, he sucked.

After a great deal of sucking, the sweetness of the pod crept through. He chatted with Brenda as they worked through clearing dirty dishes into the washing machines, and he slowly felt re-energized. He returned to the lounge to find the evening diners had finished and were now enjoying their evening.

Tom and Sarah now had more time to clear their glasses and slow down. Sarah helped Kitty behind the bar more, and Tom returned to his leaning post in the gap between the lounge and the bar. In the bar, Becky and Thomas enjoyed being the center of attention.

Balthazar had appeared at some time in the evening and was sitting in his usual position at the bar but was not enjoying the festivities like the other villagers. His face was the perfect image of being a sourpuss. Tom quietly congratulated himself that maybe this went against some plan Balthazar may have had.

Tom got the nod from Kitty to take a round of drinks to the captain’s table. Collecting the tray from the bar, he walked through the crowd to the captain’s table. As he passed the right drinks around, he caught Captain Brown’s eye as he raised his glass to him, mouthing, “For the good of the village.” Tom nodded and returned to the bar.

Kitty passed him a beer at the bar and nodded at Peter, who waited for him in the lounge with Lucy. Tom squeezed his way over to the couple, seeing Peter was keen to tell him something.

"How are you feeling? I see you're sucking and not biting."

Tom poked his tongue out to show them the seaweed pod. “It looks like we’ve both got news?”

Peter’s eyes bulged, wondering what Tom’s news could be, but he was keen to tell his first.

“We reran our tests, but this time, dug deeper, testing several levels down. At first, nothing looked out of the ordinary, but then I checked some public medical journals. It took some checking, but I found lesser-known reports confirming it."

Lucy gripped Peter’s arms, dying for him to tell the whole news rather than go around the houses.

“The nanobots put three vital genes to sleep. On their own, they don’t make a jot of difference. But together, they inhibit the creation of an important protein.”

“Surely that’s no issue? You can take protein supplements.”

The two lovers looked at each other. With Peter told Lucy, "You tell him."

“This protein is only made in the brain; it can’t be synthesized... Its full job is little known, well not without deeper research in areas we can’t reach without an online presence, but... Without it, you lose your free will. Whether cat, dog, or human... All mammals need this tiny protein string to engage that part of their brain. Dominant people make more of it; subservient, quiet people make very little of it. But to not make any, who knows?”

Tom's mind was more cynical than the product of this world, and they knew the consequences immediately. "They can enslave any victim injected with it... This is massive... They can control politicians, entire groups of mammals, or even a whole population, making subservient zombies of them.”

Lucy and Peter had thought the worst, but Tom's leap to a more disastrous level shocked them. Tom's paranoia leaped onto a war footing. "Don't look, but is Balthazar watching us?"

“Uh-huh,” Lucy confirmed without a glance or moving her lips.

"Give me a two-minute head start, but try to slip out and meet me upstairs in my bedroom."

Tom broke away from the pair and went to the kitchen. He went to the second floor and into his room using the back stairs. While a few guests were in their rooms on the floor below, with Sarah and Kitty working, the second floor was empty. A little while later, the door opened for Lucy and Peter to join him. He pulled the curtains and asked the pub for the light to come on.

“You never heard this from me. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. But this is too big not to say anything. Our lives or freedom of thought could be in danger with this.”

He then explained that he had seen Balthazar meeting with Brock and the weasels on the beach the previous evening and that Captain Brown had insisted on not saying anything.

“So that’s why you wanted the cameras?” Peter asked.

“Yes. But now, you two must be wary of any request by anyone for something out of the ordinary. Balthazar knows Lucy is a part of this, but not you, Peter... You must both be vigilant.”

“Phew that is big news?”

“Ah, there’s more.”

“More?”

“Oh, this is the box of fake parts we ordered.”

Peter picked up the box to take it, but Tom stopped him.

“No... It will be too obvious if anyone sees you walking out with this box. Let’s split it open and only take the pieces you need back to the cottage. We can leave anything you don’t need here, so you can pick it up if you ever do. If I were on the other side, I would place some form of tracking on the box to discover where our spy base is. While I don’t trust Balthazar, I have to trust Captain Brown, who has not told anyone.”

Lucy looked incredulously at him, but Peter opened the box and inspected every part. Finding nothing untoward, they watched Tom, ever paranoid, peel the label off the box to expose a metallic strip, making Peter gasp.

“That’s exactly what you think it is, Tom. They could track us with that.”

Lucy blushed, now realizing what they had discovered that evening. She delved into the box, pulling out a simpler syringe and tube. “Tom, let me take a sample of your blood. We can find out what super sex’s up to. What makes you that multi-sensed mammal you've become? Before things get out of hand, we will have a baseline if anything happens to you."

“Okay, but you must document what you have discovered and store it somewhere safe. So, if anything happens to us, it will come to light.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been storing everything on my roving network, which I used for my. Ahem, University businesses. If I don’t log in at set intervals, the records go to multiple storage locations and the university.”

“Add in a file of explanation and include various authorities as destinations. They can’t all be controlled by Brock.”

Tom felt a pinprick in his arm as Lucy bled off a vial of his deep red blood. Once full, she pocketed the vial and picked up several other items. “I think that’s all we need.”

“If you two can avoid being seen as you leave and check no one is following you. Let me know if the cameras pick up anything. This storm may give us some time.”

Tom returned down to the kitchen to reappear in the still-busy bar. At one point, he continued to clear glasses and serve guests to find a very proud Thomas by his side.

“Well done, Tom... Becky is back to her old, wonderful self. I owe you more than a beer.”

“Thanks. Can you sneak out unnoticed and meet me by the beach?”

Thomas nodded but was unsure what could be so important to pull him away from his celebrations. He returned to the bar and slipped out of the front door. Tom went back into the kitchen to leave by the back door and skirted down the side of the pub to the beach.

Thomas stood, waiting at the top of the beach. Tom met him and encouraged him to move nearer the water’s edge, just short of the spray from the breakers. He walked along the coast, for them to be obscured from the road by one of the beached fishing boats.

“We’re going to get cold and wet here, Tom. What’s all this about?”

“Have you noticed how unhappy Balthazar is despite the celebrations?”

“Not really, but now you’ve mentioned it. It’s strange.”

“As the future top dog, I need to tell you something. It’s imperative, and we all need to be ready.”

Tom explained what he and Pisces had seen on the beach the previous night of Balthazar meeting Brock and that Captain Brown had sworn him to secrecy.

“I knew it... I never trusted him or was convinced he has the village’s best interests at heart.”

“I’m worried. Becky may be at risk. We need to watch for strangers more than ever.”

“But we’re full of tourists.”

“Yeah, that is a problem, but I think the visitors we need to be worried about will stand out. We also need to be wary of anything out of the ordinary.”

The pair returned to the pub, getting wet and cold. Tom was pleased with himself, as the noise of the breakers would have kept any eavesdroppers from hearing them.

Tom returned through the back door into the kitchen and helped tidy up before re-entering the bar. Thankfully, the clientele had dwindled, with only a few fisherdogs remaining with Thomas and Becky, having decided there’d be no fishing the following day because of the worsening weather.

Kitty was walking Balthazar back home, and in the lounge, Sarah, Clair, and Chrys sat talking, inviting Tom to join them. They chatted for a while, asking Tom to explain the change in Becky’s temperament and getting back together with Thomas. He described his duplicitous conversation with Thomas that morning, knowing Becky was behind, listening in.

Now, sitting down with nothing to do, Tom’s body told him that two days of being awake was enough. His eyelids drooped, and his bed beckoned.
On his third yawn, Sarah noticed and told him to get to bed. They would tidy up and see him in the morning.

Tom yawned and nodded, wishing everyone a good night before he worked his way through the bar to drift back upstairs. He grabbed a spare towel from the linen cupboard and risked a quick shower. I was feeling a little safer knowing that the kittens were elsewhere engaged.

The shower reinvigorated Tom as he stood underneath it, letting it play on his weary body. He made a point of tidying up his rough beard once more and trimming his fringe. He’ll have to ask if someone can cut his hair soon, as it is now shoulder-length.



To be continued