Evolution Day: An American Apocalypse Chapter 8

After observing for a while, I realized national rescue wouldn't arrive anytime soon. For my safety, I decided to eliminate the willow tree by the lake.

It wasn't that I could only wait for rescue—I literally couldn't leave the community. Portland's tree coverage was 52.8%. I'd ridden Duke to the main gate once. It was completely blocked by evolved plants. Even peering through gaps, I could only see vegetation-covered roads and fog.

In this situation, staying in the community was the better option.

But the willow tree's root system was spreading. Eventually, it might reach my house. Better to strike first.

While I was thinking this, I didn't realize my neighbor had the same idea.

We met face-to-face on the path near the lake.

My neighbor was a clean-cut young man named Ryan Foster. He seemed shy and reserved.

But I really hadn't expected his pet to look like this.

"Bro... Bro!"

I stared in shock at the six-foot-tall white rabbit standing on its hind legs.

Its head was adorably cute, but its bulging pectorals, the prominent muscles in its arms, and the sinewy veins forming a framework of steel—I couldn't reconcile this with the cute bunny face.

Ryan looked down shyly, smiling like a clean-cut boy.

"Sweetie is athletic."

At that moment, a parrot with a six-foot wingspan including its tail feathers, crowned with blue plumage, vibrant coloring, and a powerful beak, flew low overhead, calling out mockingly.

"Dumbass, dumbass..."

It landed on the muscular rabbit Sweetie's arm, head held high arrogantly, round eyes darting around.

Ryan smiled awkwardly, instinctively stepping between the parrot and Cooper, whose claws were extending.

"That's Bigmouth, Sweetie's pet. He's got issues and a foul mouth, but otherwise he's fine."

I looked at him with a complex expression, unsure why his perception was so filtered. After a long pause, I managed:

"Your pet has a pet? That's so trendy!"

Seeing his embarrassment, I quickly changed the subject.

"Want to cooperate?"

"How?"

Getting down to business, Ryan forgot his awkwardness and asked directly.

I explained my plan. I'd had vague ideas before meeting him, but seeing his two animals crystallized everything.

Was the willow tree easy to deal with? Honestly, no.

Even though it was rooted by the lake and couldn't move, its dense branches—like iron whips that could strike anywhere—weren't to be trifled with.

Truthfully, if I weren't worried its roots would reach my home, I wouldn't want to confront it at all.

Fire was the best option, but there was no structure above it. Gasoline would only burn the base, and the lake was right there for extinguishing flames.

Fire wasn't the best method.

But plans never survive contact with reality.

Fortunately, Ryan's parrot gave me inspiration. After explaining my detailed plan, Ryan readily agreed to cooperate.

Everything proceeded according to plan.

Bigmouth's zygodactyl feet—two toes forward, two back—made gripping easy. He effortlessly lifted the gasoline containers and flew sixty feet high, pouring the black liquid down.

As the branches stirred menacingly, Duke, Cooper, and Sweetie charged forward, drawing the willow's attention.

Rather than prey flying out of reach, the tree preferred targets in front of it. It immediately abandoned the parrot, countless branches dividing into three streams toward the animals.

Ryan and I weren't idle either. We poured gasoline into the surrounding lake. When the parrot returned, we quickly gave it a lit, burning stick.

As the parrot flew up, we called the animals back.