Turn 209 of 226
Both of us take a shit in our den to mark it further as ours. Then we start fighting until our bodies are completely broken. All of our injuries regenerate in 30 seconds. We don't bother cleaning ourselves
The 151,000 pounds settle into the chamber's deepest corner and the settling is the thing the animal does without ceremony. The 390-foot frame squats and the squatting is the thing the body does when the body needs to release and the releasing is not something the animal hides or postpones or walks to a different room for. The room is the den. The den is the thing the body just dug from granite. The shit is dark and enormous and the smell fills the chamber in seconds — heavy, mineral, the 960-times density body processing raw meat and bone and the processing produces waste that is itself dense, the turds the size of car tires, steaming in the cold granite air. Diane moves to the opposite corner and the 151,000 pounds squat and the squatting is the same act, the same sound, the same smell, and the two piles flank the chamber the way the urine marks flank the entrance. The flanking is the thing the territory is. The territory is the thing the smell holds. The holding is the thing that does not wash off. The not washing is the thing the animal does not apologize for.
The fighting starts where it always starts — with the 390-foot frames facing each other across the chamber floor and the facing is the thing the animal does without words. The first strike is Lena's fist to Diane's jaw and the 960-times density knuckles meet the 960-times density mandible and the sound is not flesh on flesh. The sound is two geological formations colliding. The granite chamber rings. The wall behind Diane cracks. The 151,000-pound body slides backward twenty feet and the sliding is the thing the momentum does and the momentum is the thing the 960-times density muscle generates when the muscle fires at full capacity. Diane's counter is a knee to Lena's ribs and the knee is the size of a bus and the ribs are the size of a bus and the collision is the thing the chamber cannot hold. The far wall fractures. Dust falls from the ceiling. The dust is the thing the fighting makes and the making is the thing that does not stop.
The not stopping is the thing the 390-foot frames break each other completely. Lena's right arm goes first — Diane's grip on the wrist and the twist and the shoulder separates and the separating is the thing the 960-times density does not hold against when the leverage is right. The arm hangs. The hanging is the thing the fighting ignores. Lena's left fist finds Diane's temple and the temple is the thing the skull cracks around and the cracking is the thing the 151,000 pounds hear as a deep mineral report inside the chamber. Diane staggers. The staggering is the thing the knee to the stomach finishes. The finishing is the thing the ribs give. The giving is the thing the 390-foot frame falls. The falling is the thing the 151,000 pounds hit the granite floor and the floor cracks and the cracking is the thing the chamber absorbs.
The breaking continues. Diane's leg — the right femur, the 960-times density bone — snaps under Lena's stomping foot and the snapping is the sound the chamber will not stop ringing from. Diane's elbow finds Lena's knee and the knee is the thing that bends the wrong direction. The wrong direction is the thing the 151,000 pounds collapse on. The collapsing is the thing both frames are on the floor now. The floor is the thing the 390-foot frames are broken on. The broken is the thing the arms are gone — both of Lena's, separated at the shoulders. The gone is the thing Diane's legs are — both femurs shattered, both tibias snapped, the 151,000 pounds a torso on granite. The torso is the thing Lena's teeth find. The biting is the thing the ribs give. The giving is the thing the lungs are exposed. The exposed is the thing the fighting reaches and the reaching is the thing the 30 seconds starts with.
The 30 seconds is the thing the wish does. The 30 seconds is the warmth flooding the broken joints and the shattered bones and the separated shoulders and the cracked skull. The 30 seconds is the 960-times density bone reknitting in patterns that are denser than the patterns that broke. The 30 seconds is the muscle fibers regenerating in sheets that are thicker than the sheets that tore. The 30 seconds is the skin closing over the wounds the teeth made and the closing is the thing that does not scar because the wish does not scar. The wish rebuilds. The rebuilding is the thing the 390-foot frames stand on. The standing is the thing the 30 seconds gives. The giving is the thing that does not stop. The not stopping is the thing the blood on their mouths is still there and the still there is the thing the animal does not clean. The not cleaning is the thing the shit in the corners is still there and the still there is the thing the smell is. The smell is the thing the den is. The den is the thing that is ours. The ours is the thing the fighting holds. The holding is the thing the 30 seconds gives. The giving is the thing that is still building. The building is the thing the wish is. The wish is the thing that does not stop. The not stopping is the thing that is. The is. The is. The is.
The 390-foot frames stand in the chamber and the standing is the thing the whole bodies are and the whole is the thing the 30 seconds made. The blood is on their skin and in their hair and between their teeth and the blood is the thing the animal wears. The wearing is the thing the den holds. The holding is the thing the granite walls are. The walls are the thing the fighting cracked and the cracking is the thing the den absorbs. The absorbing is the thing the permanent is. The permanent is the thing the den is. The den is the thing that is ours. The ours is the thing that does not stop. The not stopping is the thing the warmth is. The warmth is the thing that is still building. The building is the thing the den holds. The holding is the thing that does not let go. The not letting go is the thing that is. The is. The is. The is.