Do The Bop Bop

The end of the world was nothing like the movies. There was no tearful news anchor, no inspirational presidential speech, no bulletin. Sure, there were the sounds of sirens and helicopters in the distance, a few slammed doors down the street, and the screech of car tires every so often. But that was outside, and when I peeked through the living room blinds, our street was quiet. Inside, it was just my little brother’s favourite TV show, Bop Bop the Dancing Bear, frozen on the screen, and Davey’s frustrated whine.

“Maybe we need to reset the router,” I said, and tried to sound like Mom, even though I didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Kay.” Davey’s brown eyes were wide and watery, prepared to break down into preschool hysterics. I ruffled his light brown curls and guided him to a seat on the couch. Then, I handed him the juice box I had been putting a straw in when the show stopped. After taking a long sip, Davey grabbed his Bop Bop Bear plush and pretended to give it a drink. The bear was raggedy, with matted brown fur and a lopsided top hat that was hanging by a few strings.

“Bop Bop said we should have ice cream while we wait,” Davey said and smiled at me.

“Did he now?” I laughed. “I don’t think so, bud.”

“I don’t like that,” Davey said in his Bop Bop voice, a growly little kid grumble. He scrunched his face up and shook his plush at me.

“Maybe after dinner. Let me figure this out.”

I crouched in front of the television and turned it off. Back on. Still frozen. I tried to change the channel, but every click just showed Bop Bop, mid-gyration, mouth open, fangs showing, large pink tongue out. His furry arms were wide and slightly above his head, with one fake paw holding his top hat. The freeze had caught the exact moment that the live studio lights glinted off his black claws. Bop Bop was creepy, but little kids loved him and his stupid songs, Davey included.

My ringtone went off in the kitchen, dramatic and classical. I stood and hurried to grab it from by the sink. “Hey, Mom.”

Mom whispered something, her voice barely audible. The line buzzed when she finished.

“What?” I turned the volume up. “I can’t hear you.”

“Listen to me,” Her voice was urgent, but she was still whispering.

“Okay…”

“Do you remember where the gun is?”

“What? Mom? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how long cell service will last.” Her whisper was harsh, impatient. “Listen! Do you remember where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember how to load it? How to protect yourself and your brother?”

“Yes, but you’re scaring me,” I pressed the phone to my face and strained to hear her.

“Go get it and keep it on you. Stay away from the TV. Stay away from screens.” She began to cry, and her voice shuddered, still barely audible. “I won’t make it back. There’s no way to make it back.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Mom?”

“If you hear screaming or someone is acting strange, hide, you hear me? Hide. But if you can’t hide, aim big and stay safe.” Mom’s voice was almost normal, still hushed but stronger. “Let me talk to Davey.”

“But, Mom, wait. I-I don’t understand.”

“Everything is over, Ash. Let me talk to my son.”

“Davey? Mom’s on the phone. Hurry.”

Davey came running, his face crumpling, already revving up to cry about the tv. I put Mom on speaker and held the phone out to him.

“Mommy?” Davey said, his voice amping up a whine. “My TV—”

“Baby, listen to me.” Mom was speaking low again. “I love you. You have to listen to Ash, okay? Listen to her because I may not make it home for a few days, okay? Listen to Ash.”

“I don’t wanna stay with Ash!” Davey folded his arms around his bear and jutted out his lower lip. He frowned and glared at me, even as he began to answer Mom. “I wanna go with you.”

“You have to,” Mom fell silent again, and in her background, I could hear faint screaming. When she spoke again, her whisper was so quiet, we almost couldn’t hear her. “I love you both. Remember what I said, Ash.”

The screaming came closer to the phone, and Mom disconnected. I debated calling her back, unsure if she was in danger, if I would draw more danger to her. I waited a few seconds and finally tried. The line was busy.

“What was that noise?” Davey asked.

“I don’t know, bud.” I looked around the kitchen. White tile, brown cupboards, blue and red accessories that made it feel homey. No Mom. I bit my lip. “Tell you what, let’s grab some snacks and go in Mommy’s room and make a fort.”

“Really?” Davey giggled, tossed his Bop Bop bear up and caught it. “Okay!”

“Go on upstairs, and I’ll be there in a second. I’m just gonna grab us some snacks.”

Davey ran out of the kitchen with a hop and a jump over the threshold that marked the change from the kitchen to the living room. He bounced around the corner past the couch and out of sight. I turned on the search bar and tried to check the news on my phone. Nothing. No bars. No Wi-Fi. I sighed, slipped my phone into my back pocket, and opened the fridge. The light was off.

“So, no electricity, either,” I muttered. “No need to worry about too much screen time then, Mom.”

“Bop Bop is back on!” Davey cheered from the living room.

“Weird. Okay.” I called back. I checked my phone again. Still no signal. From the living room, I could hear Bop Bop singing.

“Who’s gonna bop around the clock? Gonna bop around the clock tonight! Let’s bop bop. Bop bop.”

“Bop, bop.” Davey sang. I grabbed a grocery bag and tossed a pack of string cheese, four juice boxes, a few sleeves of crackers, and some other snacks into it. I put the lunch meat and sliced cheese on the counter. Then I went to the pantry and flicked on the light. It stayed dark.

“I think a fuse is out, buddy,” I called to the living room. Davey didn’t answer. I turned on my phone flashlight and grabbed a few more snacks, a loaf of bread and a few bottles of water. When I came out of the pantry, the living room was quiet again.

“Did it go out again, Davey?”

When my little brother didn’t answer, I set the supplies down on the granite counter. “Davey?”

I walked to the living room and stared at Davey. He was pressed against the TV screen, his small, pudgy body barely reaching the middle of the giant viewer. Bop Bop wasn’t dancing anymore. Instead, it looked like the bear was crouched down, whispering to Davey through the TV from the live studio where he was recorded. The bear’s mouth stopped moving when I walked in, and they both looked at me.

“Davey?” I asked, and a shiver ran down my spine. He quickly stepped back from the TV and smiled at me.

“Bop bop.” Davey giggled and did the Bop Bop dance.

I frowned and looked at the TV. Bop Bop was back in his frozen position from earlier, paws up, mid-gyration, fangs showing.

“I thought…I thought you said it was back on?” I asked and rubbed my eyes before doing a double-take between him and the screen.

“No, I didn’t. That’s silly.” Davey said. He turned and walked towards the stairs, holding his bear by one arm. “I’m going to Mommy’s room.”

“No, wait. We’ll go up together.”

Davey turned around, his face impassive and solemn. He slowly brought Bop Bop up to his chest. Both sets of brown eyes stared at me. “Okay then.”

I met his eyes for a moment before I turned away and unplugged the television. Bop Bop’s image blinked out. “Mom said no TV.”

Davey’s gaze slanted to the television, then back to me. He shrugged and quietly followed me to the kitchen and watched as I made our sandwiches. He was still quiet when we headed upstairs, but he led the way up the hardwood steps. I followed with the bags of our food and drinks.

“You okay, Davey?” I asked when we walked into Mom’s wide-open room. Her four-poster bed was pushed to the back corner so that she had more space to work out when she woke up. I set the food on her bedside table and glanced at him as I began to pull the comforter off.

“No,” Davey said when he saw me look at him. Then, he glared at me. “But that’s okay. Let’s do the Bop Bop dance.”

“In a sec,” I dropped the comforter and walked over to squat down in front of him.

“Seriously. What’s up?”

Davey looked down at me, and I noticed the brown of his eyes had a reddish cast to them. Downstairs, the Bop Bop song started up from the TV.

“Who’s gonna bop around the clock? Gonna bop around the clock tonight! Let’s bop! Do the Bop Bop!”

Davey smiled and started for the door.

“I unplugged the TV,” I said to Davey.

“No, you didn’t,” Davey laughed. The television got louder, and I shuddered. I stood and grabbed my little brother’s hand.

“Do the Bop Bop! Bop Bop! Do the Bop Bop!

Davey tilted his head, looked at my hand and twisted away from me.

“Bop Bop!” He cried and ran out the door into the hallway.

“No, Davey. Wait. Mom said no screens. I don’t want you downstairs by yourself.” I called, but the sound of his feet clattered down the hallway and thumped down the stairs. I hesitated, then turned and took the opportunity to get Mom’s gun case from under her dresser.

“You’re gonna bop! We’re all gonna bop!”

I moved the numbers to mine and Davey’s birthday and popped the box open. Mom’s small 9mm was nestled in red velvet looking material.

“Let’s bop around the clock tonight! Do the Bop Bop!”

I knew how to use it.

I didn’t want to use it.

I picked the gun up and slipped the loaded weapon into my sweats pocket. Downstairs, Bop Bop had gone quiet again.

“Davey?” I called. My little brother didn’t respond. I waited before walking out the room. The hallway was empty and as quiet as below. “Davey?”

I heard his steps on the stairs, but it was his Bop Bop bear that I saw first, held by small hands, lifted above the stairs as if the bear were climbing the steps rather than my little brother. Soon, Davey was standing at the top, still holding the bear above his head. He walked a few steps into the hallway. His eyes looked feral. He spread his arms and began gyrating to the Bop Bop dance, hopping on one foot, then the other. He was quiet, and for a moment, all I could hear was his steps tapping to the dance and our breathing.

“Davey, that’s creepy. Stop.”

But he didn’t.

“Bop bop.” He said, his voice garbled. “Bop bop.”

He did more of the dance, and I just stood there, staring at him. Finally, he stopped and stared back.

“Bop bop?” He tilted his head.

“No…” I replied, hesitating. “Bud? What’s…are you okay?”

“Bop bop,” Davey said again.

“No.”

Davey opened his mouth and began to scream. Then, he ran down the hall and leaped towards me, and I saw that his tiny mouth was now full of serrated teeth, and his little hands were now sporting tiny, black claws. The closer he came, the more rank he smelled, like rotting things, dead things, not my little brother things. I shifted away from him and gasped in pain when his claws sliced through my pants when he ran by. I checked my leg and winced at the blood showing through the tears in my pants.

I couldn’t focus on my leg, though. Davey banged into the wall, turned and headed back towards me, his eyes black and the snarl in his voice almost louder than the shrieking noise he was making at the same time.

“Stop, Davey.” I put my hand in my pocket. “Stop.”

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

And I couldn’t either.