* Author : Chris Kuriata * Narrator : Tatiana Grey * Host : Matt Dovey * Audio Producer : Devin Martin * Discuss on Forums Previously published in the anthology Food Of My People in 2021 Content warnings for human and animal death Rated PG-13 Chewing Through Wire By Chris Kuriata   Each evening, Auntie Shanta washes her muddy feet in the same bowl she eats her dinner from. She keeps clean bowls stacked in her cupboard, but those are reserved for company only. Auntie Shanta needn’t say so, but it’s been painfully long since the bowls last served company. The deep, wooden basins rumble like empty bellies after a long journey. “She’s a darling.” Auntie Shanta’s ancient arms strain under Emery’s weight, but she finds a reserve of strength in her ailing body and hefts the baby over her head. Sunlight beams through a hole in the roof, warming Emery and making her smile. Pucks of dried mud in the shape of boot heels litter the front hall. I locate a broom and sweep them out into the acreage’s breeze. “When do the neighbours visit?” Auntie Shanta makes faces at the baby. “Every goddam day.” Auntie Shanta welcomes us with tea. “Keep an eye on him,” she warns of the great lizard who lies basking on the stone window sill. He looks too lazy to take an interest in Emery, but given the circumstances under which he and Auntie Shanta met, he cannot be trusted around a baby. More years ago than I’ve been alive, during a routine walk to the fences, Auntie Shanta kicked a pile of hot dust, wanting to see the individual grains sparkle in the red setting sun, unaware the lizard was sleeping within. As payback for her inconsiderate act, the lizard bit her ankle and would not let go, no matter how much Auntie Shanta sweet-talked him. She told her funniest jokes, but got not so much as a giggle. Only a switch to sad stories set the lizard’s jaw quivering until he finally released the grip on her ankle. Instead of returning the bloody-lipped lizard to the ground, Auntie Shanta tucked him into the apron of her dress. If he wouldn’t apologize for biting her, she’d put his mouth to good use. Ignoring her swollen ankle, she made her way to the fences, where the neighbours had forbidden her to go. There, she used the lizard’s mighty jaw to snip through the wires dividing the land. Unfortunately, a lizard is too small a tool to take down those obscene barriers. “After biting through a dozen wires his teeth bleed. I press milk out of the tall weeds to rub along his mouth, but who can tell if the balm provides relief or not. Lizards are notoriously secretive.” Under Auntie Shanta’s care, the lizard has outlived its normal lifespan many times over, and grown to a size Auntie Shanta can barely lift — heavier than a newborn baby. The lizard looks to me like some breed of monitor, whose ancestors must have been carried a great distance to settle here. Invasive species is the official term. The fences are tall and stretch farther across the land than Auntie Shanta can walk. She uses the lizard to chew gaps in the wires in the hope travellers may squeeze their way through. She ties bones to these openings so the wind whistling through the hollows will guide folks to where they can pass. Unfortunately, Auntie Shanta’s bone sirens also alert the neighbours to where she has snipped the fences, and they quickly assemble to repair her alterations — restringing the barbed wi...