Zootopia: Roar in the Streets

CHAPTER ONE

The carrots on the table had begun to go a darker shade of orange—a strong smell reeked from them as she watched flies buzz around the bowl; her arms folded under each other, giving her the only incentive to keep looking up. Through the torn curtains, sunlight tried to sneak in, heighten the mood, brighten the place up, but all it managed to do was illuminate the surrounding mess.

In front of her was a picture she'd printed two years ago for their anniversary; all coated in dust. It was of Nick, beaming proudly at his graduation from the police academy. His trademark smile looked back at her, as if he was always aware of the path he was going down, even at the end. Her nose twitched as she put her paw on it, leaving a clean print over his face, allowing sunlight to shimmer across it. Four years of dust had suddenly disappeared, just like him, she thought. She dropped the picture on the desk. Lowered her head down, and let the tears slide down her fur and onto the floor as squeaks and sobs escaped from her.

FOUR YEARS AGO

The apartment complex was spewing flames. It escaped windows, craving oxygen and spewing smoke that could be seen from the edges of Savanna Central. Cruisers were scattered like a kid was throwing them about. Three fire-trucks had made their way down to the burning wreck while Judy commanded the officers on site to cordon off the area. She could see further down at the other end of the street, barking orders into a microphone was Nick. His trademark aviators glinting in the midday sun as he yelled: "I want this street airtight like an armadillo's asshole!" She couldn't help but smile as she watched him work, but the job took priority.

They were containing the situation, and whenever they showed up, whatever chaos ensued, they'd always fix it; together. The pungent stench of smoke filled her nostrils as she watched a rhinoceros aim for the upper windows with the fire hose; the walls stained with soot that had spread in the time it took the ZFD and ZPD to respond. How many had perished? Who had started the fire in the first place and why? This has been the fifth one in three weeks, and there never seemed to be an explanation besides foul-play. Nobody took credit, and nobody ever came forward.

Judy took a second to examine the crowd near Nick's side of the street, seeing if anybody was enjoying the view a little too much—of course every face was filled with shock. Tears were evident, while others wailed. Some people were crying because they'd lost clothes, memorable things of their lives, and some, she thought, had lost loved ones. There was a tinge of responsibility on her shoulders. It was their job to protect, but like always they were missing out before it had happened, becoming glorified cleaners.

"Help!"

A single word swimming in an ocean of fire called out. Her eyes pricked up and Nick noticed, dropping his megaphone and sprinting to her side.

"Carrots?"

"Someone's alive inside—I heard it," she yelled, sprinting towards the front door that bellowed smoke. She felt a hand on both her ears, pulling her up.

"I'll go—I can smell them out better."

She looked at him but there wasn't enough time. Not enough minutes in the day to tell him she loved him with all of her bunny heart. He plopped her onto her feet, the smoky smell growing between them. Her paws wrapped around his hands and with bright, purple-specked eyes she warned him: "Don't make me come in after you, you dumb fox."

He walked away up the steps and looked back with a shrug. "I'm not dumb enough for that," he said before moving into the smoke. She imagined it had taken him, absorbing him into the mess that it was like a monster, and never letting him go. There were always times like this. Ones where she'd worry if either of them would go home that day, but this wasn't similar. He'd be fine. Of course he would, she thought as she stepped back but kept her eyes rooted on the door.

She waited, and waited. Her foot tapped onto the concrete so hard that Lieutenant Francine could hear it from the other side of her cruiser. "Hopps," she bellowed. "He's gonna be fine, don't you worry."

Those were the last words she remembered as the complex erupted. Flames screamed out as the walls burst in a fiery blaze. The bottom half of the building let out hisses and sprayed debris onto the street until there was a final crash, and the remnants of windows and doorways were eviscerated by a second, grave explosion that knocked back the firemen so close. Judy ran for the door that was now filled with pieces of the former ceiling above it. A hand wrapped around her. She tried to wriggle free as the building fell apart in front of her. With every drop of debris, she felt her own life was doing the same.

"Let me go! Nick's in there. Let me go, damn it! Don't you under—"

She let out screams; wailing to the choir of sirens which filled the air, playing a deathly tune to the dead of the hour. Judy watched on until finally Francine moved her away from the wreck towards her huge police cruiser. "There's nothin' we can do!" She heard her yelled as she plopped Judy in the passenger side of the cruiser. No words were getting through. She thrashed and reached for the other side of the door. Francine grabbed her and forced her to sit still with ease. "I'm not lettin' us lose another cop—you got that? Hopps?"

She came back to reality; pinpricks of tears built in her eyes. "I know," she said, defeated.

Her eyes scanned the remains of the building, willing for him to appear like he always did. He must have got out. It was the only thought in her head for two hours, until finally the rhinoceros from before told her that they'd done a sweep of the wreckage. Nobody would have made it out—there was some kind of device, a bomb that must have gone off. She didn't care. The only answer she wanted, she'd got.

Judy watched as the fired died. The once recognizable building was nothing more than rubble. Her feet padded on the floor as walked back to her cruiser numbly, got in, and skidded off into the city with her paws clenched to the wheel. The lump in her throat felt like a boulder and the tears that she thought would never stop had only just begun. She had to get out of there, and go anywhere. It wasn't happening, it couldn't have been. Nick Wilde wasn't dead.