Whistleblowers

Chapter One: Homeless and Helpless

September 1st, 2000

Gray skies and rain cast a pall over the ivory towers of downtown Zootopia. Despite the dreary weather, the streets were rife with mammals going about their business. Among the businessmen and bankers strolling through the sidewalks, the dregs of society hid in plain sight. One such beggar sat soaked against a brick wall. Small, his young face obscured by the hood of a ratty green coat. The boy's collection tin was near empty, more a draw for the rain than any spare change. Cold, hungry, another day on the streets for Donovan the wolf. Giving a huff, the child gathered his tin and left for greener pastures. All these mammals in the financial district were just too stingy.

If anyone noticed the lone homeless kid wandering the streets, nobody paid him any mind beyond the customary glance. Tummy rumbling, the kid peered warily down an alley. Empty. Slipping from the mindless throngs of the city proper, he vanished into the cracks.

"A sammich would be nice." Donovan mumbled, digging through a derelict trashcan. There was no such luck today. All he could find was rotten mush and the stench of decay. Wrinkling his nose, the kid moved on to the next. Rinse and repeat.

"Hello dearie, are you hungry?" The pup jumped in surprise, knocking over the pail he'd been searching. Whipping around, he found the source of the voice. She was old. She was a sheep, but she looked nice. Maybe someone's grandma by the way she dressed in quilted garb. Her eyes were big and wide, full of concern and kindness. Something dark tickled at the back of Donovan's mind. Wariness. Don't trust her. Trust nobody. "Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat, a warm drink if you want." She sounded so kind, so sincere. The pup wanted to believe, and he was so hungry. Two days without food and your head gets a bit muddled.

"I'm starving…" He said quietly, fidgeting in place. She gave a little granny smile.

"What's your name dear? I'm Evelyn."

"Donovan." The pup said with uncertainty. Should he be telling this stranger so much? Evelyn beamed.

"Donovan. That's a good name. Come here, take my hand and I'll make you a delicious home-cooked meal." Evelyn offered a withered hand. Donovan bit his lip. Despite his instincts snarling in his head, he approached granny Evelyn and took her hand. Evelyn picked up Donovan and cradled the child.

"Oh, you're so light! Don't worry. You'll be better in no time." Her wool was so soft… Donovan remembered being held like this once.

Don't cry. Mommy has you, and she's never letting go.

So warm.

So cold. Donovan awoke with a start. The ground was cold concrete. His coat, all of his things were gone but for his shirt and trousers. Heart pounding, Donovan scrabbled to his feet.

"Hello?" He called. His voice reverberated on the metal walls of the small room. "Is somebody there?" Muffled voices could be heard, but only just, from the other side of the rusted door. Someone jiggled the door handle, fumbling with the tumblers of the lock. The door swung open, revealing two hulking meanies. Rams, their wool black and their eyes even darker. Donovan's tail slipped in between his legs and he whimpered pitifully.

One of them snorted, but neither said anything. The bigger of the two reached out and grabbed Donovan's paw. His hand dwarfed the little wolfs'. Giving a savage tug, the ram pulled Donovan out into the rest of the compound. Besides the voices of a few adults, (all sheep) the room was quiet. Punctuated orderly through the center of the room were three long metal tables. Seated at these were about fifteen other kids, all Predators. Some were older than Donovan, but most appeared to be around six or eight. They were silent, focused on downing what was set on their dinner trays.

The mere sight and smell of food so close by made Donovan's mouth water. His stomach growled in anticipation. Those two thuggish rams directed the little wolf to the table. Donovan sat beside a girl tiger, stealing hungry glances at the slog before her. Looked like some kind of porridge.

"Here. Eat and wait until you're called. Don't talk." Another sheep. This one wearing an apron and holding a tray of porridge. She set it down before Donovan and took her leave with those two rams from earlier. Licking his lips in anticipation, Donovan grasped his spoon and tore into his meal. Grasshopper porridge. Subsisting on a diet of trash and junk food for who knows how long, Donovan couldn't recall ever tasting something so delicious.

The following few weeks quickly fell into an easy routine. Given a clean bill of health from the compound's doctor, Donovan was settled in with the other kids. Issued a shiny new collar stamped with a bar code, he was promptly sentenced regular baths and clean clothes. He'd even gotten his own bed! Although, he still had to share a room with three others. Donovan didn't mind. The compound wasn't that bad compared to his old life; even if he wasn't allowed to talk much. Those etiquette classes were pretty weird though. 'Don't speak unless spoken to.' 'Obey your handlers.' 'All mammals exist to serve sheep.' The exercise part of Donovan's routine was in his opinion, the absolute best. It more than made up for all the painful discipline of etiquette. Playtime with the other kids always managed to lift his spirits. Brought in a scrawny, malnourished pup; it didn't take long to bring him back to the peak of health.

December 19th, 2008

"Donovan, what do you think's gonna happen?" Sara, a female tiger about my age whispered nervously. Her whiskers twitched in the corner of my eye.

"Quiet." I warned. "Remember what happened to Tommy?" Sara went still and silent. Tommy was a touchy subject for a reason. He disobeyed a command and came out of punishment a gibbering mess. He wasn't with us for much longer.

Including myself and Sara, six of my brothers and sisters were lined up neatly against a wall. Stark light caught on our metal coded collars. From the tender age of six, we'd been raised together by harsh yet careful hands. None of us were blood, but what did that matter to kids plucked off the street? We had nobody but each other. Muffled steps echoed from the next room over. Someone was coming.

Anxiety fluttered in my chest as the door handle turned.

"Right this way Mr. Arber." Sean's voice was polite as he showed in a pig. Our 'principle' Sean was thin and reedy for a ram. That didn't stop him from projecting a powerful aura. The way he stood, his posture and unnerving glare… the man was a colossus in his own right. There was danger in him, a gross twisting of authority that beat you down and set you on your knees.

"You've had them for eight years, correct?" Mr. Arber, a rotund pig in business attire posed, scanning us with black beady eyes.

"Yes. As part of our unique program, each animal was raised in anticipation of impending service. They are polite, well-behaved and obedient." Sean said this with a hint of pride, gesturing towards us. "While the current methods of breaking older specimens is by far cheaper, there exists none of the inherent risk associated." Mr. Arber nodded.

"I've gone over the reports. There's no need to elaborate." Sean clicked his tongue.

"Very well then. I assume your client had a particular purchase in mind?" The pig's gaze drifted into mine. Standing tall, I broke eye contact and turned my stare to the ground. I knew my place.

"My client has expressed interest in the wolf. Goes by Donovan." My big black ears perked upon utterance of my name.

"Hmm, yes." Sean stroked his woolen goatee. "Malnourished when acquired, but issued a clean bill of health. As you can see, he's grown into a fine young man."

"I see. All I need to confirm is a preliminary examination. Does he have any blemishes, birthmarks?" Sean shook his head.

"No blemishes or deformities of any kind. However, behind his left ear is a birthmark. A small patch of translucent skin. Let me show you." I bowed my head as they approached. Sean held my ear forward and parted the fur. "Just discoloration. Invisible unless searched for." Sean assured Mr. Arber.

"All right then." The pig patted me on the shoulder.

"Why don't we head over to the office and get all of Donovan's documents in order?" Mr. Arber grunted.

"You excited little guy?" The pig asked in a startling friendly voice. "Your new family is waiting for you." He knelt down beside me, guiding my chin with a firm hand. Our eyes locked, and the look of pity on his face sent a chill up my spine.