Wow. It has been FOREVER. But I got some spare time today to sit down and plan all this out, and hopefully with school dying out a little for spring break I'll be able to catch up with this. Never written a chapter this long, so we'll see how it goes. Hope you like it!
Light.
I can see it. Well, duh, of course I can. I've been in this stupid tunnel far too many times. Always heading towards some light. How cliché is that? Running towards the big white circle, which magically seems to be the same distance away no matter how hard you run. No matter how deep your breath is, and no matter how loudly your limbs are screaming out in protest.
All for some light. What can that light do for me? Nothing, it's an inanimate object. And what's over there anyway? Life is probably the same once it's illuminated. What's around you is what's around you, no matter what light condition you're in.
Maybe I should go back. Once I can see, finally, I'll probably regret it.
The truck jumped as one of the wheels ran over a large rock. The sudden jolt brought the gold-furred wolf back to reality. Unfortunate, he decided, as his weary eyes snapped open. It took an extra minute or so to realize where he was, and once his surroundings grew more familiar he wanted desperately to just lapse back into unconsciousness.
For he was sitting on a cold metal bench, which was nothing more than a slab of steel jutting out of the truck's wall. There was no internal light, and the restricted amount of sunlight allowed through the minuscule back window hardly helped at all. The sun's rays shone through spaces between the bars in the window.
Bars in windows. He'd get used to it. That was pretty unfortunate, too.
"Enjoy your nap, Goldilocks?" A gruff bear in a police uniform, seated directly across the vehicle, addressed him sarcastically. "You better 'ave, since I doubt you'll be able t'sleep for awhile. After yer admission, that is." A brittle smile crossed the large bear's face, hidden behind a bushy brown moustache.
The wolf grimaced as a response, shifting his gaze to the ground. He blinked slowly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Which were covered in black.
Why was he wearing black again?
The wolf shook his head, as the day's events filtered back into his head. The shooting, the explosions. The fresh cut in his stomach. And his new attire.
His surroundings were sliding around, and his focus was all over the place. He could barely keep the image of the police van's insides clear in his vision. The smell of body odor, mixed with the slightest tint of blood, rushed his nostrils. Body odor was expected, but blood?
Isn't it too early for police brutality? I definitely thought...oh, wait. It's my blood. Of course.
The wolf sighed, leaning his head back against the cool van wall and looking up at the dim ceiling. He could make out the random grunts of conversation between his two companions in the van.
"Heard from Horne that she got a fax from the Annex dis morning'," the bear drawled, stroking his moustache absently. They wanted us t'take on of them mental criminals a'ders, since they got no room. Lousy piece'a..."
"The Annex? Without room?" The raccoon beside him snorted, as his gold badge adorning his uniform glinted in the sparse sunlight. "Always acting all high and mighty, and then come around asking us to take in one of theirs? I dunno if I should be honored or amused."
"Well, they'd also said dis guy's no trouble. Killed some mommas at a school board's meetin', that's all. And this psycho's 'parently takin' up too much room. Must need da space for the next Unibomber."
The raccoon rolled his eyes. "Like we can't handle it. It's like a grown man giving baby food to his twin." He shook his head. "They think we're amateurs. Idiots. Just 'cuz they have the nice facilities, the shitloads of dough..."
"Hey, now," the bear interrupted, gesturing towards the wolf. "Now w'got this fella o'er 'ere. Dis guy's dominatin' them criminal charts out der. An' he's ours, Pattin."
"Such a catch, huh?" The racoon's gaze turned to their captive as well, a new expression of curiosity on his face.
I'm not a fish. The words were on the tip on the wolf's tongue, just aching to come out. But he couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe, as a matter of fact. His head was spinning faster and faster.
"G'on, boy," the bear scolded the wolf, as though he didn't see the glazed look in the other's eyes. "Y'got yer mouth open with nothin' on your mind?" No answer.
"Careful, Donahue," Pattin warned. "If he's as dangerous as you seem to imply, it's probably better not to rile him up."
But Donahue ignored the raccoon, talking slower. "C'mon. You slow thinkin', boy?"
Rein took a breath, trying to formulate words, but it was an impossible task. Finally, Pat glanced down and noticed the dark stain growing even under the black material of the wolf's shirt.
"He's losing too much blood," he muttered, rummaging around for a strip of white bandage tape.
Meanwhile, Rein's subconscious began to drift.
It's dark. There's a small fire, in the corner. I think it's a corner. I'd be able to figure it out, if I knew where the hell I was.
The flames, normally so warm and bright, licked the walls and grew in size. Reaching, for something. For me? They keep growing, moving, every second. Jumping, without any control or will. It just burns. It scared me.
And there he is. He's always there. It's like looking in a damn mirror. Every time I look at him, I see me. I'm in his face, the color of his fur. But not his eyes.
The fire blazes in his eyes, trained on one thing. The flame burns into one thing. Into me. His eyes, glaring, with that stupid grin on his face. That laugh. I'll never forget that laugh. I'll never forget any of it. It's burned into me.
It burns, and it hurts.
He's coming closer. What do I do? I can't move, can't shout out. I can't call for help. Nobody will come. Nobody wants to help me. Nobody even knows I exist; why would someone come and help me? No. Even if this was happening in broad daylight, surrounded by people, I'd be alone.
The observers. They'd shake their heads, looking on. Violence is a fascination in human nature, though nobody besides the evil and insane will admit it. So they'll watch, all of them. and shake their heads. And watch more.
Then they'll continue on their way. And I'll hear their whispers, even if it's while I'm sliding into unconsciousness. Even if the red of my blood is growing into a permanent stain on my skin. Even if I'm about to die.
I'll hear them whisper, "What a shame." And I'll know they've carried on.
The raccoon grunted, pulling the binding around the wolf tightly and jolting the captive awake. He gritted his teeth in pain, feeling the tight grip around his stomach.
I hate when my mind starts monologues.
"Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty," Donahue drawled, as the speed of the van began to decrease. "We 'bout t'reach y'new livin' arrangemen's."
The van jumped over one last bump in the road, and slowed to a stop. The raccoon stood, approaching the door. With a heave, he pulled the door to the side.
Light flooded the van, causing its inhabitants to squint from the anticipated yet strong glare. After a few seconds, the wolf was hoisted to his feet. With the bear holding one arm and the raccoon with the other, he was brought to the edge of the van. With their command, the wolf jumped out, landing on the ground, as his eyes observed the new setting around him.
Well, everything there was to see. Which wasn't much.
Before him stood a short, long building. Built with gray, stone bricks, the facility was not a gigantic monstrosity. In fact, the wolf felt as though he'd set his expectations a bit too high.
There was a simple wire fence circling the structure, with some spiked feature on top. The windows were barred, but they were a generous size. It was impossible to see the inside from their angle, but the wolf wasn't particularly worried.
There were a few inmates wandering about, some with supervising officers and some alone. They wore the traditional orange jacket, and some were dressed in full orange, but others wandered around in normal clothing despite the bright jacket. Attire didn't seem to be of high importance.
Faintly, the wolf could make out a backlot behind the building. Several orange-clothed inmates had gathered on benches, talking and making noise. A few crowds had gathered, most likely to watch a brawl that had broken out. Meanwhile, officers just stood behind the captives and surveyed the scene.
"Whadaya think Lyson's gon' say 'bout dis fella here?" The wolf heard Donahue ask his companion, while keeping the fugitive's wrists bound tightly behind his back.
"I dunno," Pattin replied, observing their captive. "If he has such an impressive track record, as you say, then he'll probably be pretty impressed."
"Hell," Donahue scoffed, "wit dis guy, we could re'stablish dis dump! Make it great! Go 'round sayin' 'ey, lookit dis fella here. Dis fool we got in 'ere. We da best, and y'best believe it."
The wolf rolled his eyes, grateful that his face was obscured from the officers so they couldn't see how badly he was swearing them to hell.
The entrance was bleak, but in no way intimidating. The fugitive allowed himself to be led inside, taking in the poor lighting, cracked ceilings and the walls covered in illegible scrawl. The cells were down a narrow hallway, but the officers stopped at the small office right beside the entrance.
"Chief Lyson, sir," the bear said formally. With a glare aimed at the gold wolf, he dropped the fugitive's wrists. "Git," he growled in a hoarse whisper, shoving the lupine inside.
After being pushed into the office, the wolf came face-to-face with a light-gray wolf, standing beside a desk littered with papers. The two were about the same height. The gray lupine's uniform was adorned with more metal than the others, and by crossing his arms, he caused the gold five-pointed star pinned to his uniform to catch the dim light. Nothing was so substantial about this gray wolf's features: slight stubble around the chin, clean face, normal body type. His one standout characteristic were his eyes, which were a vibrant, almost unnatural shade of blue. The cutting look from these eyes scanned the fugitive, and after a moment he spoke.
"Well," he said in a soft, calm tone. "Who do we have here, boys?"
"We picked him up from downtown, sir," Pattin said after shooting a look at Donahue, silently telling the bear to shut his mouth. "Robbing a bank. It should be on the news."
The gray wolf nodded, his icy gaze never drifting from the opposite lupine. He squinted, observing. "You seem familiar," he said after a moment. "I've definitely seen you before."
The gold wolf simply shrugged, and the gray-furred officer raised an eyebrow. "Got a name?"
No response.
"Come on," the wolf sighed. "I don't want either of these scumbags to answer for you." The bear stomped, opening his mouth in protest, but a slap on the arm and withering glance from Pattin made him think otherwise.
"Don't test me," the wolf said. The statement could either have been aimed at the bear, or the silent wolf standing before him. "I'll ask again. Name."
"Rein," the wolf murmured finally. His voice was barely audible. "Rein Xavier."
The opposite wolf nodded. "Rein." He tilted his head. "Interesting. How do you spell that?"
The wolf shrugged. "Not sure," he admitted, his tone still monotonous and on the quieter side. "Never seen a birth certificate. No proof that I was even given an official name. The first thing I can remember is my br-"
He paused, rethinking his words. "I can only remember being called that. Spell it how you want."
The gray wolf smiled, shaking his head. "Nice lie, son," he said. "Now go on, how you spell it?"
Rein sighed. "I already told you, I don't know," he responded. "I guess like the weather? Or something?"
The gray wolf shook his head again, his arms still crossed. "Don't seem like the type who'd just talk about the weather," he said. "Rein. R-E-I-N. Sound good?"
Rein nodded. "Guess so," he muttered.
Who the hell cares?
The gray wolf nodded as well, holding out a hand. "Chief Lyson," he said. Rein shook his hand, and the chief turned to his papers. "Now...I don't feel like dealing with all your paperwork. You've been sentenced here while we wait for an opening in federal court. Until then, you're stuck here." His finger trailed down a stray paper. "And here we go, cell 214. These officers will bring you there. Your jacket will be waiting. And you can hold onto those jeans of yours, if you'd like."
Rein nodded, looking down at himself. His pants were in decent enough condition, they'd survive. His shirt, however, was soaked through with blood. He wasn't about to say anything though.
Luckily, the chief noticed. "Officer Pattin," he told the raccoon. "Go to the locker room. Pick this guy up a shirt, for Christ's sake. It looks like he went swimming in his own insides." After an affirmative nod, the raccoon left to retrieve a spare shirt.
The chief idly glanced at the stain on Rein's shirt. "What, did you miss your target or something?" No answer. Chief Lyson shrugged. "Suit yourself, I'll just go with that."
Suddenly, the chief squinted. Rein tilted his head, as his face controrted into an look of confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, when Lyson suddenly approached him.
Taking Rein's chin in his hand, Lyson brought the wolf's eyes level with his own. The chief's blue eyes were narrow, as he seemed to be observing the gold irises of the captive. No words were spoken, until Officer Donahue broke the silence.
"Some'in wrong, sir?"
The chief didn't respond, but instead continued to examine Rein's eyes. Slowly, he shook his head, still keeping the gold lupine's chin in his grip. After a moment, he clicked his tongue, pulling back and retreating a few steps.
"'Scuse me, sir," Donahue spoke again, "but what t'hell wa-"
"Quiet," the chief commanded, his eyes never shifting from Rein. "Leave us a second. Tell Pattin to wait outside with you."
The confused bear abided, exiting the office and leaving the two lupines alone. A silence followed, before Lyson finally spoke.
"You have been through a lot, haven't you?"
No response.
The chief nodded, squinting again. "Anything else we need to know? Limitations or disabilities, perhaps?"
"I'm not slow-minded. I can think normally," Rein responded.
"Not what I meant," Lyson continued. "I'm sure you're very smart. I mean physically. Or emotionally. Any sort of illness?"
It was quiet for a moment, again. "Well, I do have one thing," Rein finally admitted. "I don't know what exactly sets it off, or how long it takes to set it off, but if I do much extraneous activity my body kinda shuts down. As in, I freeze sometimes. And my arm or leg starts shaking. If it's really bad, I get these tremors that just feel like waves of pain through me." He shrugged. "Don't know how to offset it, besides not pushing myself too hard."
"I see," Chief Lyson replied. "Know why?"
Rein nodded slowly, brushing aside a piece of his fur on his head. There was a deep, jagged cut running down his skull, still coated with pus and dried blood. It was a thick cut, as though no ordinary knife had been the cause. "That's why. Some nerves in my skull were damaged, leading to my brain. So sometimes my body misses some signals my brain sends out. Like how to move."
Chief Lyson sighed, picking up a clipboard off his desk and scribbling something. "You're going to be submitted to our doctor as soon as possible," he said. "About time that mark of yours saw some medical attention."
More silence. And then, it was the golden wolf who broke the quiet, for once.
"What's your first name?" Rein's voice was low, as usual, but Chief Lyson could still hear the curiosity in his tone.
"Eric," he responded. "Eric Lyson."
Rein gave a tiny half-smile, so small it was nearly untraceable. "Nice to meet you, Chief Eric Lyson," he said. The chief only nodded in return, as the raccoon arrived with a plain white shirt.
"Thanks, Pat. He can change in his room," the chief ordered, gesturing towards the door."
"Wait," the bear said, examining the gold lupine's backside. Squinting, he lifted the back of the wolf's shirt up and tugged on the back of the his jeans. "Anythin' under there, boy? Otherwise, you too lean t'hide shit."
"Could you not touch my ass?" A tone of irritation laced the wolf's voice, which altered in tone suddenly, and the bear backed off. "Thanks." With that, Rein allowed Officer Pattin to take his arm and lead him out. "See you around," he heard the chief say as he exited the office.
On the way to his cell, Rein made eye contact with nobody. The long walk through the corridor was noisy, tense and seemed to last a lifetime, but eventually they reached cell 214. After the door was securely locked and the officers had left, the wolf finally found himself alone.
He quickly changed shirts, refusing to pull on the orange jacket hanging in the corner. Instead he laid out on the small cot, staring at the ceiling. His mind began to wander, once again.
"See you around," he murmured, before his eyes closed.
So there you go. Chapter 2. Woo! The next one is coming out SOON I promise. I'm so sorry, again, for the hiatus. Until next time!
