Chapter 7:
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Even Nick and Finnick, two mammals blessed with superb night vision, couldn't see anything inside the dark pit. With no way to feel around, they stumbled slightly on the uneven surface, bumping into things and each other as they did so. "Man, I'm gonna stop shaving my whiskers if we're supposed to mess round in this!" Finnick grumbled, before shielding his eyes as the lights came on.
"You really think I spent all my free time doing people's taxes guys?" came a proud chuckle from Honey, but the others were too awestruck to respond.
"This is my bunker!" she announced. "Busted my back a few times, and it took a year to dig the access shaft, but after that it was easy-peezy lemon squeezy!"
The others were silent, lost for words as she carried on her history lesson.
"I cut down into the roots of the tree my house is dug into," she explained, "with the natural wood providing a nice arched roof at the beginning of the works. Adding the rest and extending though was easy! Proud product of ten years preparation for the coming age of wool!"
It was easy for the others to believe that the chamber had taken a decade or so to build. It was about the size of Nick's apartment, much bigger than Finnick's van for sure, and was all in all a chaotic mess. The roof was made of corrugated iron, spotted with flecks of rust here and there, and it arched overhead in order to hold up the layers of rock and soil above. Evidently unable to take the whole load, a myriad of hap-hazard wooden beams assisted in taking the strain. The floor, compacted dirt with flat stones here and there, was thankfully dry while the air seemed to be cool and crisp, likely thanks to a softly humming ventilation fan that was installed somewhere.
Looking forward, Nick could see numerous rickety shelves stocked up with hundreds of sealed honey jars, dried military rations, cans, tins and bags of various long-lasting food such as rice, breakfast cereal and flour. Turning around, Nick pulled back at the sight of yet more shelves of food, along with numerous different improvised weapons. Thistle guns, army knives, a hedge trimmer, wax strips, paint weapons, numerous barber scissors and hair styling tools, a cage full of live and hungry moths, a fire extinguisher filled with shaving foam, superglue and even bubble gum. Every potential weapon that could harm, maim, distract or irritate a sheep (or sheep) was located here. There were files too, stocked to the gills with thousands of notes and papers. Clawhauser, curious at the site, stepped over to one and slowly filed through various pictures of sheep in historical drawings. There were photographs of sheep shaped crop circles and other bits of homemade propaganda and meme's too. His eyes were cocked with confusion at first, but as he flicked through they widened with curiosity. Finnick's gaze was oddly stuck on the shifty sheep clock hanging on one wall, its tiny tail swinging back and forth while its narrow eyes scanned menacingly from left to right. As for Nick, he set his eyes on the back wall. Covered in numerous maps and notes, a web of string, hung taught between pins, linked everything together, forming a complex web of ideas and theories.
"Honey… Is that back wall a visual representation of what's going on in your mind?" Nick asked nervously, his mouth wide open in a mix of awe, fear and confusion while his ears stood up alert. Sure, Honey's usual sheep conspiracy was weird. But this was several leagues ahead in weirdness, the old standard blown out of the water and into the next ocean. He was genuinely thinking that Honey was full blown nuts at that moment, rather than simply just quirky.
"As close as I can get it Slick!" came an enthusiastic shout. While the others were gaping, Honey had slung a massive orange backpack onto her shoulders. Bulging apart from the volume of contents stuffed inside, with digging tools, a stereo, water cans and numerous other knick-knacks bounded by climbing rope to the outside, it made her look twice as big. Still smiling with excitement, Honey rummaged through some materials to her side before grabbing a massive pair of motorised clippers and hoisting them into her paws. Yanking back at the start cord, the little engine slipped into gear, and the whole thing shook, roaring to life. Behind the screaming engine and oily smoke Honey grinned maniacally, eyes alive with power, as she stood ready for battle.
"Sheep free zone!" she screamed, "Last bastion of freedom!"
Shaken out of their shock, the others glanced at Honey and ran for her. Clawhauser pinned her arms behind her back while Nick yanked the pair of clippers from her and silenced them. Looking around angry and confused, collar shinning orange, she made eye contact with Nick.
"I think… you need to calm down a bit Honeybun," he calmly explained, gesturing downwards smoothly with his arms. "You don't want another shock. Just sit down, relax, and I'll fill you guys in about the rest of the plan."
Honey paused for moment, before Clawhauser let go of her arms and she yanked them free. Walking backwards, grumbling all the time, she leapt down onto a small bench and crossed her arms in front of her defiantly, pouting moodily at the three onlookers.
"Well, go on Slick!" she spat out through her extra grumpy face, "spill these real important beans o' yours!"
"OK. Remember the dream?" Nick resumed eagerly. "I felt awesome simply without this collar on. But then, Rollercoaster! It was infinity more awesome! And you know what, other pred's have a right to experience that too! We all know how much those 'pred rides' suck. So last night, I did a whole load of searching after finding out about the collar removers. I've found a great big warehouse by the docks going super cheap, with a nearby shack we can turn into a fake clinic. There are also a fair few abandoned arcade games, and a roller coaster! All being sold up at near scrap value. And this was all before I saw what Honey can do! If she can make all this stuff and those crazy weapons, I'm sure she'll excel at putting together what are essentially giant DIY kits and the odd homemade attraction. It'll be hard for sure, but once done we will own the greatest hang out spot and money maker in the city… Wild Times!"
"You're serious about this? Do you know how absurd this is?" Finnick shot in, his mouth open with confusion.
Nick chuckled, before gesturing around with wonder, "We're in a secret bunker with enough food to last us for ten years…"
"Nineteen, Slick," interrupted a slightly insulted Honey.
"Nineteen years while an all-out shee-pocalypse destroys civilization outside as we know it. That's how serious I am! Look here, files and stuff," Nick finished, as his numerous notes and files were dropped onto the floor. While he stood back proud, the others slowly began taking it apart, scanning and checking the details. Grins began to grow, followed by collar lights turning orange, as they each realized that this could work.
Eyeing his enthusiastic companion calculatingly, Finn shook his head. "Well blast you, Nick. You've only gone and done it!" he said. "If this will make me rich then I'm on board! My van could do with a new surround system after all."
"I'm on board too!" jovially shouted Clawhauser. "I could attend the VIP box at every gazelle concert, seeing our city's angel with horns up close and personal… and get donuts and stuff from all the best restaurants!"
"… Aaah! Getting the sheep can wait a little bit. Count me in Slick!" chimed in Honey.
Nick looked around, joy plastered to his face as his friends ran up and hugged him. For once, he had dared to dream and it was a thing that could come true! He was in control and he wouldn't let the prey turn it into a nightmare. Friends shaking and patting him, his joy and excitement rocketed with his collar shooting up to a quick red, followed by the familiar but ever unwelcome Zap. …
Quiet filled the room, as Nick relaxed his flinching face and resumed smiling. "Even the Collar's on board!" he shouted, his arms stretching out with excitement.
The others laughed, and patted him on the back before sitting down as the thrill left the air.
.
.
"So Nick, where do we start?" Clawhauser asked, as he scanned through layouts and plans.
"Okay, quick financial one-oh-one," Nick began. "The buildings, land and so on cost about ten grand, as do all the bargain rides and stuff. The online course is free, as are the collar keys. The other rides and things, another ten grand. We'll be working on this ourselves, likely living off Honey's supplies. But bringing others to help and supplying equipment and stuff like cranes will be necessary, which I estimate will be another ten… So that's a minimum of forty grand, although I'd want at least fifty, maybe even sixty so that we have a healthy contingency."
"Looks like being Mr saver has paid off," Finnick merrily replied, as he filed through a set of spreadsheets. "We have twenty thousand, plus another five if Honey sells her vast holdings and investment in the tinfoil industry… so we're halfway there. Another ten years and we'll be set."
Nick chuckled, "Another eleven, twelve years till I taste freedom. Heck no. Besides, the cheap rides and stuff will all be gone by then, at least doubling in price… so that's waiting till we're in our fifties! Besides, in that time the laws may have changed. Instead, Honey can apply for a loan to get the final part!"
"NO!"
The others looked over and saw Honey, extra grumpy and moody, looking on with narrow eyes and crossed arms.
"Honeybun?" Clawhauser began softly, before being cut off.
"Nuh...Huh…" she said defiantly, her head confidently shaking back and forth before gesturing behind her. "Look at this! Look at this…"
"What, your stupid ass conspiracy?" Finnick growled.
Honey looked back, teeth bared and collar orange. "I've spent my life trying to combat the injustices of this world," she half growled and half seethed, "trying to expose the evil… the paymasters… the villains who are responsible for our day to day suffering! Can't you see that? Can't you huh? Friends…"
"We see Honeybun," interrupted Clawhauser, somewhat pacifying her as she carried on.
"Wild times will help, but it's a band aid! It's not like it'll bring pred and prey together. Now this! This will fix it all, and I'm not risking the sheep getting any wind of what I'm doin' or where I'm doin' it. Got that Slick!"
Nick merely looked back at her, his smile gone and ears and eyes drooping, before he sighed. "I shouldn't have bothered," he said glumly, before turning away.
"Nick, Honey's sorry about being angry," Clawhauser shot in, "aren't you Honey."
"… fine," Honey replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry I snapped at you Slick."
"It's not that," Nick melancholically replied as he gently began rubbing his tie with the back of his paw, his collar turning orange as he did so. The others gasped at the readout of his mood, knowing how ordinary sadness wasn't really known to trigger a collar, though they stayed quiet as Nick finished. "Wild times is dead."
"What?" Honey asked, confused.
"Listen, if you can't get a loan with the security backing of your home then neither can Clawhauser seeing as he lives with you… Finnick lives in a van! And me…"
"You have the shop, and your flat," Clawhauser butted in, "well, it's more of a place but…"
"Look at me!" Nick shot back, oddly angry, his hands having tightly grabbed the fabric of his tie and clenching it hard.
"Uhh... Okay?"
"What do you see?!" Nick seethed the words out as he flailed his arms up and down, pointing at himself.
"Ummm. You!"
"YES! Nick Wilde, RED FOX."
"So?"
"SO! RED FOX!" Nick shouted, his collar jolting to a quick Zap, making him flinch down in pain.
"Care to explain Slick?" Honey butted in with a confused tone. "Somethin' 'bout red foxes not getting loans.
This thing about 'em never trusting your kind?"
Nick merely looked back and sighed, his face muscles collapsed fully from a lack of energy. His eyelids dropping down with eyes dull and lifeless; his mouth small and thin with barely visible lips; ears drooping and fallen back even further due to a lack of support, yet not firmly plastered against his skull as if he were scared or thrilled. He looked absolutely defeated, and sounded it too. "Like you'd know…"
He turned to wander off and grabbed the lowest rungs of the ladder. Pulling himself up, Clawhauser grabbed a surprised Honey and walked forward. "Hey Nick… we can work something out? We could do something fun? You like Gazelle, don't you?"
No reply came back, merely the sound of paws on steel rungs. Clawhauser looked over to Honey and nudged her, shaking her out of her thought process and into urgent action.
"Hey Slick…uh, it's OK…. You can talk to me. It's Honey…Honeybun… Honey Badger does care!" She called up reassuringly, before she paused slightly and turned back to Clawhauser who gave her a quick nod. She looked up as the upper hatch was opened and prepared to speak, before being interrupted by a deep, baritone voice.
"It won't work, leave him," Finnick warned, sounding tired and sad. He'd been silent, standing in the corner the entire time, resigned to the events going on with sympathetic eyes.
"You… you call yourself his big brother," Clawhauser said, voice more disappointed than angry. "You two were raised under one roof for eight years… why didn't you help?"
"Because I was raised under one roof with him, for eight years, as his big brother. When he gives you that face, you leave him the hell alone and I mean alone!"
Clawhauser looked on, before he scowled. "Why… Why does that face mean you don't help him?"
"That's his parent face…"
The whole bunker fell silent, mouths open slightly and ears sadly down, as the upper hatch slammed shut.
.
Nick Wilde walked along the walkways of the rainforest district slowly, watching on as the rain fell from the emitters up high. While he had preened himself somewhat since the doctor's visit, he was still a scruffy mess with dirty fur all ruffled up and unkempt. Consequently, he pulled back his hood and let the rain fall on his face. It cascaded down his fur, dragging the hairs back into some kind of order, aided by a small brush he produced from a pocket and used to assist the process. Stepping down a series of passageways, his head and ears soon looked somewhat presentable as he leant on a narrow balcony between two rocky cliffs. Looking out, fondling his tie therapeutically with his paws as he stood, he observed the city carry on its Sunday morning blissfully unaware.
Far away, on the other side of a large chasm, several cars waited while a road maintenance van picked up a large fallen tree and began hauling it away. Crewed by several stocky beavers in well-worn construction gear, you could see them lick their lips and rub their hands together in delight at their new free meal.
The sound of several sirens pricked Nick's ears and he turned to see a drawbridge opening up in order to allow a heavily laden cargo blimp through. With the path clear, the engines revved up ready for the final approach. Seconds before it crossed, an orange car raced across the bridge and flew over the gap before a pursuing police vehicle made the same jump with moments to spare, several mammals nearby cheering its daredevil driver on in awe.
Straining, Nick looked over to the edge of the canal district, the workers of the floating markets preparing for a busy day of selling and hawking their wares. On the side of each canal, lay beaver dens and houseboats filled with all manner of small, river loving creatures. The many water channels themselves were crisscrossed by boats and aqua cars and even the odd pedestrian, swimming or wading through the warm water. The whole waterway suddenly cleared, as the oncoming drone of a water plane got louder. Splashing down and taxying into position,
a set of muskrat and beaver engineers got out in order to check on a swamp gas collector, its large gas balloon overshadowing much of the surrounding area.
The rain stopped, with the last remnants still dripping off of the canopy roof and gently pattering down at their own leisurely pace. Nick spotted a large family of fruitbats hanging on the outside eave of their house. Beneath the shelter of the awnings, they talked small talk and passed various fruits between themselves as they enjoyed their breakfast and each other's company. They were flying foxes, a bustling and happy family of them. Whole, complete, with parents and children talking and loving each other freely and unobstructed… The only type of 'fox' in the city with that right…
Leaning over the railing, the last remnants of dripping had ended bar for those coming from Nick himself. They rolled down his fur to the base of his snout where they pooled off of several hanging hairs. Every second or so, the salty drops would detach and fall down. Past the maroon paws fondling the fabric of the tie, past the feet sticking out from under the fence and then past the planks of the walkway, past layers of leaves and all the way to the soft ground. With the rain gone, the entire scene became peaceful for a moment, before a sob filled the air. Then a second louder one was choked out, followed by a harsh beep. A final, quieter one, rang out as Nick took his weight off of the railing and composed himself, walking on with his tie in hand as he let the returning sounds of the city rise back to their usual volume.
