I blame the fact that I had Sly and the Family Stone on the brain when I changed the title. I do not own Over the Hedge or any of its elements or characters. They belong to Dreamworks Animation and Michael Fry and T. Lewis. All I own are Abby, Tony, Slim Jim, Delilah, and anything or anyone else Dreamworks, Fry, and Lewis didn't think up for Over the Hedge.


Chapter 9

Something happened to Abby.

No, she was fine physically. No injuries...no cuts...no bruises—nothing serious for her to worry about for her body's sake.

No, the real signs to whatever was plaguing bearess consisted of the manner in which she continually darted her eyes from tree to tree as the gang continued down its way. If Vincent hadn't known better, he would've thought Abby were afraid of encountering something—or someone. In fact, ever since breakfast, she'd been acting...off. Her smiles became more forced and there was now a nervous light in her eyes; she recurrently rubbed her arms up and down as if suffering from cold, even though the noonday light, in spite of all the overhead trees and their canopy, kept the temperature cozily warm.

Now Vincent wasn't normally one to care for someone else's well-being...but, sheesh, Abby's actions were seriously setting him on edge! He was starting to ask himself if there actually was a good reason for the bearess's skittish behavior.

'Well, here's to hoping I get proven wrong for once.'

Meanwhile, Tony and Slim Jim, from their perch atop Vincent's massive cranium, also watched Abby's actions with concern. Tony tilted his crested head, the choking worry in his teal eyes clear and prominent. "Abby, what's wrong? You're lookin' a little spooked."

"No!"

All three men jumped at the panicky tone of the young woman's voice. Abby caught their reactions, though, and quickly attempted her best to hide behind faux optimism. "I mean...no. It's nothing." Abby released a deep breath. "Just a bad case of nerves—it'll pass soon enough."

Tony didn't believe that lie for a second; neither did Vincent nor Jim.

A shiny, black camera, hidden completely from view by the leaves and branches, snapped its picture of the quirky quartet, the animals never the wiser of just one of the many "eyes" watching them this instant.


At Vermination, Inc.,...

Seated in her swivel chair, Delilah chuckled to herself as she watched the video feed on her laptop. She had to admit: this group of animals had to be the oddest bunch she'd ever set her eyes on. All the same, though, they were no different than the other critters this master of pest control had tackled and captured.

Her thoughts shifting by whim, Delilah indulged herself by switching the feed to an image depicting a still of Dwayne's latest blunder. Her snorts nearly left her collapsed on the floor at the sight of her portly twin brother hanging upside-down by the haphazard ropes that suspended him a few feet off the ground, various tranquilizer needles sticking into his body. The most amusing detail, though, would have be a toss-up between the delirious expression on the man's face—lolling tongue and all—and the absurd position of his body in which all four limbs strung out in directions a yoga expert would have had an easier time accomplishing.

'Just when you think he couldn't make himself look any more of a fool than he already is.' With that thought in mind, Delilah promptly closed the image with one tap of her finger on the keyboard. 'Oh well, at least I have something to contribute to Aunt Marge's home videos.'

Now—to get down to business—first on today's To-Do list: patch up the loose ends from yesterday's little..."fiasco."

"Oh Ro-bert...," the woman called out to an unseen someone behind herself in a falsely sweet tone.

Before five seconds passed, a short, adorably squat man tumbled his way into the office, his receding and combed bright-red hair his most prominent feature. In his chubby arms lay a fat stack of papers, which he struggled to maintain in adequate order as he clumsily worked his way across the room, his black dress-shoed feet stepping in an inordinately random fashion as if in a weird, unconventional birth-child of tap-dance and square dance.

"Y-yes, Miss LaFontant...i-is there something I can help you with?" His weakly chipper and nervous smile accomplished little in assuaging the look of distempered coldness in his superior's eyes as he finally managed to land the lumbering paper stack onto the mahogany desk, panting from the effort afterward.

"What is the report on the test subjects?" Delilah tonelessly drilled, not skipping a single beat, "Have they have all been neutralized and detained?"

At both questions, Robert lost his smile as he twiddled his fingers in anxiety, his natural feebleness becoming more obvious. "W-w-well..."

"Robert...what happened?" If one were to be listening hard enough at that very moment, like Robert was, one would've caught an alarming trace of dissatisfaction beneath the voice full of deceiving calm.

And as all employers of Vermination, Inc. should know...Delilah LaFontant was always at her most dangerous when dissatisfied.

After swallowing a lump at the back of his nearly nonexistent throat with an audible gulp, Robert brushed a meaty hand over his head before reluctantly continuing on. "Um...two of the subjects m-might have...escaped."

No sound came from the alpha female except that of the slow, rhythmic tapping of her fingers against the table; to her assistant, that sound might as well have come from a gun being cocked.

"Just out of simple curiosity...," she finally replied, even though the casual manner in which she spoke rattled the smaller man all the same, "which of the, uh, subjects exactly did manage to get away?"

Like a man in death row, Robert knew there was no way out of this predicament—as least not for him. "Um...t-the new ones...Miss LaFontant...the raccoons to be precise..."


Rustles upon rustles darted among the foliage in successive lines, hushed whispers and hissed warnings constantly accompanying each other in the chilly, autumn air. The forms of two tiny woodland creatures dashed nimbly and lithely, their movements the source of the rustling.

"Did we lose 'em?"

"We will if you keep quiet, genius!"

"I was just asking a—oh, what's that?"

"What have I told you about-?!"

"No, seriously, look over there!"

Twin pairs of inquisitive eyes—one aquamarine, the other a deep hazel—peeked from out from the interior of a mulberry bush. The nearby lights of an expansive neighborhood—reds, blues, and yellows— shone so brightly, they almost blinded the two figures at first, but, even so, the view proved breathtaking.

By the time their visions adjusted to the brightness, the two shadows respectively turned to each other and nodded.

Here would have to do for now.


Meanwhile, back in a section of the western American forest, a piece away from where the misfit crew is...

Obscure shapes and shadows filtered through the patches of forest leaves encroaching upon the small forest clearing, the dead, brown grass and the surrounding, ancient woods the perfect setting for any plans intended for shady dealings.

A lean, snake-bodied figure reclined in an overly massive, archaic faded-red armchair, his arms crossed over a snow-white furred chest. The figure's laser hazel irises shone like chilling fog as they scanned the various able-bodied badgers, rats, and moles seated before the shadowy superior. Two fierce, larger-than-average sized badgers stood at the leader's sides, their beady eyes daring anyone to speak out against him.

"Alrighty, boys," the leader drawled in a Mugsy-style drawl as he reclined in his seat, "Here's the deal. A former...'friend' of mine,' according to my sources, is headin' down our neck of the woods tonight."

All of a sudden, a badger daintily clapped as he shot up to his feet, grinning from ear to ear and hopping up and down like a little kid, exclaiming in a dopey, British-accented voice, "Oh goody, I love surprises!"

One of the scrawny rats, after receiving the okay from the boss, used his tail to promptly swat the side of the badger's thick-skulled cranium. The larger mammal winced at the pain (which wasn't really as bad as his antics suggested), but compliantly compensated for his impromptu behavior after catching all the glares.

"OW! Oh...right…sorry boss."

The boss rolled his own eyes. "Now, as I was sayin'…my sources say that they caught Vince stalkin' around some nearby town. Don't know what he's doin' back here…and, quite frankly, I couldn't care less! All I do care is that he's too much of a danger to my operations. That's why I called you's guys to keep an eye on 'im."


Run, run, run...run or die...

Only those two choices...and she knew the result would come out the same, nevertheless.

But she had to try.

At least try.

Breathless...ragged...tired...

Muscles aching...

Lungs burning...

Eyes tearing...

How long? How long...How long had it been already?

She never looked up.

The sunlight had long since deserted her.

Were they still following?

Abby never looked back.

She was too afraid to.

Not that the atmosphere did anything to help...

Everything—the woods, the grass, the sky—everything pulsated with a deep ominous red...the dark outlines and shadows merely added to the hauntingly surreal nightmare...The whole world appeared as if it had merged with...melted into...bled the loveliest dreams...the wildest imaginations of a serial killer...

And here Abby was...trapped in the middle of this malevolent paradise...no way out...no way to escape...

No hope...

Her legs couldn't endure anymore. They gave out from under her, sending the sow to the ground in a dazed blur. Oddly enough, Abby never felt contact with the ground; her exhaustion had numbed the sensations of her body to the world.

And so she lay there, almost as still as death, her lightly heaving chest the only sign of her still being alive (for now).

She had landed face-first into the barren earth, her arms sprawled out in front of her as if reaching in vain for something...anything...to ward off the impending danger.

Too late...

The Shadow was here...and looming over her...

A single tear escaped her blank eyes. The emeralds of her pupils dismally glinted like flint in the crimson lighting...almost as if clinging to a single shred of Abby's former self...

It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright.

Please...let it be alright...

Only one last image...all her mind managed to engrain into itself...right before oblivion claimed it...was the blackened outline of a huge, hulking figure...

And two bright, strangely familiar golden eyes...


In the cold throngs of reality, chilled from a cause unconnected to the nighttime wind, a young bearess shivered.

This night was going to be a long one.


Oh dear, I just won't give these four folks a break, will I?