Jack Savage
Miles is still breathing. I can feel his chest moving even as he keeps me pinned under him.
I try to squirm out of his grip, wriggling and trying to slip my body through the faintest bit of slack I can get. All around me I can hear my team dying, their screams ringing in my ears long after they've fallen silent. A Razorback falls, snorting and gurgling as the blood fills his throat. A wolf lets out a pitiful wail as he lies curled on the cold asphalt. A leopard offers terrified prayers in Tigrian as he huddles for cover.
Beneath it all, there's a buzzing sound.
It creeps on slowly, drowning out the cries of agony and the sounds of bullets pinging off of concrete. When I first notice it I have no idea what the hell it could be. I'm feeling dizzy, the world's boiling around me like hot mist. It's hard to breathe... am I having a panic attack? Or is the weight of Miles' body suffocating me?
It's dark and cold. My head lolls as I try to turn. The shadows lengthen into tall trees in a night-cloaked wood.
"You have to take Jack..." Mom pleads. "Take him and go south. Just keep running as far as you can and keep heading towards Bunnyburrow..."
And all of a sudden I'm hiding in that log again, covered in mud so the foxes wouldn't be able to track me by scent. I can only watch, small and trembling, as the Prodigal puts a gun to my mother's head and pulls the trigger. I can only sit there and cry as the Smiler takes my brother and goes to work with cheerful expertise, and his screams last long into the night.
Wait. Something's different.
The sound of bullets striking the cars nearby has lessened. The others have noticed too, and the officers still crouching for cover glance up hopefully.
And there- at one of the adjacent buildings, I see something: a red and gray blur falling from one of the rooftops like a rag doll. It smashes into the top of a van with a loud crunch of twisted metal and splintered glass.
A Praetor. Someone's taking out the Praetors.
"Friendlies approaching!" someone shouts from a distance. "Friendlies approaching!"
Elkredge groans as he rolls off of me, then props himself up and raises his head. My legs are shaky as I get to my feet, looking to the sound of the call. Down the street I see a team of eight mammals: cheetahs and antelopes, running toward us with paws raised to show they're not armed. Not that anyone could mistake them for Sanguinis of course. They wear bright blue form-fitting vests of soft kevlar and similarly tight leggings. The tactical goggles are familiar, I'd recognize ZIA tech anywhere. When they reach us they kneel down, unshouldering their first aid kits and immediately begin tending to the wounded.
"RACER Echo has reached the target," the lead buck in charge says into his earpiece. "Repeat: We've reached Savage's team."
"RACER?" I mutter in a daze.
"Rapid Action Company for Emergency Response. RACERs Alpha through Delta have two medics each, but Echo specializes in field medicine."
They're getting to work immediately: conducting triage among the wounded officers, tying off tourniquets and taking out saline bags. All with the smooth professionalism and poise my own team once had. Looking at how they're operating now you wouldn't believe how fragile that sort of training and discipline could be... how, under too much pressure, it can fracture like glass and all that discipline is gone.
"Any word on the tactical situation?" Miles groans as he leans back against the side of the van.
"Praetor targets are being neutralized as we speak," the antelope says, "RACER Delta took heavy casualties from what I heard: they're out of the fight. Alpha through Charlie are just mopping up and securing th-"
Someone lets rip a great snarl several meters away. Gunshots ring through the air, but in the next instant the body of a cheetah comes flying overhead and crashes into the window of a nearby SUV. He falls to the ground, limp. His blue kevlar vest is stained with blood, his head twisted almost completely around.
I stand up fully, legs still shaking. There, half a block away, stand three mammals. A lion, a grizzly bear, a thick-shouldered buffalo. I recognize them all from their criminal profiles... the mammals who'd been released from Highwatch, supposedly under the direction of Rufinius Frisk.
Their eyes are dilated, they're hunched over like beasts. The three stand over the bodies of several ZPD Officers and what's left of one of the RACER teams. None of them seem fazed in the slightest. It's almost as if the fear had been scoured from them, and all that is left is the urge to kill.
I aim my gun at them just as they begin their charge.
.
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Milo Cinzento
Strawberry sherbet.
It first happened when I was maybe ten years old, when my stay-at-home Mom got an ice cream maker and went through a phase of making homemade ice creams. It usually didn't come out the right way... it was often too hard or the fats separated out of the cream, or there were little lumps of custard in it. She'd consulted with her circle of soccer moms, looked up tips and recipes online.
That was one of the few success stories, mom's strawberry and elderflower sherbet. I knew I was in for a treat when, on a hot summer's day, I'd hear the blender going with the hard gravelly sound of frozen fruit being pulverized. I'd race into the kitchen, and see Mom smile as she unscrewed the bottle of elderflower syrup. For a cub whose favorite flavor was ketchup, the complex mix of sweet and tart and floral was entirely new, and something I'd forever associate with my mom.
I'd never wanted anything else from that machine.
Mr. Frisk had delivered on his promise... he'd helped get my letter delivered to my mom in time. She'd sent me her love, told me to contact her on email and had given me her new number, but I hadn't had the courage to contact her since then. Plus, knowing Dad he might be checking her account and her call history. And if we were discovered I'd lose contact with her for good.
That's the one thing I think about now to keep me going. Not lingering on a future that'll never be. Not pining for all the bittersweet memories of times long lost. Something basic and simple and axiomatic, that I might be able to relive just by walking into the right ice cream parlor.
Strawberry sherbet. The taste of a mother's love.
I think about it when I wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. Or in the long, dreadful minutes as the Prince finishes his wine before dismissing us from his bed. And I'm thinking about it now, as I crouch in the middle of an alley with Ollie, staring at the small blue tab in its plastic case.
"Take it..." he purrs. His eyes are big and wild, his pupils dilated to the point that his eyes are almost a solid black. "Fuckin' take it, man. It feels amazing."
The color's different now, closer to turquoise than its original deep cerulean. Others have tested the stuff in the training room, felt the more tempered rage fueling them, sharpening their senses and boosting their strength and agility to new peaks without the risk of them losing their minds completely. Not me, though. Never again.
Strawberry sherbet.
All the other henchmammals have charged, wreaking havoc among the ZPD officers who've been managing crowd control. I can still hear Dr. Rhona rattling off the numbers in her thick brogue. Aim against moving targets improved by 23%. Agility improved by 37%. Strength improved by 12%. Stamina improved by 82%. Cognitive impairment 7%.
It isn't the drug searing through Ollie's brain that's made him so crazy now. It's been happening for a long time. The trial, our time in prison, being trained by a bunch of fox mobsters and sent out on missions where we had to kill... all of it had chipped away at his sanity. Day by day the cocksure football player was being carved into someone new.
I remember what it felt like running beside him and Cal on the field... we felt invincible. No one could take us down, not even the Rough Riders. After that victory we'd get our first pick of the spoils, pounding the cheerleaders lined up just for us as the other players cheered us on. But unlike Cal or Ollie I couldn't get into it. I could never drink fully the sweetness of our win or the pleasure of the moment the way they did.
Something had always held me back from truly becoming one of them.
Ollie's embraced it... the hot tingle of each kill, the coppery sweetness of blood. Sure he'd been an asshole, but once there'd been something tying him down that kept him from going completely off the rails.
The Praetors had turned him. The Prince had turned him. Pleasure and pain... that's what they taught. That's all that we needed to know.
"Take it already!" he snarls through his crazed grin.
"I- I can't!"
My paws are trembling. My breaths are coming out in panicked huffs. Beyond the alley we're huddled in I can hear the sounds of bullets pinging off of metal, the screams of the ZPD officers, gunshots cracking through the air.
Ollie cups my cheeks with his paws then, the same way he'd held my face the night before as he pressed his kisses into my muzzle. I can feel the hot breath on me now, laced with the licorice-like aroma of weapons-grade Blue. For a moment I'm terrified that he's gonna dig in with his claws and add fresh scars to my already-mangled face, but his grip is tender. Affectionate.
"We're doing this together, Milo..." he purrs. "Come on, man. I love you."
For the rest of my short life, I'll never hear those last three words from anyone else.
I'm fucking terrified, trembling from head to toe. At Ollie's urging though I press my finger into the small tab. A thin residue of sweat helps it cling to the tip, and I bring it to my mouth.
I twitch. In the last moment, I palm the tab of Blue.
Switching fingers, I lick an empty pawpad. As I let my arm fall to my side I flick it with my thumb. The Blue falls away like a dead leaf and drifts, unseen, to the concrete.
"Atta boy..." Ollie grins, still staring into my eyes. He unholsters his gun and urges me to do the same. "I fuckin' love you, Milo. Once these fuckers are dead we celebrate, I promise."
He holds my paw for a moment, and as he races off to join the firefight I feel his fingers slipping away from mine.
We used to run together, me and Ollie and Cal. Fresh turf beneath our feet, the smell of newly-cut grass in our nostrils. Three cats, fucking invincible on the field, able to take down a goddamn rhino. I'd worshiped them, I'd wanted to be one of them. Once I'd finally gotten into their inner circle I'd bonded with them in sweet, confusing, unspeakable ways. I'd thought I'd run with them forever.
Strawberry sherbet.
He crouches beside a pickup truck, gun raised and scanning for a target, when all of a sudden Oliver glances back at me from fifteen feet off. He blinks, brow furrowed, not quite understanding why his loyal little buddy had hung back at the last moment.
"Milo?"
The crack of gunfire rings in my ears.
His head's thrown to the side as the bullet rips through his eye socket. For a moment Oliver flails, paws twitching. The muzzle of his gun flashes as he spasms and fires straight into the air. His knees crack into the concrete, and for a moment his body's turned to face me. Slumped against the side of that pickup, half his face a shredded mass of exposed bone and brain and blood, his mouth nonetheless moves, almost like he's muttering my name one last time.
I stare, jaw dropping as his body gives a few final twitches, and falls still.
"Hostile down!" someone shouts. Someone in a ZPD uniform races over to check that Oliver's truly dead. Behind him is a cheetah wearing goggles and a blue vest.
Their backs are facing me.
For one wild, insane moment I get the urge to lift my arm, just point it at them and pull the trigger. Pop, pop... one in the back of each skull. Nice and quick. Whether it was for vengeance or a death wish I'll never know, because the numbness of the moment quickly gives way to panic.
The pistol slips from my fingers, and before either Officer notices it clattering on the ground I've turned and started to make my escape, practically scrambling on all fours.
I'm running again. But this time I'm alone.
.
.
Judy Hopps
A cloud of dust rises up from the field as Joel slides into third base.
"SAFE!"
Buster's one of the jocks in the family, so he's always being called to act as umpire whenever there's a game. It's a small, casual round of baseball that a couple of the younger litters had thrown together, so there aren't many viewers in the stands right now. I know it isn't really Nick's thing, sports... but the kits had invited him to watch, and being the polite guest he is he hadn't hesitated in saying yes.
Frankly, I suspect they wanted to put on a game just to impress the two new visitors in the warren.
Dixie is sitting further down in the stands, cuddling up with Herb Thumper from across the river. Sis had only told me about their engagement last night. Hadn't wanted to spoil my homecoming, she'd said.
This was big news though: a good hunk of us in Bunnyburrow tend to get married right out of school. My older siblings definitely did. The fact that me, Dixie, Clover, and Stacey hadn't even gotten boyfriends over the years kinda earned us a certain reputation for being relentlessly single.
I guess the fact that me and my sisters all had that in common made it even harder for us to make any moves in terms of relationships. That is, no one wanted to stand out by being the first to break from that trait that kinda tied us together.
Not that we were all that determined to find romance or anything. I'd always been focused on my career, Dixie had been too much of a tomboy, Clover had always been shy and bookish, and Stacey... well... let's just say she'd always been a bit too wild and free-spirited to settle down with anyone.
And there's Dixie, three rows down in front of me with a ring on her finger.
I should be keeping my eye on the game, but my sister and her beau are really cuddling up there, holding each other tight and mushing their cheeks together. He rubs his nose against the middle of Dixie's forehead, and Dixie chins his shoulder in turn.
It's been like this ever since I got back from Zootopia, the culture shock of coming back home. The warrens seem so much smaller than I remembered, and everyone is so much more physical. In the City, mammals preferred keeping a certain shell of personal space around themselves. I'd spent months training myself to respect that, but coming back now all those familiar little touches between friends and family really stand out.
Have I gotten that aloof? I mean I'd gotten used to sleeping on my own; that had been a real challenge. But... looking at Dixie and Herb now, there's this big storm of feelings in me.
I'm happy for her of course... I mean, I hadn't heard a peep about their relationship so it came as a surprise, but I know Dixie had been wanting to start her own family. Plus it's about time the girls in our litter got hitched. Hopefully it'd quiet the gossip about us being old maids in our mid-twenties.
But then I think about Clover and Stacey. Neither of them ever planned to settle down, and this would just put more pressure on them to find partners already. I know from personal experience how hard it can be wanting to live your own life... one that's different from what your family expects.
And then I glance at Nick out from the corner of my eye. We're sitting together sure, but while Dixie and Herb are practically glued to each other there's about two inches of space between me and Nick, and right now those two inches feel like a massive gulf between us. He's focused on the game, cheering the kits on as one of them hits the ball far into the left field.
He used to flinch when I'd hold his paw, and he'd be so stiff even with a casual hug. Even now when I give him those little touches that are supposed to happen between lovers he's slow to respond.
As a bunny I really don't know how to feel about that. Looking at the pair below me now, I know that me and Nick would never become that sort of couple. If... if we ever get that far. I mean I'm trying to respect his space, but... I just need...
No. No, why am I thinking about this? We only just started dating, after all... I can't just expect Nick would feel the same way about me. This is a trial period, right? Wait, is this a trial period? He'd always taken me out to show me the sights of the City... once we got together it was much of the same except now with kissing and cuddling and sex in the mix. There's always been this complex chemistry between us, a fox and a bunny dating. But now I'm starting to wonder if it maybe we'd just rushed into this. I'd always felt we'd gotten along so smoothly, but what if Nick feels all the rough edges in our relationship that I'd missed?
I'm so lost in my thoughts that it catches me by surprise when I feel his arm around me.
At first it's like being hugged by a mannequin... just... flat and unnatural. But then I feel the muscles beneath his arm shifting, and Nick takes a long, smooth breath before he pulls me closer. My thigh presses against his, and he pulls me close so my cheek rests against his chest. A bit of nervous energy spikes through me for a split-second. Maybe it's some ancient, long-buried fear us bunnies have towards predators, though I can't deny that the thrill adds a certain spice to the moment.
I'm flushed from the tips of my ears down to my toes... partly from embarrassment, but mostly from relief. My heart's beating like a drum, and the insides of my ears feel warm. I wrap my arms around his skinny middle and hug him back, smiling as bit by bit the two of us settle into the cuddle, mirroring the two bunnies in front of us.
It takes a couple minutes to adjust, but once I get over the initial awkwardness of hugging him in full public sight of my family I begin to wonder what I'd been so worried about.
"It's not fair, you know..." I murmur into his chest.
He looks down at me, his mouth curved in that lopsided smile that makes him look so smug. But then his eyes widen, pupils shrinking back and he tenses. Nick looks down at Dixie, then back at me. Then back at Dixie. And me again.
"No!" I laugh, suddenly realizing how that must've sounded in context. Did Nick really think I expected him to propose right now? "It's just... you always know how I feel. What I'm thinking. What I need."
I run a paw over his arm. He'd noticed my reaction to Herb and Dixie, hadn't he? He usually wouldn't put an arm around me out of the blue like this. And never in public. "But y'know... it really isn't fair. I never know what's going on in your head."
"You could always ask," he grins. Jeez, Stacey really is ruining me. I can't help but notice how sexy those pearly white fangs are now.
"Would you tell me the truth, though?"
"Always, Carrots," he says, planting a kiss between my ears. "Except of course when I'm lying. Gotta keep things interesting somehow."
"Dumb fox..." I smirk.
"Sly bunny."
.
.
"Nnngh..."
I clutch my middle and wince as I prop myself up. He'd dashed straight at me from the shadows, and the strike had come so quickly that the breath was knocked outta me before I felt the impact.
The last moments before I blacked out come back to me in bits and pieces. He was holding me in the crook of his arm as he ran, mammals were shouting at Nick to put me down. The sound of gunshots were muffled as I began to slip out of consciousness, like I was hearing them from the bottom of a pool.
I could barely breathe with how tightly he was clutching me... but all of a sudden I was out of his arms, limp and as a rag doll. And that's when everything went dark.
It's still dark. It doesn't help that I'm dizzy, and all my senses are dulled. There's this ringing in my ears, and it's pitch black. Even when I wave my paw in front of my face I can't see anything.
My fur prickles and I wrap an arm around myself. The metal floor is cold. How long had I been out?
There's a dull, throbbing pain in the back of my head, and I rub it with my paw. My back hurts too. Must've hit something when I landed. Where are the other Officers? The Agents?
I grope for my shoulder-mounted flashlight, but the plastic frame comes apart in my paw.
"No..." I groan, rubbing my head and trying to clear the cotton that'd been packed into my skull. "Oh no..."
Wait. My phone. I feel around in my pocket but it must've slipped out. I grope along the floor, trying to feel for it. My paws hit a hard metal edge, and feeling around I realize it's an empty shelf. My nose twitches at the familiar smell of catnip and soil.
My fingers brush against my phone then, though for a moment I accidentally knock it aside. Scrabbling for it though I finally grab my cellphone, and when the screen blooms to life at the press of a button I turn on the flashlight.
The ringing in my ears is beginning to recede, and I blink as I take in my surroundings. A small, metal room not much bigger than my apartment. Empty metal shelves, and a big solid steel door on the opposite wall, though it's pitted with rust here and there. Wait... am I locked in a safe?!
Damn it, Nick. What did you do? How could you leave me like this?
No handle on the inside. I'm hardly claustrophobic... living in Bunnyburrow you get used to small spaces. But with a room this solid, built to keep mammals out and valuables in... and the only way to get me out is to know the combination, or maybe a blowtorch...
But there are no air vents. The only supply of oxygen I have is in here.
Oh no. No no NO!
I start to pound at the door. With my tiny paws the taps I make must sound so small and pathetic from the outside, if anyone can hear me at all. The ringing in my ears is beginning to recede, and I think I hear something on the other side, even through the steel. It's a low, muffled sound... maybe multiple voices, though I can hardly make out anything anyone is saying.
And then the door begins to click. Someone's turning the dial.
I step back then, pulling out my firearm. A cold shiver runs down my spine. I want to stay positive, I want to cling to hope, but I can't be entirely sure that the mammal on the other side is friendly. For all I know the Sanguinis had beaten back the task force and are coming to retrieve me.
I'd gone through the ZIA files Jack had given to me. Read as much as I could. Some details were too nauseating, too personal to do anything but skim past. Some of those photos I'd seen had been burned into my mind. In my training I've had to learn how to handle gruesome crime scenes, but what I saw in that folder has probably been burned into my mind.
I see him then, with his back to me. That green Pawaiian shirt, his dark ears flat against his skull like he's still mad at me. Nick's turning around, and through the haze of tears I see that warm and forgiving smile and the carrot pen in his paw. The sun hits his face just right, and his fur is so red and warm.
"Don't worry, Carrots. I'll let you erase it... in forty-eight hours."
There's no smugness. No sass. Just a fox who was glad to see his friend again.
My grip tightens on the handle of my firearm, my finger just barely touching the trigger.
With a loud clack, the sound of metal bars sliding away, the door opens. There, covered in dust and with half her face stained with blood, is an anxious-looking tiger.
"Furlong!" I squeak, lowering my RGS-14 and re-engaging the safety.
I rush over to her, gripping her leg. My heart rate won't be going down for a while.
"How'd you know the combination?" I ask, giving her a good squeeze.
"It... it was written on a sticky note, stuck on the door..." she says in a dazed feline rumble. "You okay, Hopps? When Wilde came at you... we didn't know what..."
And that's when I smell it. Something burnt and mineral-ey, like someone had set off a hundred firecrackers.
Raising my cellphone light I push past Furlong's leg. Large hunks of plaster had fallen from the ceiling. The Officers down the hall and in the other rooms are laying against the walls having their injuries tended to. Beams of light flit up and down the halls as Officers wander in a dust-covered daze.
"Hopps..." Furlong says as she limps behind me. "Hopps, wait..."
The breath freezes in my throat as I explore further. It's a disaster zone... stone and rubble is scattered across the hallway, while partially collapsed regions are littered with heavy masonry. Paintings had fallen from their places on the walls, and the air is filled with the groans of the wounded.
Furlong's calling after me to stop, but I pick up the pace to survey the damage.
I freeze when I enter what looks like the dining hall. A large pool of blood lies beside a broken chandelier that'd fallen from the ceiling, along with large red streaks that lead to one corner. There, under silk tablecloths and old tapestries, are the bodies of several officers.
My lungs seize up. It feels like some large fist has gripped me around the chest and is squeezing the air out of my body. I can feel the dust in the air coating my tongue, tickling the back of my throat.
"Hopps..." Furlong says, finally catching up to me. "Hopps, easy..."
"Nick..." I whisper to myself. "Nick... you couldn't... you'd... never..."
I sniffle, scrubbing my eyes with the back of my paw. This can't be real. It wasn't supposed to happen like this!
"As far as we can tell, the hallways had been booby-trapped to collapse..." Furlong says, crouching down next to me. "The explosions in the larger chambers at the front entrance took out a good hunk of Alpha Squad. Beta and... and Gamma didn't... they didn't get hit quite as..."
She trails off at that. She must've realized how absurd it sounds. Squad names and team assignments... all the formal designations we'd been given under the task force's command structure... none of that matters now. Nothing puts you all on equal footing quite like being trapped underground.
"What's the damage?" I murmur. My tongue feels thick, and speaking is a struggle in itself.
"We're still counting. Maybe a dozen killed, way more injured. Hard to know for sure... the tunnels we'd come through have completely collapsed. Same with some of the halls along the interior. Agent Wallaby says some parts of the Cathedral are cut off, so we've got some isolated pockets where there still might be some survivors. If those chambers hadn't collapsed entirely, that is."
Several Officers trudge past us, their sleeves torn for makeshift bandages. A wolf from one of the branch districts glances at me, his expression haunted. Seeing fellow ZPD officers so scared, so broken... my legs give out from under me, and I collapse to the floor.
"Come on," says Furlong, picking me up by the collar.
"Wh-!" I let out a little spasm, but she hushes me as she holds me in the crook of her arm, carrying me along as she follows the others. I've never had anything against Furlong, but right now she's treating me like I'm some stuffed animal. The spike of annoyance helps bring me out of my fugue, just a little.
We come into a large audience chamber, probably the biggest one in the Twilight Cathedral. The damage seems to be minimal, though looking up at the ceiling the plaster is more cracked than I'd like. Living in a rabbit warren you learn how to spot weaknesses in underground architecture. Still, the rest of the Cathedral is likely worse off.
Standing in the center of it is a kangaroo ZIA Agent. I'd seen him occasionally during shift changes, but I'd never caught his name until now.
"All right everyone," says Agent Wallaby. "We came down here with eighty mammals, I plan on getting everyone back out. There's no doubt that Agent Savage's group felt the explosions, but for now communications are completely cut off. So here's what we d-"
"Who put you in charge?" a lion Officer growls from the corner. He's sitting on the floor, nursing what looks like a broken arm.
There are a couple dozen ZPD Officers here, including the ones who are too injured to stand. The tension is thick as yesterday's oatmeal, and I can hear the whispers and the growls of discontentment. As far as they knew the ZIA were to blame for leading them into this predicament.
Wallaby shifts his weight and surveys the room, though it's obvious he's trying not to look nervous.
I climb out of Furlong's grip and step forward to make the first move. Straightening up, I stand at attention and face the Agent.
"What are your orders, Sir?"
I can feel the dozens of eyes on me. Glad I have my back to most of them though... my nose is twitching like crazy. Thankfully it works, and with me being the first to defer to Wallaby everyone else falls in line. Not without a little more grumbling, though.
Wallaby gives me a measuring look. Unlike the ZPD officers gathered here, he'd know that I was the one who'd convinced Jack to trust Nick when it came to planning this raid.
The thought is like a knife in my chest. How could I have been so wrong?
"Well..." Agent Wallaby continues, "first off, I want any mammals familiar with underground architecture to check which rooms are least at risk of further collapse. ZIA Agents with experience in bomb disposal will then check for any live ordinances that somehow remained, and once the area is secure we'll move our injured there. Once that's done, we'll try to very carefully dig to any areas of the Cathedral that've been cut off to rescue any survivors. Savage should reestablish contact with us well before then and we'll coordinate from there. Is that clear?"
The response is begrudging at best, but everyone seems to be in complete agreement with the plan. I'm about to step forward and offer my help with being part of the structural scouting them when Furlong interrupts.
"Sir? If I may, I have a suggestion."
"What is it, Officer?"
Furlong meets my eye when I turn to look at her. "Officer Hopps... she's in the best position to get in touch with our people outside. When... when the Praetor grabbed her, he escaped through a small chute. She's probably the only one here small enough to fit through."
'Praetor,' she'd said. I don't know whether to feel grateful that Furlong didn't mention Nick by name, or horrified knowing that's what he probably is now.
Agent Wallaby stares at her for a moment. "Show me."
Furlong leads us back to the concrete room with the giant safe. Sure enough, there in the corner is a small trapdoor, about a foot on a side. It'd be a bit of a squeeze even for a fox, and for any larger mammals it was impossible to get through.
"We have no idea where this leads," Wallaby says, scratching his chin. "Chances are you'd be walking straight into a Sanguinis den."
"Agent Wallaby, how long would it take for the ZIA to reestablish contact with us?" I ask.
"We're forty feet underground. Depends on how much damage there is to the surrounding tunnels. Could be hours... days, even."
"We've got wounded in here," says Furlong. "A lot of 'em are pretty critical. If they don't get treated soon..."
Wallaby sighs. "Then I'm sorry to do this, Hopps. But I'm going to have to order you in there. If there's the slightest chance..."
As if he had to ask. "Don't be sorry, Sir. I'll do my job."
I switch shoulder-mounted flashlights with Agent Wallaby. With my firearm in paw, I take a deep breath, and climb down.
About eight feet below there's another hole about a foot on each side, and slipping through I drop into an arched hallway. The masonry here is rough. The air is cold and dry, completely silent like a tomb. Even though she can't possibly reach me to help I know Furlong at least is crouching next to the hole, listening for if I run into trouble.
Clawhauser would love this... I think to myself. Just like one of his D&D games, exploring an ancient dungeon.
My heart's beating like a drum, so hard that I can almost feel it hammering against my chest plate. In the back of my mind I can hear Packard voicing his concern again... worried about the scant armor I've got. I can only hope he's still alive. I hadn't seen him among the survivors, but there's a chance that I'd missed him, or he's trapped in one of the isolated chambers.
With how narrow this hallway is I don't have much room to make full use of my agility if I do run into trouble, and with foxes and their night vision and their ability to sniff me out... chances are if any Praetors are in here I'd be dead.
About twenty feet ahead, the hall branches into three corridors.
Oh no. It's a goddamn maze.
Swallowing, I remove my badge. Using pointed base I etch an arrow into the stone, pointing back to where I'd come from.
Taking a left turn I continue down.
Exploring these tunnels gives me time to think about the situation.
How could you, Nick? How could you possibly do this? You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to be so trustworthy.
I mean, was he under duress? He couldn't have been bribed, that was for sure. Nick was a con artist, but he'd only ever wanted to get enough money so he could scrape by. Getting rich just wasn't on his radar, not if he was happy to get a job at the ZPD.
Or had he been a member of the Vulpes Sanguinis this whole time? Was this all part of some long con, getting into the ZPD so he could help take us down from the inside? I have to take moment and stop when that thought crosses my mind, because I start to have trouble breathing and I need to lean against the wall and gather myself. I'm tearing up, and in this state I can't see straight or aim for crap if I do run into a Praetor.
I'd invited him to my home. Watched as he'd played with the kits. He'd met my family, sat down to dinner with my littermates, my parents...
No. It's impossible. It couldn't have all been a lie. The way he'd held me, the way he'd kissed me, some of it had to have been real.
No. Focus.
Lucky for me the twists and turns weren't extensive enough for intruders to get completely lost in here. The false tunnels and dead ends are short enough that it doesn't take long to backtrack. Best I can tell it's just simple delaying tactic: get pursuers to waste precious minutes searching around so the Sanguinis could make their escape. I mark off the false tunnels, and with my natural bunny senses I have no trouble navigating.
It doesn't take long before I reach a proper metal door.
I press my ear to it, try to pick up anything suspicious. All I hear though is running water, though it's faint and distant.
That perks me up.
With my firearm in paw I tug the latch, and push my way through.
This time the shaft runs upward. Not knowing if the door locks or not, I pin my badge into the seam of the door to keep it propped open, and climb up the ladder. Every ten feet or so there's a ledge and another ladder, and by the time I climb up the third one I just need to push up a big slab and nudge it aside.
The sewers. I'm actually in the sewers proper.
By my estimates I'm about a block south from the heart of the Twilight Cathedral, which means If I turn right...
I scramble down the big stone tunnel and head towards the first shaft of daylight I see. A storm drain, more than big enough for me to squeeze through.
When I finally pull myself out of the sewers I'm on the edge of the barricaded zone that Jack had set up to keep civilians away. Emergency responders are all over the place, the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulances the beacons of a nasty aftermath. I get a few glances from fellow Officers and ZMS workers as I head toward the reserve unit's base of operations. That's my best chance of finding Jack. But along the way I see the body bags, the bloodstains, the uniformed Officers sitting on the curb with blankets over their shoulders, sobbing into their paws or clenching cups of warm tea. Their eyes stare blankly into the distance.
Jack is leaning against the side of a squad car as I approach, arms crossed over his body. He's also in a daze, mouth moving as if he's muttering under his breath. Dark rings encircle his eyes. It's always been an open secret that Jack's lucky to get an hour or two of sleep a night, if that.
Even with my crucial message I hesitate a moment before I approach him. I've never seen him so fragile.
"Judy..." he says as he turns to face me. "Y-you're... I..."
He swallows. His eyes are bloodshot, and he gazes past me with this haunted thousand-yard stare. "Adrienne... she's..."
"Jack, I just got out of the Twilight Cathedral. The Sanguinis had trapped it, used explosives to collapse the tunnels," I begin, but for some reason it's starting to get hard to breathe. "We've got Officers and Agents down there and dozens are wounded and there's a secret entrance, but the tunnels are pretty small so we'd have to get some small-sized mammals to set up a medical team to get them in and- and..."
My ears twitch at the sound of a zipper. Glancing off to the side I catch the last bit of Officer Loupin's face as he's they close up the body bag.
Loupin. The guy always loved parasailing. Offered to take me and Nick along with his wife someday for a couples thing. That's dangerous, wrapping him in plastic. Loupin can't breathe in there, he could suffocate. I step forward to stop them from covering up his face as if I hadn't seen the blood or the glassy eyes, because all I can think about is the time he brought his son into the precinct for Papa-Pup day.
And then I feel the pair of arms wrap around me, and hear the wail that's coming from my own throat. Even with my training, even with my discipline... I've hit my limit.
I slump to the ground in Jack's arms, and I let myself cry.