So apparently, either we all go along with the dictatorial sheep and live, or we put up a fight for what we believe in and probably, well, not live. I don't know about anyone else in my group here, but I kind of like not being six feet under, thanks, this fox wants to live.
"So are you guys coming with me, or am I going to have to ask my friends here to do what I pay them for? They haven't had a lot of chances to do that recently, and I'm somewhat afraid that they're going to be out of practice. Then again, if someone's willing to volunteer themselves as tribute, I'd be more than happy to accept any and all applications…" Bellwether says, the wicked sneer on her face only growing as she speaks, clapping her hooves eagerly. As if it's mocking us (and it probably is), the bell on her collar jangles merrily with every step.
"I speak for all of us," Mrs. Wilde says, "when I say that we'll come with you, but only on one condition."
"Name your terms," the ewe says, Marian's attempt to throw her off guard failing miserably, her tone flat and clipped, but even I can hear the joy that's there, the gloating.
"Let us live, all of us, and we'll tell our friends to stand down, how about that? It's not like we haven't heard about the protests that are going on all over the city, who do you think's been behind all of them, hmm? Do we have a deal?"
"Yes we do," Mayor Bellwether says, smiling softly, almost making me feel bad for her… no, I can't do that.
"So since they'll all be coming with us, Doug, Jesse, Woolter, round them up, won't you? Feel free and rough them up a little, alright? Better that way so that they can't fight back, and shackle that damn vixen, won't you? I see the test worked well, keep her separate from all the others, won't you? We need a new test subject after all, after what happened to the last one. Shame, really, he was young, too. Funny, even rabbits can go savage. Too bad we had to kill him, his daughter would have wanted to find out…"
"What the hell are you talking about, Doug?" Mom asks, teeth bared in what almost looks like a snarl… scat, I didn't even know rabbits could do that…
"Hey, we needed somebody… and Stuart Hopps, was that his name? Yeah, he didn't last too long, now come along or all the rest of you get to meet the same fate, understood?"
"Yes, Mayor Bellwether…" the older foxes all around me say, beckoning me and the rest to follow them, tears in their eyes.
The next who knows how long is a blur, and the next thing that's clear is that I'm now riding in the back of a truck, and I'm shackled to the steel frame of the darn thing… at least everyone else is going to be alright…
"Where are we even going?" I ask, feeling the cold breeze of outside slip in through the slats in the side of this junker of a box truck… and I'm not even wearing a coat…
"With our luck, Nick," Mister Wilde and Mom say in tandem, smiling wistfully at me, "to the dungeons. That's if we're lucky?"
"And if we're not?" I ask. I can guess, but I can't bring myself to say it, even though I know it's true… it's just too terrible to admit.
"I'm sure you know what the answer to your question is, Nick," Mister Wilde says, and I can see him wince.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Oh, nothing, nothing, just got thrown into here and landed on my shoulder…. My weak arm, too, but what can you do? Should've been more careful when I was younger… oh well, though… the best we can do is wait and hope that everything turns out alright.
That seems to be going just fine until something starts to smell weird, and there's a blue mist that's starting to seep in through the edges of the air vents on top… I don't know why everyone's freaking out about it…
"She's gassing us… oh my Karma she's gassing us…," Mister Wilde mutters as he starts to shake, and I can feel my own heart rate spike, but not out of anger, out of fear. "She's gassing us… I don't think- agh! I'm going to be able to hang on much lon-" he says, and with that, I need to be able to put my claws to good use, because I'm now up the side of the wooden car, another savage fox after me… and if it affected him, why isn't it working on me? I'm thankful to high heaven that it's not, but-
"Well, I see that we still have one pelt clinging to sanity," comes a voice that I've come to dread, the one belonging to the ram that we all know and hate as Doug.
"Should we crank up the dosage?" another voice wonders, this one belonging to Mayor Bellwether, and another voice, one that I don't recognize, replies in the negative.
"No, this one that hasn't given in, he's an interesting subject, we need him alive… although let's see how shredded he ends up when we put him to sleep….
Oh, damn…
With that, I hear a soft hissing, and I can't tell where it's coming from… I can't let go of the wall, though, that would mean dying… my attention's flagging, but… I gotta sleep… no I can't do that, hang on Nick, hang on tight! I'm not going to let her win! Not as long as I live!
"Well, since he's not letting go, maybe he can hear this, then," comes Doug's voice. "Fox, trust nobody. Every one of your relatives who's not on this train, every one of your parents associates, they're either dead or dying. Sorry, we lied. That's kind of our thing… oh, hey, Jesse, hit the emergency brake."
What? My mind is spinning, and-
We come to a screeching halt, and my claws can't keep their grip, and the floor comes up to kiss me good night.