Here's Chapter 8 of Strange Days, and I would like to thank all my readers for getting me past 1,000 views. Whether you have been here from the beginning or just came across this story today, it means a lot.
Updates might slow down a bit after this, since I have another idea I want to write too, but let's be honest: Y'all are probably welcoming that prospect. Here we go.
Current music: Hanging Out With All the Wrong People - Billy Talent
Every so often, Lazarus insisted on stopping to gather some berries. Flash didn't question this; he was reasonably satisfied with the Zoroark's explanation for why they needed to.
"Just in case we can't catch any fish" Lazarus explained, to which the Luxray nodded.
With every stop for berries, the backpack Lazarus carried must have grown even heavier. Each individual Oran berry didn't weigh that much, but it added up eventually. Flash thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't the one hauling the pack.
The distance seemed to melt away quickly. Of course, Flash wasn't the best judge of how far they had gone, but after about an hour, Lazarus smiled.
"I think we're halfway there," the Zoroark said.
Flash panted, his legs feeling like jelly. "Could we, by chance, take a break? We've been going pretty fast for a while."
Lazarus shook his head vigorously. "I'm afraid not, Flash. If you stop now, when you're exhausted and we're only halfway to the station, you might never continue. Besides, this isn't a good place to camp."
Flash looked around. In this part of the forest, the trees weren't spaced very far apart, meaning that not as much light penetrated the canopy layer. That being said…
"Why not? Why can't we camp here and keep going tomorrow?"
"Well, aside from what I've already pointed out, this is the most dangerous part of the forest in terms of wild Pokémon. Just when you don't think they're going to attack you, you get hit right out of left field with something."
At that moment, Flash pictured being hit across the face with a flying baseball, cringing in imaginary pain. But he at least understood exactly what the Zoroark meant.
"In fact," Lazarus continued, "it's probably best if we can pick up the pace. I want to get out of this area as quickly as we can."
They did just that, which Flash didn't protest. Even though Lazarus was schlepping a heavy pack (which, aside from berries, also contained the scroll they'd managed to find), he could still power-walk through the woods, to the point where Flash was forced to jog to keep up.
Jogging, of course, came with its own risks. The ground was still thick with tree roots, and with the shadows over the ground lengthening as the afternoon progressed, it would be harder to see them.
Eventually, what Flash had been dreading happened.
His front right paw struck something hard, and the Luxray felt part of his toe claw get chipped clean off. He fell to the ground, screaming a couple of choice words as he landed painfully.
Lazarus swiveled around. "You've got to be more careful, Flash!" he all but shouted.
The Luxray struggled to speak as a nauseating level of pain hit him right between the lungs.
"Hey, if you weren't speed-walking so fast, I wouldn't need to jog!" Flash complained. "I would have been able to pay attention to the ground!"
"Then you could have said something," Lazarus snapped. "Maybe you could have told me that we should slow down a little."
"I don't even know what to say," Flash replied, grimacing further as blood flowed out of his chipped claw. "You kept saying we needed to go… faster."
"Indeed, I did. And I apologize for that, but maybe you could have kept an eye on the ground as well as what's in front of us."
"I only have one pair of eyes," the Luxray muttered through gritted teeth. "Believe me, I'd love to avoid stubbing my toes too. Excuse me, paws."
"Whatever," Lazarus snapped. "We have to keep moving. We've been way too loud. Never assume that if you can't hear any wild Pokémon, they can't hear you."
As it turned out, any effort to quiet things down was too little, too late.
"I'VE GOT YOU NOW!" shouted a rather deep voice.
What the -?, Flash thought, but that was the only bit of rational thought he could muster. For the most part, the voice filled him with pure fear and adrenaline.
Lazarus grimaced. "Yep, we were too late."
"INDEED YOU WERE, ZOROARK! AND YOU'VE GOT A LUXRAY WITH YOU! BOTH OF YOU WILL GO NO FURTHER!"
Flash stood glued to the spot. His gaze fluttered around at the nearby trees and bushes, but he didn't see the source of the booming voice.
And then it appeared. By "it", of course, I mean a giant stone sphere with a pair of stubby arms and muscular hands. What else could it be?
Lazarus gasped. "A Geodude!"
"WHY DO YOU CARE WHAT SPECIES I AM? FOR TRESPASSING UPON OUR TERRITORY, BOTH OF YOU WILL RECEIVE A PUMMELING!"
"Not if I have anything to say about it!" the Zoroark bellowed. Lazarus took a deep breath and vanished in a puff of smoke, to be replaced by an even more muscular creature than the "Geodude", one resembling a cross between a snake and a… well, let's just say it defied clean categorization.
Geodude? What kind of name is that? Someone who studies rocks and loves it?
The muscular creature Lazarus had become punched forward with what was clearly a lot of force. However, he was met with a parry containing equal force. Quickly, the fight became a boxing match of sorts, both Pokémon trying to hit the other below the belt.
The punches continued between Lazarus and the rock sphere (the Geodude, Flash reminded himself.) Flash couldn't have told you who was winning at first; the match seemed to be roughly even.
If I get involved, I can tip the scales a bit. But I might end up being more of a hindrance.
Nonetheless, the Luxray went for it. He focused hard on launching a Thunder Shock at the Geodude; he pictured asking Zeus for a bit of electricity, anything that might make it easier for him to win.
And then it happened.
A burst of lightning came from Flash's whiskers, an action that felt almost like sneezing (but not quite.) The lightning curled around in the air before striking the Geodude's body.
For a moment, the Luxray's heart warmed at the thought that he'd been useful for once. But it was short-lived.
The rock sphere went berserk seconds later, sending out one almighty punch at Lazarus's head. Lazarus was only barely able to avoid it by ducking as the fist ruffled the spot where a human's hair would be.
Lazarus came out swinging with another punch in his new form, but he flew a bit too close to the sun. That much was clear the second the Geodude grabbed him.
Flash could do nothing but watch as the Geodude spun Lazarus around in midair, twirling him like one does a towel to get the excess moisture off of it, and then threw him at the nearest tree.
With a sickening thud, Lazarus hit the tree and slid to the ground. He didn't even attempt to get up. What was more, with the familiar puff of smoke, his body reverted to that of a Zoroark, complete with ponytail and teal eyes (which were now closed.)
Flash gulped as he realized what had just happened.
Lazarus had been knocked out - for how long, the Luxray didn't know. But in the meantime, he would need to carry on the fight.
If I do another Thunder Shock, it'll only make the Geodude angrier. All I'll accomplish is to get him to go absolutely berserk, and then I'm well and truly screwed. I can't win that fight.
Flash didn't have time to process one uncomfortable truth. Had he been of sound mind, he would have realized that it was his fault that he was in these dire straits.
"I GOT YOUR FRIEND, I'LL GET YOU TOO!" the Geodude shouted.
"No, you won't!" Flash bellowed. "I'm not going to let you get away with it!"
The Geodude punched a spot just to Flash's right, which the Luxray deftly dodged. Flash landed on both his feet, then got his balance once more and scratched at the Geodude with his claws.
It became clear within seconds who the favorite was in this fight. Try as he might, Flash wouldn't be able to win unless the calculus changed in a big way. But how would he do that?
I've got an idea. Use so many Thunder Shocks that he can't retaliate? Isn't that what the best boxers do?
Lazarus had not regained consciousness. If Flash only managed to get himself knocked out too, the Geodude would be free to do whatever he wanted to their unconscious bodies, and they'd be utterly defenseless. The Luxray was forced to think on his feet, quite literally.
But sooner or later, he wouldn't be able to keep this up any longer. In the end, Flash only had one move: Panic.
The Luxray let loose a horrible scream; the kind associated with horror movies. As cheesy as that may sound, he couldn't muster the concentration to be any more eloquent than that.
The sound waves made their way over the forest, and Flash gulped at the possibility that this might bring more enemies to the fight. The echo was almost deafening.
However, the shriek had an effect on the Geodude as well. The creature was forced to use his "fingers" to plug his ears, which meant that Flash was free to scratch and claw away at the Geodude's face.
For a few seconds, that is.
The Geodude let out another almighty scream, and now that he was on the receiving end of it, Flash recognized the noise very well: It was like ten thousand trombones, the sound of absolute fear. That's what it filled the Luxray's bones with, at any rate.
The bad news? Flash was now the stunned one, forced to contend with the deafening scream. Try as he might, he couldn't process anything else; anything, that is, except for the good news.
Lazarus regained consciousness as he was sitting against the tree. He stood back to his feet, noticing that his illusion had fallen away (presumably because he couldn't focus on maintaining it), and came out with another claw swipe.
The Geodude was able to weather the claw with hardly a scratch, but he clearly hadn't planned for Lazarus to get back up. The Zoroark continued with another claw swipe, then yet another.
Flash didn't perceive that; instead, he simply remained glued in place, wondering if he'd ever come to his senses again. That noise of absolute fear was hard to forget.
"Flash! Help me with this!" Lazarus shouted.
The Luxray leaped back into the fray and used Tackle on the Geodude. At the same time, Flash felt a weight slam into his back, knocking all the air out of his lungs.
Flash fell to the ground, still holding tightly to the Geodude's body. He glanced back up, but could hardly lift his neck; something big and furry was pinning him down.
"Sorry about that," the voice of Lazarus said; seconds later, the weight was lifted off of the Luxray's back. "We both tackled this Geodude at the same time - that would explain how that happened."
"I suppose it would," the Luxray replied. "Did we knock him out?"
As Flash asked that question, he felt sick to his stomach. The fact that he'd deliberately caused physical harm to another Pokémon - even if it had been in self-defense - wasn't easy to deal with.
"I think we did," Lazarus replied with a smile that was far too wide. The Zoroark lowered himself off of the Geodude's back and gingerly took a few steps, holding his arms out.
"Uh, Lazarus?" Flash asked.
"Yes?"
"Why are we trivializing such serious injuries, exactly? It doesn't feel right."
The Zoroark frowned at Flash. "Whatever we did to that Geodude, it pales in comparison to what he was going to do to us. You realize that, right?"
"Yeah", the Luxray admitted. "It's just…".
"The bodies of Pokémon," Lazarus replied, "are a lot more durable than human bodies. There's all sorts of medical technology in any Pokémon center or hospital that will nurse them back to health in no time. Humans, not so much."
"Huh" Flash mouthed.
"But there's no more time to chat. The durability of Pokémon cuts both ways; this Geodude is going to come around any minute now, and when that happens, we'd rather be far away."
"Makes sense. Are you okay, by the way?" Flash asked Lazarus.
The Zoroark grimaced. "I'll be honest with you, Flash: My ears are ringing a bit, and I have a headache. But I'll be fine; I just need some rest. Which is what we'll get once we're on the train, but we still have five miles to go before we sleep."
FOX NEWS STUDIOS - NORTHERN VIRGINIA
The man sat in front of the mirror, scanning each perfume bottle, each makeup package. Some of them had already been used up, yet not yet disposed of. That would have to change.
It's a shame, too. I wish I could put on makeup, but then I'd look like one of those drag queens the liberals want to force on us. But it would be a good way to make myself look more appealing to the audience.
The man sighed. He had five more minutes until his briefing in the control room, and then he'd be going on air for five o'clock prime time. Truth be told, that wasn't really prime time, since many hardworking Americans were still, well, hard at work. But it was the time slot he got, so he might as well be grateful for it.
Four minutes. Maybe I could apply some more deodorant - ah, who cares? They can't smell me through the TV, can they?
No. If I brought up something like that, I'd be laughed out of the room. They'd think we're like OAN, and they can't be allowed to believe that. We must not lose our base.
The man looked down at his business card. It contained the image of his face - roughly thirty years old, close-cropped black hair on either side, thin but not extraordinarily so. Truth be told, he already looked pretty telegenic.
But it was never enough. He elected to comb his hair a few more times in his last three minutes - that was at least something, but there was a distinction between "help" and "save."
"Spencer! It's time!"
"I'm coming!" Spencer exclaimed as he stood up from his chair, pushing it back from the mirror. He smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth.
I've done all I can do. It's time to face our audience: The American people.
Spencer made his way down the hallway into the control room. Some of his colleagues called it the "situation room" to make it sound more official; really, either term was acceptable to him. The most important thing was that he felt prepared for the segment.
At the table in the control room, there sat two of Spencer's superiors. Both of them were sipping mugs of coffee, which was very much needed at this time of day.
One of them was a middle-aged woman who, if one didn't know any better, might have looked like a drag queen. She had an abundant head of white blonde hair, copious amounts of lipstick and eyeshadow, and overall appeared very artificial to the untrained eye. This woman's name was Mary Wine, and she glared at Spencer as he approached.
Spencer took a seat at the table. "What story am I going to cover today, Mary?"
Mary smiled, but it was an "angry" smile, if anything. That was one skill very few people possessed - the ability to appear both happy and furious at the same time. "Passionate" was what she called it.
Spencer's other superior, an older man with gray hair and brown eyes, was named Jack Froot. (The first time Spencer had spoken to him, the younger man had let loose a series of chuckles at his silly sounding name, which had nearly gotten him fired. He had learned his lesson now.)
Jack narrowed his eyes. "You know what story you're going to cover, right, Mr. Valentine?"
"Of course I do," Spencer replied. "At least, I think I do. You know I'll cover the saga around President Fiddlesticks, if coverage is what you require."
"Well, it is," Mary said with a smile. "When CNN and MSNBC won't tell the American people the truth, we have to take matters into our own hands. Quite frankly, there is no alternative, not if we are to have an informed populace."
"Okay then," the younger man responded, feeling a grin form on his face. "Should I write a script? Should I use prepared remarks?"
"There's no time to write a script," Jack told him, "and there's also no need. Quite frankly, one of your qualities our audience values most highly is your authenticity. Using a script would greatly hamper that effort."
Spencer silently agreed with Jack; he didn't need a script. Quite frankly, he felt as though he'd been rehearsing his lines every few hours for the last week, like this was a high school play he was involved in. Jack continued:
"Right now, what you need to know is this: The beautiful city of Washington DC, which is unfortunately Democrat-run, is experiencing turmoil after President Andreas Fiddlesticks was sent to Walter Reed Medical Center yesterday. Meanwhile, Vice President John Randolph is refusing to resign after showing that he can't do his job."
"But we have to sell our audience on the knowledge that Randolph is incapable of performing his duties," Mary pointed out.
Spencer knew full well how to do this. You couldn't flat-out say that Vice President Randolph couldn't do the job, that he was suffering from a cognitive disorder, or whatever the case might be. Rather, you needed to tell your audience that there were "questions", or "legitimate doubts", or whatever the case might be, in order to make your audience think about it and come to the conclusion you wanted.
"We can't make the mob too angry," Spencer pointed out. "If they are, they'll probably destroy what's left of Milwaukee. Those of them who are watching… they need to know that looting is not tolerated. And when the looting starts…".
"They get it, Spencer," Mary told her junior anchor. "They've seen what happens to those protesters when they burn down those buildings. Hell, they've destroyed about 25% of Chicago already."
At that, the three of them had a good laugh. In reality, the property destruction hadn't been nearly as much as they'd claimed, but the most important thing was to make their audience believe that the woke left were truly leveling entire neighborhoods. Perception, after all, is very often reality.
"We've got five minutes," Jack said eventually. "And then you'll have to head on air. I have the utmost confidence in you, young buck."
Spencer chuckled. "Why are you calling me a young buck? You're not about to hunt the world's most dangerous game, are you?"
The older man winked. "Maybe I am."
Mary rolled her eyes as if to say, Ugh, men. Then she spoke up.
"We're also going to have to address the Pokémon rumors. They say the President's been ranting and raving about that franchise in his state of delirium. Those aren't the ramblings of someone who's got his faculties intact."
"Indeed, they aren't," Spencer replied. "So I'll tell them that there are questions about President Fiddlesticks as well. If there's one thing I agree with the woke mob on, it's that critical analysis is important, and the American public is severely lacking in that skill. I'm not going to tell them what to think. I'll tell them how to think."
"Exactly," Mary said, clapping a couple times like she'd just taught a dog how to do a backflip in midair. "You're going to do great, Spencer. Now, we're only two minutes away, so head into that room and show the woke left who's boss."
FORESTS OF SINNOH
They walked for another couple of miles. Exactly how many miles they trekked, Flash couldn't bother to guess. All he knew was that at some point, his legs began to tire once more.
He remembered a safety guidance his administration had given out: If someone had been in a car accident, no matter how minor, it was important that they got checked out to make sure there weren't any hidden injuries. Surely that applied after a battle, too, though there was no way to do a checkup in the woods. Especially if you weren't a qualified practitioner of medicine.
The sun continued its path through the sky; by now it was long past its zenith. The air became somewhat cooler, which Flash would have welcomed if it didn't mean the night was coming.
What was more, the prospect of night meant facing any number of wild beasts that might come out to "play." And the Luxray knew very well that he didn't like their definition of playing.
"I think we should get on the train in the morning," Lazarus panted eventually as he stepped over a tree root.
"Morning? But doesn't it leave tonight? Isn't it better to get to Jubilee City as soon as possible?"
"It's called Jubilife City," the Zoroark corrected Flash. "And, well, there are several tracks at the station. We can get on any train we choose, so long as we make sure it's going the right way."
"Makes sense. That's how Amtrak works too, except you need a ticket."
Lazarus frowned at Flash. "What's Amtrak?"
Flash snorted. If left to his own devices, he could go on and on, potentially for over an hour, about the virtues of Amtrak. It might not be as comprehensive as many people desired, but it was still invaluable to the American people.
He left it at, "It's a train system in my country. I get it, though; it doesn't matter anymore here."
"That's the spirit!"
The conversation ceased after this exchange; that is, until the pair came to a small pond about thirty yards wide.
"We'll make camp here," Lazarus asserted. "And then we'll get up tomorrow at the crack of dawn to head to the station."
"Sounds like a plan," Flash replied. "Wait, has it really only been a day? As in, one singular calendar day?"
"Since I met you, yeah," the Zoroark said. "I saw you this morning, saved you from those Zubat. And then you saved me from the Geodude; he would have pummeled us both to smithereens if you hadn't fought hard."
"That's insane," the Luxray muttered.
How unbelievable was it that he and Lazarus had only known one another for less than twelve hours? In that time, they'd already saved one another's lives, and, more than just being allies, Flash truly believed they'd become friends as well.
I owe Lazarus the Zoroark so much. That should mean he has tons of power over me. But here's the thing: I have just as much power over him.
"Flash? Are you going to help me set up the tent?"
The Luxray gasped in surprise. "There's a tent here?"
Lazarus nodded. "It's in the backpack with my other supplies. Help me get it out and pitch it; this is a two-person job."
Fair enough. I know a thing or two about two-person jobs.
Lazarus set his pack down in the grass and opened it. Flash placed a paw in and immediately recoiled.
This time, it couldn't just be his own perception: The backpack was much larger than it seemed, there was no denying it! It should not have been able to hold so many items, and yet it did.
"What's wrong, Flash?" the Zoroark enquired.
"Nothing. It's just… how the hell are all these water bottles, all these Antidotes, and a tent all in your bag?"
"Arceus works in mysterious ways, I guess," Lazarus replied vaguely. Clearly, Flash wasn't going to get any further in that line of questioning; that sounded like a euphemism for Stop asking hard questions.
The Luxray sighed as he felt something metallic and heavy. He lifted it out of the bag, and sure enough, it looked just like a tent one of his grandchildren had helped set up with the Scouts.
"Do you know how to pitch a tent, Flash?" Lazarus asked him.
Flash felt his cheeks heat up at that question. He cast about for any way to answer it while saving as much face as possible.
"I'll take that as a no," Lazarus responded. "In that case, I'll show you how, but you'll have to do some of it as well."
Five minutes later, Flash grumbled silently. He felt like clenching his teeth together; he'd accidentally hammered his paw not once, but three times.
"Just do what I say," Lazarus muttered. "It's not that hard."
"This is one of the few downsides of being President," the Luxray mumbled angrily. "Besides all the work I had to do."
"But you're not President anymore, Flash."
"I know. What I mean is, when I was President, everyone did these things for me. I didn't need to set up tents, not that the Secret Service would ever let me go camping."
"Well, you're doing it now," Lazarus all but snapped. "Just please, for the love of Arceus, hammer that stake in."
That's easier said than done when you don't have any hands, Flash thought bitterly, but he did as he was told. Slowly but surely, one of the tent's stakes was beaten into the ground, cementing down one part of the tent. One down, five to go.
After another ten minutes, they had managed to place the base of the tent on the ground, though they still needed to pitch the roof. At this task, the Luxray felt certain he'd only make things worse if he tried to help.
He tried to protest against this, but Lazarus shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Flash" the Zoroark told him. "What part of this is a two-person job did you not understand?"
"I understand it fully," Flash replied. "I just don't know how much of a help I'd be. In fact, I'll probably only make things worse."
The pair stared at one another for a few seconds. For such close allies, they could sure have intense staring contests.
Finally, Lazarus backed down. "Okay. If you don't want to help me set up the tent, you can go fishing for dinner instead."
"F-fishing?" Flash stammered.
The Zoroark nodded. "That is exactly what I'd like you to do. You see that log over there?"
Lazarus gestured to the pond, where the trunk of a fallen tree extended almost the entire radius of the body of water. The log didn't look particularly steady, but it didn't appear that Flash had any other option.
Flash nodded. "I know what you're asking me. And I'll do it. It's just… do we have any nets?"
The Zoroark's teal eyes glinted exasperatedly, as if to say, Are you serious right now?
Eventually, Lazarus sighed. "We don't have nets," the Zoroark told Flash. "You'll just have to grab it with your arms or fangs. I've done it many times."
That doesn't mean I can do it too! That's what Flash wanted to say, but he knew it would get him nowhere. Besides, he did want to help Lazarus out, as frustrated as he might be with the Zoroark right now.
"I'll try," Flash promised. "If you can set up the tent by yourself, that is."
"I'm doing my best. It's not easy when you're concussed, but I'll figure it out. But you have to figure this out too."
With that, Lazarus swiveled back around to once more intently focus on his work. That was Flash's cue to walk, with considerable trepidation, over to the water's edge.
The Luxray gulped. If this went wrong, he was going to completely and totally embarrass himself in front of Lazarus, as well as who knew how many forest creatures who might be watching him. But since he'd once been President, he knew that hard decisions must sometimes be made.
Flash planted his front right paw (which still felt tender) gingerly on the log. The trunk shifted downward, then floated back up. The paw did, however, get a bit wet.
It's going to be really hard to keep my balance on this thing.
The Luxray knew that contemplating the task ahead wouldn't make it any easier. He leaned forward and planted his other front paw on the log; then he shifted his entire body weight onto the wood.
The log shifted like a seesaw, but Flash was able to maintain a shaky balance. Make no mistake, though: He could practically feel Lazarus' gaze on him, watching to see if he messed up.
Lazarus isn't watching me. He's working on the tent!
Still, it was as though the very trees had eyes. That's something he was used to in public areas of Washington, DC, at press conferences with other politicians, even in the White House sometimes, but certainly not a remote forest on a planet most didn't believe existed.
I'm just being paranoid. I'm just making excuses. I can do this!
Flash gingerly took a step forward, feeling the log out for any spots that were just a little less sturdy. Anything that would cause the log to roll was no good.
"You've got this, Flash!" Lazarus bellowed from the water's edge, some twenty yards away. In that regard, it was much like Flash was a Little League player being cheered on by his parents.
You're making things worse, Laz. And since I'm only thinking these words, I can use that nickname.
Paw over paw, Flash traversed the log. He knew that he could have leaned over the side to bob for a Magikarp, but if he tried that, he'd end up swimming with the fishes (literally, not figuratively.)
Slowly but surely, he made his way closer to the end. He was quite literally walking the plank, and as Flash did so, he was acutely aware of every little lurch of the log. Each one threatened to send him into the drink.
Finally, he reached the tip of the trunk. Lazarus no longer seemed to be watching, but Flash was well aware that if he screwed up here, that would change.
So he leaned over the edge, reaching out with his front right paw to try and grab something. At first, he did not have any luck; the few fish that got anywhere close to his open paw slipped out of his grasp right away.
But he wouldn't give up. The Luxray managed to keep his balance as the pond food kept swimming around. The place was practically teeming with life, so it shouldn't have been difficult to find something.
Then it happened.
One of the larger fish (a Magikarp) swam right into Flash's paw. The Luxray seized his chance, also seizing the Magikarp by closing his paw around it. And then he tried to pull it upward into the air.
The little sucker put up quite a fight, though. Flash was pulled forward, forced to fall to his knees in order to stay on the log. And he briefly thought about how much easier it would be with a fishing rod and line, but he couldn't worry about that now.
Flash used as much force as he could to drag the Magikarp out of the pond. However, this move backfired.
With a jerking motion, the Luxray flew forward, falling headfirst into the drink with a splash.
The water was cold, but Flash's face was hot as he surfaced and heard the sound of Lazarus chuckling.
"Go ahead and laugh!" Flash shouted as he began doggy-paddling back to the pond's edge. "Please, by all means, make fun of me!"
"The way you leaned forward, even when that Magikarp was going to pull you in - it was priceless!"
"Thanks a lot, Captain Obvious," the Luxray muttered as his paws scraped the edge of the pond. The water was deeper than it looked; at no point had any part of his body touched the bottom.
"Do you need help to get out?" Lazarus responded, having dispensed with his earlier mocking demeanor and replaced it with one of concern.
Flash shook his head. "I'm not totally useless, you know."
But the bank of the pond was much taller than he'd expected, and his arms burned as he tried to raise himself out of the water. "Okay, maybe a little," he said.
"Grab onto my claw, and I'll pull you out of there," the Zoroark replied, no longer laughing.
The Luxray seized Lazarus' right paw and held on with an iron grip. Seconds later, the pair were lying in a heap on solid ground.
"Wow, you're strong!" Flash exclaimed with a sheepish chuckle.
"Yes, well, Pokémon tend to have more stamina than humans as well. Even when they're recovering from a concussion."
"Fair enough. What are we doing for dinner?"
Right away, Flash regretted asking this question. Yes, it would need to be addressed eventually, but broaching the subject meant drawing more attention to his mistake.
Lazarus confirmed this with a shrug. "Just berries, I'm afraid. We could have gotten a fish, but…".
The following words were implicit in that statement: If you hadn't screwed up and fallen in, we could have eaten like kings tonight.
"Never mind. I'll show you a technique to get the water out of your fur, and then we'll finish setting up the tent. And then we'll keep going tomorrow."
Flash didn't argue with that. Quite frankly, he preferred frustration to the additional embarrassment that would result from another attempt at fishing.
I just want this day to end. Even if it means I'll only have two more left.