III — ET TU, KENNEDY?
It wasn't until Montana called Roddy during one of our lunch breaks that I realised that all this training was about to be put to use.
"This is it," he said, hanging up.
"He's picking us up and taking us to the street?" I asked, trying very hard not to sound nervous. I wondered how Roddy could pull it off.
"We'll be going to his place for one final practice session, and then we'll wait for the jaguar after school." Roddy looked out the window and commented, "Nice day, don't you think?"
Inwardly, I had been thankful that we had rain recently, and now with a perfect day outside it seemed as if nature was mocking me, almost daring me to pull off this little stunt of ours.
Again, no one suspected as we left Perfecto and were taken to Montana's mansion. And again, we practiced, doing our jobs almost automatically. I don't know how many times I shot that dart into the virtual jaguar's shoulder or chest, but at the end it seemed as if all I had to do was pull the trigger and instantly the dart would appear on him. Now it was all up to the guys at the van to complete the job.
We were all set.
As we loaded our rifles and darts into their protective bags, I suddenly realised something. "Hey, Human Boy, did you ever figure out how we're going to get inside the buildings AND reach the roof while carrying all this stuff WITHOUT anyone getting suspicious?"
Montana looked at the duck, and both held their equipment firmly, "Watch and learn, rodents." He walked up to me and the duck walked up to Roddy. Then, both jumped, grabbed something, and pulled two backdrops down to the ground. One moment we were in Montana's simulator, and the next thing I knew was that we were on top of the REAL buildings. I glanced around, but neither Roddy nor the duck were nearby.
"We're over here," I heard Roddy say over the headset, which we hadn't bothered to take off. Looking around, I saw that the two were on the building directly in front of us.
"Education works wonders," repeated Montana. "Now, take your post and stay out of sight. My other lookouts will tell me when that cat is about to get here." I said nothing, assuming that we would leave the same way. I adjusted my headset and took my equipment several buildings ahead of Montana.
Everything was very much the same as it had been on the simulator, with the exception that the texture of the roof felt rough against my foot-pads, and the rampart was slightly rougher than I expected. There were also the background noises typical of a city such as Acme Acres that seemed to fill my head, and though the sound was barely a whisper, the tension made it seem almost deafening.
We had time to set things up, so I laid out a thin blanket over the rampart and on part of the roof so I would be slightly more comfortable. Roddy had advised against me wearing pants today, sensing that someone might get suspicious if I suddenly changed my wardrobe, or saw me duck into a locker room to change for no apparent reason, so now, wearing a skirt would not be problem.
Sitting on the blanket, I took out the rifle from its bag and went over my checklist, making sure that its parts worked correctly. I practiced loading and reloading for a bit, but quickly got bored. I put the rifle back in its bag and kneeled to look over the rampart.
The street was practically empty, with no pedestrians whatsoever, all of them probably on the adjacent streets. Even traffic seemed to prefer the adjacent streets. Everything was calm; there was no wind, no clouds, and hardly any noise. I looked down at the pavement and saw the two white lines that had been spray-painted next to the median, which marked the centre of our "square". I was at the corner of the roof of my building, and the building next to me was slightly taller, so to my left there was a taller rampart hiding me from view. Ahead of me I could see Roddy stationed next to a stone gargoyle. Looking back over the rooftops, I could barely make out that green duck cowering behind a lighted sign. I couldn't see Montana from where I was, but I knew he was behind a billboard. Looking at the opposite corner, I knew that Montana had his black van waiting to pick up the jaguar.
Now, all we had to do was wait.
I sat down and leaned against the rampart, doing just that.
So we waited.
And waited.
"Montana, is he even coming down this street?" asked Roddy, finally.
"He's at Winnie Burgers," he replied. "Celebrating something, it seems. It will be the last meal he eats in the United States of America." He was obviously trying to sound patriotic and maybe trying to stir our resolve into completing this "hunt", but it all seemed staged, somehow.
I just shook my head, wishing all of this were over. Absently, I took out my water bottle to get some relief from the heat—
"He's leaving Weenie Burgers," Montana's announcement nearly made me do a spit-take. "Stand by."
I scrambled to put my bottle away and pulled out my rifle and a loaded dart—loaded with the real thing this time, I realised.
…breathe… I told myself.
Turning, I half-kneeled in front of the rampart.
…breathe…
"He's about to turn the corner now," said Montana.
…breathe…
I opened the rifle's firing chamber, loaded the huge dart, and shut the chamber again.
…breathe…
"Okay, he just turned into the street. I can take him out from right here!" whispered the duck into his headset.
"Wait until he's in position!" growled Montana. "We can't risk anyone missing a shot, so we'll fire when he's right at the centre!"
I leaned on the rampart and looked down, spotting the jaguar as he turned into the street and pedalled toward us, slowly changing lanes so he was near the divider.
…breathe…
Twenty metres from the bull's-eye.
"Okay, prepare to fire, on my mark!" whispered Montana. "You guys at the van, get ready to move!"
Raising my rifle a bit and pressing it against my shoulder, I brought the image of the jaguar into my telescopic sight. I wasn't sure if I should feel apprehensive, being a rodent and him being a feline, or angry, with him being an attacker, or just plain scared, as I was about to plant a dart on his shoulder or chest.
The image on my scope barely moved as I tracked his approach.
…breathe…
Fifteen metres from the bull's-eye.
I was finally able to see his face—his real face—for the first time. I wasn't expecting him to look exactly like Montana's sketches, but still, he certainly didn't seem like someone who would normally maul any female who approached.
That, or he was incredibly cynical and had a smug look on his face.
And he was smiling, too, for some reason. I wonder what he had been "celebrating" at Winnie Burgers.
I lowered my ears in anticipation, and heard the faint roar of the van's engine as it came to life.
…breathe…
Ten metres from the bull's-eye.
What am I doing?
I didn't know why I had just thought that. Maybe it was the finality of everything that was suddenly making me re-think the whole "hunt". Maybe it was female intuition, but something about all this just did not add up.
…breathe…
Nine metres from the bull's-eye.
What am I doing?
I thought I heard roller skates, but dismissed that.
…breathe…
Eight metres from the bull's-eye.
What am I doing?
The image on my scope was perfectly steady.
…breathe…
Seven metres from the bull's-eye.
What am I doing?
I put the crosshairs on his right shoulder.
This was it.
I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face, attacker.
Six metres from the bull's-eye.
…brea—
"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM!"
"Huh?"
I saw the jaguar slowly apply the brakes and turn his head slightly to his right, making the crosshairs move to his chest.
…breathe…?
Five metres from the bull's-eye.
I couldn't take my eye off him, not without risking missing my shot. But I definitely heard someone skating, and skating very fast.
…breathe…!
What am I doing?
Three metres from the bull's-eye.
The jaguar was slowing down, making himself an even MORE perfect target. His smug expression then turned into that of confusion.
"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM!"
Was someone screaming his name? And why weren't any of the others saying what was happening?
The jaguar's ears laid back. That wasn't a good sign.
…hold your breath…
"WARP! WAAARP! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRPPP!"
Two metres from the bull's-eye.
Had someone spotted us?
What am I doing?
One metre from the bull's-eye.
…hold your breath…!
I couldn't lose concentration now. I had to fire before taking another breath or I would miss my—
"Mary?" asked the duck.
Target inside the bull's-eye.
…hold your breath…!
The jaguar stopped.
What am I DOING!
"Fire!"
The image on my scope blurred for one instant—
………squeeze………
(CHOON!)
My brain never ordered my finger to pull the trigger…
If I had seen what was happening I would have stood down…
But reflex, instinct, and Montana's training did their job.
And did it perfectly well.
My dart zoomed down to its target before I could blink.
(WHAM!)
…hold your breath…
What happened?
"Oh (CENSORED)," I heard Roddy curse.
…hold your breath…
Pulling my rifle away, I finally saw what was happening on the street. Someone had jumped on the jaguar at the last moment and threw him and his bicycle down to the pavement. From his struggling, it was clear that none of us got a hit.
"Hey, just what the bleep do you think you're doing!" I heard him growl to his "shield". He said something else, and his "shield" replied something too, but I couldn't hear what they said because the van's engine drowned them out as it turned the corner and sped toward them.
…hold your breath…
The "shield" turned her head to look up at the jaguar. I could finally see the face: an African-American girl who had just saved his life. Odd, I had the feeling I had seen that face before. Was she one of the "no-names" at the Looniversity?
…hold your breath…
It was then that the girl seemed to zone out—
"Abort! Abort! Abort!" hissed Montana. The van revved its engine, passed them, and went on its way.
Wait, what happened to the darts?
The jaguar stopped being angry and now became concerned.
…hold your breath…
Oh no.
I grabbed my rifle again and pointed the telescope at the two toons on the street, just as onlookers began approaching.
…hold your breath…
I saw my dart.
…hold your breath…
It wasn't on the jaguar's shoulder or chest.
…hold your breath…
The jaguar stiffened, obviously having made the same discovery.
…hold your breath…
My dart was behind the girl's right shoulder.
…hold your breath…
I could see the other darts also embedded on her torso.
…hold your breath…
The jaguar was speaking to her, but she was not responding. He was obviously beginning to get scared, as I saw him lower his ears and stiffen his tail.
…hold your breath…
"MARY!" he roared.
…hold your breath…
I fell back, leaning against the taller rampart, looking at the roof of the building.
…hold your breath…
All those charts flashed in front of my eyes. What was surprising to me was that up to that moment, I didn't know I had photographic memory, because every single chart stood out in front of me with the clearest of details, as if I was looking at them—for real—in front of my face.
…hold your breath…
I figured that the girl, Mary, was no more than one-half the body mass of the jaguar. Calculations stumbled through my head as number after number stood out.
…hold your breath…
And if she just received a fast-acting dose of tranquilliser meant for someone twice her body mass………
…hold your breath…
"Overdose at this weight. May be fatal depending on tolerance."
…hold your breath…
And if she had absolutely no tolerance whatsoever built up before hand………
…hold your breath…
"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" I heard the jaguar roar, making my fur bristle with terror.
…hold your breath…
My paws, completely steady moments ago, now shook like Southern California. I weakly raised them to my muzzle to stifle a scream—I wanted to scream—I needed to scream—I—
…hold your breath…
I couldn't scream.
What…
…have…
…I…
…done…?
I might have heard Montana running toward me, jumping off the rampart and yelling something at me, something about money and keeping quiet and getting the hell out of there but not without his very expensive rifles or headsets, then yelling on his headset at the green duck to get the rifle, and maybe Roddy if he didn't want to get caught, but it might have all been a daydream.
…hold your breath…
I think that the only reason he didn't leave me on the roof was because I was still holding his very expensive rifle.
He did the same trick of pulling down the backdrop, and I think we ended up in his mansion again. There, Montana, Roddy, and the duck began arguing about what had happened, but to me, it looked like they were speaking a foreign language. Roddy then gestured at me, and I think he asked me something, but he didn't make any sense. He then repeated his question, but he still didn't make sense.
…hold your breath…
He suddenly yanked the rifle out of my paws and shook me by the shoulders, "—t girl, BREATHE!"
…breathe…!
"GASP!" I snapped out of my shock. How long had I been holding my breath?
"—ear, rodent? You saw nothing, you heard nothing, you KNOW nothing!" hissed Montana.
I looked at him, at the duck, at Roddy, and at the façade of the mansion. Suddenly, I started trembling, from my ears to my tail, unable to stop. I didn't know what was happening to me—I had never felt so scared, not for myself, but for the life of someone—
…breathe…
Oh no.
"R—Roddy—did—did—we just kill someone?" I whimpered.
"Let's hope not."
My question seemed to sober up the other two, but Montana still repeated to my face, "You saw nothing, you heard nothing, you KNOW nothing!"
Never had a human repulsed me so much as Montana Max did that moment.
…breathe…
"G—get—get me out of here—get me out of here now—" I mumbled, clutching Roddy's arm and hiding my face on his shoulder. He held me protectively, trying to push down the trembling, without success, and sometime later we got on—someone's—limo. As we left, I thought I heard that duck finally making his chauvinistic comment about females, but that didn't seem to matter that much to me anymore.
Nothing seemed to matter now, not even the money I got out of this.