Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to Garfield or Calvin and Hobbes. They are owned by Jim Davis and Bill Watterson respectfully.
Guards were everywhere, armed, and eyes sharp. Escape was next to impossible. Hammers pounded away against a sea of rocks following the mournful songs of the gang as they tried to alleviate the pain and torment from a blistering hot sun. Wiping his brow again, Calvin stared through the sting of sweat in his eyes to see a pill box that was newly created by his own hands. It was made of earth, encased in concrete, and timber with foliage for concealment. Inside were three machine guns, two of which were pointed at them. Guards inside were well off, an air conditioner was constantly feeding them cool air and a refrigerator stuffed full of treats and drink. This patch of earthen they had worked on now for only a day and they had cleared out over five acres. Most of it was solid rock and they had flattened it out smooth, perhaps it was an airstrip
That chisel must have been the best in the land for in seconds, it had chewed straight through the chains. So fast in fact that Calvin now sported two small cut marks where the teeth made contact with his flesh.
"Alright!" holding his wrists, "I'm fre….." he was suddenly jerked away by a person towards the back slope of the hill.
Coughing a bit, Calvin looked around to see his rescuer. Vision was blurry from the sweat, heat, and dust. Pressing the palm of his hand into his eyes, he rubbed to clear it up. Finished, he looked at the person laying there next to him. It was large. As his vision focused, the body was curvy, with numerous stripes all over it's body with a orange flesh…Hobbes!
"Hobbes!" Exclaiming loudly.
Hobbes quickly silenced him, "Shhh" holding up a finger to his mouth.
"What….I thought….aren't you dead?"
To which Hobbes spat, "Do I look dead?"
A guard came about in search of his prisoner. At his feet lay the chains, empty. Alarmed, the guard shouted out for the corporal of the guard, brought up his rifle to a ready position, and took several steps towards them.
Holding their breaths, the two watched with wide eyes as the guard came closer. Each step they could hear their hearts pounding in their chests. Just when he was about to step on their heads, Hobbes leapt up. The guard was surprised to say the least. He turned the rifle to meet this threat, but before he could get off a shot, Hobbes parried the barrel away with his left arm and sank the claws of his right into the chest and teeth into the neck of the cat whom crumbled onto his back by the weight of his predator.
"Over there! Quickly!" someone shouted. They were coming.
Hobbes rose up and began to run, picking up his friend along the way. It was easy for the tiger to sprint. With great leaps and bounds, he hurtled through the fields with ease. Far behind was Calvin, weak from hunger and thirst.
"Wait up!" he constantly shouted.
Far away from the guards, from the prisons, the tiger finally stopped behind a line of shrubs and bushes, well concealed from prying eyes. Panting for breath, his companion finally arrived to sit and catch his breath. Offering a captured canteen, Hobbes allowed them some time to rest up before continuing what appeared to be south.
"What happened to you?" Calvin asked after taking a sip of cool water.
"That's a long story, and I'm not going to tell you until you grow up," Hobbes said sullenly.
"Why not?"
"Because you would not understand."
"Were you in Muncie?" Calvin asked.
"Yes," came his reply.
"You were a spy? Quickly, tell me, what did you see?"
"Many things," there was no excitement in Hobbes voice. It was low tone, gravely and spoke like a veteran. Quite the opposite compared to Calvin whom was about to pop like a cork.
"Well…what? Speak!" Calvin insisted, nudging his partner whom had his eyes fixated on the town.
A moment later, he moved onto his side and looked at the child that was his friend, "That fatso" he told him, "is working on new weapons. Trainloads of materials are in town right now and he's constructing weapons, unbelievable ones."
"Like what?" eyes growing as big as hub caps.
After a moment's hesitation, the tiger gave in, "nuclear missiles and even a portal."
"Wait. Say what?" grasping Hobbes' shoulder.
"That fatso has been plotting to split our world into two and he just may have done it," Hobbes began to trail off.
"What do you mean?" asking further.
Before the tiger could speak, a bullet whined over head. Too close. They sprinted for and jumped into a half water filled ditch.
"Alright, now tell me, what is he doing?" Calvin yelled.
"He's making all sorts of weapons. Nuclear missiles and portals that could take us into alternate dimensions."
"Really? Cool" the boy smiled.
"No, not cool," Hobbes growled in response. "We have to get back and tell Dilger. If we don't, those dogs will walk right into the trap."
Nodding into agreement, Calvin lifted his head up just enough so that his eyes see above the rim. It looked clear. "Alright, go" he whispered and the two jumped out and scurried away.
Miles away from the duo, Dilger, the one they sought, was closing the gap on them. Inching along with his back pressed a fire singed building that was part of the old depot, he could hear the voices of a group of individuals around the corner. A quick glance proved it to be true. Cats. Lots of them. Must be a group of deserters or stragglers whom had fallen behind when the main body retreated back into the defenses of Muncie. Didn't matter, they were the enemy and they were not going to surrender. So far, they didn't detect their presence. Looking back at his group of followers the were ready to go.
"Come on!" he ordered before leaping out. With a wild shout and firing wildly, the group charged upon their stunned enemy whom at first were frozen in terror then broke off in every direction. Two tried to run right by Dilger, but were tackled and taken prisoner while another five or six either where they stood or not far away. The rest, it was not confirmed, escaped to their havens. Did not matter, regroup was the key. When the area was secured, the rubble was cleared so that supply trucks could come up. Sporadic mortar rounds landed here and there, but for the most part, the cats did not contest as the dogs solidified their new holdings. The depot was there's again. They moved forward and took their old trenches with ease, Rats had fully withdrawn to his own line. They had failed to cut off that cat from Garfield, but they had retaken what was there's. It was gratifying to have a victory under their belt once again. With that victory came the spoils. A heaping mess of destroyed and burning vehicles, tanks, bloated bodies, and howling wounded. All of which the dogs had to clean up. Instead, they pressed into service enemy prisoners of war to do it. Why work when you can have someone else do it?
Garfield shared his sentiments with that entirely as he strolled into a large enclave of earth far north of Muncie. Covering that enclave was a warehouse and it was buzzing with activity on the inside. Why the buzz? Center piece to this laboratory was a monster of metal. A shiny steel ring ten inches in diameter curved into the sky in a fifty foot diameter semicircle. Studded for every ten feet on that were large red white spheres. The circle rested on a slab of cold concrete and were wired to a entire network of computers, servers, and generator. Flanked on both sides by his aides, the leader bore a dominating presense that attracted the eyes and attention of everyone as he boldly waltzed into the warehouse.
"Is it ready?" Garfield asked the foreman
"Yes, sir" he replied, trying to hold his nervousness in check.
"Good, plot a course and I will enter it," standing before the machine.
"Uh, sir, our computers are unable to plot a location in a alternate dimension. We simply do not know where it is exactly." foreman replied as others began to feed juice into the wires.
"then open it up and I'll see for myself." Garfield said.
Both of their attention was diverted when the white lights around the circle came on with near blinding intensity. "Isn't it glorious?" Garfield shouted. No one could hear him as the machine roared to life. No problems aroused. Power was ample and constant. Workers on the computers were amazed to see their needles spike to their up most as the lights glowed brighter and then became one in the center of the circle.
"Now, all will bow before me," Garfield yelled as he stepped forth into the light.
At once, the equipment powered down. "He's in" the foreman shouted.
"Where did he go?" an aide asked, approaching the console.
Before there was a response, there came a scream from behind. "Get them!"
Looking about, the cats found themselves under attack by the Grays whom were firing and heaving grenades through the windows of the warehouse. The giant sliding metal door opened and figures came in, firing off their weapons.
"Where the hell is Percy?" aides cursed as they ran for cover. That bushwhacker had failed to prevent those human guerillas from infiltrating into the lion's den and Miller wanted to slap them in the face for their incompetence.
Most escaped going through back doors or windows, cowards. Some could not move fast enough and were captured. There was no loss of life on either side despite the explosions and small arms fire. Satisfied that the area was secured, Miller strolled across the floor. Tall stacks of boxes, shelves of computers, and miles of wire were all about him. He could not put it together what this place was all about, despite having eavesdropped on the place the night before.
That changed when he ran into the steel ring of the portal. What was it? They did not see Garfield as he entered and once it was deactivated, it did not look like much. Private Hays climbed up to where the console was and looked at all of the instruments. Coming up to his side, Sean wanted to take a look for himself. Both of them were fascinated by the math and equations that had been done. The amount of energy that had surged through was extraordinary.
Seeing them, Miller approached the two and asked, "What is this, exactly?"
"It's a machine," Hays told him.
"A what?"
"It's a machine. Apparently, it's able to open up a portal of sorts big enough for someone to enter it. Judging by the information here, someone already did."
"Who was it?" Miller asked looking at the skeleton of the machine.
Two prisoners were brought up, one was a worker. The captain asked for them for questioning. Both were clearing scared, but the worker seemed somewhat relieved. "He went through there." he commented.
"Who did?" Miller asked.
"Our leader, and now you will all perish."
"What do you mean?" the captain asked.
"He has entered an alternate dimension and when he returns, he will bring weapons of unequal proportions."
"You mean nukes?"
The prisoner laughed, "Better. Those nukes we have will be mere toys compared to what he could obtain."
Miller was stunned. Nukes? Were cats building nuclear weapons? As he pondered the thought, he snapped to have the two removed. When they were gone, Sean asked for the captain to come to where he was.
The two looked at a monitor. On it was a rather distant map of the continental United States. Where Muncie was, was a hollow red circle and a second circle appeared near the Atlantic ocean, only this one was solid and pulsating.
"What is that?" Miller asked.
"A second portal?"
"I don't think so." Sean said and he looked at the instruments, "This isn't a portal towards an alternate dimension. It's a teleportation machine. Those klutzes screwed up big time. All of his molecules were scrambled and sent like a radio signal to another place."
"Where did he go?"
"I would say it was Boston." looking at Miller, whom replied, "Why did he go there?"
"Why the hell am I here!" Garfield fumed.
When he stepped out of the portal, it promptly closed behind him. Looking about, he was in a vacant field. In the distance were some buildings, but he was alone. This did not appear to be an alternate dimension. Everything looked modern. Where were those hovercrafts, phasers, or other science fiction trinkets? None, they were not here. Alone, the great leader sought to locate another cat to link up with. He hoped that the revolution had spread this far and perhaps he could establish his headquarters here. As he walked through a sea of brush and dust, the leader commented on how dull the sky looked compared to the country side he had just left. Everything was glum, faded, worn, lonely.
It was such a journey that the fat cat could not go any further and collapsed next to a rail over pass to rest his weary paws. Looking about at the neighborhood he was at, Garfield was surprised to see humans, a few of them, milling about without care in the world. There was one women, middle aged, shoulder ength hair, tending to her garden. She did not notice the fat cat and wanted to keep it that way. Behind those rail road tracks was a shabby looking dwelling, tall, thin, dank, dull, like a haunted mansion. Perfect, a deserted place to coop up for the night. The leader stealthy slipped away as the women watered her lilies and daisies that Garfield hoped to romp through.
Fifteen minutes later, a paw reaches up towards the top step of the house, "Steps, why are there always steps?" he panted, tounge dangling from his open mouth, "I must have climbed Everest."
At the top, at last, he straightened up and, being polite, he knocked on the flaky wood. No answer. Must be deserted. He opened the door by jumping up and struggled with the knob. With a click and push, he gained entrance and was greeted every aqwardly.
The house wasn't deserted at all. There was furniture, rugs, upholstery, paintings, depicting the same figure in every one dressed in Shakespeare garb, a old man with long nose, gray eye brows and a balding forehead.
"Hello?" Garfield called out, his voice echoed through the residence.
No response. Owners must be out. He took one step further inside when a voice from above answered his thoughts.
"Well, hello, hello, hello, little kitty…"
Warm blood turned to ice in a instant. His eyes looked up to see a tall, thin man standing on tarance above him. It was the very man in the painints, only this time, he was weaing formal clothes, a black coat with long tails and near tight trousers and Italian shoes. Hardly a match, everything about this man was wrong, but Garfield could not object as the man kept his eyes on him and stepped down a staircase to his right.
"My, my, my…a talking cat. What a clever trick. First I am stuck with a monkey and two mediocre adorable children, and now, a talking cat has just entered my home. I bet you want a place to stay for the night."
Garfield could not utter a word as the man came down to his floor, stood practically toe to toe and bent down at the waist to look into the leader's large eyes.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue? HAHAHAHA" boisterous laugher.
Who was this quack? Surely he was the owner, but he was a total nut job.
Minutes of laughter later calmed down as the two resided inside the living room. "I am Count Olaf," he boasted, striking a fanciful pose, head resting on his right shoudler, right arm outstretched towards the gloomy sky, fingers trying to capture a piece of the overcast, "Actor extraordinaire, humanitarian, and compassionate guardian."
"Guardian?" Garfield raised, "Guardian of what?"
"Oh children," Olaf called out loud.
Moments later, three children, a girl, about fourteen, a boy, about half that, and a tiny baby girl, only about two entered the dining room. Garfield looked at them, puzzled. Two hideous children and a monkey.
"Why don't you make dinner for our quest?" Olaf spoke gesturing to the fat orange blob.
The girl spoke, "But, we have never made dinner before…"
"Now, children," Olaf interrupted, "That is no way to treat our guest. You have till eight o' clock."
A glance at the clock showed it to be thirty till eight.
"But, it's already seven thirty…" the boy began to say before Olaf cut him off. "Eight o' clock!"
The three children sulked away into the kitchen.
"those are the orphans. Poor souls. I offered them my free hand and they are nothing more than leeches. Vicious ones at that."
"Why did you take them up?" asked Garfield, sitting in a chipped, polished dining chair, sipping on a glass of wine, "What happened to their parents.
"Fire. They were consumed in a fire along with their house." Olaf replied rather passively, staring at one of his portraits that decorated the wall. "Now that they are with me, their fortune will be mine."
"A fortune you say?" raising up an eyebrow and a smile. "How big of a fortune?"
"I'm not too sure," Olaf replied.
"Then, how do you know it's big? It could be only a few dollars or not there at all?"
"I know the Baudelaire family, and they did stash their dough away for their children. However, I will not be able to touch that fortune until the oldest turns eighteen."
"Which one?" Garfield asked.
"Violet, the oldest. Not the monkey"
This day was horrible, but the next one was even worse. Garfield stayed with the children as Olaf's honored guest and he was treated as a king, pampered by Violet and fed by Klaus, the boy. It was enjoyable, but Garfield was neglecting what he had left behind.
There was anarchy.
When news spread that Garfield had been teleported, there was celebration, then Miller destroyed the portal and fled before Percy could restrain them. Like dominos, there came a rapid break down in the chain of command. There was no response from the leader for some time now, being a week. Now General Rats abide to take control of the movement while those on the general staff fought to claim such an honor. For the average cat, it was the bleakest the revolution had been since it had first begun.
Retreating was bad enough, but now, after Rats had fallen back to the original Muncie defenses, many followers decided that after not being fed and seeing their friends being slain, enough was enough and deserted. In alley ways and abandoned homes, individuals formed bands with other deserters and gangs roamed at will through the excrement that was once a town, praying on the weak to survive. Human workers, ones that labor in the factories to produce weapons of war were particular fodder for their eyes. To them, they were the cause of their pain. A crack down came when Regulars, the leader's personal body guards, armed with shot guns and clubs marched down the streets, breaking up meetings and capturing leaders. Fighting one war was terrible, fighting two was a nightmare. There was deceit and rumors abound on just about everything. It seemed hopeless, for many to fight on and the ranks began to diminish. Just a week after returning back to Muncie, half of Rat's command had deserted.
Not the same could be said for Dilger and his dogs. A heavy rain was falling on a day he decided to launch a raid against the enemies main line. For some time, he had kept a watch on them and noticed that there was diminishing amounts of activity. Prisoners and deserters also added to his knowledge that there was a break down in command and morale. It was all to perfect. Though he was still licking previous wounds, he gathered up his old command to give them an option. This Shepard wanted to use a unit that was experienced and could be depended upon. There were only a dozen left after all that battles, skirmishes, and sickness, only two faces looked familiar to him as they sat around a dying fire in the rain.
"I don't have to tell you what is going on. It's apparent to us all."
"The war is almost over," Sergeant Brumbar nodded.
"Yes, and there is a chance we can end this," Dilger added.
Soldiers had heard this story before. One more mission, one more charge, and the war will end. Then they could return to their homes, cardboard homes in the dark, dank alleys.
"Any of you wish to back out now, can do so. I won't hold it against you."
He looked at all of their faces. Tired, hungry, yearning for sleep, their eyes had bags and were red like fire. Clutching their cleaned weapons, they did not budge.
Earlier on, a similar group of cats were huddled together.
"Do we have any food, sir?" a private asked, holding his incredibly thin stomach. Seven others, all with poor skin tone, matted hair, red eyes, and empty stomachs.
"No fish, no meat, no milk, if you want water, just open you mouth and look up at the sky." the officer laughed.
It was safer to be outside the city. Here, inside their trench, the group huddled together for warmth as the rain continued on. No sentry was posted through the night. If someone wanted to leave, they were free to do so and if anyone wanted to come in and taken them prisoner, they could do the same, it did not matter.
Dilger's raiding party did not set out until an hour before dawn because of the rain. When it let up, the mud nearly consumed their prone bodies as they crawled forward towards the main line. To their surprise, no sentries were present. Brumbar took the lead, two at his side. Just before the trench, he paused to listen, no voices. Must be asleep or they were not there. Rolling on his side, he motioned to his two to throw a grenade each at his signal.
Three bombs rained down from the sky.
When they erupted, mud, wood, and pieces of fur and meat were flung into the sky.
"Go!" Brumbar shouted, rising up to his feet. The mud was so thick that he moved and fell flat on his face. Trying again, he fell and made his way by crawling to and into the trench. Others in the bunch had better luck.
Shocked at first, the cats could only look up to see the Shepards pounce on them.
"surrender!" they demanded thrusting the muzzle of their muskets into their chests into their foe. One pleased cat laughed, "what took you so long?"
Fifty prisoners taken and sent to the rear. It was so easy that at first there was concern of a trap. There was no trap. The cats did not care anymore. Under guard, the prisoners were walked passed the old depot where Dilger was waiting anxiously for word on their success. Grenade blasts were muffled by the depth of the trenches and the raid was only to snatch a few more prisoners and knock out any enemy fortifications to knock the cats off balance. Instead, when Dilger saw there were only two guards for those fifty prisoners, Dilger asked where were the rest of his team, "Waiting for you in Muncie," a guard replied.
They could see the chaos that had resulted from Garfield's reign and were horrified for those that were trapped inside. Homes were burned to the ground by the gangs, waste had built up several feet in height in the streets. "Good God" Dilger gasped, "We have entered into Hell."
Violet agreed to that as she opened another container of cleaning acid and poured it onto the floor and began to scrub it into the wood. Her brother took on an immense amount of filthy dishes while Sunny dried them.
The leader lay on the table, basking the sunlight coming from the hole in the roof. It was peaceful here, and the sun was warm. As the children worked, Garfield rested. Olaf remained secluded in "the Tower." No one was to enter, under any circumstances.
Klaus could see, from the window in the kitchen, the entire back yard, the theater as Olaf called it. It was really just waist high sage brush. What he couldn't see was the movement lurking around them coming closer and closer with each breath he took. Sunny could hear something and ventured away from her task towards the front window. It was the same there, nothing to be seen.
A chill went up Klaus's spine though. He began to pick up a sense that something bad was going to happen and went in search of his sister.
"Violet, something's wrong." he told her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, one hand covering her nose and mouth from the stench of the acid.
BANG!
The front door was thrown open with force. At the same time, the back door was kicked in. Leaping up to her feet with fright, Violet rushed over to scoop up Sunny in her arms. At her side was Klaus.
"Get down!" a figure, shoving his way past the children.
A team moved past them, into the kitchen, living room, then into the dining room . Second team went up towards the tower. Count Olaf and troupe in a sit down to come up with the next idea for a play. When the dogs entered the count stood up with a chalice pressed against his lips like a trumpet.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Get down!" the dogs yelled, fanning out to cover the entire room. Members of the troupe rose up as well with puzzled looks.
No one budged.
Enraged, the count threw down his chalice and approached the animals. Hands at his waist, chin up and out, he demanded an explanation for this interruption. His answer came with a boom from a shot gun. The round did not contain buck or bird shot, but bean bags. One of these struck the count's chest and his thin figure crumbled to the ground. Sadly, he wasn't dead, just had the wind knocked out of him. Others at his side gave up without a struggle.
Emerging from the house into the glum of day, the prisoners were lined up beside a military truck. Flanked on both sides by armed guards, they were searched. Each one bore a tattoo one an alternate part of their body, an eye with lashes. What was it?
A human stood over as the dogs searched. Off to the side, the orphans watched with terror. Dogs with rifles? He was clad in military fatigues, a gaitor neck around his face. He approached them to put them at ease. "relax children," in a calm, soothing voice, "we will not harm you."
"What are you after?" Klaus asked him.
"The one they call Garfield. Which one is he?"
"None. Garfield is a orange cat. Last I saw him, he was asleep on the dinner table. Why are you after him?"
"It may sound ridiculous but he is the leader of a rebellion in Indiana."
"A what?" Violet questioned when a dog approached.
"Sir, we searched the house from top to bottom. He's not in there. What shall we do with it now?"
"torch the place!" the officer ordered, much to the delight of the commandos and the orphans. Flares were brought out, ignited, and then thrown into every window and door way of the mansion . In minutes, the dilapidated scenery was put alright and burned with intensity.
"what do we do with the children?" the dog asked.
The officer looked at the three children. Their clothes were old and faded, rent and worn. They were scared, as clear as day seeing armed animals around them. It was gratifying to see Count Olaf be put in the back of a truck yes, along with his entire troupe, but they were scared of animal soldiers.
Herded into a truck of their own, the orphans were able to speak with the officer again as they fled from the scene of the crime.
"Who are you?" Violet asked from the back seat. The officer was up front of her, a driver to his side, human.
"That doesn't matter. What does is we need to have you three out of here as quickly as possible."
"Why? What's going on?" she begged.
"Cats are in revolt. We are here to stop them."
"What?" Klaus baulked
"The cats are in revolt to take over. The one that stayed here, Garfield, is their leader. We tracked him down and now, we have captured several of his ring leaders."
The children looked at each other, stunned.
Garfield has slipped through their fingers. Where he lays now is uncertain but the dogs are still unwilling to give up. He was alive. As long as he was, there was no rest for them. He could easily slip away to a dank alley and gather up another clan to start an uprising once more. Boston was far more dense than Muncie, and in it were hundreds upon thousands of strays and domesticated pets already under arms, just waiting for a leader to show them to the light.