Chapter Fifty-Three
Thickening Shadows
Occupying the same space and the same time as the city of Zootopia, another city dwelt. Seen by many, yet observed by few, the people, who knew and who chose to walk the narrow and winding streets of the city of shadows, could transverse the land hither and thither at will, with their movements and their very existence there unseen by any. The figure of a pure-white wolf lurked in the impenetrable darkness of the city of shadows, his pale eyes gazing out upon the light and life of the city of Zootopia: upon the buildings and the traffic, upon the people and their vulnerable lives.
It was now coming up to three o'clock — not that the white wolf had any real concept of what time was, aware only that the sky was beginning to gray and that the shadows, which he called his world, were moving and growing around him. In around an hour, night would be upon them, and then the plains of darkness would be in abundance all over the realm, and Wulf's movements would be restricted, by the delicate paw of the shadows, no longer.
He could move as he willed unseen. He could hunt his prey unhindered. And he could take it — take its body, take its soul — without any chance of... unnecessary complications.
The wolf stared in apathetic longing at a closed doorway across the street. It opened with a young rabbit stepping out. His breaths becoming deep, his cold eyes gleamed keenly. The hunt, after all, was on.
...
The door to Erkin Electrical Enterprise swung open to the push of Judy Hopps, with Nick following behind her. She only managed to undertake three steps; before, she stopped abruptly and grinded her face into her paws. "Fluff me, Nick!" she groaned. "What the heck was that? I thought that was it. I thought that was the end of us."
Nick took the space beside her, a small smile on his muzzle as he comfortingly re-assured, "You did great, Carrots. I'm sure Bogo will be proud of you."
"Oh, Bogo," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead and trying to clear the fog of dizzying adrenaline from her mind — the reality of what they had just done, now that they were out of it, finally sinking in. "How much time to we have, anyway?"
"It's now about three."
"And Bogo wanted it for four?"
"Yeah, so with a twenty minute drive to get over there, we've got plenty of time to spend. How about it, you want to take a break for half an hour? Recuperate?"
"What were you thinking?"
"Anything really: bar, library, walk in the park. Point is we only now made it out of the frying pan. And whatever is gonna happen tonight, I'd say we could both do with a little time to sit back and think before we head into the fire. What do you say?"
Judy looked off into nowhere in the muteness of her mind. Then her gaze rose to seek Nick's attention. "It's not time to spend, Nick, it's time to be safe. We have no right to hold back the stay of justice. Even if the reasoning, in itself, is justified."
The fox shook his head slowly with an intertwine of arms as they approached the ZPD cruiser. "Always gotta be the little peacekeeper, ain't ya."
"I'm sorry, Nick," she said, honestly. "I know I'm more dedicated to my job than you'd like sometimes." Stepping towards the fox, the rabbit put her paw in his. "Don't be mad?"
"Course I'm not mad, Carrots. I know you're dedicated to work, and I don't ever want you to change that just for me. Because I know that, to you, this job means more than just a paycheck... It means your dream is coming true. It means that you helped to make the world a better place, which is all you've ever truly wanted to do. And it's that drive, that endless... dedication to such a noble and selfless cause, which made me first fall in love with you, Judy."
Judy appreciated every single word he had soothed into her ears; thus, she her cheeks found it appropriate to blush and smile, while Nick opened the door to the cruiser and stepped in. Opening up the driver's sidedoor herself, she spoke to him sweetly at her entrance in the intimate space of the cruiser. "In future, though, I will make more time for our relationship together."
The rabbit sat down in the driver's seat, pulled on her belt and leaned back to find that the fox had put his arm across the back seat — his arm now around her back, with his paw resting affectionately on her shoulder. Glancing about herself quickly, the rabbit then leaned swiftly across the space between them and placed a fleeting, but pleasant, kiss on the lips.
While it was true that the two of them had shared more than a few kisses in the short time they had been calling themselves lovers, it didn't change the small giggle that escaped the rabbit's body, or the light blush, which crossed her face as she put the car key into the ignition and turned the engine on.
...
In his concealment in the city of shadows, the figure of the white wolf observed this simple act. He had no understanding of the base emotion involved with kissing, but the gesture of kissing he did recognize, and its implication. His prey's relationship with this other predator — whatever a relationship even was — was of less to no importance to the wolf in any other than one way... he recognized it and noted it for only one reason... as a vulnerability. This fact was stored in the albino wolf's cruel, uncomplicated and animalistic mind that took storage towards this resource. It was nothing more but a way of getting to the rabbit through the fox, or getting to the fox through the rabbit.
Then, as the police cruiser pulled away down the street, his interest in the kiss faded, and he swung around and disappeared into the safety of darkness. Several steps later, he dropped onto paws and knees, and gave rush at great speed across the city of Zootopia: imperceptible, unwavering, relentless.
...
The great lake surrounding Zootopia lapped against its tall, steel sides, while a vast tanker ship made towards the empty docks. There was a person on the edge of the dock, who was waving two cone-type signal lights out towards the ship, guiding it to where it needed to be. The coyote smiled to himself as the large vessel drew closer, glancing over his shoulder at the shack behind him that lain slanting against the wall of an abandoned boatbuilders' yard.
Though the city was large and populated by many, this part of the dock was off limits to the public and was surrounded on all sides by high, metal gates. Inside, it was full of the large, metal containers that were also filling the tanker's cargo, although these on the docks held materials of far lesser evil.
The tanker ship docked against the wooden side of the harbor, alongside the concrete structure of the port itself. It was exactly beneath the large cranes, which would soon be unloading the ship's cargo onto land. In the graying daylight, the shape of the ship could be clearly seen against the beam of the sky. The vessel was unmarked and painted black all over. The containers were of standard design, but the indented model-numbers, imprinted onto the side of each, had been hammered-off and the aft side of the ship bore a tall, white structure, wherein dwelt the cabins and the ship's bridge.
The crew gathered in the unlit ship's bridge, and watched without concern as the tanker pulled up to a stop. There were no uniforms, and the crewmemmle mumbled to one another quietly in a foreign language. The ship sailed to a slow and steady stop. Then… the anchor crashed into the icy waters below.
...
Shuck's ear twitched a little, and he glanced, for a moment, out towards the harbor. A breath of sigh came from his growl, and he leaned to his cards — a game of solitaire which he played with himself, while Nyilas guarded uneasily from beside the fire. "That was their boat coming into port?" Nyilas said in his faded, Easton accent.
"By the sounds of it, aye."
"What will you do?"
"Well, what you've told me is hardly easy to believe. I don't doubt your word. But getting people in authority to believe… it might be tricky."
"No, I mean what will you do now?"
"Oh. Not much I can do now, is there? As a final act of desperation… I could throw myself at you across the room... but I think you're an alright lad really. And you don't deserve the trauma of having to kill someone."
"I don't think I could pull the trigger… on anyone… for any reason. If you wanted to escape before the others came back… I couldn't stop you… or shoot you."
"What about your family?"
"Yes, I know," the professor spoke solemnly with a gaze into the glowing coals of the iron stove. "It doesn't matter how much I love them, I could not bring myself to kill another."
"You may have to."
"I cannot! It goes against everything I stand for; everything I believe in."
Shuck watched Nyilas quietly for a few moments. "It's admirable, but..." The shaggy hound trailed off. It wasn't often Shuck found himself with nothing to say, but this situation was a difficult one for him to handle.
"What does it matter. I am dead all the same."
"No you ain't," Shuck shot, slapping his cards down and turning to the goat. "Now listen you good, 'cause there's a lot what needs to be said and naught much time to say it. There are some people in this world who are fighters and some who are flailers. Some who give it their all and keep on giving it, until there's no more to give. And some who fold up like a deckchair at the first touch of resistance. At this mockery of a game we find ourselves living in, the way to win is to keep on pushing and keep on fighting, with every last ounce of life you have in you. It doesn't matter your age or you situation. There's always some way you can deliver life a swift knee in the face. So long as you've got the guts and grawl to go out and get it, there will always be the chance you'll come out on top."
"You and I are not the same, sir," Nyilas deflected with further dejection. "We're made of different stock. You are a brave mammle. A bold and strong individual. You rise above fear and pain. You have lived a life full of heroics and adventure. I am an old professor. I travelled the world, yes, but to study, not to actively 'work'. I looked at old buildings and broken pots. I've never had the stomach for heroics."
"Heroics? You call me a hero… I am nothing of the kind. I've lived through shit and survived. Been tempered, hardened. Nothing more. You speak about me as though I was born with nails in me mouth. Don't you think I was ever scared?"
"It's hard to imagine you scared of anything."
"First fright I ever got into, I was scared spineless. A mammle was coming at me with murder in his eyes, and I had about half a second to act before I was dead on t' floor. I could've collapsed to the floor and lie there, begging for mercy. But I didn't. I stood up and I looked him in the eye, and I did exactly what I had to do to come out of it alive. Even though it meant the death of a stranger."
"What are you trying to tell me, Mister Black?"
"That there's no shame in being afraid of somethin'. Running away, that's shameful. Being afraid of something is nothing more than natural." The goat sighed quietly, staring at nothing as he processed what he was hearing. "Besides," Shuck added, "with the kind of person you're up against, you'd be a fool not to be scared."
The door then swung open and George stepped in. "Well, gramps," George mocked, addressing Nyilas, "the ship is in and the crew are getting ready to unload the stuff. You'd best get out there and watch over things."
...
In another part of the city, a low-gray car pulled up alongside the front of a two-star café. The establishment was old and a little run down, but was decent enough to fulfil its function. The rabbit stepped out onto the pavement. He looked upon the sign that was written in gold-leaf above the door: 'Joe's Place'. His teeth were sucked and he headed in after locking the car.
The brass bell clinked cheerfully, as the door swung open, and the friendly looking gazelle behind the counter greeted the solemn-featured rabbit warmly. "Hi," she said brightly, "welcome to Joe's Place! I'm Sophie. You here for some dinner?"
"Later, thanks," Jack muttered, "I'm just waiting for a friend for now. She'll be along later."
"Great! When are you expecting her?"
"Couple of hours from now, I should think."
"Oh, eh... I'm not really meant to let people sit if they're no—"
"I'll take a coffee," he cut in, putting money on the counter. "Shaken, not stirred."
"Okay, great. Feel free to take a seat!" Rather than comply, the striped rabbit turned to face the windows, looking down the street and leaning back on the counter, while the gazelle behind him poured out a cup of steaming coffee. She stared down at the cup of black, as if not understanding what he had meant with 'shaken, not stirred'. She glanced nervously at Jack's back, stared back down at the cup of coffee for a moment more, blinked and then just hoofed it across the counter. "Here you go...!"
"Thanks," he muttered without initiating to take it. "Leave it on the counter. I'll drink it when it's cooled." Jack wondered his eyes around the place, while the gazelle wiped some glasses with a cloth and glanced at him with skepticism through obscurity. The whole place could do with being ripped-up and refurbished. The wood was sturdy enough, but it was worn-out. The walls showed signs of dampness and, by the smell of things, the ventilation was like from the Renaissance.
"Suppose you heard about the death a few blocks up from here?" the gazelle initiated, putting aside her slight mistrust and just obviously trying to get along.
"No," Jack answered without budging. "Must've slipped me by."
"Well," she continued, knowing this rabbit was less than interested, but needing to find some way of occupying herself, "there was an armadillo who died of a drug overdose in that apartment block not far from here this morning."
Jack examined his claws. "Is that so…"
"Yeah, quite a young boy too. His aunt was actually the landlady, so I hear."
"Hmm."
"I feel sorry for that young rabbit who was renting that apartment."
It couldn't be... surely?"A rabbit officer, you say?" he asked and finally looked at the gazelle.
"Ehh, yeah!" she answered, surprised that he had actually shown an interest. "You know, that Hopps lady: the famous one who was in the news a couple'a years back."
"Judith Laverne Hopps?"
"I... yeah?"
"What time is it?"
"Quarter past three? Why?"
Jack turned and left without a doubt of thought. "I'll be back later."
"Hey," she called, holding his drink out towards the retreating Savage, "what about your coffee?"
"Donate it to the poor!"
The bell clinking a second time, Jack Savage left the building.
Author's notes:
Hesitance jumps around your mind,
Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
All delivered by luscious feedback.
So don't hide like a tiny shrew,
Thus share that belovable review!
- One of our montly gifts for our supporters! Monthly updates.
Social Links:
* To use a link just replace {dot} with a full stop/peirod.
- Youtube: youtube{dot}com/c/inlet
- Twitter: twitter{dot}com/inletreal