With purpose, a brown-eyed wallaby drove his bold black marker into the sign he was making. He was half-listening to the news report on ZNN, which spoke of the rising unrest in the city.
"More protests to be organized today," Fabienne Growley said over the news, the snow leopard trying to keep her face neutral. "Some to call for peace and understanding, and some protesting predator activity in Zootopia."
"The ZPD presence is high on the scenes of the protests," her co-anchor Peter Moosebridge reported. "So far, all of the protests have been non-violent, but tensions run high."
With a last squeak of the marker, the wallaby looked over his handiwork and affixed the sign's handle. Moments later, another wallaby, his wife, descended from the upstairs bedroom.
"G'mornin', Susan," the wallaby greeted with a halfhearted wave.
"Morning, Jeff," she grinned, looking down at the sign with her light-blue eyes.
"Whatcha think?" Jeff asked.
One of Susan's eyes narrowed as she read over the all-caps, bold print. "Preds'll tear you to shreds? Lacks a bit of nuance, I think. Or subtlety."
"You know I've told you about this before, didn't I?" Jeff frowned. "I told you the preds'd go bad at some point. Now look what's happened. Zootopia's a mess."
"There's been how many cases, a dozen?" Susan folded her arms. "I dunno, Jeffy. Seems to me like that's an awfully small number compared to the thousands of predators that live in Zootopia."
"I mean, you saw that news report, didn't ya?" Jeff shook his head. "What that bunny said? Hupps or somethin'. She said it was biological. It's what I've thought for years. Those preds only have the shroud of decency about 'em."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Why's it just happening now then? Why's it never happened before?"
"Heck if I know, Sue!" Jeff held his hands out wide. "It could be like she said... somethin' in their DNA. Something like a rubber band being pulled taut, and it's about time for all of 'em to snap."
"So what good is a protest gonna do, huh?" Susan tilted her head, looking at him with mild disdain. "Where'd you want all those predators to go?"
"I dunno..." Jeff looked at his sign. "Maybe they could move 'em all to a place... one of the sections."
"Like segregation, huh?" Susan scoffed. "That'd go over well."
"It could be a place with a lotta fish, Susan," Jeff looked at her in desperation, "they'd not have to go hungry. It's just... you know what kind of damage a savage pred could do? A single savage tiger could probably level the entirety of Little Rodentia before they were stopped. Thousands of rodent lives, snuffed out in a flash. You think it's worth the risk not to do something?"
"Where'd they move 'em? All onto an island, like Outback Island?" Susan clicked her tongue. "We'd have to move."
Jeff considered that, an uneasy look passing into his eyes. "Well, maybe we'd all have to make some sort of sacrifice. But in the end maybe it'd be better for us all. When whatever... whatever's happening takes its course, maybe it'd be better that way."
"Whatever, Jeff," Susan shrugged. "I'm assuming you're going to go to some sort of protest today?"
"Yeah, Downtown, one of the big ones," Jeff placed his thumb into his chest. "I may just be a small office worker wallaby, but I wanna get my voice out there." He took his sign in his hands, and took a second to think. "What'll you be doin' today, Susan?"
"Oh, I just thought since it is our weekend I'd like to do something more fun," Susan shrugged. "Like shopping. There's a cute spring outfit I've been looking at."
"Knock yourself out," Jeff nodded, then smirked. "Just don't spend all our tax return."
Susan chuckled. "Not promising anything."
Jeff held up a forefinger. "And don't go making any preds angry. Could be dangerous."
"Not usually a problem with me, Jeffy," Susan rolled her eyes, beginning to make herself some quick breakfast.
The subway was rather crowded, even considering it was the weekend. Jeff got some nasty glares from some predators and even some prey on the way to Downtown, as he thought he would, but he tried to keep his teeth tightly shut in his muzzle and avoid any eye contact. He had somewhere to be; he had a message to get out. He knew it would resound with the other like-minded prey of Zootopia, of which there were a large number. Something did have to be done, after all. It was madness to expect the problem to just go away.
What if it was some sort of virus? The number of cases seemed to be steadily increasing.
Or, like the bunny had said, what if it was some sort of genetic epidemic? Perhaps the coding of predators just couldn't handle the civility that mammalkind had been working on for so long. Perhaps they just had to prey on others. Had to kill.
It was a chilling thought. Jeff wasn't going to let something like impolite glares shake his resolve.
He could scarcely believe his wife was so passive about the whole situation. Susan had always said she'd "known some nice preds", but he didn't know why she was letting that blind her to the potential danger that was growing in the city.
It had always been like that between them, though. They found comfort and love with each other, though they didn't always see eye to eye on the "big issues". It led to a lot of arguments between them, but they'd always find themselves apologizing about whatever it was they were arguing about and kept resolving that they wouldn't let those things get between them.
Jeff didn't know just how long Susan could get away with being so frivolous, though. He hoped nothing would happen to her or someone she knew because of this. Tragedy was often one of the best teachers, but he knew he didn't care for the taste of it. Best to be proactive.
On his way out of the station, the wallaby happened to catch the icy stare of a large female polar bear, who sneered down at him when she saw his sign.
"You've got a lot of nerve, pal!" She barked at him almost instantly. Before Jeff knew it, he'd been snatched up by his shirt and effortlessly lifted into the air by the much larger mammal. "Where do you think you get off?"
"I'm just-" Jeff was clearly terrified, but he tried to keep some steel in his voice. "Just telling it like it is."
"You're an overgrown Outback rat, is what you are!" The polar bear growled. "How about you let me tear that sign up for you and I can toss it into the trash, where your opinion belongs!?"
"You're just..." Jeff tried to stop quivering, "you're just proving my point, ma'am."
"Tuh!" The polar bear roughly dropped him and stormed off, shooting him a disgusted glare over her shoulder as she stomped away.
Jeff felt his paw go over his chest; his heart had never beat so fast. That female must have been inches away from going savage. Maybe it would be easier to just do what she said and go home.
But that's how it starts, isn't it?
The powerful tell the weak and meek what to do, and before you know it you have someone like Lionheart running the show. Someone who has enough power to do anything he wanted, both politically and physically. And look where that led? He was trying to hide the savage predator epidemic, because it'd make him look bad! Because the lives of innocent Zootopia prey were less important than his job!
Jeff held onto that feeling of anger and let it overpower his fear. If he gave up, he'd just be another meek little prey who bowed to the bullying of the strong. And he'd had enough of being jerked around.
He continued onward; the protest he wanted to be a part of was several blocks away. One crosswalk was taking a particularly long time, and he mashed the button on the post impatiently.
"Going to the protest, huh?" A passing male hedgehog looked up at him with a smile. "Good for you. I was thinking about hitting one in Little Rodentia. Preds have always given me the creeps."
"Yeah... s-someone should do something," Jeff nodded. "Maybe Mayor Bellwether can think of a plan."
"Right on," the hedgehog said, waving as he continued down the sidewalk. "Too few of us can defend ourselves against a rowdy pred."
"Yeah, maybe if I was a kangaroo, but no such luck," Jeff laughed.
When the crosswalk changed, Jeff took his first few steps into the street.
VRRRRSSHHHH!
A car blazed down the street, inches from Jeff. He felt a rough tug at his back and he found himself back on the sidewalk. With a quick glance, he saw an impala making a rude gesture from his vehicle.
"Khhh!" There went Jeff's heart rate again. "Sap sipper! Could've killed me! I had the signal!"
"Yeah, there's a place for that kinda speed, and it's on the racetrack."
Jeff was surprised to hear a fellow Outback Island-accented voice coming from behind and above him, and turned around, expecting to see a kangaroo. Instead, he saw a male cheetah.
"You all right, little buddy?" The cheetah grinned. "Wouldn't've done to have a wallaby pancaked in front of me. Heck, my parents are wall-"
In the next instant, the cheetah noticed Jeff's sign, and his expression soured into one of flat distaste.
"Um, thank you for that," the wallaby said nervously, wishing he could will that sign away.
"Have a nice day," the cheetah turned on his heel and walked away. His voice was anything but pleasant.
Jeff sighed and his sign drooped.
He hadn't time, and he didn't dare to ask, but he was pretty sure he'd just been yanked back by the Trace Laser, rising star of the Speed Racing League. He was lacking the emerald-tinted glasses he usually wore, but there weren't too many cheetahs with Outback Island accents around. Jeff was a big fan of racing, and honestly had never thought of the mostly-timid cheetah species as "real" predators. But he supposed that, of course, they were.
Jeff felt some conflicting feelings bubbling within him. Making it across the street, the din of the protest beckoned him, only two blocks away now.
The wallaby collapsed into his favorite armchair that evening.
"Watched for you on the news, Jeffy," Susan said, reclining on a couch. "ZNN did a big coverage of the protest, but I didn't see you."
"Yeah, well," Jeff took in and let out a large breath. "I'm just a little wallaby with a little sign."
"You don't think I could pick my own hubby out of a crowd?" Susan smirked. "Hey, where is your sign, anyway?"
Jeff looked away. "I lost it."
"Clumsy," Susan gave an affectionate smile. "You'd lose your tail if it wasn't attached."
"Probably would," Jeff nodded.
"So did you just not go?" Susan narrowed her eyes in confusion. "After all that conviction you had this morning?"
"Well..." Jeff swallowed, trying to put on a stern face. "It's like you said, Sue. We don't have all the facts. Heck, the message probably got out there loud and clear, didn't it? Don't need a little wallaby like me bouncin' around, trying to get seen."
"Don't tell me you had a change of heart," Susan grinned mischievously. "You? My stubborn ol' Jeffy?"
"No such luck," Jeff claimed, trying to focus on the TV.
"Ah, so you just chickened out," Susan decided, turning back to the television. "Figures."
"Susan..." Jeff tossed her a pained look. "Maybe we should... let's just see how this all plays out okay? We'll be cautious, but not... I dunno, we won't do anything drastic."
"That's what I was going to do anyway, my tiny little hopper," Susan threw a throw pillow at him. "Anyway, I ordered us a pizza. Should be here soon."
"Thanks, Sue," Jeff sighed. "Get your outfit?"
Susan nodded. "Maybe we could go out to Mezzo Park tomorrow and you can see me in it. That is, if you're not scared of all the predators."
"We'll be fine," Jeff grumbled. "We can go to the park."
"I dunno, Jeffy," Susan grinned enormously, her tail thumping the couch. "I hear there's a really mean vixen that runs a stand there, could be risky."
Jeff groaned. "Just drop it, Sue."
One thing was for sure. He was never going to be able to watch the SRL races again without thinking about how that cheetah, born and raised in Outback Island, had saved his life that day. Just because it was the right thing to do, not just because he was a wallaby. But even if that was why he stretched his paw out, did it matter?
Jeff knew he'd never hear the end of it from Sue if he just came out and said he was having second thoughts about rallying against predators.
Maybe it was just best to wait and see. Keep a low profile.
It seemed foolish to think, but maybe there was a more complete explanation for this "savage" phenomenon.
The wallaby was beginning to actually hope he was wrong about preds. That was also a bitter taste, but he decided he could swallow it easier than a terrible tragedy.
Thankfully, the pizza was pretty tasty.