RJ beheld the awesome glory of the huge sign standing above him: "8-Twelve. Open 24 hours."
If he was successful in raiding this place, his family would have ample food to satisfy both the bear and themselves — the store was enormous. RJ was marveling at the sheer size of it when suddenly a batch of humans rounded the corner. RJ dove behind a trash can and watched as the store's front doors opened when the humans walked in front of them. Careful not to be seen, RJ scurried after them as the doors shut.
Unfortunately, the doors shut right on his tail.
RJ's eyes widened and he would have yelped in pain had he not clamped a hand over his mouth; turning around, he struggled uselessly with his tail. He pulled, pushed on the doors, pounded the glass silently with his fists — nothing gave. Finally RJ plastered his feet against the doors and pulled; his tail came loose abruptly and he skidded across the floor into a stack of large, plastic red baskets, which promptly fell over him with a terrible series of thuds.
"So much for not being noticed," he muttered to himself.
"What's going on?" came a deep voice, and RJ froze in terror. Luckily, a basket had landed on top of RJ, trapping him inside and hiding him from the human that came to check on the baskets. He wore a strange uniform that had the store's logo on the shirt; RJ watched his feet move around the basket stacks and waited until the human's back was turned, then scooted away. If any person had chanced to look, they would have seen a little red basket inching its way toward the produce section; fortunately, the humans didn't notice.
RJ tossed the basket off of himself and hid behind a shelf stocked with food. It was all the stuff RJ had come to know and love: fruits and vegetables and the like. He picked out numerous things — apples, some carrots, batches of corn — and had a fairly large stack with him before he finally deemed it enough for now (he figured he'd have to make multiple trips). The raccoon then turned away and hid under the basket again, inching his way toward the exit.
However, RJ's curiosity got the better of him and he turned around to look at the rest of the store. What he saw made him drop the food in his hands: aisles and aisles of food stretched across the entire length of the 8-Twelve. RJ, inching closer, saw in wonderment that it wasn't even regular food. It was all — processed.
RJ chanced throwing the basket off himself to pick out a plastic can from the bottom shelf. Carefully he read the label. "Spuddies? Never heard of them." He sniffed the can. Whatever these things were — according to the label they were actually potatoes — they smelled delicious. RJ pulled the top off; it made a satisfying hiss. He then picked a chip out and tasted it with a crunch.
The raccoon's eyes widened suddenly as he bit into the chip; he was convinced that heaven had blossomed inside his mouth. Whatever the humans did to process these potatoes, it was — magical. RJ rolled the chip around in his mouth for awhile, savoring the flavor, then swallowed and proceeded to devour the rest of the can in an instant. By the time he was finished the whole upper half of his body was inside the can; RJ licked it, searching for crumbs, before finally yanking it off.
RJ grabbed several more cans of these "Spuddies" before inching back under the basket and scooting up the aisle, dragging his already large stack of food behind him. He stopped now and then to pick out some other things; soon his hands were full of cookies, bags of assorted chips, a thing called "whipped cream", a drink named "soda", and other processed foods. RJ had tried all of these and liked each one; the soda (named Mach 6) seemed to affect him in particular — after drinking it he felt he could stay awake for the next few weeks.
RJ stopped under another shelf and considered his options. I need something to carry these, he thought to himself. He crouched down and looked through the holes in the basket. The next aisle was labeled Dolls & Figurines. Curious to find out what this meant, RJ scuttled his basket down the aisle.
Looking around, he noted that the humans had made miniature plastic versions of themselves. There was something called Barbie and Ken — dolls that had impossibly attractive proportions. On the other side were miniature versions of the big machines humans liked to drive around (cars, RJ reminded himself). He recognized the toys; Raymond loved to play with them. RJ found that a little bit odd, as humans seemed to enjoy running down raccoons in their real cars...
RJ shrugged these thoughts off, got out from under the basket and plucked one of these toys off their hangers. The car (labeled Sizzlin' Hubcaps) was blue, Raymond's favorite color; it glittered like a sapphire jewel. RJ twirled it around in his paw for awhile before deciding to take it also. Satisfied, he turned around and was about to leave — and his eyes settled on a figurine much taller than those around it.
It was a sculpture of the type of human that liked to hit little white balls through trim grass fields to sink them in little tiny holes. He was dressed in plaid and had a goofy-looking cap on. RJ glanced at the label on the box: The Panther Forest Golf Kit. Something else caught his eye too: slung over the figurine's shoulder was a small, blue canvas bag.
RJ stared at it for a minute and smiled. I could really use that right now, he thought to himself; his stack of food had been too large to carry for quite awhile. RJ placed the car in his pile and went for the box with the figurine. He wrapped his paws around it, pulling hard; the box, however, would not give. Surprised, RJ tugged harder. He felt it loosening ... it was coming ... there!
RJ pulled the box out, but as he did, something moved above him and he glanced upward. Time seemed to slow down suddenly as, horrified, RJ realized that there had been several of the same boxes stacked on top of the figurine. These boxes now sailed toward the raccoon and fell with a terrible clatter; RJ heard a loud crack and realized one of the figurines had broken.
"Hey! What the —"
RJ whirled around. The noise had attracted a tall female human's attention; she looked closer and suddenly screamed. "AAAGH! VERMIN! RACCOON!"
"Shoot!" RJ gasped to himself. "Stupid — stupid — stupid —" Quickly he punched a hole in the plastic box and yanked the canvas bag out, tossing the figurine aside. He slung it over his shoulder, trying it on: it fit perfectly. He then removed it again and shoved the pile of food inside; though there was a lot, it fit in effortlessly, as if the bag was bottomless. RJ then zipped up the top, slung the bag back over his shoulder — and ran for his life.
The woman's scream had attracted the attention of the other humans, including the store employees. RJ, rushing past in a blur, caught snatches of their conversation:
"What? What's going on?"
"Raccoon! Raccoon in the store!"
"There he goes now!"
"He's making off with our products!"
"Somebody catch him!"
"Filthy creatures! Who do they think they are, infiltrating the store like this?"
"Nasty little bandits who only think about themselves!"
"Get him!"
RJ tried not to listen, but he couldn't help rolling his eyes. Humans were amazingly exasperating at times. RJ wasn't concerned for himself, he was concerned for his family. And the humans were worried about him taking a little of their food? They had taken the animals' land. Hypocrites, the whole lot of them.
Suddenly RJ skidded to a halt. He had just reached the exit, but the same human he had seen before was now blocking the way. RJ gulped: it was clear that this human was not friendly in the slightest. He had a plastic bag in his hands and he dove for RJ; before the raccoon could react the human had wrapped him in the bag.
RJ struggled uselessly against the man's powerful hands. The human had caught him, but what was he going to do? RJ was confused. The human didn't seem do be doing anything. All he was doing was tightening his grip on RJ and the bag...
With a thrill of horror, RJ suddenly understood: the human was trying to suffocate him. The plastic bag pressed against the raccoon's nose and mouth. RJ squirmed fiercely in the human's hands. He — couldn't — breathe — needed — air — needed — help — needed —
With his last ounce of strength, RJ bared his claws and slashed a hole in the side of the bag. He caught a glimpse of the enraged human, and his reaction was instinctive: RJ reached up and jabbed the human in the eyes. The man howled and dropped RJ and the bag; RJ landed hard on the floor and stood up on shaking knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He looked up in time to see the human clear his vision and look down at the raccoon. And suddenly, he lashed out with his leg and kicked RJ across the store.
RJ skidded through the aisles, stopping in the frozen food section. Clutching his stomach in pain, he fought the urge to hurl and instead stood up and began running again, this time toward the back of the store. He didn't know what use it would be to go back there; all he knew was that he had to get away from the humans.
Unfortunately, they were everywhere. Literally. RJ rounded a corner and found himself face-to-face with a small boy, not much taller than the raccoon. The boy had a strange device in his hand: it looked like a red, v-shaped piece of plastic.
"TOY!" squealed the child suddenly as he spotted RJ; he lunged for the raccoon. Panicking, RJ dodged the boy's grasp and continued running. "Come baaaack," he heard the boy cry, anger in his voice. "Come back or I throw Boomy at you! I never like Boomy anyway!"
"That's boomerang, honey," came a motherly voice, correcting the child automatically. "And who are you talking to?"
RJ suddenly heard the woman scream; turning around, he realized it was because she had spotted him. The boy, meanwhile, had a determined look on his face, and he reared back and threw his boomerang. It sailed toward RJ and, instinctively, he leapt up and caught it. Smiling slightly at the surprised look from both the child and his mother, he stuffed the boomerang in his bag and continued running.
He turned another corner and gave a shout of relief: there was another door in front of him. RJ ran for it, watching it draw closer and closer. As he did, he suddenly noticed a sign plastered on it: EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND.
"This can't be good," he said to himself as he leapt for the handle, turned it, and sailed out into the night beyond.
Behind him, a sudden high-pitched shriek split the air, and the lights in the store flickered as the fire sprinklers came on, drenching dozens of angry humans. The employee who had tried to catch RJ had a particularly bad time of it, as he had been right under one of these sprinklers. Screaming with frustration, the man grabbed something off a shelf and hurled it out the door after the raccoon senselessly. There was no thud that meant that the object had made its mark, just the silence of the world outside as the alarm inside shrieked and the customers protested.
"Oh no," Marissa whispered, clutching at John's ears like they were security blankets. "Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no —"
"Stop that," Katrina said automatically, raising a paw to shush her sister. "Let's just think about this for a minute, all right?"
"They — they're monsters," Marissa was whispering, as she shook like a leaf. "They think that — that everything belongs to them, that they can just take whatever they want — they're — they're —"
"They're humans," John completed. "We know."
"What — are we going — to do?" said Snowy, who seemed to be having trouble breathing.
John thought for a moment, then said, "First item of business should still be to find Dr. Parker." He glanced at them, then asked, "I think RJ's health is the more pressing need at the moment, don't you?" When the three of them nodded silently, he continued, "Once we wake RJ up, he and Verne and the rest of us should be able to come up with something. RJ knows more about humans than almost anyone else; he'll know a way to get around this."
"What if — RJ doesn't —" Katrina started.
"No. He has to wake up. He just has to," John said firmly, though his eyes had lost their focus. "And even if he doesn't know how to stop this, he'll know how to fight it."
"Oh, yeah, because violence is always the answer," snapped Snowy sarcastically, sitting down and looking at John with contempt. "That's the best idea you can think of?"
John recoiled as though he had been slapped, but ignored the question and instead sneered, "That's odd, coming from you, whom I seem to remember eating a gila monster and injuring several humans in our attempts to escape from the lab." His gaze was cool as he glared at Snowy.
"Enough!" Katrina shouted suddenly. "Snowy, honestly, I expected better of you. I'm sick of all the arguments! Violence isn't always the answer, I agree, but as sad as it is, sometimes it's necessary. Now stop bickering with each other and let's figure out how to fix this! You two are supposed to be in love with each other!"
She glowered fiercely at Snowy and John, who were turning white under their fur.
"Is it — is it really that obvious?" said John uncertainly.
"Like air," said Marissa matter-of-factly, waving a paw. "It's always there but you never really think about it."
Katrina stared at her. "You know, Marissa, that is easily the most poetic thing I have ever heard you say."
"I know," said Marissa modestly, "I read it in a romance book. It was delicious."
The tension that had been hanging over them all day finally disappeared, and all four of the animals burst into laughter. Katrina had to jump off of Snowy temporarily as the cat rolled around on the ground. "Reading and eating books from the humans ... Marissa, you never cease to amaze me. I'm really glad I didn't eat you, when we first met."
"That wasn't a high priority at the time, was it?" said Katrina, laughing also.
"Not really," admitted Snowy. "Survival was the first thing in mind."
"As it should be now," said John, as he stood up again, his eyes blazing with renewed vigor. "Which is why we're going to the SPCA."
"Right-o!" said Marissa, jumping onto the cat's shoulders again, and Katrina followed suit with Snowy. The cat beneath her hesitated, then finally said, "And by the way, I'm sorry for ... for snapping at you guys. It hasn't exactly been the best of mornings."
"And if you think it's going to get any better, my lady friend, you are sadly mistaken," said John, all happy forgetfulness suddenly gone from his voice, as the four of them turned away from the sign.
"Way to lighten the mood, John," said Katrina, rolling her eyes, and then the two cats sprinted back down the street, turning corners rapidly until they at last passed out of the entrance to El Rancho Camelot and into the city beyond.
RJ slowed to a walk, breathing heavily. That, he reflected, had been way too close. He stopped suddenly as a strange object came flying out of the store and bounced in front of him. RJ looked at the package: ACME Laser Pointer. He shrugged, then stuffed that into his bag too.
He then scurried back down into the forest he called home, carting his new bag triumphantly over his shoulder. Man, he couldn't wait to show his family! He ran through the familiar trees and oaks, which were bathed in an orange glow from the sunrise, until at last he came upon the one he recognized as his. Quickly he scrambled up the tree trunk — having to adjust slightly because of the new bag — and popped into the hollow that was his family's cave. "Guys, guess what —" he started, then stopped suddenly.
The hollow was empty. More importantly, the leaves that his family used as bedding had been scattered every which way. They rustled ominously in the breeze, and as he cast his eyes around the hollow, RJ saw a dark red streak on one pile. Something that looked horribly like —
RJ shut his eyes. "No," he whispered to himself. "No. This isn't happening. It isn't —" But when he opened his eyes, the hollow remained empty. And what was worse, RJ realized that the bloodstain was on the leaf pile that had originally been his father's. Dreading what had transpired after he had left, RJ began backing away unconsciously, and would have fallen out of the tree had his head not hit the top of the hole.
RJ rubbed his head uncomfortably. He was almost grown: a week ago his head never would have hit the top. Turning his attention back to his missing family, he began scurrying around the hollow, searching it for things he knew he would not find. "Mom? Dad? Raymond?" he cried hopelessly, desperately. "Please ... please don't be —"
"RJ," came a voice. The raccoon whirled around. "Mom!"
Jill didn't react as RJ ran to her; the branch they were on shook dangerously but neither of them took notice. "Mom, you're okay! What happened to the others? Please tell me they aren't —"
"Your father was captured by humans," whispered Jill, her eyes staring straight ahead, and RJ blanched, horrified. "He went out to get more food, and tried to steal from farmers who were harvesting their crops ... they gave chase and he attempted to hide out here ... they followed him, they snatched him up, they took him back to the fields ... and they went inside the farmhouse and he ... and he..."
Jill shut her eyes and turned away from RJ. "...he screamed ... and that was the last I heard from him." Her voice shook as she recounted her story. "I had come back from my own food mission, I saw the humans abduct him, I followed them and tried to go after him, I heard him scream, I ran for the farmhouse. But — but —"
"But I stopped her," came another, deeper voice, and RJ spun on the branch. Standing below them was James the stag, gazing up at them with a neutral expression on his face. "If she had gone after Tim, she would have met the same fate. Perhaps worse, as the humans might have grown angrier with the thought of an infestation on their hands..."
"Leave us alone," RJ snarled, baring his claws as he looked down at the stag. "I know you're working for Vincent, I overheard you talking to him." Jill looked aghast at this news, but RJ plowed on relentlessly: "How can you stand there and talk to us when you were discussing our murders with him? You were calm, intrigued, even." The raccoon's voice shook with anger as he paced the branch, never taking his eyes off the stag. "And all of a sudden you're pretending to help us?"
"Not pretending," said James coolly, "not in the slightest. I am simply here to inform you that Vincent heard of your father's death, and so now claims that, as there is no way you can possibly meet the agreement with Tim gone, your entire family's servitude is now his."
"What?" cried RJ, and Jill made a noise like a cat being stepped on. "Who on Earth does he think he is? I barely even know him!"
"It comes from years of making animals do his dirty work so that he never has to forage for himself," said James, now pacing also, though his voice remained calm. "There is a bright spot, however. Since your family appears to have dwindled in numbers, he has decided to spare Raymond's life after all. For now, at any rate..."
"You call that a bright spot?" shouted Jill, her eyes glistening as she looked down at the stag. "How can you be so nonchalant? My husband is dead, and it's all thanks to the humans we have to steal from because your boss can't be bothered to do any real work! What should make us think that you're trying to help us?"
"Because I too have lost family close to me," said James, and his voice was even quieter now. "And it is also due to Vincent's meddling. My own father's head is mounted on a human's wall because he was sent to inspect a newly developed area, to see if there was anything for Vincent there that looked promising. I'm sure you can guess what happened after he — my father — met the hunters."
RJ had turned white under his fur and was trembling; Jill, however, seemed determined to remain levelheaded, though her voice shook even more when she said to James, "Be that as it may, we still don't know what you or Vincent are planning. I thought he was going to kill us if we couldn't uphold our end of the agreement."
"—But — Mom, he doesn't have to kill us!" shouted RJ suddenly, and slung the bag off his shoulder and stood it up on the branch, where it wobbled precariously until he steadied it with a paw. With the other, he unzipped the top, and under Jill's bewildered gaze, produced the pile of food that he had managed to obtain, both the processed and the regular goods. "See?" RJ shouted pleadingly. "We can give this to him, and now he'll have to leave us alone! It's everything he wanted!"
"RJ," said Jill gently, as she examined the pile. "RJ, it isn't enough."
"But — no, it has to be —"
"It isn't," James confirmed from below, having watched the exchange. "Almost, but not quite. And knowing Vincent, he'll claim 'almost' isn't nearly enough. He set the bar too high on purpose, RJ. He wants your entire family to serve him, not just your mother and father. And since Tim is now — unavailable...," here Jill shivered and fixed James with a murderous glare, "...your servitude is now more important than ever."
"Yeah, well," Jill said, and she was positively snarling now, "you can tell Vincent to take his servitude and shove it up his fat, hairy—"
"Mom!" gasped RJ, shocked. He had never seen his mother like this, and judging by Jill's sudden blush, she hadn't wanted him to. "Sorry, RJ ... lost my head for a moment..."
"I advise you to run," said James in that same maddeningly calm voice. "Vincent plans to accost you soon. In fact, he should already be on his way over here."
"What's going to happen to you?" asked RJ, as he and his mother began climbing down the tree.
"I am running as well," said James softly, and bowed his antlered head. "The news of my betrayal will undoubtedly be ... upsetting, and Tim's death made me realize that Vincent has ruled over my own family for far too long."
"Where will you go?" asked Jill, coming to stand beside RJ as the two of them now looked up at the stag from the forest floor.
"The Rocky Mountains," said James lightly, "the change of scenery will be beneficial. It's far away, but not by much — and it should be safe there."
"We wish you luck," said Jill quietly. "And thank you for your help."
James inclined his head again, then said, "I wish you luck as well. And it is my hope that your escape from Vincent will encourage others to do the same."
Then he turned away and was gone, galloping through the trees and off into the distance.
RJ and Jill stared after him, listening to the fading sounds of his hooves, before Jill finally said, "You heard the stag, RJ. We must find Raymond and run."
RJ nodded, and turned to face his mother. "How much time do we have, do you reckon?" he asked her.
There came a distant bear roar. But it wasn't nearly distant enough.
"Not much," said Jill.