Chapter 1: A Dog-eat-dog World
"Drip…drip…drip"; the repetitive splash of filthy water droplets, falling vertically from a leaking pipe running adjacent to the wall of the drafty wooden building, was the only sound brave enough to break the painful silence within it. As was the norm of a lecture situation, when the lecturer dared to actually make his attendees participate and answer an incredibly simple question, he would receive nothing more in response than a succession of extremely awkward glances, both at the walls, and at each other; a scenario that would be made even more awkward if the lecturer was barely into his teens.
"So, can anyone tell me what a carburettor does?" he asked; his timid request falling almost completely on deaf ears. A group of twenty, quite literally uniformly-dressed anthropomorphic animal cadets were stood in a haphazard quarter-circle, a stone's throw away from an ancient, equally camouflage-laden Series Three Land Rover; its menacing V8 engine proudly on display below a bonnet shakily held open by a thick oak stick. To its left, leaning simultaneously against the top of its front wing, and a step-ladder, stood a grey, short-haired dog with over-sized, floppy ears that dwarfed the side of his face. He couldn't have looked more nervous if he'd tried; the spanner in his hand was continually knocking against the car from the severity of its shaking, and one could have sworn his sandy beige overalls had turned an ever-so-slightly darker colour under his armpits from when the class had started. There was good reason for this; the Mobius Cadet Camp had been either blessed, or cursed, depending on one's interest in the matter, with only one Army-trained mechanic, who was currently on an extremely short notice mission in Shamar. Not content with cancelling anything, the camp's First Officer had put a request out to the Cadets, asking if any of them would be up to covering one of the classes; the dog had been the only volunteer, but at this exact moment he was severely beginning to regret it.
"Anyone? Have I just been garbling double-dutch to you for the past ten minutes?" he inquired, trying to sound as authoritative as a thirteen-year-old could possibly manage.
"Alright, it's a valve-controlled mechanism for modulating the ratio of fuel to air that reaches the combustion chamber, since no-one's bothering to answer; that good enough for you, Sam?" All eyes swung round to the one voice brave enough to break the silence, with two burly hippos helpfully stepping aside to allow the relieved dog the chance to see who, it seemed, had been listening. Connor, his arms folded and a dominant, cocky expression on his face, stood confidently amongst the claustrophobic metropolis of bodies surrounding him, before shrugging unapologetically.
"What; you weren't paying attention? He literally told us less than a minute ago" he chuckled, arcing his eyes around the rest of the group.
"Yeah, and if this know-it-all wimp wasn't killing our ears with his stupid ramblings about outdated technology, we wouldn't all be half-asleep! This is the twenty-first century, for God's sake; no car has a 'carburettor' or a 'distributor' anymore. Do you know how you fix a car today? You just pick up the phone and call your fucking garage, that's how! Why the hell is he teaching us any of this shit?!" It seemed Sod's law had chosen to strike at that moment, placing the most loud-mouthed, arrogant, and most importantly, domineering member of the group right at the very front. Throughout the lecture, Jeff, a stocky grey rhino, had done nothing but either over-dramatically pretend to fall asleep, or mock what was being said by flapping his hand like a mouth; his outburst had prompted copious nods of approval and even a few mumblings of agreement. Glancing back at the humiliated dog, Connor was mildly surprised to see him tightly clenching his fists; his cheeks turning increasingly red as he did so.
"Well…well, if you would take more of an interest in the inner-workings of cars, instead of treating them like soulless, A-to-B human-cargo boxes, you narrow-minded rock-brain, then just maybe you'd find some value in what I'm talking about!" His voice rose to a shout, with silence abruptly befalling the group. Many pairs of surprised eyes turned back to face him, with none more so than Jeff's.
"What did you just call me? Go on; say that to my face!" he growled, flexing his muscles and advancing on him. Sam stood as defiant as he could, but Connor had never seen the colour drain out of someone's face as fast as he did here; the dog's face turned abruptly from a deep red to a ghostly white faster than he could blink. Realising what was about to happen, he darted to a tool-bench and fumbled for the largest spanner he could see, before breaking from the group and running towards the Land Rover. Jeff had reached Sam by this point, and thrust his hand around his throat before pulling him upwards and kicking the step ladder away from underneath his battered red baseball boots, leaving him dangling in the air, supported only by Jeff's clasped hand. However, he'd made the classic bully error of focusing too much on one target, failing to see Connor taking a clumsy, but well-aimed swing directly at his outstretched arm. The cold steel spanner whacked against the rhino's elbow with a resounding impact, immediately causing Jeff to yelp, more with surprise than pain, jerk his arm backwards and release his grip. With his vital platform gone, the dog dropped to the ground and stumbled forwards onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Panting quickly with adrenaline, Connor pierced his glare into Jeff's eyes; his message as clear as day.
"What's the matter Jeff, you too proud to take a little insult? Leave Sam alone and get outta' here. In fact, all of you, clear out; you've made it painfully obvious you don't give a shit, so piss off!" Rubbing his elbow, the rhino attempted to make himself as tall as possible, before flipping the bird to the pair of them.
"Pff, you're not worth my time; I'll leave it t' Humphrey to kick the shit outta' you" he growled, turning on his heel and shoving people aside as he marched out of the garage. Not knowing quite where to look, the rest of the group quietly followed suit, but with a few showing acknowledgements they'd been too scared to do before by nodding, or giving Connor a brief thumbs-up. Once the cluster of forest-camo-attired bodies had gone, Connor sympathetically glanced down to the humiliated dog; his hands-and-knees position on the ground ironically similar to the domesticated animal that the anthropomorphic world had tried so hard to distance themselves from.
"You didn't have to do that, you know; I was out of line for that outburst, but…I just…" his speech became increasingly mumbled, and, upon further inspection, Connor could see glistening beads of tears forming just below his eyes.
"You okay there, pal? How badly did Jeff-"
"No, no it's not that. It's…I just can't stand it when people are so goddamn ignorant about things, especially vehicles. I could see it from the moment I started this sodding lecture; no-one was the least-bit interested in anything I was saying." Connor found himself chuckling in response.
"You don't need to explain yourself, Sam; no-one likes Jeff. Hell, he was lookin' for a reason to cause trouble; the only reason he was able to get away with all of that is simply because he knows people are shit-scared of him. Look, lemme…" he extended his arm down and stretched out his hand, causing the dog to physically look at him and reveal his tear-stained cheeks, which he promptly wiped away. He took hold of Connor's hand and was pulled to his feet, attempting to retain what little dignity he had left.
"Thanks; thanks for sticking around, for a start. Call me Shepps, by the way; I only used my real name to make people take me seriously, and that clearly went down well." Connor raised his eyebrows.
"Shepps? Odd nickname; why-"
"It's because I'm part Shetland Sheepdog, alright?"
"Well you sure don't look like one; you look like a grey Labrador with Beagle ears and-"
"Do you mind?!" The dog snapped abruptly, shooting a fierce glare into his eyes; enough to make even Connor back down.
"O.K pal; sorry, that was kinda' personal, I admit."
"Just…just leave it, alright; look, I have to ask, how come you were the only one listening?" Connor chuckled in response.
"It's simple; I like cars; 'have done since I could walk. I've hardly found anything at this wretched dump I enjoy, and vehicle maintenance classes would've been the exception, were it not for the fact that the Camp's resident mechanic is the most boring person my ears have ever had the pain of listening to. At least Humphrey makes you shit your pants whenever he talks to you, but Milton's like listening to a robot with a slowed-down voice processor. Yeah you were nervous, but who wouldn't be? At least you were actually interested in what you were talkin' about." The dog's cheeks blushed with embarrassment.
"Yes, I probably was a little too enthusiastic at times; I didn't read the signs early enough it seemed. But I've tried telling people the real reason why I'm as into cars as I am; particularly the mechanical side, and they always laugh" he sighed, diverting eye contact with Connor to stare glumly at the concrete floor.
"Go on, you can tell me; I promise I won't judge" Connor reassured him, leaning casually against the front wing and gesturing openly. Shepps continued to avoid looking directly at him, but nodded reluctantly.
"Alright, maybe later. If Jeff has decided to grass on me, you probably don't want to be around when Humphrey finds me." Connor gave him a surprised look.
"Shepps, I'm a witness, remember? Jeff's gonna' go snivelling to Humphrey about how…oh I don't know, you attacked him, or somethin', when all you did was dent his massive ego; you need someone to back you up."
"There were enough witnesses, Connor; I'll be fine. Besides, Jeff sucks up to Humphrey like a limpet to a rock, and I'm near certain that Humphrey always believes his side of the story. Plus, there's the small fact that Jeff's sole reason for being there was to evaluate me as a lecturer."
"Oh…shit" Connor found himself grinning, "now I agree with ya'; you should've kept your thoughts to yourself."
"Well it's a little late for that, isn't it? Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but the best thing for me to do is to face the music. I'll tell you what, why don't you come back later this evening, after dinner? I haven't got anything on this evening; you?" Connor shook his head in response, already beginning to head towards the door.
"Nope; I'll come back at seven."
"I owe you one" Shepps called out to him, smiling with guilt and raising his hand in a goodbye gesture.
"Eight…nine…argh…ten" Connor groaned, overcoming his screaming back muscles to clasp his moist, sweaty right hand around a thin metal bar as he completed one final aching hanging sit-up; his head light as a balloon as his left hand arced up to join it. He'd resisted the urge to use his long, swooping tail as an extra grip, but eventually could take no more, and begrudgingly curled it around the aptly-named bar as he pulled his boots off the cold tube and back-flipped towards the ground, releasing its grip as he swiftly crouched to cushion the fall, before standing upright and wiping beads of sweat away from his forehead, simultaneously grabbing the scruff of his vest and shaking it back and forth in a desperate bid to air it out. His body clock was nagging him to adhere to his promise with Shepps and, with the warm evening sunset projecting its rays over the courtyard, basking the area in a soft, orange tint, Connor casually sauntered away from the outdoor workout bars on the east edge of the camp, towards the semi-circular, corrugated iron structure that acted as the Camp's one-and-only garage, before gingerly knocking twice on the door.
"Crash...ow! Argh, for pity's sake!" A wave of alarming racket followed, before Shepps poked his head around the flimsy iron door; his baseball cap gone and his muzzle covered in oil.
"You…O.K there?" Connor inquired with a mix of amusement and concern. Shepps nodded quickly; his breathing rapid and tense.
"Yes, I'm-I'm fine; you just happened to catch me right after I'd removed the rustiest bolts imaginable. They were for the oil pan in case you were wondering; I've certainly found the answer as to why the engine was running so poorly when I started working on it."
"I think I've already figured that one out; your face is more black than grey" Connor chuckled, leaning against the door.
"Well you don't exactly look relaxed as a rug either; I take it you've been working out? Oh, sorry, do come in." Shepps hurriedly pulled the door open and gestured inside, before shutting the door behind Connor as he sauntered through.
"Yeah, I had…" Connor trailed off as the sheer amount of tidying Shepps had had to do before the class had come in earlier became immediately apparent; spanners and bolts littered the floor, accompanied by large puddles of oil and other unknown substances meandering their way along cracks in the concrete. Above the reek of mechanical substances, though, a rather more appetising smell had found its way into Connor's nostrils; his eyes followed the scent like a sniper, widening with joy as they settled upon an opened pizza-box with an entire, untouched pepperoni pizza inside it.
"Wait, I didn't know you were allowed to order in" he inquired, cautiously approaching the pizza; Shepps chuckled, somewhat nervously, in response as he re-located his baseball cap.
"Well technically you're not, but about an hour before you got here, I finally managed to get the engine going. I'm surprised you didn't hear it; a de-catted straight-pipe hooked up to a three-and-a-half litre Rover V8? I'm glad no-one was asleep" he quipped, thwacking the front wing with grim affection.
"So why-"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? This is Humphrey's car; I'm doing him a favour by fixing it for free. It needed a near-complete engine rebuild, suspension re-aligning; the works. All the other garages he tried either flat out refused, or obviously offered a price he thought was too high, so he came to me. The fact I was able to show him his car with a working engine probably played a big part in why he didn't beat the living daylights out of me earlier; yes, Jeff did snitch on me, but I was only given a stern reprimand about the impartiality of being a lecturer. He wasn't too happy when I asked if I could order in, but eventually he agreed." Connor's eyes narrowed.
"Wait, you're not trying to sucker up to him like Jeff, are you?" he hissed, sticking an interrogating finger at Shepps; the dog frantically waved his hands in front of his face.
"No…no, not at all", he stammered, "he asked me to fix it. I mean, I don't claim to be an expert mechanic or anything, but I do enjoy fixing cars in my spare time."
"Learned it from your parents or somethin'?" Connor asked, his eyes glancing between Shepps and the awfully appetising pizza.
"Well…sort of. I'll explain in a bit, but I take it you must be hungry? Quite apart from the fact you've looked at that pizza more than you've looked at me since you got here, the food at the canteen has been some of the worst I've ever had the displeasure to stomach, and I speak as a vegetarian; seriously, how can anyone possibly ruin a salad that badly?" Connor suddenly noticed something painfully obvious about the pizza, but it was a sight that clearly conflicted with what the dog had just said.
"Wait, this is a pepperoni pizza; how come…?" Shepps' smile vanished in a flash; replaced by unmistakeable meekness.
"Well…you see…I thought that since you were coming…" Connor's eyes widened.
"You didn't buy this pizza just for me, did you?!" The dog's cheeks blushed an alarmingly deep shade of rose.
"Erm…well, you did save me from Jeff earlier, and…look, it was the least I could do." It was Connor's turn to blush; this time with guilt as well as embarrassment.
"Come on Shepps, you really didn't have to! No," he began picking pieces of pepperoni off one side of the pizza "you have this half; you've spent God knows how long fixing this piece of shit, and you've spent your own money on this. I'd…I'd feel awful if I ate it; hell, I already do! Besides, I don't need a whole pizza; the meatloaf really wasn't that bad."
"It's fine; I'm not hungry…" Shepps began, but a second later, as if on cue, his stomach began to growl loudly.
"Yeah," Connor muttered grimly, "you keep telling yourself that; have the other half, I mean it."
"Alright, if you insist" Shepps sighed, slowly sauntering over to the pizza and tearing the nearest slice away from it as Connor did the same.
"Look, take your mind off it" Connor mumbled; his mouth full of dough, "you were going to tell me about where your love of cars came from earlier, remember?" Upon swallowing his mouthful, Shepps' smile returned, accompanied by a new-found ease to his aurora.
"Oh yes, that. Well, like you, I'd realised my passion from an early age; ever since I was three I've been next to, inside and underneath numerous different cars, but mostly Toyotas, and that's because…alright, have you ever heard of the Station Square Toyota Rally team?" Connor put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth as he racked his brain.
"Uh, a bit; I've heard their name brought up in a couple o' documentaries and such."
"Well…uh…my family runs the team, you see." Connor's eyes widened considerably.
"Really?! Wow, that's awesome!" Shepps looked very surprised.
"You mean it?"
"Yeah! What I wouldn't give to have a family like that!" Visible relief washed over Shepps' face.
"Th…thanks pal; you're the first person who's done anything other than snigger when I've told them that."
"Well that's their loss, isn't it? You're incredibly lucky, Shepps." The dog nodded with agreement, but began to hang his head. Connor raised his eyebrows.
"What's wrong?"
"Well, I would be happier about my parents' occupation, but you see, we…we're not exactly doing very well at the moment. The last championship we won was five years ago, and so far this season we haven't won a single rally we've entered; heck, half of them we didn't even finish."
"Why?" Connor inquired sympathetically, and somewhat incredulously. Shepps sighed with a hint of contempt, and gently placed the half-eaten, greasy pizza slice back into its box.
"There's one major weak link in the chain, and one that's sort of a requirement for a successful team; the drivers. I don't want to mingle with the whole 'drivers were "men" in those days' argument, but my parents have gone to great lengths over my life to tell me how, back in the team's glory days, our drivers were not only far more skilled than the ones we hired recently, but they rarely, if ever, complained. Nowadays, there's this awful culture of blame within the team; drivers and co-drivers blaming each other, the mechanics blaming the course surveyor, and so on. The biggest problem has become the sponsors; they demand results, and without them, we've got no backbone; quite literally." Connor's face fell.
"Oh, that's…shit luck; really is. Is there any way outta' this?" Shepps shook his head, sighing forlornly.
"Not as far as I can see; we can't fire the drivers because, firstly, they've formed a strong trade union, and more importantly, there are incredibly few drivers even available at the moment; least of all drivers who would actually want to race for a failing team. I mean, my Dad's trying to arrange a test day next week for potential recruits, but no-one's signed up. In the past Toyota did send us one of their works drivers, but that was twenty years ago; we-" Connor's brain suddenly remembered something that was parked, abandoned in the garage back home; something that would be of vital use, both to Shepps, and to him.
"Actually Shepps, there is somethin' you can do for me" he cut in.
"Yes?" he inquired, a little miffed at Connor's interruption.
"Well…my Mom owned this old Toyota before…well, I don't wanna' talk about what happened. I managed to hold onto it when my Da- I mean, when I got moved into my foster home."
"Foster home?!" Shepps exclaimed; his eyes widening considerably, "oh, I…my condolences; what happened to your parents?"
"They died in a house fire a year ago" Connor spat grimly, "but I'm long-since over it; I really don't wanna' talk about it. Anyways, this old Toyota; it was a 'Celica', I think. It's really old; like, early seventies." Shepps' sympathetic look vanished, to be replaced with one of pure elation.
"You mean a TA22?!"
"Uh...I guess?"
"Wow! That's- ah, I should probably explain; a TA22 Celica was the very first car that my Dad rallied back in the early eighties; funnily enough he met my Mom when the team he was driving for at the time hired her as a co-driver!" Connor sniggered.
"So I guess you could say she became his co-driver for life?"
"Something like that. Seriously though, that's awesome; I'd love to come round and see it sometime." Connor's fingers danced in-between one another.
"That's the thing Shepps, I was…sorta hoping you'd come and see it tonight." The dog became visibly puzzled.
"Tonight?! Why?"
"Uh…because Social Services are comin' to scrap it tomorrow; I tried to argue with them, but you can't argue with people who have a goddamn checklist where their brains should be. More to the point, that car…it means a lot to me, ya' see; even though it used to belong to my Mom, my Dad…ended up takin' ownership of it, let's put it that way, but he never bothered to maintain it properly and kinda' 'fell out' with it; he hated that car, more to the point." His spiel had exactly the desired effect; Shepps' face fell, with a sympathetic expression, tinged with a frown, now upon it.
"Oh…those kinds of people rile me; you know that already. Sorry, forgive me, I shouldn't talk about your Father like that-"
"Don't sweat it Shepps; he and I never saw eye to eye, but if I could just see it run one last time, then…"
"Connor, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but…well, you do realise that official signing out hours ended…" he glanced at his watch, "…about two hours ago? You can't get out otherwise." A sly grin began to spread itself across Connor's face.
"That's where you're wrong, buddy; I know a secret way out, and one that gets round the cameras, but it's best if we do it after hours. Please; please pal, just this once; you'll regret it if you don't." Biting his lip, Shepps sighed as he glanced down briefly; deep in thought.
"Right, I'll do it" he responded finally, bringing his head up to face Connor directly in the eye, "but only if you promise that we can be back before tomorrow morning."
"Sure thing. Have this half of the pizza; I'll tell ya' a bit more about me."
The eerie calls and shrieks of forest prey and predators enacting their vendettas against one another ricocheted through the night as Connor and Shepps gingerly navigated their way in between building after faceless building, before finally reaching a line of trees at the back of the camp.
"O…k, now what?" Shepps inquired, staring blankly at a tall, wire-mesh fence with a row of thick oak trees sat in a uniform row behind it, forebodingly blocking out the dark void of the forest beyond. Connor said nothing; rather his response was to saunter towards the very perimeter of the area.
"Here ya' go;" he gestured vaguely to his left, "the fence's supposed to turn ninety degrees then continue along behind us, but that crazy thunderstorm we had three weeks ago blew down a small section of it, and no-one noticed…except me, when I was casually looking for a way out that avoided the cameras a few days ago." Shepps raised his eyebrows with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
"Wait, why were you even looking in the first place?"
"Erm…I can explain later; look, let's just get the hell outta' here before anyone claps eyes on to us." Shepps narrowed his eyes and stared at Connor intently.
"This had better be worth it, Connor; I'm not putting my education on the line for a petty car, even if it is a Celica." Connor grinned in response.
"Oh trust me, you won't be disappointed." Sticking as close to the other side of the fence as they dared, the duo cautiously navigated the labyrinth-like shrubbery before scaling an abrupt incline, and finally bolting over the cold, metal guard-rail that ran adjacent to the road leading away from the camp.
"Bingo" Connor whispered triumphantly, glancing around to check not only for traffic, but also to confirm they weren't being followed.
"I take it buses do run at this hour, right?" Shepps questioned nervously, now decidedly less sure about what he was doing as the pair gingerly crossed the road and began to saunter along the rough, cracked tarmac towards the flimsy, road-side bus-stop a hundred metres up the road.
"Yep, and don't worry; the bus drivers know better than to ask questions."