I woke up sputtering, having breathed in plenty of ash.
"I...I'm alive?" Then I looked around. "And I'm not where I was. No, it looks the same. Then I heard a newspaper boy calling out: "Rat The Ripper Caught! Rat The Ripper Caught!"
Rat The Ripper Caught? But that was in 1839. That would mean I'm in 1839. Well, this just keeps getting weirder and weirder… I swear I'm seeing things. But no, everything seemed all too real to be a fake.
That left a whole bunch of questions unanswered. The most pressing was the matter of my being alive. I could've sworn I was going under for the last time. Next- what was the timestream doing to me? Well, I suppose I know that answer. Luke exists. That machine tore the timestream. And as Isaac Newtrunk said, "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." I guess this is the 'equal and opposite and reaction.' Which means I'm not seeing things.
Okay, Nicholas, just breathe. Be sensible. Sensible? How is that possible? I just got blown back a few centuries by a literal time bomb. How am I supposed to be sensible?
That sure is an interesting question. I don't know.
Is Luke alright? Judy? Jack? As much as I don't like that rabbit…
I don't know that, either.
Another question- how? How are we here? Another question I can't answer, but I'll try my best.
But now to stop being so introspective and solve the problem.
"Everyone okay? Sound off!"
"Here, Nick."
"Okay, that's Jack. Luke? Judy?"
No voices called back.
"They didn't get blown up with us, Nick. They're in 2019, and we're a hundred and eighty years behind them."
"Well, you're certainly taking this in stride, Jack. Have you even paused to consider the fact that this is all impossible?"
"Have you paused to consider the fact that I might know something that you don't?"
"Pray tell, what might that be?"
"I developed these things, Nick."
"What? And you didn't tell anyone? Have you and idea just how foolish that was, you idiotic rabbit? You've let the city get blown to ashes, you let my son and wife suffer the same fate, you blew yourself up while dragging me along, and you didn't bother to tell anyone that you had another trick up your sleeve?"
"What would have happened if I had gone public, Nicholas?" Jack spat. "You're a cop, you should know that criminals will go after any weapons they can find!"
"What if the criminal was a manic sheep who nearly destroyed the city once, escaped from jail, infiltrated the government, then destroyed the city from the city from the inside out again? Could you have at least considered putting them under closer guard?"
"Be quiet, alright? We want to get out of this alive, now don't we?"
"I'm not quite sure whether I want you to or not, but I know that I do myself, yes."
"Close enough. To save your own life, Nick, be quiet."
"Can you at least explain some things to me?"
"Let's get off the street first, then yes."
Same Place, One Hundred and Thirty Years Later
I'm not with Dad or Jack, but I have Mom. Knowing Dad, he'll be worried sick about me and Mom, seeing as he's always trying to keep an eye on me. Goodness gracious, he such a worrywart. Lucky me, I inherited those same traits. Lucky us, we're stuck in the past too. Very lucky indeed that today, October 29, 1929, is the day that Zootopia was invaded by Joseph Swinton's Bullshevik armies.
About that- in sixth grade, my history teacher, Mrs. Frisby, taught us all about this day. Zootopia fell, it was a Sowviet territory for the next sixty years. Swinton ruled by brutality- I wonder where Bellwether got her ideas.
Anyways, my teacher told us something that scares me still to this day- that all foxes were conscripted into the army, then sent on missions where they were sure to die. As I'm a fox, I think I have cause to worry if I'm now walking the streets on that dreaded day.
Speaking of trouble, here it comes now. "Run, Mom, run!"
March 15, 1839
Slaughterhouse Five, Meadowlands
"What are we doing in a slaughterhouse, Jack? Especially when we're trying to run from the slaughterhouse. Doesn't that seem, oh, I don't know, backward?"
"We're not in just any slaughterhouse, Nick. We're in Slaughterhouse Five- this is the home base of Zootopia's mafia."
"Speaking of this place, how does something like this even exist? All the predators eat insects, and the prey eat vegetables. So where does a killing factory come into the mix?"
"It's not really a slaughterhouse, Nick, it's a morgue. A place where the city can store all the bodies it can't bury."
"Awfully morbid, if you ask me."
"They put them all in coffins, if that's what you're worried about."
"No, I'm just considering the possible connections between dead mammals and an organization which has assassins for hire being based in the same building."
"Good point. Anyways, have you brushed up on your history?"
"I flunked out in third grade, Jack."
"Funny, because you graduated as salutatorian. I remember that rather distinctly. Judy was valedictorian."
"Can I tell you something, Jack?"
"What?"
"We're here for a reason. Time has ripped itself apart. In the version of the past I remember, I flunked out. I flunked out, and I spent my life on the streets. When I was, oh, maybe twelve, I met Finnick, and we started hustling together. But the other day, something changed. My last day in prison, you probably remember, I was locked in the morgue. Anyways, that morgue has a lab adjoining it, and I went in there to take a look. I tripped and faceplanted against what were apparently cloning tubes. I know, because that teenaged fox that's been with us is my son. Someway, somehow, Judy's his mom.
"But here's the funny thing, Jack, is that I'm not a dad, not in the history I know to be real. I was bullied by the Junior Ranger Scouts, that torture sent me onto a downward spiral that was only worsened by older, prejudiced teachers who remembered the collar days and thought that they should still be in effect. Anyways, those teachers decided to give me and my parents an ultimatum: they would flunk me on purpose, or my parents could take me out of school. They chose not to take me out of school, and it just got worse and worse and worse. It reached a point where my once-solid A+ grades were solid Fs. I couldn't take it. I told my parents I wasn't going back. They tried to send me, but I ran away. I haven't seen or heard from my parents since."
"That's the exact opposite of the Nick Wilde I know," Jack said. "The Nicholas Wilde I know, or at least I think I know, graduated second in his class, he was the captain of the track team, he was Class President."
"That's new history, Jack. That history is not my history. This history- right here, right now, is not my history, it should not be. This whole thing is impossible, both of us know it. But as I was just saying, history changed, and it's about to change again."
"What the hey is that supposed to mean?"
"Look at you, all polite and proper. Anyways, there's a case to solve, so let's get cracking."
October 29, 1929
"Well, that was close."
"I'll say." Then something tickled my mind. "Something's different, Luke. I don't know how, I don't know where, I don't know when. Where are the archives?"
"At the corner of Pack and Flock Streets. Oh, what do you know, here we are," Luke said, pointing up at the sign above his head. Rather fortunate, I'd say."
"I'd call it odd. I don't know if you've noticed, Luke, but every time that we've faced trouble, we've gotten away without a scratch."
"I didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Get away without a scratch. Good thing that there was that gun shop along the way, but I didn't get away that easily," he said, lifting his pant leg. Right below his knee, there was a red hole- a gunshot wound.
"You were shot and you didn't make a sound? Your pain tolerance must be through the roof, kid."
"It's only going to get higher."
"What makes you say that?"
"Things aren't over yet." We burst through the door of the archives, hoping everything would be intact. I slammed the door shut behind me.
"Luke, is there anything I can use to bar the door?"
He spotted a broom and handed it to me. "Here, Mom."
I took it and slid it through the door handles. "Done. Now that that's taken care of, roll up that pant leg. I'm going to see if I can get that bullet out."
"Okay," Luke whimpered. "It hurts, Mom." Then he began to cry. "It hurts a lot."
"I understand, honey. Lay down, I'll take care of it." Luke did as he was told, then I began to clean the wound. Just a word of advice- don't do what I do. "Mom, your tongue feels weird. It tickles."
"Well, it's-," I spat- "what I have. I want to save your life, and I don't have any water or cloths. I do, however, have my tongue and saliva. It's certainly not the greatest solution, but I do what I can with what I have." I bent back over and started again. When I was done, Luke's leg was all cleaned up- thank goodness that it had been a clean shot and wasn't bleeding.
"Now, let's get that bullet out," I said, reaching over his leg.
"Um...what are you going to use to get it out?"
"What I have- my fingers. This is going to hurt like the dickens, so you might want to get something to bite down on."
"I only have my tail."
"That might have to do."
"I really don't want to bite my tail though…"
"Would you rather have a scar on your tail or a leg? That's what I thought. Now take a breath, nice and deep. There you go. I'm going in now. Three, two, one…" I reached down into the hole, fished around a little, and came out with a bullet. "Okay, Luke, you can let go of your tail now."
"Yeeeeeeeeeeowwww! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Thank you, thank you, thank you, and ow!"
"Now that that problem's solved, who's up for some research?"
The following is from an archived copy of the Zootopia Daily Sun, March 21, 1839
Meadowlands, Zootopia
Lupus Grayson, Reporter
Never before has a city been so joyous. All of Zootopia's citizens have been terrorized by the mafia, of this, there is little doubt. A mammal so accustomed to their presence such as myself would therefore find it impossible to believe that such an extensive crime network could be toppled in a day. What makes this extraordinary event even more surprising is the most unusual duo that toppled this underground crime network- a fox and a rabbit.
These mammals, who both claim to be city outsiders, say they were just passing through the area when they were pursued by a pair of robbers. While fleeing the thieves, they say they stepped into an abandoned building, without, so they say, any prior knowledge of its contents.
"All Zootopians know not to go in there," Millicent Loxley said when interviewed by yours truly. Millicent, a lifelong resident of Zootopia and longtime borough resident, explained to me the laws that were in place in regards to said building. When prompted about mafia activities, she displayed no understanding of what had gone on within the walls.
"Yes, I knew it was a city morgue- that's common knowledge around these parts. But as for it being a mafia headquarters, that wasn't something I knew, but I don't suppose it should surprise me, not with such close proximity to Happytown."
For those of you that wish to inform yourselves upon the subject of Happytown, I should hope that the following paragraph will suffice. Happytown, or Zootopia's Refuse Heap, as it is better known locally, is the poorest of the thirteen that compose Zootopia Proper. Being the poorest, it has the lowest income and highest crime rates. This area of the city is also entirely composed of predators, fueling interspecies violence. Wars in the streets are not uncommon, in fact, as Mrs. Loxley told me, "they are the residents of Happytown can rely on happening with any regularity, if at all."
In related news, the fox and rabbit duo that blew the case open are being called on for public service. In fact, the borough head resigned yesterday, stating, "Nicholas Wilde and Jack Savage will be able to perform the duties that Happytown required fulfilled to a capacity that is infinitely greater than my own." Faced with this situation, the duo graciously accepted. Their five-year terms as Borough Head and Assistant Borough Head, respectively, are set to begin tomorrow. This marks the first time in Zootopia's history that a mammal of either species has held public office.
"Hey, Mom?"
"Yes, Luke?"
"I found Dad and Jack!"
"What? Where?"
"When, and 1839."
"Well, that's a bit of a problem, wouldn't you say?"
"Agreed. So what are we going to do about it?"
"Keep on researching there, Luke. See if you can find anything about those bombs."
Fifty minutes later, he came back, panting.
"Any luck?" I asked him.
"A little," he replied. "Do you happen to know how to build a flux capacitor, perhaps?"
"A what?"
"A flux capacitor. Plutonium plus an eighty-eight mile per hour velocity, and bang! You have time travel!"
"How have I never heard of this before?"
"I don't know, but I know that the signature on the plans says Jack Savage."
"What? How is that possible? Jack isn't even alive at this point in history, so how could he be drafting plans for time travel? Especially from 1839?"
"Um, Mom?"
"Yes, Luke?"
"You said you felt something shift, right?"
"Yes, I did, why?"
"Why? Because, Mom, I have a sneaking suspicion that they're trying to get back to us."
"In that case, let's get building ourselves a flux capacitor. Luke, get the steel. Now where on earth are we going to get plutonium?"
"No clue, Mom. Let's find out, shall we?"
