The rain seemed to have a mind of its own. Although Zuma never minded being outside during small storms or showers, there was something about this storm that was unsettling him. The rain had been falling for hours and hours on end, not the rarest thing in the world but certainly unnatural. Looking around, he couldn't fully understand what was creeping up his spine, couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was stalking him from afar.
But there was one thing he did understand.
He knew that Skye was dead, gunned down by a certain German Shepherd. All he wanted at the time were the answers to questions, an answer to what Chase had been keeping from them, an answer to if he was slowly going insane. He remembered the shrieking gunshot that tore through the air, screams filling the room, and opening his eyes to a dead dog. He tried to keep his composure, holding onto Rocky as Chase struggled to defuse the room, but in the end he couldn't stop himself from slowly breaking down. He and the rest of the dogs were exiled to their kennels shortly after, but Zuma was restless. He had to come outside into the storm and think, to address the aching void that rose in his heart. Skye was gone, a core piece of the family that was never coming back. Her kennel stood like an empty tomb, her food bowl sitting outside in loneliness, collecting rainwater from the storm.
Now Zuma was sitting alone in the Lookout clearing, his fur soaking over from the rain. Staring ahead into the pitch-blackness of the forest before him, he contemplated running. If what Chase said was true, then there was no need to flee, all threats were taken care of. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Shepherd was lying once again. A few minutes ago, he had a brief conversation with Chase. It was glaringly obvious when the Shepherd met him outside that he the power was going to his head. So what if Zuma strayed away from his kennel? He wasn't leaving, so he'd be out here if he wanted to. The Lab had made a passing comment about Marshall, hoping to shoo Chase away, which it fortunately did, leaving him to his solitude once again.
"This is stupid," the Lab muttered to himself, staring down at his paws, "why now? Why us?" He pleaded into the dirt as if he spoke over a soul who had been buried underneath him. A sickening feeling rose within him as he realized soon, it would be Skye sleeping under the ground. Zuma made a mental note to himself, already writing his speech for the funeral. Skye was an amazing pilot, a fearless leader, and an amazing friend. Tears ran down his face as he silently rehearsed his words to himself, mixing with the rainwater.
A rustling sound behind him caused the Lab to look up from his grieving. Glancing behind him, he spotted Chase leaving Marshall's kennel, walking out into the rain. Zuma instantly whipped his head away to prevent his eyes from locking with Chase's, refusing to even meet the gaze of the Shepherd who put down one of his best friends. As he heard the Shepherd's pawsteps fade away back to the Lookout's entrance, he sighed and turned back to watch him. He didn't want Chase going anywhere near Marshall anymore, not on his life. The apology that had likely taken place between them was an exception, but Zuma made future plans to keep Chase apart from the broken Dalmation.
He watched Chase approach the elevator doors, coming to a small device that he noticed was leaning against the doors. Tilting his head slightly, Zuma gently turned himself for a better look. He remembered seeing the odd machine when Chase brought it in, asking for a blood test. The police dog mentioned that he was running Skye's blood, likely through that exact device. Zuma suddenly felt a wave of shame run over him, gently lowering his head. Had he been wrong? Had Chase truly been trying to protect them? He watched the Shepherd look down into the device, then as confusion spread across his face.
"Wait," he heard Chase say, "what?"
Zuma got up and approached him, slowly and carefully. Chase's face held an expression of confusion, which quickly shifted into bewilderment, then sank into horror.
"Chase?" Zuma called him, and the Shepherd snapped his attention over, taking the Labrador off guard, "are you alright?"
"Yeah! Fine!" the Shepherd barked nervously, visible worry flooding his face.
"You don't look fine," the Lab tilted his head, "what does the machine say?"
"What machine?"
Zuma narrowed his eyes, "The one you put Skye's blood in?"
"Oh yeah, that one," Chase laughed nervously, looking off to the side, "hey I gotta get upstairs,"
"But what did it say?" pressed the Lab, "she's infected, right?"
Chase hesitated, locking up for a solid second, "yes! That's why I need to go upstairs!"
"Why are you acting like that?"
The Shepherd whipped around, almost in a panic, grabbing the blood reader in his mouth. Before Zuma could say anything, the police dog, nearly threw himself in the elevator and hit the button to shut the doors. The Lab was blindsided by Chase's explosive escape, only able to flash a puzzled expression.
"What the hell is going on..?" Zuma shook his head, before turning around to walk home.
Sighing to himself, he decided there was no point in asking questions anymore. He walked up to Rocky's sealed kennel and knocked on the metal sheet door, droplets of water flying off with each knock.
"Chase, I said go away," came the voice from inside.
"Rocky, it's me," Zuma gently sounded from behind the door,
"Oh, sorry-"
The door opened, revealing a shaken grey mix, "come on in, I have some towels."
The Lab apologetically walked in, careful not to track too much water anywhere, "yeah, sorry, it's just the rain hasn't stopped yet," he smiled as Rocky pulled over a blue towel and draped it over the soaked Lab, "how are you feeling?"
"Awful," Rocky confessed, climbing back into his bed, "I'm just trying to get through the night, I just can't believe she's gone," he looked up at Zuma with pained eyes, "how can he just do that?" his voice began to break, "how can he just-"
"I think," Zuma tried to say, reaching his paw forward to comfortingly place it on Rockys, "I think there's a lot of things we don't understand right now."
"He said Skye was a monster," the mix sniffled,
Zuma looked away, staring ahead at the walls. The comfort of the towel was already warming him and drying away the water in his fur. They stayed quiet for a few long minutes, each one trying to form their own explanation of recent events. Thinking over his friend's distressed words, Zuma's mind came to a clear, yet disturbing conclusion.
"I think we should careful around Chase for a while," Zuma nodded, "he... doesn't seem like himself."
"What do you mean?" Rocky asked, shuffling farther into his bed,
The Lab shook his head, "I can't really explain it, you know those moments when you've known someone your whole life, then they suddenly change?" a sinking feeling rose in his heart the more he spoke, "Rocky, I don't think... I don't think Chase is there."
"Not here?" the mix went wide-eyed.
"I don't trust him," Zuma concluded, "do you?"
Rocky flattened his ears, "Hell no. Did you hear what he said about conspiring with the ACG? Those same dogs who beat me up?"
The Lab gave a low growl, "I'm honestly sick of hearing about those stupid military dogs,"
"How do you think I feel?" the mix stood up, "just for once I think everything's okay, then out of nowhere it comes out that Chase is hoarding guns and talking with their captain!"
"Well I'm glad that someone feels the same way as me," Zuma smiled to himself, "I'm gonna go talk to the others, see how they're doing. I guess I'm the only one who actually dared to step out of my kennel."
"Are you suggesting that I'm scared of Chase?" Rocky raised an eyebrow,
"I mean, are you?"
The mix suddenly stopped, retracting a little as his eyes went to the ground, "a little,"
Zuma nodded, "it's okay, just stay behind me, if you feel you need to."
The fearful mix nodded in reply but failed to hide the smile that was slowly brightening his face. Tragedy had torn through them all like a white-hot knife, and Zuma took it on himself to keep everyone together, no matter what Chase tried to do. With a final reassuring nod to Rocky, he shed his towel and left the kennel, making sure to close the door behind him so no rain would flood in. It was slightly uncomfortable to be wet all over again, but he pushed away the thought as he approached Rubble's kennel.
"Rubble?" Zuma knocked on the door, "are you alright in there?"
No response, although faint rustling sounds could be heard from inside. He definitely wasn't asleep, and could Zuma could clearly hear what seemed to be drunken stumbling, running into things and objects falling to the floor.
"Rubble...?" the Lab asked again, motioning to open the door,
=.=
"No." Chase said to himself, staring down into the blood reader as rain hit his head, "that... that can't be right." He blinked his eyes several times, trying to make sense of the words before him. Was the machine still overheated, broken even?
Negative. Skye'd blood tested negative for the parasite.
Staring down at the machine in bewilderment, panic surged within his head, accompanied by a large burst of static that crept over his brain, deafening out the sounds of the rain. For a brief moment, Chase was lost in his own purgatory, hearing and seeing nothing but what was before him. His breath quivered, paws trembling as he held Skye's results.
"Chase?" came a voice to his right, and the dog snapped his attention over.
It was just Zuma, usually, Chase would feel relief, but he was panicking. He had to get away, get upstairs, anywhere, flee from the madness for just a moment to comprehend it.
"Are you alright?" Zuma asked wearily,
The opposite, to be exact. Chase's head was screaming in white noise, and for a moment he didn't even recognize the Labrador, "Yes! Fine!"
"You don't look fine, what does the machine say?"
Why was Zuma always so nosy? Why was Zuma anything that he was? The thought gave rise to a feeling of anger, a hostility that bristled within the Shepherd. It was always Zuma, always that stupid Lab who broke the rules. Caught up in the sounds in his head, Chase could barely even register his friend's questions.
"What machine?" he breathed out, confused,
"The one you put Skye's blood in?"
"Oh yeah, that one," Chase tried to laugh off his mistake, "hey I gotta get upstairs," His mind was barking at him. Run. Flee. Run. Run faster, run anywhere just to get away from the others, run somewhere you can break down sobbing at your own failures.
"But what did it say?" Zuma took a step forward, "she's infected, right?"
Chase felt his body lock up. He could lie right now and be done with it, but how much time would that buy him? "Yes! that's why I need to go upstairs!"
"Why are you acting like that?"
With no further excuses to give, Chase turned sharply and fled the scene, grabbing the blood reader and running into the elevator. Shutting the doors as fast as he possibly could, he caught a brief glimpse of Zuma's confused expression. There was no time for that now, he had to get back to the boiler room and rip out an answer wherever he possibly could. He paced in circles around the elevator, whimpering to himself as he descended back underground. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't, Chase made every single attempt to deny it but the truth was looming over him, just waiting for the dog to look up.
He was almost running in place when the electric doors slid open, and a wave of heat washed over him. He could care less about the temperature now, savagery gripped his mind as he bared his teeth, claws unsheathing from his paws. He took no time sprinting back to Skye's body, still laying motionless on the table. He jumped up on it in a single motion, planting his paws on the table firmly and staring down into the cockapoo's motionless, lifeless eyes.
"Show yourself!" he barked, insanity in his eyes, "show yourself dammit! I know you're in there!"
Not a word was spoken in response.
"Feroxmalis! That's your name right?!" he was nearly screaming now, "come out of her and face me!" He slammed his paw on the table, knocking off small metal tools as the impact sound rang throughout the room, "I said come out!"
He wanted so badly to deny it, like if he truly believed hard enough he could change reality, willing himself into the right and erasing what could have possibly been the worst mistake of his life.
"Come out," his voice lowered, breaking as tears spilled from his eyes, "please,"
Skye wasn't infected, she never had been. Her blood was inserted into the machine and it came back negative. He tried desperately to form an explanation in his head, like Feroxmalis switching bodies or leaving Skye, but it never left with the original body unscathed. If it decided to leave Skye, she would've died in the process. The only thing that made sense was now Chase's worst nightmare.
He murdered her.
He was wrong, guessed incorrectly on the most pivotal decision of his entire life. Now an innocent dog was dead, murdered by his own paw, and for what? What could she have possibly sacrificed herself for? Was there even a threat to begin with? Static churned in his head as a crippling question surrounded him; was the parasite even here to begin with? Was Skye really just sick with a common cold? Anguished at his failure, Chase slowly let himself down from the table. Each step of his paw was shaking, his very soul struggling to live with the reality of having killed one of his closest friends.
Every moment he tried to make sense of the situation, his mind only blocked it out. All he could do now was deflate, lowering himself to the floor and tucking in his paws. Silence filled the air for a long moment, and Chase closed his eyes and wept on the floor, mourning the beloved friend he put down. Upon opening his eyes again, he sat up and looked to the floor. Remembering the pup-pack that still sat on his back, Chase realized the source of their problems in the first place.
"Ammunition, ruff," he barked sadly.
On perfect command, the mechanical arm extended out of the pack, brandishing the same firearm he had used earlier today. Chase reached up and removed the gun from the arm, now holding it in his own paws. His weeping eyes inspected the weapon, turning it over a few times. Skye was dead, and it was all his fault, a crime executed from the very tool in his paws. Was it always true in his case? He was a police officer, after all, and such authorities were no strangers to violence. What was it that made him pull the trigger on her? Delusion? Or had the violent nature of police officers suddenly gone to his head?
"I-" he stuttered, making a decision, "I'm turning myself in."
He sighed and tossed the gun away, not even caring to see where he threw it. He heard the metal sound of impact as the weapon collided with the floor, most likely behind some junk now. He didn't deserve to carry a gun, he didn't deserve his badge, his uniform, his title, he wouldn't complain if it was all stripped away from him.
Moving his paw up to his neck, he felt a tag that still hung from his collar, the one Cyrus had given him. The tag with the emergency radio implanted inside.
"I failed," he said in resignation, realizing there was no hope for him now.
He unclipped the radio and tossed it away along with the gun. No point in helping the ACG, no point in even speaking to them anymore. What would Cyrus say, at the revelation that Chase truly was just a puppy who didn't understand what he was doing? There was only one thing Chase could do now; wait out the storm and for Ryder to return. But what would he tell his friends? They had to know eventually, they had the right to know the truth. Although he didn't really have that conversation planned, especially after he already lied to Zuma.
Sighing, he turned and left the boiler room, shutting the doors behind him as he entered the elevator. It felt like a dream as he moved back to the surface, with the Shepherd blankly gazing into the wall as he watched his life fall apart. The static in his head continued on as it screeched in his ears, but Chase made no effort to calm it. Now he understood it, at least in his own way. The noise was here for a reason, a figment of punishment for himself. He had nothing but his own mistakes to face now.
The doors opened, revealing the dark downpour outside. Chase quickly made plans to retire to his kennel and sleep away the entire horrid night.
"Help!" cried a voice.
He quickly picked his head up, ears stiffened in alarm.
"Chase!" Zuma cried out, straining to keep the kennel door closed, "over here!"
It took him a second to process the situation, but Chase quickly sprang up into action, "Zuma?!"
A violent clang erupted from Rubble's kennel, sounding like something within it was bouncing off the walls, causing the entire structure to sway.
"Get back!" the Lab shouted out, as the other dogs emerged from their kennels.
"What is that?!" Rocky exclaimed,
Low growls began to emit from the kennel, layered on one another like dozens of dogs were all snarling at once.
"Holy shit..." Chase muttered to himself, eyes widening as he began to step back,
A brutal sound of impact sounded from the den, the walls visibly beginning to bend outward. With each forceful blow, the kennel lost more of its stability, as the creature within it fought to break free.