I have decided to heck with it, you guys are getting this penultimate chapter early, and the epilogue on Friday.

Once again, I would like to thank the readers at the weekly meeting on the ZAA Discord, and everybody who's favourited, reviewed and given kudos.

CHAPTER 6: THE WRECKAGE

And then, perhaps the strangest part of my tale. But maybe it isn't all that strange either. I'll leave psychologists to debate dissociative amnesia, but it's probably the best explanation for what happened to me next. I remember everything up to the point my paw rose into the sky, but after that…

I don't remember anything that happened in the next three days. I did learn that, despite what I thought at the time, I was not at all the first mammal to discover the death of the Martians. Several mammals who had not fled the city when the evacuation order went out, and who had avoided the eye of the Martians in those tunnels that Jack had fantasised about using in his plan, had happened upon the camp the night before I found it. One of the witnesses – a tiger I had later learned was one of the fifteen who had gone missing during Bellwether's plan to inspire fear of predators among the citizens of Zootopia – had rushed off to find a phone or computer that he could use to broadcast to the world what he had found. Meanwhile, I had hidden myself in a hut in Cactus Grove. In my state at the time, I had been totally unaware that the news was spreading fast, that the Martians had been defeated, that Earth was safe. I don't remember any of it.

I didn't stay in that hut, instead drifting from street to empty street, a totally lost rabbit in all senses of the word. I found myself in a house of kindly wolves, who had happened across me on the third day following my discovery of the Martian camp, apparently weeping, raving, and singing out of tune in some sort of weird doggerel. "Last mammal alive! Hurrah! Last mammal alive!" To anybody else, it might have appeared that I was drunk, or otherwise high on some sort of substance. If only I were, it would have explained the insanity and loss of memory! Looking back, even without being able to recall those haunted days, I could finally understand the madness that had taken both the honey badger and the imaginative delusions of Jack.

The wolf family, whose name I couldn't tell you, must have had a world of their own troubles, but they still took me in, watched over me, protected me from myself. Apparently, they learned something of my story from my deluded ramblings, of my journey across two hundred-and-eleven miles, punctuated by panic, fear, delusion, and death. Whether they knew of me from my previous reputation, they didn't make it obvious, and I was in no state to pay close enough attention.

That family couldn't have been kinder to me if they tried. They fed me, helped take care of my wounds, and found me some clean clothes. It was a family of four, a mother and father with two young daughters. I remained with them for a whole week. Without them… well, I dread to think what would have happened to me. They reminded me of my own family, in many ways.

During my return to the city, I hadn't happened upon the apartment me and Nick shared in Haymarket, so I had no idea what its fate was, but when I appeared lucid and calm enough to take in the news, the wolves had told me that Haymarket had been swept from the map of Zootopia by the Martian's Heat-Ray, two days after I had been trapped beneath the inn. Crushed, like a mean kit would crush an ant hill. For a brief moment, Jack's words flashed in my mind.

'That's what we are now: ants!'

The loneliness that had gripped me previously was nothing in comparison to what I felt then, and I remember breaking down and crying to sleep. That day was the day lucidity came back to me in full, though at the time I wished for the numbness and insanity to take me again, to take that pain away again. The wolf family was very kind to me and they bore with me. I stayed with them for four days after my recovery from the madness that had gripped me since seeing the dead Martians. A painful longing took hold of me to go and seek the remains of what little life I had lived up to that point. The family dissuaded me from pursuing that desire, that completely morbid curiosity for three of the days they took care of me.

On the fourth day following my return to sanity, I could stand it no longer. I had to go. I had to know for sure, and the wolves' attempts to convince me not to leave were no longer enough.

"But you can't, dear!" the mother wolf had protested. "You've just gotten better. Going back out there…"

"It's safe out there now," I had replied.

"You're safe here," she had replied.

"I'll come back once I'm done, I promise," I told her. "But this is something I have to do. I have to know."

With tears in my eyes, I parted ways from the family who had become my friends the past few days and set out onto the streets of Zootopia. Before my bout of madness, I remembered how strange and empty those streets had been. Now, though, life was beginning to return. Mammals were dusting off things as they came back. The Red Weed that had gripped Zootopia had started to die off too, and what had died completely was being brushed away. Some of the shops were open again, and drinking fountains had been turned back on, no longer poisoned by the invading Martian creeper.

I recall how mockingly bright the day was as I set off across Zootopia back to the apartment I had shared with Nick, and how busy the streets were. You would have been forgiven for not believing that a not-exactly-small portion of the population of Zootopia had been killed. I had been told that most of the mammals had made it out, but the bodies that had lined the streets during my journey indicated that enough mammals had not. You can't save everyone, right? As I moved through the city, I noticed that the mammals weren't exactly as they had been. Ruffled fur, dirty and torn clothes, and a mix of expressions on their faces – either hopeful joy or grim determination – were what I saw. You'd have been forgiven for thinking Zootopia was a city of homeless drifters, such as they appeared. Even the sighting of an occasional ZPD officer punctuating the occasional street corner did little to change that image, weary as they appeared with bags under their eyes and crumpled uniforms. I saw very little of the damage done by the Martians on my route until I reached the bridge that would bring me across the Lion's Tale into Acorn Heights. The Red Weed here hadn't yet died, its claw-like branches stretching across the river.

Over the bridge, on a street corner, lay a placard against one of the lamp posts. It advertised the first newspaper to return to publication since this crisis had started: the Zootopia Times. Having heard nothing about the world for weeks at this point, I decided to buy a copy from the nearby news stand, using a torn note that had been in my pocket the entire time. I told the newspaper goat to keep the change, and flicked through the pages. The front page proudly proclaimed 'Nightmare Invasion Over: Mammals Return To Zootopia. Rebuild To Begin Immediately' but a sobering article inside its pages revealed that the death toll had apparently reached close to one hundred thousand mammals, with more expected to be found. My memories again turned to the bodies I had found in the streets during my voyage across Zootopia. Another page detailed survivors found in and around the other Martian landing sites – Bunnyburrow, Horsell, Ottershaw, Haybridge, Badgerburrow, and Molesey. Beyond that, there was little to read. Perhaps the full pool of journalists had yet to make their way back, or else there was little to comment on beyond what they had already printed. Once again, I felt that unbearable loneliness taking hold of me, persuading me to carry on towards Haymarket.

At the Centre, I found mammals clustering about the train station, undoubtedly hoping to make their way back to their homes. For the time being, nobody would be coming in on the Bunny Burrows line, given the Martians had broken it during their fight with the Thunder Child. Precinct One stood as empty as it had when I had passed it days before, still covered in black dust, though the Red Weed had also started to die off here as well. I carried on towards the east, crossing through very familiar streets. I passed the Jumbeaux's Café, its windows having been shattered and tables and chairs littering the sidewalk outside it. The once-tidy verges were now crawling with the crimson creepers. It was here that, many years ago, I had first set eyes on Nick, the day that things truly began to change. I might have fallen victim to a hustle that day, but it was the first step on a journey that held no regrets, save for the ones that currently ran through me. I had no idea if Nick was even alive, and I doubted that I would find him at my journey's end. Still, I had to press on. I had to know. And so, I left that place behind, and carried on.

Everything beyond that point looked alien to me. Gnu York was in ruins, tangled with Red Weed that reached over the canal to the north. I found myself at its border with Haymarket, and was met with the terrible sight that those wolves had warned me about.

Some buildings, those close to Gnu York and Zootopia Harbor, were still standing, but it looked like something had come along and scooped it away. The broken skeletons of several buildings remained. I took in the sight, trying to hold back tears of mourning.

There was one small mercy. While Haymarket had largely been swept away by the Martians, the apartment Nick and I had resided in sat close to the border of Gnu York. I headed along the road towards it.

I don't think I've described the place Nick and I called home. It was a first-floor apartment in a building that put my old place, the Grand Pangolin Arms, to shame. Neither of us minded the morning commute to work – after all, it's not like Precinct One was in a completely different district. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. We chose one with two bedrooms because we had talked about maybe one day adopting a kit. Of course, any such thoughts were far from my mind as I continued along the road towards the building.

Luckily, it was still standing, and I felt a brief flash of hope. And then as I stepped inside the lobby, that flash of hope faded. The door to our apartment had been forced, the frame splintered on the latch, the door itself swinging gently with the breeze that was passing through.

For a moment, the door slammed against the frame. I stared at it, not wanting to see the extent of the damage for myself. Part of me wanted to run, to flee, maybe all the way back to Bunnyburrow. I swallowed that thought and stepped forward, gently opening the door and stepping inside.

The curtains fluttered at the window. Things were smashed on the floor, the edge of the window was blackened, perhaps from smoke that had drifted inside, but aside from that, almost everything was as I had left it when I took my leave to Bunnyburrow. I glanced inside the bedroom me and Nick shared. The bed was messy. My uniform hung on the wardrobe door, untouched. I returned to the living room, and sat down on the couch, feeling that sense of solitude wash right over me again.

My head in my paws, I cried silently, all the guilt and sadness finally flowing free. My home was desolate and lonely. I considered the hope that I had felt for so long that things would be fine, a hope that was a clear folly to me now.

And then, something strange happened.

"It's no use, you know," came a voice. "This place is deserted. Don't stay here and torment yourself. You're the only one who got out, and nobody's heard anything in two weeks."

The words startled me. Had I said them to myself? I got up, and saw that the door was open. I stepped outside, into the lobby. And standing at the entrance to the building, as amazed and afraid as I was, were several faces I was very happy to see: my older sister, Violet, who had probably come looking for me from Bunnyburrow the moment the news broke. And with her were a few of my brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews, and nieces.

But the one mammal I gave all my attention to was the one who I longed so much for, and had believed I would never see again: Nick.

"Carrots, I knew… I knew," was all he said.

I swayed slightly on the spot, holding back tears, and then leaped into his arms.

On Friday, we reach the epilogue to this story! Look forward to it!

Also, there's a word I'm sure most of you will be googling, so I'll explain it here. A doggerel, such as the one Judy was trying to sing, is a verse or words that have an irregular rhythm, or is badly written and expressed.