A.N. Confession time. I am not named 'Nick Wilde'; thus, I was unable to resist having events over the last several months finally 'get to me'. This resulted in a month of downtime from writing and this late chapter. What I would have written then would most assuredly have been worse than what you're getting here.
Thanks are due to the reviewers of chapter 23: J Shute, Falcon93, Medic 27, seakard, and upplet! Thank you all! My very next reviewer will receive the honor of being my 200th! Now back to our story…finally.
Tinbuzzard11
Chapter Twenty-four:
Skulkduggery
5:40 A.M. Friday, April 28th at the Hopps warren.
Judy felt she'd always be unsettled by the changes that occurred during a long absence from home—as she hung her towel on guest peg #2 and went to finish her grooming in front of one of the mirrors. A communal bathroom had been an accepted part of most of her life in the warren—though she'd rarely used this one before now. This had extended to the skimpily maintained one at the Grand Pangolin crackerboxes once she'd moved to Zootopia.
It had only taken a few visits and just two overnights at Nick's apartment to spoil her. She wanted a private bathroom from now on—one to be comfortingly shared with her mate and set up just for them. One where his foxy musk wasn't only noticeable but had become attractive; or that might even have some red or orange hairs in the sink or shower drain.
That's a bit much. Separated days after declaring each other mates, you're left reminiscing about odors and sheddings? Yeah, if they're just his to put up with—beats sharing with the dozens of cousins here or the mix of species back at my apartment.
Judy had beaten the first wave of the day to this bathroom—she greeted several of her kin in passing on the way back to her room—which wasn't her old familiar one on the northeast side. Her long-time personal refuge within the warren had been kept available throughout her academy training and even after she'd left to work for the ZPD. That the family had anticipated her return only added to her misery once she'd resigned and come home in defeat. Her eventual reinstatement—and the now nearly eight months away from here—meant that it had become Melanie's place among the always-limited number of rooms. Her remaining personal possessions there had been removed, boxed and put into storage.
The new west warren would ease the situation, relieving a lot of the young adult doubling up that had become necessary over the past few years. That had been the one advantage to being single-mindedly different from most of her siblings—she'd gotten a room of her own once in high school. She knew that some of the resentment thus invited had come from the fact that she'd never tried to take advantage of her enviable situation.
She'd closed the door to her guestroom behind her earlier; it was now unlatched and revealed a thoroughly miserable hare when pushed open. Jack sat on the corner of her unmade bed; his ears plastered against his back as if they were soaking wet. His mouth was set in a thin frown of resignation as he read from one of several stapled pages—it took a few seconds before he noticed and looked up at her.
As he did, she'd already stepped over and reached out to soothe him, his need obvious. Jack tossed the papers aside and pulled her down to sit beside him without hesitation, then they silently leaned together and held each other for a minute.
"Sorry I'm not…foxier," she eventually said over his shoulder, then quickly regretted it.
"I think Nick would argue that point in your favor," Jack said quietly as he slackened his grip but maintained their contact. "I didn't expect to be our emotional weak link Judy—I thought I'd be stronger—but I promised, swore to her that I'd always be there for her. Now I'm not sure where she, or there, is and if I went, it would compromise what we've all committed to fight for. I might have to abandon her for now, and willingly let myself be marginalized working for them to give the rest of us any chance of success.
"I have to see her letter before I can decide to do that—I don't know if I can manage this separation alone and that's what I'm going to be very shortly." He finally pulled back from her, closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "You should probably completely close your door since I don't think either of us wants to invent more excuses for our behavior."
She did, then sat back beside him. "Nick knows what she means to you; if he can find and help her, he will—probably on his own—that's what I'm worried about!"
"I am too—along with our more immediate problems—particularly since Leland is already up and about canvassing for information—including about us. Your cousin Jackie's keeping an eye on him for me and suggested that one of…your family might…help to keep him…distracted until we are finally ready to leave," he finished in embarrassment.
"You mean doing what you're assigned to try with me?" Judy said, surprised at his reaction. "I recall that you already mentioned having indulged in that quite a bit yourself!"
"Yeah, sorry, I meant that. Jackie had only mentioned what she'd called a buck balk! Please understand, I did nothing to give them any idea beyond that! Your family's been welcoming and patient with me and I would never abuse their…"
"It's all right Jack! I trust you like our foxes trust us! My family's large enough that a few of us have…reputations—one unmarried year older cousin in particular. She wouldn't need any prior hints from you or anyone else to take advantage of an…intriguing target of opportunity. I'm also certain she doesn't know anything about our resistance activities."
"This really isn't the type of service I wanted to provide to the conspiracy in order to maintain my cover! It's morally repugnant!" Jack objected.
"Well, you didn't provide it, and whether it happens or not, we should take advantage of what time we have. Was Dr. Ulric's new evidence worth your efforts?" She pointed to the case behind him, still unsure if she should mention Skye's name after her earlier faux pas.
"It was, and honestly more than I'd hoped for. It seems like Ulric only decided to send enough preliminary results to Dr. Alder and the national museum staff to establish his precedence as Fairfield's investigator. Like Kristen, Nick, and your chief, he knew the significance of, and held back the more controversial evidence." Jack patted the case.
"We've now got more detailed documentation, specimens from two individuals, and even soil samples. There's also a more thorough site diagram with wide context photos that unequivocally pin down the location. I don't know how much more like this he originally surrendered to the local authorities—that ended up with the conspirators. It was obviously enough information to have scared them about the possibility of its uncontrolled release, or excuse my paranoia, permit them to fake this find in a more politically useful location for them. I'm sure the original site has been thoroughly dug out and paved over by now to hide any possible prey species association with it!"
"Then we have no choice but to release it first," Judy said emphatically. "This is plenty of solid evidence and we will soon have both Drs. Ulric and Alder to corroborate it."
"But not immediately Judy," he said, placing a paw back on her shoulder. "Present circumstances force both sides to sit on this for now. For us, this isn't enough evidence by itself to be effective against the conspiracy, since the public takeaway would mostly be the confirmed existence of a meat farm to our overall detriment. Anything else like its age, location, or historical significance can be argued, obscured, or reduced to boring academic bickering about the past. We'd need more solid proof of Nick's Junction City prison, and that mammals are being illegally held at Deer Trail to link everything and reinforce it as an anti-pred plot. And we still don't know who is ultimately behind all of this!"
"And whoever they are can't do anything with it yet because they still don't know how much we already know about Fairfield!" she said in realization. "This evidence should be good enough to undercut any conspiracy attempts to falsify and use it against anyone."
"Which is why Tarija has Leland and the others prying to determine if we two have our own agenda. They have to find out what Dr. Alder might have divulged to us, which keeps him and Dr. Soren under threat. Skye is totally compromised since she saw Alder's files and papers and knew enough to intercept Ulric! The only defense we could come up with for her to use if she's caught, is to reveal that she was under the direction of a spurious contact within agency headquarters. Judy!" Jack brought his other paw over and actually shook her slightly. "If they find her, that might not be enough! They will stop at nothing to extract what was leaked to whom. She's central to this now!" He squeezed her arms harder.
He's been slowly losing it over her and is about to completely break down due to his enforced helplessness! Reassure him; remind him he's still crucial to our success.
"Nick is back there with her Jack. If she's lying low, she knows where to contact him—she sent him your key, remember?" She managed to pry one of his paws off her arm. "If they have her in Deer Trail; he'll find that out! Either way, we have to wait until we're contacted by one of them. We each do what we can! I'll take this evidence to Bogo. And remember, right now you're the best one to find out who might be behind this conspiracy. That's our biggest unknown and you're our only inside mammal to dig it out!"
"I know Judy," he said in a small voice. "It's just…I'm not there!"
It's more than that rabbit! You know and have accepted that every day on the beat could put your life on the line; Jack and Skye have just been forced into realizing that. They're previously secure office workers who've been thrown into becoming covert field agents—now rogue ones that willingly betrayed their ZBI superiors. All of their fantasy spy games just became reality—it's no longer just roleplaying another episode of 'The Operative'.
"Jack, you didn't fail her! You recognized an imminent problem and contacted the only one of us in a position to deal with it. And she did!" She patted the case top next to her. "She understood and took the risk—it's up to us to make sure it wasn't in vain!" That didn't reassure him rabbit! She held the gaze of the suddenly tormented hare and defensively tensed her body, not knowing how he would respond. "What do you need me to do with this?" she said quickly and tapped the case again. There was an uncomfortable pause before Jack slowly settled himself, clasped his paws briefly, and responded.
"Okay, you're right, let's get back to work. I've made two copies of Nick and Ulric's documentation—one of each will stay here for safekeeping with your cousin Jeremy, the others go to your chief along with the confiscated cellphone." He gave her the closed envelope with the visible lump. "Ulric's case stays hidden here; we'll repackage his specimens and papers in yours and you can deliver them to Dr. Wilson at Honeywell. Here's a cover letter for him; they don't have to do anything more than keep these safe. I left it up to him if he thinks there is any useful analysis to be done considering their age."
"I'll have enough room for that; I don't need to take much back with me," Judy said as she bent down to pull her case out from under the bed. "Let's do it now; we don't have to meet Leland for breakfast for another half an hour." She paused halfway through unzipping her luggage. "How did you justify our waiting until the mail arrives this afternoon?"
"Mr. Surveillance wants to stick with us and see you off at the station. Didn't seem any more interested in the early train than we did. Also told him I'd mail ordered more topographic maps for the team…thanks for reminding me! Do you think we could get your…Corey to print up a convincing label from the Geologic Survey office to stick on the tube I got them in? Plus one addressed to me here?"
"I don't recall Jack, does faking a package to yourself count as mail fraud?" She considered his little snort of dismissal a positive sign as they set to work.
7:30 A.M. Concordia time, Friday, at Jack Savage's home.
Nick gently scraped at the tip of the curved wedge on the fender of Jack's car with the plastic ruler he'd found. To his relief it wrinkled and lifted without undue effort—as he'd hoped, it was a vinyl applique, not paint. He slowly peeled it back until he had enough to wrap over a claw—then slowly alternated the direction he pulled to hopefully avoid tearing it. He stopped for a moment to note the time; there were five more to remove after this one.
"You live dangerously fox, defacing a ZBI agent's ride," Kristen said from the top of the stairs. "You'll need to warm those; helps it pull off easier. If we can't find a heat gun, hot water and vinegar will do; I saw some here in the kitchen." She ducked away again.
Nick found and filled a bucket at the laundry sink before Kristen returned with her own; they crouched to work on either side. "It never made sense that they always have the secret agent speeding around in an exotic car," Nick said. "Other than the cool factor of course."
"There's that," she said. "Although this one's not that exotic—a 2008 SunSport RoadRunner. A little more show than go, good cornering, decent brakes. Fairly popular midsize 'look at me' sportscar." Kristen pointed at the workbench. "Fair number of automotive tools down here, maybe he originally got this used as a project car."
"I would expect these ego stripes predate his meeting Skye. She's quite the cultured vixen and might thank me for doing this," Nick said as he drizzled warm water over the fender and finally gave his strip a good tug. It peeled away with a series of hollow pops.
"Slowly! Don't hurt the paint!" Kristen shouted. "I don't know if Skye disapproved or not. Either way, these don't seem that old, mine's coming off pretty easily. Maybe she got a concession out of him to allow them in the first place!" Kristen chuckled briefly as she carefully pulled her own narrow wedge free.
"Yeah, I'd expect. Nothing like driving around in something lots of locals would likely recognize. Basic career preservation suggests they wouldn't risk being seen together in this. Anyway, I'd expect that whatever Miss Borealis has to tool around in on her own would be a lot classier."
"Maybe not Nick, she was rather taken with my Prowler. I never suspected them; they hid their involvement well. And she's obviously the one that keeps the lower profile."
"You're right, she does. Got that from what she told Judy too. Skye had it with the fast track and decided to reduce her public exposure. Changed careers and hid herself away voluntarily like we've had to!" Nick's middle strip started to yield.
"Looks like these came off a six-inch roll," Kristen said. "If we can find the rest of it, we could put a rally stripe on for more disguise. And maybe a little tailpipe soot on and around the plate," she added. "Since we're not the registered owners."
"Careful Hotrocks, you might lose your amateur standing as the law-abiding innocent caught up in events beyond your control," he teased.
"Ya think so…Slick Nick? I think our rather edited initial report took care of that excuse! I'll just have to go with the 'Beguiled and entrapped by the charismatic con mammal' defense." She favored him with a rapturous gaze from across the hood.
"Better try something else; that'll spoil my 'Overeager rookie officer gets in over his head and disregards his training' defense."
Okay, she'd either read my slightly too on the nose profile in the paper when I first reported to precinct one, or Carrots let those slip out. If she did, that'll help me excuse some of our mutual…behavior, since it seems to have become a habit. Only stress reliever we've got right now.
"How about the 'let's not expose ourselves needlessly and get caught' strategy," Kristen said as she held up her second peeled strip before he could. "We've only got Skye's suppositions to go on—we're not sure she, or anyone else is actually there. We're also both badly overdrawn on our blind luck accounts considering the past few days!"
"We have to assume Skye's there since she's dropped out of communication, and made a pretty convincing argument for it. Even if she's not, confirming that Lionheart or others are being held there would be damaging evidence against the conspiracy. Beyond that, I have to do this for Jack; he's got to be going nuts and I promised him. I know how I'd feel if Judy were in there."
"I know Nick, we can't just sit here and do nothing. It's that…I don't know which is more dangerous, waiting for them to find us here, or driving over and saving them the trouble of taking us to prison!" The skunk stood abruptly and went to refill her kitchen pot with hot water—and slopped some of it on the floor when she returned. "For now, I'm gonna finish this then go make breakfast; I just found some turkey sausages to go with it, don't know how I missed them earlier."
Kristen managed to make the production, consumption of, and clean-up from their morning meal last well over an hour. He went along with her obvious desire for him to help out, and make their presence in Jack's home as unobtrusive as possible. Eventually they sat, he spread his map and she brought up a Terra Maps image of the prison on her tablet.
"They certainly picked a great spot to build this," Nick started, "only the one road in from Deer Trail that they have to watch. Nothing else on the map for ten miles around."
"I don't like how restricted the access is either," Kristen said. "Looks like native open grasslands, and low rolling hills everywhere else. Even the nearest agricultural fields are miles to the south. Jack's car really can't do any significant off-road. No way I can get you close enough to scout out the prison without being seen coming."
"Unless we take the bold approach. Drive down it to the end of the pavement here, just past the access road into the prison. Turn around immediately without going towards it and return—like we just went the wrong way and hit a dead end. We get a ground level visual and a few likely useless pics since the prison is half a mile west of the road. We only expose ourselves and Jack's car in daylight to anyone watching from the prison or in the town. It wouldn't surprise me if they had someone monitoring each end."
"Excellent summation of a bad idea Nick. Obviously, you have another plan."
"I have two options for you," he said to make sure Kristen was included. "Either way, it looks like I'm going to get my exercise again. One, you drop me off at the side of the highway a little past the town of Deer Trail after dark, and I walk cross country back to the road then on down to the prison. About nine miles each way—I skulk around—say six hours in total if all goes well. Then we try to meet up again without attracting attention. If these work out there." He showed her his cellphone.
"It might be better for me to find a secluded spot somewhere off the main highway where I can wait for you."
"That's option two. The next exit past Deer Trail is twelve miles further—but the highway bends south east—so it looks to be slightly closer to the prison. Let's assume the dirt part of the road past the prison continues south." He extended that line on the map with a pencil. "And that this exit implies a road to justify it—if north south we're out of luck—if east west, it might cross the first here. If we can make it that far, it roughly halves my distance and time in and out."
"No photo coverage there," Kristen groused, fingering her tablet. "We'll have to check it out ourselves."
"We should leave no later than five; I want to find our staging point before we have to use lights. Last night's rain should keep the dust down. They're relying on the apparent abandonment of the facility to cover any illicit activities—there's no reason yet for them to think that anyone else would suspect it. Any perimeter security will be minimal because of that; I should be able to get in easily. Let's decide on what we'll need, load the car, then get some more sleep, it might be a long night."
"Keys Nick?" Kristen put her paw out, "I'd better check how it runs first."
1:15 P.M. Friday, at the Hopps warren. Judy's guestroom.
"That initiative's uncomfortably reminiscent of what my Uncle Sid was advocating," Judy said slowly, "I wonder if Dillon's show helped prompt this legislation."
"Or was deliberately laying the groundwork for it. His program has an undue amount of influence among the less…sophisticated," Jack said from where he sat at the foot of the bed.
Earlier, after lunch, Leland's calm non-reaction to the ZNN newsfeed they'd watched—rebroadcast after the local station's tri-burrows related stories—seemed to indicate his foreknowledge of it. The Department of Justice had ignored established procedures, and had petitioned the Council of Delegates into considering legislation that would restrict the free movement of predators in designated areas.
It appeared to be modeled after the size-based restrictions used to protect districts like Little Rodentia, and was initially proposed only for certain high-density, fairly species homogenous residential areas. The rationale given for the 'disparate populations' initiative, was that there would be minimal inconvenience for mammals that rarely needed to be in those areas, while enhancing the perceived security of numerous concerned residents.
"It's a foot in the door," Judy said in disgust. "I know what sorts of things they'll say to justify it, 'to minimize instinctual fearfulness among the defenseless', maybe 'to promote peaceful living', or something that's twisted to bring up predator's past feral behaviors and salvage something from last year's savage crisis. They'll make it sound like common sense measures, and rather than promote it themselves, they'll let individuals and communities request expansion of the program for them—probably in places already receptive to it like right here in Bunnyburrow!"
"With the perspective changing implication that mixed pred-prey neighborhoods are less secure," Jack added. "You're absolutely right, I'm certain that they want the rollout and expansion of this legislation to be gradual—to allow attitudes to change and acceptance to grow. I'm sure the timing of this isn't related to our immediate activities; rather it shows the long-term planning by the conspirators we've interrupted, and possibly uncritical cooperation from other governmental branches."
"I got my job through the Mammal Inclusion Initiative even though there was a political agenda behind it. Now there's an exclusion initiative that's politically motivated as well. It's frustrating that any progress at all makes so many mammals want to pull us right back; they seem to hunger for the old fears and discrimination."
"It's cyclic Judy, historians study that and warn us in vain—the latest generation always seems to know better! Think of the deaths, riots and forced exiles eighty years ago caused by the Natural Order fanatics! They maintained that predation was a natural right—as long as it's kept anonymous and in the wild," Jack intoned. "Which was anywhere outside narrowly defined city limits for the extreme believers."
"That's still causing problems in society; you'd think it happened in my parent's generation the way they keep bringing it up to malign predators. Uncle Sid for example. Although today it seems to mostly be in business and politics!" Judy said while Jack's face grew pensive, then wide eyed.
"That word Nick and Kristen noticed and told us about! A 'Realignment of the Natural Order' comes from back then. It isn't accidental! This whole plot from Bellwether on up could be based on retribution, payback. Tell your chief about this when you get down there; someone needs to look for a connection between Garwood and events back then. Maybe for Tarija too and anybody else we can identify in the conspiracy; that might even tell us which species are most likely to be targeted!"
"That would be a good project for Jeremy too. He's been really enthusiastic about helping us, and I'd feel bad leaving him with nothing to do after we're gone."
"Right, use our historian for the historical research," Jack said in sullen recrimination. "Judy, I'm going to have to rely on you to think clearly and notice the obvious for me until I get Skye back. I'm not…functioning well. I thought I could push past it but I can't."
"Jack, you're doing great. You've kept it together for all of…" There was a light but frantic tapping on the door.
"Judy," hissed an unidentifiable female voice, "we've got a problem!" The door opened just enough to let Jackie slip around the edge. "I got Jack's letter Leland's got the tube we slipped it in no problem." She stepped past Jack and gave it to her—his grab for it failed.
"What is it Jackie, you're…" Her cousin almost hit her on the nose shushing her.
"I ran, Leland's coming; maybe a minute behind me! Becca told him you were here with Jack! She didn't know not to! He said you could finally get going! Be too obvious if we tried to delay him any more—you think of something. I'll lean this against the door!" She grabbed Judy's luggage, stepped back out, and closed the door quietly behind her.
If the door locked it'd still be suspicious! And Leland's unaware that's our quickie 'don't disturb' sign. It'll only buy a few seconds anyway. A quickie! Oh pickles that might work! Judy pushed Jack back abruptly and stuffed his mailer under the pillow behind her.
"Get your clothes off," she commanded while slipping out of her top and tossing it onto the small bureau beside the bed. His eyes went wide. "We're buying time! Complete your assignment! Operation fakeout makeout!" She kicked him lightly in the midriff to motivate him, then worked herself half under the sheet.
Jack rapidly stripped to his underwear and left the clothes visible on the floor. She held the sheet up for him as he got under and carefully straddled her.
"Sorry Judy, I'll try not to…" he whispered before she grabbed his nose.
"Get busy Mr. experienced, he's here!" she hissed in his ear. Jack hunched and started to vigorously thrust his hips while mostly avoiding actual bodily contact. After a couple, he remembered to grunt in cadence. She tugged him down more; this had to be convincing.
"Savage, Hopps?" The door clicked open. "We've only got an hour…to…make…"
The bed now resonated with Jack's efforts—she arched her back and let out a small moan before voicing a soft "Oh Jack." She counted off two more reciprocations, then apparently noticed the intrusion, leaned up against him, and viciously flung her pillow at Leland with an outraged cry. He backed away and barely managed to close the door.
They stiffly held their positions for another half-minute to make sure he was really gone, then Jack removed himself and dressed with his back turned. He waited a few seconds until she gave him an all-clear, then immediately went for the mailer and worked it open.
"You text Jeremy while I read this," Jack said urgently, "our time's rather tight!" He extracted the memory stick, then unfolded Skye's letter like it was an ancient papyrus. He gave it to her as soon as she'd finished and sent the text. "Most of her info's on the stick. This is just an outline. Gotta give it to you Judy, fakeout makeout's a great improvisation!"
"Jack, I couldn't think of anything else; that's not like me. You're actually the only buck I've had in my bed," she blurted to her horror. That was too much information! He understood the necessity, you should've moved past it and not said anything!
"Okaay…guess that's a ten second memory I'll always have to cherish! However, I would like to recommend you try a less cliché response at your…next opportunity. That was marginal even by daytime drama standards, although I'll admit it had the desired effect!" His attention turned to his smartphone as he plugged the stick in.
A couple of quips and now he's just sitting there reading like nothing happened. It really didn't for him—it was just a needed and successful diversion that I urged him to... Bad word there! And I did sound really bad. So, my first truly intimate memory will be…no, Nick cuddling and marking me was that—until he immediately covered his feelings snarking about the internet! Still, this means Jack is technically the first buck to bed me, even if it was a mutual act...no, only roleplaying! Then he makes light of it like my mate couldn't help doing. Are they all like this? I should have listened to my sisters more.
Jackie's return kept her from further reflective embarrassment—momentarily. "I hid next door," She pointed to the wall, "heard everything; well played! We had watchers walking the hall to cover you, they caught out Leland and he's left now," she said, "I'm sure you've got a few minutes to compose yourselves and go meet him in front. Rosalyn is there being angry with him—and hinting that we'd been trying to get you two together."
"All of you need to remember we're not really a thing!" Judy reminded her, grateful for the family backup, and that she'd also managed to take buck balking to a far higher level against a deserving foe. "I'm ready, so I'll be out in five to rag on Leland some more. Now Jack needs time to get out a message—go find my mom and have her bring him out, like she's arranging things to…uh…confirm us for him!"
"Sure thing Cousin Judy! Now don't forget to give Mr. Savage a nice goodbye kiss at the station—just in case Leland's watching!" Jackie smiled at the hare engrossed in his reading and gave him a pat on the shoulder before she left.
4:20 P.M. Concordia time, Friday, at Jack Savage's home.
The soft breeze ruffled Nick's fur as he uncurled and stretched; it resolved into a skunk fanning him with a magazine. Kristen wielded a news periodical, instead of one he imagined more appropriate for Jack Savage's home, like 'Spy Diaries', or 'Secret Agent's Report'.
She smiled down at him on his blanket. "Close to four-thirty, you should get up and get ready." She needlessly offered him a paw up; he took it anyway since she'd of course relish the contact, but didn't put much weight on it as he stood.
Miss socially starved certainly chose the wrong profession for meeting potential partners, after she'd admitted her family business hadn't been any better for that. Then I accidentally encouraged her by being friendly and accepting and…well me. Now that she knows my attempt to discourage her with a sham mate was actually based in reality and named Judy, does that make me safer from, or more of a challenge for her? Was I right earlier that her behavior is only coping and we can simply enjoy it? That should be alright since I've been honest with her. At least Judy doesn't have to know about or deal with anything like this.
"Hmmm." There was a delectable whiff of meaty goodness in the air. "Seems like you've been up for a while. Been cooking, watching TV, maybe…reading?" Her cringe confirmed.
"I was still curious, OK?" said her guilt. "Anyway, I went out and gassed up the car, got your rope, fresh batteries for the flashlights, charged the camera's, and put some bottled water and snacks in your pack!" She took a breath. "Jack sent his password; he got Skye's letter and confirmed her descriptions about which building's most likely; I printed out a pic and marked it for you. I've also made us some burgers for dinner."
Obviously, she was too worked up to get any sleep. Should I be as nervous as she is? You've assumed and told everyone this would be a walk in the park; maybe you're wrong.
The traffic officer part of him approved of the way Kristen drove through the city; careful not to attract attention by being either overly cautious or exhibitionistic in Jack's sportscar. Once on the intercontinental, and past the congestion of the city, she stayed between five and ten over the limit like most of the other vehicles. He pulled his seat forward and sat up straighter once no one else was close enough to see them together.
Deer Trail consisted of a bridge over the highway and two dozen varied structures scattered about—several obviously abandoned. What appeared to be an old motel with its sign removed showed some activity; a car and van out front. The road to the south was easily visible and was blocked by a gate across it some ways past the last building. Nick took a couple of pictures as they drove past to aid in any future planning—and to defensively document their actions if needed later.
"Next exit better pan out; no place along here to wait without someone noticing," Kristen stated the obvious and he nodded in agreement. She slowly sped up to build more distance from those behind, then coasted once they neared the exit. She drifted onto and didn't brake along it, or around the squealing right turn taken at its end. They fishtailed a couple of times between the weathered remains of an ancient gas station and a closed-up highway department maintenance shed and yard on the far side of the otherwise empty road.
"You've got some stories in your past, don't you Dr. Soren?" Nick accused once they stabilized—she smiled broadly in response. Within a quarter-mile the asphalt ended to become an unmaintained but welcome dirt track through the sparse brush westwards. Kristen drove carefully—wet spots glistened ahead in the light of a sun now low in the sky.
The lack of tire tracks and the encroachment of smaller growth along the route meant at least months of disuse, and little likelihood of their being discovered. They made it to their hoped-for road crossing after the sun went behind the mountaintops visible along the horizon. The north south road was in better condition but ended at a closed gate near the top of a slight rise less than a mile further on. It was set across a shallow roadcut barely taller than he was. It was a perfect spot for Kristen to wait with the car.
"Turn the car around while I see what I can see," he told Kristen as he stretched on Jack's tight rain booties and got out. There was nothing suspicious around the weathered gate—even the chain locked to it and looped about a post was rusted stiff in places. Another minute's walk brought the tops of the two main cellblocks into view some three to four miles away, along with a much closer and still wet streambed that had effectively cut the road—at least for Jack's car. A careful scan of the area with his binoculars didn't reveal anything suspicious, which did nothing to stem the slow growth of his apprehension.
Why? Everything's gone exactly as I'd hoped so far. I'm prepped, have better backup than I could expect from most civilians, and an objective. Maybe that's it; last time I wandered around and dealt with events as they happened—no anticipation. Now there's more at stake involving friends. Who need me and trust that I'll be able to help. Is that why they put 'Trust' at the top of the badge? The toughest one because it's given to, not just expected from within me?
Right now, it's Kristen; she's risking her own future trusting I'll make it worthwhile. Be confident and reassuring for her sake. Then it's Skye—might be a relief not to find her here since I don't know what I could do if I did.
Kristen had his pack ready and was rummaging around in the car's trunk when he returned. He loaded up and led her to his vantage point. "I'll try to signal you on my way back; say starting four hours from now. Don't know how long it might be, I'll be either on the road or somewhere off to the left—no further over than the prison there if I can help it. How about two flashes repeated every ten seconds if all's well, on the hour or half. Three flashes repeated closer together means you bug out, there's trouble!"
"Can you let me know if you find Skye?" Kristen showed him her cell to confirm there was no signal at this spot, even though some of the distant highway could be seen in a couple of places.
"Okay, how about four for a found fox after my all's well?" he said. She nodded and silently watched the prison. Nick rechecked his gear, then experimented with the exposure mode on Jack's camera as the sky darkened. It seemed sensitive enough to serve as a poor mammal's night vision scope, since the thin crescent moon would be gone with the twilight.
Kristen gave him a heartfelt, rather than flirty hug, once he felt it was time to leave.
Half an hour later, his worry about this country night being dark enough to hinder even nocturnals, was dispelled by the dome of light to the northwest. Although Concordia was nearly fifty miles away, its light pollution was still strong enough to both silhouette the cellblocks, and allow him to watch his footing. He needed that once the guard towers came into view and he had to leave the road.
Nick found a slight rise and seated himself behind a bush that provided reasonable cover. He had an oblique view of the main gates and four of the six towers. With the binoculars, it appeared dark, foreboding…but not quite abandoned. There was a steady but faint light within the tower closest to the entrance gates, and he caught one brief bit of motion up there. The perimeter wall hid any interior activity.
He worked his way around the prison until the occupied tower was hidden behind the south cellblock, then in towards the wall until he got to the perimeter clearing. This side's towers all appeared abandoned under careful scrutiny—he still ran up to the base of the wall to limit his exposure. He would have preferred less wind, although it would carry his scent away. At least the skyglow gave him enough light to work with on this side.
It was more formidable than he'd expected. Concrete, a good twenty-five feet tall, more than half again as high as even a cougar could jump. Several straight strands of barbed wire, angled inwards at the top; he could deal with those—if he could get up there.
Good thing Kristen got the fifty-footer! He took off his backpack and pulled out the coil and improvised grapnel. It was a rabbit sized prybar with the black nylon rope buntline hitched just above the flared end opposite the hook, and threaded through a small C clamp. That would hopefully help prevent the rope from slipping off.
Nick laid it out, then swung the prybar around in an underarm test throw straight up. It appeared to nearly make the top of the wall and thankfully fell back with a thump, rather than a sharp ping. He held the rope a little further back for his second try in order to add momentum—the slick nylon slipped in his paw as he whipped it around and threw.
Cusses! It's strong enough, but too thin to climb! Might make it up once before I tear up my paws, I'll have to knot it. That's what you get for delegating—and being stupid.
Academy basic rescue training assumed proper equipment and approved usage; not improvisation! It took twenty excruciating minutes to tie and thread the rest of the rope through each knot before he had enough of them. While he worked, he wondered how Major Friedkin would take his imagined suggestion of a 'breaking into prison' class.
Nick's next throw just cleared the wall—and stayed there. He tugged, it first yielded then firmed—he'd snagged the bottom strand of barbed wire. It bent over the wall's edge when he put his weight onto it, but held while he counted off the seconds he'd need to climb. He tied the end of the rope to his pack, then went up paw over paw as smoothly as possible. Once atop the wall, he pulled up his pack, and hooked the prybar to a safer stanchion.
It was darker inside the prison yard than out, although there was enough diffuse skylight for him to see the second fence topped with barbed wire some twenty feet inside the wall. Thankfully, it was a good ten feet shorter, and was easily climbable chain link. He couldn't hear or see anything worrisome from this vantage—it seemed safe for the moment, so he sat straddling the foot-thick wall and set to work.
First, he used pliers to bend and squeeze several of the barbs on the lower two wires down against them to facilitate a hasty retreat if needed. Next, he spread them apart with two notched pieces of ex broomstick from Jack's basement. Finally, he propped the camera on the wall for a few long exposures of the interior and of one tower—after making doubly sure the flash was off.
These came out fairly well; works better than that cellphone I had in Junction City; and no sign of surveillance cameras anywhere. You're thinking now, cautious and deliberate keeps bad things from happening. If I slip up here, I'll be dead. Thanks Major. If I somehow survived, I'd eventually have a few more disappointed ladies to explain myself to. Or not. Might not even see each other in court. Best option, don't get caught, go find Skye.
Nick lowered his pack on the inside, backed carefully through the wires, then removed and dropped one of the sticks before he climbed down. He took that, along with the pliers, flashlight, and camera; the pack would stay here at the base of the wall. So would he, it was quite dark close to it, and he'd look for a better spot to scale the inner fence on his way.
He hugged the wall as he turned the northwest corner of the perimeter under a guard tower and continued along the shorter side of the rectangular compound. It seemed the safest path to approach Skye's target building; it would be beyond the end of the hulking cellblock inside the fence he now crept past. He was prey again; and needed to emulate their ancient survival trait of not being noticed.
The single-story structure that came into his view didn't share that concern, being shielded from the outside by the wall. Diffuse light came around from the front side that faced toward the central prison yard; three narrow windows in back shone weakly. Nick damped down his urge to go check them out, and sat against the wall to watch and listen for a few minutes. The gap between the buildings would've exposed him to the occupied guard tower if he'd moved any further. Closer to him, a shape at the bottom of the fence and a doubled pole, revealed a motorized access gate for the perimeter space he was in.
A slight shift and lean allowed him to watch the tower; there was no apparent activity up there. Nick decided to go slowly on all fours straight towards it to minimize his lateral motion—that would still put him close to the meager shelter of the drive box.
Several seconds later he was hunched behind it, peeking around the side for any reaction. All remained dormant, so he examined the gate. Its far end was pushed into a receptacle that spanned its height—no joy there—but the adjacent end merely overlapped the fixed part of the fence by a foot or so. It might be enough to squeeze through with a little work.
A little plier application loosened two of the straps that held the chain link to one of the poles. That, along with forty years of temperature changes to stretch things and inserting his stick, gave him enough slack to squirm his way through to the other side. He dropped back to the ground and crawled the few feet needed to put the tower back out of sight.
Worth the risk. Beats up and over and dealing with more wires. Faster exit too now that I widened it! Take any convenience I can right now.
It wasn't a security flaw; this was obviously a large mammal prison. The fence only needed to impede, not be impregnable when it was inside a well-lit and staffed facility. That's what the wall was for. Nick stood and went to the first lit window.
The narrow aperture said 'cell'; he was still careful to sneak a peek at one corner and confirm that. It was, and occupied by a bear sized lump in its bed. One of the original nighthowler victims that had reverted and dropped out of sight recently was a brown bear. Unfortunately, he couldn't see more than the back of the head, an arm, and foot. Still, a likely illegally held victim. He propped Jack's camera against the glass and got a good shot on his second attempt after adjusting the exposure. This would be dated and timestamped evidence—he'd even taken a picture of a news broadcast's time display back at Jack's house to validate its accuracy. The academy had pounded into him that evidence could be thrown out on the flimsiest of pretexts.
The next cell had a lion, also asleep. Nick badly wanted him to be Lionheart; the famously abundant and now disheveled mane said he almost certainly was, but he couldn't confirm that without waking him and likely giving themselves away. He took several shots this time, including a close-up of the lion's partially visible muzzle, since like the bear, he was facing away. His posture suggested that he was cuffed inside his cell.
He slipped passed a darkened window before hitting the jackpot on the third lit one. Skye was instantly recognizable sleeping stretched out on her side. That was worrisome, since vulpines almost always curled up and tucked in their muzzles while doing so. Nick took one picture of her as she slept, and another of the wider cell, before he took his flashlight and played the narrowed beam across her face.
Her reaction was almost immediate. Hope, worry, and pain competed for space on the vixen's muzzle that was suddenly nose printed on the inside of the window. Nick realized she couldn't see him well, shielded his flashlight and turned it briefly back. Hope won.
He showed Skye his camera, she nodded and stepped back a couple of paces. She then shook her head and started to struggle out of her top. The wide, stiff, and professional looking bandage wrapped around her torso confirmed that she'd likely resisted capture.
Skye held still for pictures until he flicked his light at her. She then awkwardly dressed, brushed her head as best she could, and posed while turned to the side, looking back with a smile on her muzzle. Nick understood and took the one she wanted Jack to see.
She came back to the window and stood a little to one side so the weak bulb behind her could illuminate him. She still seemed to be in some pain from her exertions, and watched him eagerly.
Nick exhaled a couple of times on the window, and wrote backwards with a finger in the condensed moisture: How U get hurt? After a couple seconds, she made a wiping motion with her paw and he used the sleeve of his jacket to clean the window.
Abuse after tranked was her neatly written reply—the words like his in a vertical column. She wiped, breathed, and wrote again: Broken rib She pointed to her right side, then added below: U alone?
Yes only recon 4 now Nick wiped again as Skye looked disappointed. Kristn is get away drvr. That widened her eyes.
How are rest doing? Skye then wiped it off and waited.
Nick was about to exhale for his reply when inspiration reached for his burner phone. There was no service out here, but he could still write on the screen. He showed it to Skye; she nodded, and he sat on the ground to shield it while he entered the text. He took several minutes to poke out a terse synopsis of their activities—with no mention of his Junction City find. He did say that Dr. Ulric was safely away, and that his evidence was valuable.
Tell Jack his ZBI plan 4 me worked was on the window when he stood. It was runny but legible; the window might have warmed from their activities, so he'd better use the cell from now on. He held it to a clear spot and scrolled at her nods while she read.
Had 2 interog she wrote higher on the window after an obviously painful stretch to mist it with her breath. It didn't last long, but her motions got the message across.
Watch me Nick spelled out on the cellphone. He then moved his paw slowly just in front of the window to draw backwards letters; lowering it between each one.
D…O…...T…H…I…S
Can't BS them any more get me out! Skye slowly replied in kind, somehow still graceful enough to make it look like she was conducting an orchestra.
How many have u seen here and species? Nick wrote.
3 sheep 1 is Ramses…ZBI elk D D…badger doc is an ally she tediously spelled out.
Have 2 make plans we will come back asap-I need 2 go Nick decided that he'd never tell Jack about Skye's fearfully resigned expression as she read his text.
Discretion said to get out with the intelligence you came for, but things remained inactive and he could spare a minute or two. Photos from inside the prison yard would be useful for possible rescue planning. He slipped along the north side of the building to its front corner, as a narrow wedge of ground along the wall was hidden from the guard tower. It was also fairly dark there, being shaded from some of the skyglow by the tall cellblock to his right.
He stabilized the camera against the wall at the corner and got a good shot of the yard; for another he zoomed in on the gate area and its nearby tower. The images were somewhat dim as he expected, but had enough detail to be useful. They even showed the faint light from within the tower. Emboldened by his success, Nick turned and propped the camera just around the corner and took one along the front of this building.
The image clearly showed a van parked in front about sixty feet away, rear doors open, a box inside, and a motion smear between it and presumably the entrance. Only now could he hear faint fragments of speech amid the fitful wind noise inside the prison wall.
Oh crap! Supply run. They must have come before I even got inside! Don't even think about rescuing Skye hero, you're outnumbered, could easily get captured, and it's not worth risking this critical information. Get…out…now.
Nick retreated as quietly as a fox could along the wall and back to the fence. He crept on his belly towards the gap in the gate; halfway there he distinctly heard the van's doors close. He maintained his careful pace and was safely through the fence and behind the gate's drive box before the engine started and the light grew brighter behind the building.
Just wait for them to leave. The van will draw attention and cover you getting back to the wall. They're moving; get ready…crap! They're coming around the back of the building…your cussed stick!
Nick stood, and quickly stepped into the gap to push the fencing apart and pry his stick free. He twisted back out, rattling the fence, and flung himself back behind the box. The headlights swept over him and he made himself small to stay in the box's thrown shadow—he moved to stay in it as the van approached and swung around the near end of the building.
He recovered enough presence of mind to get a photo of the front gate illuminated by the stopped van, and a context shot of the building Skye was in. He crawled back to the wall without causing any commotion behind him and jogged as fast as he dared in the dark by its base. His night vision had been slightly compromised by the van's lights, so Nick risked a brief flick of his flashlight to find his pack and rope quickly. Seconds later he'd climbed it, negotiated the wires, and was pulling his pack up.
Now to get down without leaving the rope behind. He untied his pack and used the prybar hooked under a strap to lower it to the ground. A few wiggles released it and he pulled the bar back up to untie that with the aid of the little clamp. He dropped those, looped and tied the unknotted end of the rope around his chest, and passed the rest over the barb wire stanchion. It was crude, and the knots made the trip jerky, but he got down safely.
Nick pulled the rest of the rope through with just a few flicks necessary to free a knot—some of it fell on him in the dark to his annoyance. He bunched it up and stuffed the tangle roughly into his pack in retaliation. A quick inventory made sure he didn't leave anything, and he finally walked away from Deer Trail Prison. He curved slowly toward the south and Kristen until it was mostly out of sight behind him and he could start to relax.
I got everything I came here for, enough evidence of illegality to seriously crimp the conspiracy by itself! Skye's in serious trouble, but knows we found her. So why did I leave my confidence back there? Because I almost blew it again. Didn't leave as soon as I got the needed evidence. Then, if I'd gone for the wall rather than hide by the gate, I'd have been pinned by their lights and in a cell—if I was lucky. This conspiracy's big enough that those here could have been supplied with weapons. Kristen was so right—we are way overdrawn on our luck.
This had also taken longer than he'd expected—he checked his cell—coming up on four and a half hours. He needed to head more eastwards and find a spot nearer the road where she'd be watching. He'd flash out the good news, they'd return home and report in, then he could regale her with quite the tale—including pictures—at leisure.
Nooo. Better downplay it. Impressing Miss Flirty Skunk with my derring-do is absolutely the last thing I need right now.
Note: There is an anthro shout-out somewhere in this chapter!
Our next exciting installment will be—Chapter Twenty-five: Brought to Terms