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The Fire Triangle
Part Two:
Oxidizer
Chapter 6—The Children's Crusade
(Concluded…Part 7)
Rescue me, should I go wrong
If I dig too deep, if I stay too long
You wreck me, baby
Yeah, you break me in two
But you move me, honey
Yes, you do
Tom Petty—You Wreck Me
For maybe half a second, the ghost of a smile flitted across the young silver fox's muzzle—as if he'd been anticipating that question from the get-go.
"What we do is sit tight until it's dark," He said, and then nodded in the direction of the door, "and until things start to quiet down a little. And then what you need to do is get your tail back over to Precinct-1 and turn yourself in."
Erin had to mull that over for a second. It went without saying that she'd have to go back eventually. Given her druthers, she'd never have joined that jail-break in the first place. Still…she didn't like the idea of leaving Conor to his fate when he was hurting like this; it felt almost as if she'd be abandoning him. But if she was going to give herself up, wouldn't it be better not to wait? "Maybe…I should go now?" she suggested.
"I wouldn't," The fox in the other chair was wagging a finger, "There's a whole bunch of seriously angry cops out there right now. And it's daylight, like I said; you'll be grabbed before you can get anywhere near Precinct-1, and then probably get hauled off to one of the other districts—and then NOBODY'S gonna believe you were trying to turn yourself in when you got pinched." He shifted in his chair a little, his expression softening into sympathy. "I know, I know…you're worried that sister Judy and the rest of your family are gonna be worried about you. But if you get dragged off to the Rainforest District, or Outback Island, or wherever, it'll take 'em even longer to find you. Nope, it's better to hold off until after sundown before you turn yourself in. Trust me bunny girl, I know what I'm talking about."
She did, but again she had to wonder how he knew all this.
And, would he also know…? She didn't want to ask, but she had to.
"C-Conor…am…am I going to get in trouble for running away from jail like that?"
He smiled and shook his head. "Not when they see why you did it, Erin." By way of explanation, he pointed at his laptop. "I got it all on video; Craig chasing you through the jail, and then again, after you left Savanna Central Station. When the cops see that, they'll understand why you bolted. For sure, your sister Judy will. Don't worry, you'll be fine."
She could have hugged him for that, so relieved she didn't even stop to wonder how he'd been able to see Craig chasing after her?
But then something else occurred to the white-furred young bunny.
"Conor, did you maybe see Craig going after anyone else…besides me, I mean…like, um—another rabbit?" She mentally crossed her fingers, praying hard.
"Hrmmm," the young silver fox frowned for a second, pinching thoughtfully at his chin, "Brown fur, bigger than you, kinda looked like a jock?"
Erin clasped her paws expectantly, "Yes Conor, that's him. Did you…?"
"Ahhh, no worries bunny girl," he was smiling again. "Craig went right past him with like only a quick glance or something. I wouldn't even have noticed, 'cept your guy was with this other rabbit-kid, had fur looks kinda like mine." His head tilted sideways for a second, "Friend of yours?"
She was unable to keep her eyes from rolling. "I-I-I wouldn't call Max a friend; just someone I know from back in Bunnyburrow. Kind of a stuck up jerk, thinks he's God's gift to soccer."
"And he's also the bunny who stopped YOUR ungrateful little cotton-tail from doing a crash dive into the concrete, remember?" Erin's inner voice rebuked her, prompting a quick change of course. Instead of bringing up the fact that Max also had a crush on her, she decided to broach a different subject.
"I guess you didn't see it, Conor, but if Max hadn't grabbed me, I would have fallen off of the third floor railing…and not onto the walkway; I mean all the way down to the commons floor."
Something heavy dropped into the pit of her stomach. Wha…? What was that all about?"
"Whoa, good for him," Conor, was nodding appreciatively, "But what the heck were you doing up there in the first place?"
"Trying to get away from Craig," she said, shrugging it off as though it were no big deal—except, for some reason, the heaviness in her belly seemed to have increased, and now she was having trouble meeting his gaze. "I…I guess I zigged when I should have zagged."
"Oka-y-y," the young fox drew out the word, eyeing her carefully. Her sudden skittishness seemed not to have escaped his notice. "Um, tell me though, why the heck was that coyote punk trying to catch you in the first pl…Erin, what's wrong?"
She had burst into tears. Now she remembered; now she understood her apprehension. "Give me a minute," she sniffed. Conor sat back and waited with a tilted head, while she tried to get herself under control. It seemed to take forever, but eventually her sobs diminished down to sniffles and she was able to speak again.
"Conor…th-there's something I need to tell you," she said, and then held out her paws to him. "It's…It's not good."
"Okay," he said, taking wary hold of them, "What is it?"
She needed three false starts before she was able to deliver the news…and even then she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"It's…about your friend, Saad…I-I think he's dead." Now, finally, her eyes met his, "I think…Craig killed him."
His reaction to this was…no reaction; nothing, nothing at all. He didn't gasp, he didn't yelp, he didn't stiffen, pull away, or tighten his grip. The only noticeable response was that all the emotion seemed to drain from his eyes, leaving nothing behind; not even coldness.
"And you're only telling me this now?" He sounded almost like the computer from 2001, a Space Odyssey. And then before she could even begin to think of a reply he said to her, still in that same toneless voice, "Tell me what happened…no, wait."
He held up a paw, while at the same time making a fast draw for his belt.
"Wh-What are you going to do?" Erin gulped and thought she was going to cry again—but he was only reaching for his cell-phone.
"Hello…ZPD? This is Conor Lewis…yes, THAT Conor Lewis. I…" He growled and she saw his grip tighten, "Don't bother trying to keep me talking; you won't be able to trace this, I won't be on for more than…SHUT UP AND LISTEN YOU IDIOT! One of the kids who broke outta jail last night, Craig Guilford, coyote, is stuck in a sinkhole over in Inselberg Terrace…What, you never heard of Zoogle maps? Okay, listen there's a dumpster on top of the hole where he's…what, hey? Don't go away on me! Huh, who's this? Okay…did you hear what I said, Chief? Then get someone over there before he gets…BECAUSE HE OFFED A FRIEND OF MINE, BUH-BYE!"
He yanked the phone away from his face and jammed it back in the holster, at the same time grumbling under his breath. "Nice try, babe."
Erin watched him and felt her nose twitching…and her foot wanting to thump uneasily. Talk about an iron-will; no sorrow, no tears, not even the slightest expression of grief—just a quick phone call to report the sand-cat's…murderer to the police.
Yes…about that; there was something about that call that had felt…off, and for the life of her she couldn't put her finger on it.
And she wasn't going to be able to, either. Conor was looking at her with that deadpan expression, and speaking in that same lifeless voice.
"'Kay, now tell me what happened."
The story came out in fits and starts. She had to backtrack at least twice; but eventually the fugitive young silver fox got the gist, if not the specifics of what had happened to his friend. Craig had initially gone after Max March rather than her, pursuing the athletic young rabbit over an imagined offense. Erin had followed behind, hoping she could help, and had caught up with them just in time to see the vengeful young coyote snatching Max up by the ears—and that was when Saad had intervened.
"Yeah, that's something that sand-cat would have done," Conor was shaking his head, speaking for the first time since the story had begun to unspool—and also in a quavering voice. His emotional levee at last seemed to be giving way. "He always was the kind to jump in first, ask questions later; whenever someone was picking on a friend of his. Never could understand why he was like that; he was otherwise kinda mellow." He blinked and the steel returned. "So, what happened after that?"
What happened next was the hardest part of all for the young white-furred bunny to recall; she broke down at least twice while recounting it. Conor, for his part, remained silent and stone-faced throughout the tale—but he wasn't fooling her; she could see the wilting ears and drooping tail. But though he never pushed her, never prodded, Erin couldn't get away from the feeling that he was forcing the story out of her. Sweet cheez' n' crackers; up until this point she'd found it nearly impossible to believe that he had drawn first blood in that fight with her sister.
Not any more, she didn't. Now she knew that the silver fox sitting across from her was capable of all that and more.
This was a dangerous young animal.
So, why the heck was she feeling an overwhelming urge to hug him?
"You okay?" she asked when she was done.
"I'm cool!" he almost snapped…but he was unable to meet her gaze, and she had heard the cracks in his voice.
She reached out and took his paws again.
"Conor you don't have to hold back because of me; it's okay if you need to cry."
He abruptly pulled away from her.
"Sorry bunny, I can't cry."
"Yes, you can," Her foot was thumping. "There's no reason…"
"No, no," he interrupted again, "I mean, I'm like…physically incapable of crying; haven't been able to since the day I got my face beat crooked." He patted the side of his muzzle, while his voice softened into velvet. "I can't cry…even when I want to."
For perhaps a thousand moments—or maybe just one—Erin didn't know where to go with this. Conor's admission had been no swaggering declaration of machismo. He seemed genuinely bewildered by his inability to shed tears; bewildered…and also frustrated.
She took hold of his paw again.
"Then it's okay to want to cry," she told him…and this time he didn't pull away. He almost did…but only almost. "Dana told me Saad was the one who introduced you to her." It wasn't much, but hopefully it would keep the conversation going.
This time, she was successful. The young silver fox almost smiled again.
"Yeah, that's right. You know what an Oud is?"
The white-furred young doe-bunny thought for a second. "Ahhhh, it's some kind of musical instrument…I know that much. Ummmm…looks kind of like a lute?"
Conor nodded and cocked another finger
"Right…except it has twelve strings and kind of a twangy sound. Anyway, Saad had one and he knew how to play it. One day, when he was hanging with Jason and Dana, he tried jamming on Led Zep's Kashmir with it. Long story short, they decided they needed another guitar player, and so Saad got hold of me. Later on, I called in Mike, and whoa, we just tore that tune down, bunny girl."
"I bet," Erin said, "Ahhh, I wish I could have been there."
"So do I;" The young silver-fox smiled…but then turned away with a wistful expression on his face, gazing off into the middle distance. "And now it'll never happen." His voice was like a wisp of air—and then it trailed away into silence.
Erin almost said something, but stopped herself. Now was not the time to talk, it was the time to give him some space. In his own way, at last, Conor was finally mourning his friend.
After a long, silent interlude, he spoke again. And when he did, he sounded just plain tired.
"You should have told me about him earlier, Erin." he said and then yawned wide-mouthed, "I would have called the cops as soon as we were out of that cul-de-sac."
"Why then?" the young doe bunny asked. She didn't really care, but it was either ask the question or say she was sorry…and she was NOT going to apologize for that. No! Stinking! Way!
"If I'd called before we left," he said, "'Yote-boy would have heard me, and he would have gone crazy trying to get his tail outta that hole. He's gonna be working hard enough to dig himself out as it is." He smirked for maybe half a second. "Besides, no way was I gonna call the cops from inside of a dead-end street, with only one way in or out. For all I knew, there could have been a ZPD-cruiser less than 30 feet away."
"Dang," Erin marveled silently. Good Lord, was this fox-kid calculating or what? It made him even more dangerous in her eyes. "Do you…think they'll get to him before he's able to make it out of that hole?"
"If he hasn't already," her inner voice chided, making her wish she could kick the thing…especially since Conor's only reaction was an exaggerated shrug.
"I dunno, I hope not;" But then his thoughts seemed to turn inward. "Ahhh what the heck, I should have alerted the cops anyway, Saad or no Saad." He appeared to shrink a little, "Craig's still the jerk who tried to help his dad dump a load of defoliant on the Carrot Days festival. I shoulda dropped a dime on that coyote-punk the first time I spotted him…outside the precinct I mean."
"Oh right," Erin nodded. She had forgotten all about that herself. Still, she had to admit, his confession was making her feel better.
"Okay," he yawned, rising from his chair and stretching, "I dunno about you, but I need to go get me some shut-eye." He pointed behind her, towards a long piece of furniture draped in white. "Pretty sure there's a couch under there. You can have that; I'll go find some other place."
Erin turned and looked over her shoulder. "That looks big enough for both of us, don't you think?"
But he was already stowing his laptop in his backpack. "Best to keep separated," he said, checking that weird looking four barreled weapon, and holstering it again. "If some security-type shows up and spots either one of us, the other one will be able to get away."
"Oh," Erin nodded; that made sense—she supposed.
Conor, meanwhile, was slinging the backpack over his shoulders and tightening the straps. "You don't have a watch, right? Ahhh, didn't think so…'kay, there's a clock on the wall behind you." He checked his own watch. "Lessee…sun goes down around 8:40. If I'm not back by 9, go ahead and take off without me."
Erin's ears went up and her nose began to twitch. "Wha…? Where are you going?"
"To find a place to crash, like I said," He sounded peeved again, "But if some janitor or whoever shows up…Look bunny-girl, I plan to be back long before then, but I don't wanna take any chances; you follow what I'm bringing out?"
"Ummm, yeah, I see." Actually she didn't, but she was in no mood to argue. "Whatever, I'll see you tomorrow."
"It IS tomorrow," he winked and offered a half grin, and then was gone before she could respond.
Not that it mattered, she was too tired anyway. She toddled over to uncover the sofa, or whatever was under that drop cloth. She was almost there when something else caught her eye; the only item of furniture in the room that was covered by a clear plastic sheet rather than linen or canvas.
It was a desk—and although the view beneath the covering was milky and slightly distorted, she could clearly make out a phone, parked on top of it.
"A land line," she giggled silently. Jiminy Christmas; who the heck used those things anymore? This office wasn't just old, it was a living fossil. But sayyyy, what if it worked? Judy, Mom, and Violet must be worried half to death right now. She changed course, but then hesitated for a second. Should she, or shouldn't she? Conor had advised her to wait until dark, but that didn't apply to making a phone-call, did it? Well, if she kept it short and sweet; just long enough to let them know she was okay. "First thing's first Erin," her inner voice prompted, "that phone has to be working."
She flipped away the sheet and picked up the receiver. It was fairly new for a land-line phone; there was even a row of speed-dial buttons. But was there a…? Yes, there was a dial tone. She immediately began to punch in Judy's number.
Or that is, she tried to; it began to ring on the third digit—and then only buzzed once before it went to voicemail.
"This is Professor Blackwood; I'm not at my desk right now, so please…"
Erin hung up in annoyance and tried again; her mom's number this time. Once again the phone began to ring on the third digit. And this time, she got a robotic, female voice for her troubles. "We're sorry but your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and try again."
She hung up a second time, nearly slamming down the receiver. What the heck was going on here? She was about to give up when she noticed the last number on the speed dial list; it was for the ZPD. Why Dr. Whatsherface needed that when she could just as easily dial 911, the young doe-bunny had no idea. She reached down and pressed the button, too tired and/or frustrated to remember that, unlike her mother and sister, the police had the wherewithal to trace any incoming phone calls.
It turned out not to matter in any event, because she ended up with another recorded voice—even more silky and mechanical than the last one.
"We're sorry, all circuits are busy. Please try your call again later."
Erin sighed and let the phone receiver fall back into its cradle. Awww carrot stix, she should have known. At a time like this, it was a no-brainer that the ZPD would be deluged with phone calls. Or maybe their phone system had gone offline when the servers had been taken down; there were only about a hundred possible reasons why she'd been unable to complete the call. It made her wonder how Conor had been able to through.
All at once her eyes went wide and then SHE was wide awake.
"He didn't get through!" And with those four words, everything she'd seen just prior to his departure began to play back in her head.
He'd refused to sleep in here even though there was plenty of room. He'd put his backpack all the way on, instead of slinging it over one shoulder, and then he'd adjusted the straps…but not before checking that strange-looking weapon he was carrying. When she'd asked what he was going to do, he'd said nothing—and then why had he told her to clear the heck out if he wasn't back by sundown?
There was only one possible explanation; that phone call of his had been a fake…and that reverie he'd apparently slipped into had actually been a brooding silence.
Put all of that together and…Oh, NO!
She had to find him; she had to stop him…but how? She didn't know her way around this place. She couldn't…
"Shut up and move your tail, rabbit!"
Erin turned and bolted for the door. Ohhh, if only she could track him by his scent, the same way he could track…
"I said shut UP!"
There was only one other door to the hydroponic room, but the hallway beyond it led quickly to a three way-junction. Only one of the corridors was lit, however, and taking a chance, she went that way. That method got her through two more intersections, but then she came to a two way branch with the lights turned out in both hallways. Great; now what? Wait; she had an idea.
She went to the first one, jumped up and brushed her paw against the overhead light. She felt nothing, it was cold. She went to the other corridor and repeated the process. This time, when she touched the light, she felt warmth against her paw. This way; he'd gone this way. Ohhhh, she could only hope that leg-brace of his would slow him down enough for her to catch up with…Ahhhh, Dangit!
She was in a round room with hallways branching off in five, count 'em, FIVE different directions—and this time, the lights were on every single one of them. Did Conor know she was following him? Never mind, pick one and get moving.
With nothing else to guide her, she went with the hallway that just felt right. It led to an L-turn and a set of stairs leading downwards—no!—but down below, near the foot of the stairway, Erin thought she detected a faint, red glow.
"Ohhhh, please let that be an exit sign," she begged silently of whoever might be listening, "and PLEASE let this be the way he went."
She jumped down the stairs, taking them five at a time….and yes, it was an exit sign, and a door with a bar-handle, two doors actually. One for larger mammals and a smaller one set into the first. But was it locked, was it alarmed? She didn't see a keyhole. Oh never mind, just TRY it already.
Erin pressed on the smaller door handle and felt it swing open. Stepping outside she felt an immediate urge to hug herself tightly. The sun might be up, but it was anything but light outside; the skies were etched in steel wool, and the rain was coming down in big, heavy drops. What the…? When she'd watched that newscast earlier, she hadn't seen it storming. Just then, as if to make clear that this wasn't only her imagination, she heard distant a rumble of thunder.
Where was she? A brownstone building occupied maybe half the street opposite on her right. Directly in front of her, she could just make out what looked like a metro train overpass, maybe 30 yards away. The street signs at either end of the avenue were indecipherable behind the curtain of rain.
That made her hope for a second that the sinkhole where Craig was trapped wouldn't flood, but then that reminded her of something else, and she looked hastily up and down the road. No police, no signs of anybody…and especially no sign of Conor.
She had missed him, he had gotten away…and she had no idea which way he had…
Twenty yards to her left, a door opened, and the fugitive young silver-fox exited into the rain, pulling up his collar against it. Looking at him, Erin had the oddest feeling that something was missing from this picture.
She called out at once, "Conor!"
He wheeled about, thoroughly startled…but only for a second. And then his eyes went cold, ice cold—colder than the driving rain. "Don't, Erin." It was the same flat, lifeless voice he'd used before. "Don't even think about it."
Taking a step towards him, the young doe-bunny stretched out her arms in a pleading gesture. "Conor no, you can't…do this."
"That coyote punk's not done with you, Snowdrop," He informed her in that flint-hard toneless voice. "If he gets free, he'll want to shut you up for good. I know; I've seen his kind a whole heapin' bunch of times."
Erin would never know where she got her next words.
"Then that's what's going to happen. Conor, I won't let you do this. This isn't who you are!"
His eyes only narrowed in contempt. "Like I told your sister, bunny-girl; you don't know what kind of kid I am…and you can't stop me."
As if to prove it, his foot moved back into a defensive stance…while the young doe-bunny could only stare, mesmerized like a deer caught in the glow of a pair of hi-beam headlights. Was this how he'd looked when Judy had come upon him in that theater?
One thing was abundantly clear; even with his injuries she'd never be able to take this fox. Unlike her elder sister, she had zero fighting skills; what she DID have was a shoulder that wasn't at 100%. When she'd tried to run away earlier, he had handled her like a plushie toy.
But then he went on to say. "So do the smart thing Snowdrop; step aside, turn around, and cover your eyes. One way or another, I'm doing this thing."
At first, Erin didn't understand; why did he want her to…?
But then it all came crashing down like a load of gravel. He didn't have his bike with him—that was it, the missing piece! And he was going to need it to get back to that cul-de-sac. Even without a hurt leg, it would take him forever to get reach it on foot.
And somehow she had ended up between the furious young silver fox and his ride. To get to it, he would have to get past her.
With that understanding came another, bigger revelation; almost an epiphany.
She KNEW how to stop him; it would be the most foolhardy, reckless thing she could imagine—it might even get her killed—but it would work; she knew it would work.
It had to work.
She sniffled, trying to bring up some tears. It didn't take much effort, and in seconds, they were streaming down her face.
"A-All right Conor, you win," she blubbered, "But after this, I don't ever want to see you again."
She spun on her heel and turned her back on him.
"Then that's what's gonna happen." He said…only this time his voice wasn't empty of emotion. He sounded determined, but also immeasurably sad—almost heartbroken, not to put too fine a point on it.
Erin kept her eyes shut, but not her ears, listening for his approach with every fiber of her being. One chance, that was all she was going to get…and even if it worked…
"Don't think…listen."
She could hear him, getting closer, three feet…two feet…and then he stopped. Oh no, had he sensed something? No, he was moving again.. Not yet…not yet; wait'll he's past you…NOW!
Erin wheeled in a fast pirouette and leaped up…grabbing Conor by the scruff of the neck, and letting herself fall backwards, pulling with her weight as hard as she could.
At once his muzzle shot upwards and a scream like rending sheet metal pierced the air.
She let go just as he screamed again…and then wheeled around with claws extended, swinging hard and aiming for her face.
…and finding nothing but empty air. It was the young white-furred bunny's one and only hole card. When Conor had lost it with Nick and Judy, he had caught them both completely by surprise.
Not Erin, not this time; when she'd grabbed him from behind, she'd known exactly what was coming.
"Come on," she shrilled, stepping backwards and spreading her arms in a taunting gesture. "Come on, Charcoal Boy…come and get me!"
He let out another fox scream…and went rushing straight at her.
But she was already bounding away at full tilt. If she could just keep him busy, keep him going until he came back down off his frenzy, then maybe…she didn't know what, only that she had to move; he was right behind her. Jiminy Christmas, how was he able to run so fast with that thing on his…?
"Never mind, head for that alley across the street…HURRY!"
Erin wheeled towards it in mid stride, heard Conor stumble and fall behind her. He could run, but he couldn't make fast turns.
Okay that was something, but now he was up on his feet again and closing fast.
She darted into the alleyway. Halfway down its length she found her pathway blocked by a barricade of bricks and overturned oil-drums, a parting shot from some of the rioters. No worries, this was something she could clear easily. She jumped, landing in a crouch and then jumped again, this time with all her strength, sailing effortlessly over the barricade and coming down in a three-point stance. Behind her, Conor didn't have it quite so easy, snarling and fox-screaming as he scrambled up and over the makeshift wall. Dangit, how long did it take him to come out of that berserk state?
Turning to flee again, the young doe-bunny saw just what she needed, about ten yards up ahead of her; a fire escape—big, beautiful, and five stories tall, with a ladder at its lower end dangling six feet off the ground. That was another jump she knew she could make—and that Conor couldn't, and… "Oh no, here he comes, move it!"
She wheeled about, running hard and fast, leaping for the ladder and landing neatly on the third rung—and at once felt it start to slide earthward. Drawn by her weight, it hit the ground with a dull thud. Only then did the young doe-bunny realize her error. Being a country girl, she was unfamiliar with how fire escapes actually worked…and now she was learning the hard way.
She began climbing with everything she had. Her bad shoulder was crying out in protest, but at least it was still working.
A sudden, tight vibration shook the ladder…and she knew that Conor was right behind her again. The landing…if she could just make it to the second floor landing, she'd be safe; with his injured leg there was no way that fox-kid could catch her on the stairs. And yes, there it was, right within reach. Grabbing for the edge, she felt something seize her by the ankle, sharp claws prickling her skin.
Erin screamed and kicked out blindly with her other foot…felt it impact on something, felt the claws letting go of her, slipping away.
And then she heard a 'whump' as something hit the ground below…hard.
Holding on to the ladder with her right paw, she turned and looked down over her shoulder.
Ten…perhaps twelve feet below her, Conor was lying in a fetal position.
"Oh, NO…I didn't mean to…!"
She slid down the ladder, fire-pole style, hearing it 'chink' upwards and back into place when she let go.
"Please…please be…"
Yes, he was breathing, and…was he whimpering? She thought she could hear it, but wasn't certain.
She reached out to touch him; he looked up at her suddenly, with both fangs showing. For a second, time froze. Only now did it occur to the white-furred young doe bunny that this whole thing might simply be a ruse; hello sucker…any last words?
But when she looked into his eyes, she saw no madness, no savage fire. He was over his episode at last.
But there had been a price to pay. "Dumb bunny!" he groaned, in a feeble, guttural snarl—and there was no mistaking the fact that this fox-kid was in some serious pain.
She heard the ladder hit the ground again, and when she turned to look, she saw a troupe of young mammals clambering down to street level, a pine marten, a raccoon, and three opossums, with a black bear bringing up the rear. They ranged in age from middle-school to high-school, although none of them looked old enough to drive. For a second, Erin wondered where they'd come from—until she noticed that the second-floor window was now wide open. She also noted that the rain had stopped. Wha…? When did that happen? And now she heard a door open, and more kids coming…ascending up a flight of steps from a basement somewhere down below. She recognized one of them, a member of the bunny-squad; the kids who'd caught her after she was pitched over the top of the police line, a young marsh rabbit. The leader of this second group appeared to be a lanky young deer-buck. He looked only vaguely familiar; one of the kids from the youth jail perhaps? It would explain all the piercings that were now nothing but empty pucker marks…but why had he painted his antlers red like that?
Uh-oh, here he came…but then he stopped in his tracks with his mouth agape and all the color draining from his ears. When he turned his gaze on Erin, he seemed to be wishing that looks could kill.
"What happened?" he asked—in a voice even colder than Conor's.
It was the silver fox who answered him…second-paw by way of Erin.
"All right Snowdrop…you win, that ladder was too much for my bum knee." He said this while tapping weakly at what was left of his leg-brace.
"Dangit, I TOLD you," she cried, picking up the thread, and at once all of the hostility from the others evaporated like steam in the desert sun.
"You okay, dude?" the deer was leaning over Conor with a worried look.
For a second or two, the injured young silver fox only looked up at him puzzled…but then a meager flame of recognition lit up behind his eyes.
"Eez…that you?"
"It's me, bro'," the young black-tail buck smiled, offering a four…which the young fox tried and failed to return. That brought an even more worried look to Eez's face—and also Erin's; Conor was hurt even worse than she'd thought.
"Yo, Eez…who that?" It was the black bear, lumbering over with a furrowed brow and a tilted head.
"Whoa, where you been, Root?" The deer's expression was a mixture of surprise and contempt. "That's Conor Lewis, dude."
At the mention of the silver fox's name, everyone drew back a step, as if they were in presence of some sacred relic they dared not touch. Erin even thought she saw the marten getting down on one knee.
The bear, however, remained skeptical.
"Seriously, buck? That fox don't look nothing like him."
That brought an annoyed response from both Eez…and Conor.
"And just how the heck would YOU know that?"
"I…changed my look…okay?"
Before anyone else could chime in, a shrill whistle pierced the air, pre-empting any further conversation.
"'Scuse me guys," Erin's foot was thumping as she took the fingers from her mouth, "But can you do this AFTER we get off the street…please?"
Everyone regarded each other awkwardly for a moment; everyone, not just the bear and the deer.
Then Root said to Eez, "Here, help me." And the two of them formed a cradle with their arms.
They brought Conor downstairs to the sublevel, with Erin following close behind and the rest of the group trailing in their wake.
She expected to end up in some dank basement, complete with cobwebs, moldy walls and bare bulbs that offered only minimal illumination. Instead she found herself in a cheerfully lit break-room complete with a sink, fridge, microwave, and even an air-hockey table, for mid-sized mammals.
By now, Conor had lost consciousness. They laid him on a couch in the corner with Erin to keep an eye on him and then went into a huddle at the opposite end of the room.
It annoyed the young doe-bunny, to practically no end, that she was being cut out of the loop; she had known the silver fox lying sprawled out on the sofa longer than anyone else in here. However, even without her sharp rabbit ears, she would have been able to pick up on their conversation; noises really carried in here.
"Let's face it guys; there's nothing any of us can do to help that fox-kid. He needs a doctor."
"Yeah, my uncle took a fall like that once. He thought he was okay, but then he woke up the next morning and could barely breathe. Turned out he had three broken ribs."
"Okay, yeah," a wee voice piped up from down around floor-level, "that's really interesting Sparky. But what are we supposed to do? We can't take him to the ER; they'll throw his tail right back in detention."
"Yeah, and us too," the marten-kid observed pessimistically.
"Well would you rather have him die on us?" the black bear demanded. Since learning that the fox-kid they'd found in the street really was Conor Lewis, his attitude had gone through some major adjustments.
"Uhm, excuse me?" another voice spoke up, a bunny's voice—which meant that it was probably the marsh rabbit Erin had seen earlier, "my sister's a nurse practitioner. Maybe she could help."
"Can you count on her to keep quiet?" Eez asked him, gesturing in Conor's direction.
"She'd never tell on ME." The marsh-bunny's answer was ambiguous at best, but it seemed to satisfy the young deer-buck. "Okay, let's do that," he announced, but then took note of the look on the rabbit's face, "Uh, what?"
The young bunny turned away before answering, "She's…over in the Canal District.
A collective groan went up from the group of young mammals—including Erin. She had no idea where the Canal District was, but it sure as heck didn't sound like it was anywhere close by.
"Oh, nice," It was the marten again, "Any idea how we're supposed to get him there?"
"I…know a guy," a ragged voice croaked from over in the corner, and everyone turned to see Conor trying to rise up on his elbows, "Can you guys get me to the Lion's Gate docks?"
"Mmmmm, yeah…I-I think so," Root, the black bear told him, eyes wary as if the young silver fox might be speaking out of delirium.
"Kay, hang on," he said, and then fell back on the couch, reaching for his cell-phone holster. "This thing better not be damaged," he muttered, giving Erin an accusatory look.
She had to force herself to ignore it; if he hadn't chosen to go after Craig like that, he wouldn't be in this mess. "Need any help?" she asked.
"I can dial a number thanks." he spat out the words like bile, and then punched in the digits. "C'mon, c'mon, pick up…Billy, that you? It's Conor…Never mind; listen. I'm hurt pretty bad and I need to get to a doctor…"
"She's not a doctor, only a nurse," the marsh-rabbit spoke up in protest; Conor semi-ignored it.
"Okay, a nurse…but she's the only one who can help, and she's clear over in the Canal District. Can you pick me up, over by the Lion's Gate docks, and…?" His eyes closed and he let out a cheek-puffing breath. "Ohhh, thanks Stripes…you're a lifesaver—and like for real. Okay you know that new construction site, where they're building that fish-processing plant or whatever? About twenty yards to the right there's a tunnel entrance, a viaduct they used to use to bring in coal-barges to…Hey guy, don't make jokes, huh? I'm in some serious hurt over here. Naw, it's okay, but how soon…? Gimme a sec," He closed his eyes performing some mental calculations and then opened then again. "Ahhhh, dodging cops and all…prolly an hour, hour-and-half; can you swing that? Okay, thanks again Billy, see you soon." He disconnected and shook his head, grousing under his breath, "Why a duck!"
"Can YOU swing that?" Erin had overheard and now she was asking the other kids. The first to respond was Eez.
"We'll make it happen," he told her, swearing it like an oath.
"Thanks," Conor answered, casting a jaundiced eye in the doe-bunny's direction, as if she'd just stolen his thunder. And then he said, "Can some of you guys take care of her until it gets dark?" He was met with nods and grunts of agreement and then adjusted his gaze and spoke to her directly, in a voice that was rapidly weakening. "Okay, and then Erin…you…need to…go do that thing we talked about earlier."
She immediately shook her head, "No way fox; I'm staying with you."
It was like a shot of pure adrenaline. Conor was up on his elbows again, so fast that it looked almost like some kind of miracle cure. "No, you're not…wait, hold it. Guys, can you give us a minute here?" He was speaking to the other kids.
"You heard him, let's go," the deer buck pointed at the door and the others promptly began to file outside. It was almost frightening—how quickly they obeyed his command.
Whose command though, Erin had to wonder; the deer-kid…or Conor?
"What'd you do that for?" she asked, speaking to the young silver fox when they had gone. She felt as if she already knew, but couldn't be completely sure.
His response was probably the biggest non-answer he'd given since last night. "Go pound on the door first."
She looked at him with a twitching nose, and then went over, hammering on it twice with an underpawed fist.
Immediately, she heard, "OW! All right, all riiiiight," followed by the sound of hastily retreating footsteps.
"Trust everyone but cut the cards," she almost giggled—almost, because Conor was finally answering her question.
"Coz we don't want those guys to know that you're planning to turn yourself in to…"
Erin balled her fists and thumped the floor. "Hey Charcoal-Boy, I thought I said…"
"Or even that you were thinking about it," he went on smoothly, cutting her off, "They'd prolly label your tail a sell-out…maybe even peg you for a snitch."
That really brought out the umbrage; her foot-thump became a stomp.
"What? WHAT! I'd never…"
"I know you wouldn't but they don't!" he interrupted, pointing at the door…and then rolled up into a coughing fit. And this time, Erin thought she saw a fleck or two of blood. She tried to go to him, but he only waved her off.
"I'll be okay, just give me a sec."
It took longer than that, but he finally recovered—mostly. Then he looked at her in earnest.
"Look bunny-girl. If you don't want to get into any more trouble for going rabbit…"
"Going…WHAT?" Now she was the one interrupting.
"Sorry, sorry," he held up his paws as best he could, "jail-speak for making an escape, nothing fursonal. But now, listen to me Erin…turning yourself in without ending up with your tail in a sling is like a limited time offer. You need to do that tonight. If you're not back in custody by tomorrow morning, you're gonna end up being declared a fugitive…and then not even that video of Craig going after you will do you any good." He tapped himself weakly in the chest. "And believe me, I know all about that stuff."
Erin couldn't help but question…how much of that was true? Was any of it true? Well, in any case it would need to wait; he was still talking.
"Best thing you can do is call your sister Judy before you take off and let her know you're coming." He pointed at his backpack, "I got a burner-phone in there you're welcome to use."
"Uhhh, thanks Conor, but I already tried and couldn't get through." The excuse was almost weaker than he was, but the only thing she could think of.
He attempted to pull up on his elbows again.
"What…when?"
"After you tried to con me and went off to go after Craig," she said, unable to resist the little dig. "There was a phone on the desk inside that office, but I couldn't get it to work…except when I called the ZPD…"
"You did WHAT?" Now he was up on his elbows…and then he was doubled over in another coughing fit. "You…*cough!* called the cops…*cough!* *hack!*…on a stinking LAND-LINE? *cough!* *hack!* *cough!*
"Uh, no I couldn't get through," she said, wondering what she could have done to set him off like that, "All the circuits were busy."
"Good thing they were, Snowdrop!" the young silver fox half rasped-half gekkered. "They could of traced that call in like a microsecond." An almost unspeakable change had come over him. His eyes were on fire, his nose was crinkled and both fangs were showing beneath a twitching upper lip. It was as if every ounce of loathing and disdain he'd been holding inside for the last ten years had chosen this moment to come percolating to the surface.
"I can't stinkin' believe…and you wanna stay with me? How about this instead? Kill me now and get it over with."
Erin blinked, and then stared. Had really just said that to her?
"Kill you now? Wh-What are you talking about."
If such a thing were possible, his contempt actually kicked up a notch.
"What the fox do you THINK I mean, bun-bun? Not only did you nearly bring the cops down on us, but now I have to get to the Canal District and find that nurse-doc, or whatever she is…which I wouldn't need to do if it hadn't been for YOU, ya walking blonde joke." He snarled and looked as if he was going to spit, "Grabbing me from behind…on purpose? Of all the stupid, brain-dead…you coulda got us both killed; you know that, cutie-pie? And now you got the nerve to say you wanna STAY with me? Like heck that's gonna happen. The last thing I need is some cute, airheaded, little dumb bunny messing up my life any more than she already has, you follow what I'm bringing out?"
Erin stared at him for a second and then folded her arms and sniffed, "Hmph, nice try Charcoal-Boy."
"Nice…TRY?" Conor's snarl was more like a wheeze; and now it was his turn to stare.
She only angled her chin upwards and curled her lip. "You don't mean any of that, Conor Lewis; you're only saying those horrible things because you're scared that if I stick by you, I'll get hurt or something." She leaned over him with her ears laid back. "Well, I won't, and IT won't work—dumb fox."
Conor tried, he really tried to keep up his sneering façade, but it was a losing battle. In the blink of an eye, all of his scorn had melted away, leaving only a long, wide-eyed, flabbergasted young face.
And then he clenched his fists and teeth—along with his eyes.
"Agggggh, grrrrrr, I swear…if I ever get my paws on the guy who invented rabbits, I'll rip his LUNGS out!" He looked up again, almost spitting out his next words, "Fine, whatever Snowdrop; but when they drag your cute little bunny-tail off to juvie, don't come crying to me!"
So saying, he rolled over and faced the wall, showing her his back. In mere seconds he was snoring like a ripsaw.
