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The Fire Triangle

Part Two:

Oxidizer

Chapter 9: Conor's Story
(Continued…Part 3)

"Silence in the front seat
Tryin' not to start a fight
Quiet, half-hid cryin'
And then we'd ride."

David Bromberg – The New Lee Highway Blues

Erin Hopps couldn't help laughing; it was so stinking obvious; a fully loaded truck would be outbound from its home base, not headed back IN. Ohhhh, she'd known something like this was going to happen from the moment Conor described the logo on that truck cab.

Meanwhile, he had completely missed it. Sweet cheez n' crackers, was THIS the same young silver fox who had thrice eluded capture by the ZPD? Well-l-l, that was then and this is now, and it wasn't as if Charcoal-Boy had tried to deny his mistakes, but still…

Glancing down at Vern Rodenberg, she saw that the grey rat's face was a marble mask. But at the same time, his tail was shivering, as if he was barely managing to hold something inside.

But then another thought struck her…and at once, she felt the humor drain away from her face.

She knew where the story was going from here—to a wrecked muzzle, and a juvenile hellhole named Granite Point.

And if Conor's plans to get away from Danbeary for the summer had been poorly conceived, well…who knew better than this young doe-bunny about wanting to escape from a stifling environment?

And he'd been right about something else as well. No, he and his friend hadn't been treated fairly…OR wisely. The policy of keeping them separated had been ten times stupider than all their missteps put together. In point of fact, that rule had driven them into exactly the type of behavior it had been intended to prevent. Had Conor and Jimmy Sanchez not been ordered to keep away from each other, they would never have ended up hustling drunks in the wee hours of the morning. Of that, Erin was 100% certain.

She was also aware that while Conor and his friend hadn't made it to Wildwood, they HAD gotten as far as…Mmmm, some other town in Zoo Jersey, where things had taken a very dark turn. No, it wasn't very funny when you thought about it.

Unable to come up with anything better, she coughed into a fist. "Sorry…but the way you tell it…"

Not very good, but all she could manage. It didn't matter, Conor was already raising a paw.

"Don't apologize…please. Looking back on it now, I can almost laugh about it myself." The corners of his mouth turned in opposite directions. "Or I could, if it wasn't for…" By way of conclusion, he patted the side of his muzzle; Erin understood.

And then he picked up where he'd left off.

Wrong-way foxes or not, we were still hungry, and this truck-stop was still a place with eats. When we got inside. it turned out to have a self-serve counter, and so that's where we snagged our grub. The only other option was a sit-down meal and we didn't want some waitress asking us where we were from or, more importantly, where our folks were. Matter of fact, we didn't want to talk to anybody right then—not even to each other. The whole time we were eating, neither one of us said a single word.

Yep, Mr. Rodenberg, exactly that. We managed to keep it together until we were back outside and pretty much alone—and that was when the spark hit the gunpowder. I blamed Jimmy and he blamed me and of course, it was really both our faults. We admitted it later, but right then…whoa boy! We gekkered, we fox-screamed, and it was the closest we ever came to getting into a tooth-and-claw. Good thing it never went that far; even without a physical fight, we were making so much noise, it's a wonder no one came running to break it up.

Eventually, we both kind of ran out of gas, and dragged ourselves over by the travel trailers to try and figure out what to do next. Obviously, we needed to hitch a ride on something headed back the way we were going. Only problem was, we didn't have a clue as to how we were supposed to make that happen. Hitching a ride on another commercial rig was totally not happening—and, like I said before, we had never come up with a plan B. About the only thing we knew for certain was that we were NOT going back to Danbeary…not even if the opportunity presented itself on a solid-gold platter.

And so, we spent the next couple of hours bouncing ideas off each other…all of which ended up going nowhere. At one point, Jimmy brought up the subject of hitchhiking again—and then waved it off before I could open my mouth. Some ideas were too lame to consider, even in those circumstances.

By then it was getting close to noontime, and we were starting to get the munchies again. That was when we heard this loud, beeping noise close by—a backup signal.

We looked…and saw a king-cab pickup truck, with a dually rear-axle, backing a trailer into the space nearest where we were sitting. I can still remember the name on the side of that bad boy, Wolfpack. It was one of those trailers where the sides pop out when you stop to get set up. It also had this cab that extended over the truck bed and hooked up to hitch, mounted in the center. Ahhh, I can't remember what they call those…

Oh, right…a fifth wheel trailer; thanks Erin. Anyway, Jimmy thought we could get into that space between the cabover and the bed. I didn't like that idea very much, not one little bit, in fact. But I agreed that we should at least go check it out; we weren't exactly in a position to be picky right then.

"But first, we gotta make sure they're going the right way," I insisted, and Jimbo wasn't about to argue with me on that one…even though neither one of us knew how we were supposed to obtain that information.

In the meantime, we ducked out of sight behind the rocks where we'd been sitting, watching closely as the truck pulled to a stop and the dust settled. For a minute, nothing happened and the doors opened and four onagers got out. Uh, I hate to ask stupid questions, but do you guys know that species?

Yeah, right…Asian wild ass. And nyuck, nyuck, Snowdrop; 'yeah, that WAS a stupid question.' Oh, yer just on a roll right now, aren't you?

So anyways, they were a family; mom, dad, a little girl about nine or ten, and a guy in his early teens. Right away, we could tell they weren't local. Dad was decked out in jeans, a Southwestern print shirt, and a belt-buckle the size of a postcard. The only thing missing was a cowboy hat. Mom was dressed in similar fashion, and so was her daughter. The only exception was the boy. Whoa, he stood out from the others like a sore thumb with gangrene. He had jeans on too, but they were way baggier than what the rest of his family was wearing, topped off by a hoodie with 'Oklahoma Sooners' printed on the front; the only clue as to where he was from. He also had a ring in his ear and another on through his nose…which nose was currently buried in a tablet; the same place it had been when he'd gotten out of the truck. If I narrowed my eyes a little, I could see the nubs of his hooves working; he was either playing a game, or texting, I couldn't tell which.

When the others turned and headed for the café, he was still there, and still busy on his device. He didn't even seem to notice he'd been left alone. Dad, on the other paw, noticed him real sweet quick.

"Ronnie, put that away, and come on." He had the twangiest accent I'd ever heard—up until then, at least.

His kid never even looked up. "In a second, Ray."

Jimmy and I couldn't help grinning at each other. Ray…not 'Dad.' This boy obviously did not want to be here on this trip.

And Dad obviously did not appreciate being addressed in that manner. He took two steps forward, finger out and his ears laid back.

"NOW, Mister!"

"All right, all riiight!" Ronnie went back to the truck, put the tablet away, and then stomped back over to where the others were waiting, spreading his arms in mock surrender. "Okay?"

His father started to say something else, but this time mom intervened. "Let's just eat."

When we were sure they had gone, Jimmy went off to check out the truck, while I stood watch.

Well, it was only fair…I'd made the first recon, so now it was his turn.

My gray fox bud was always a thorough kind of guy; sometimes a little bit too thorough. After scoping out the truck-bed, he took a look in through the cab-windows—even though there was no stinkin' way that we could have sneaked a ride up there.

He came back with the information that, just as I'd thought, they were from Oklahoma—Tuska, to be exact. Other than that, he hadn't been able to see much, and hadn't been able to determine when they were headed from here.

Not that it made much difference; the next thing Jimmy told me was, "Okay, you were right, Silver. No way we're getting into that pick-up bed. The hitch takes up nearly the whole darn thing and they got all kinds of gear stashed back there too. And anyway, the tailgate's got a lock…"

That was all I heard. 'Lock'…'lock,' what difference did that make, and…why did that word keep nagging me?

Then it hit me, "Yeah, right!" When Ronnie had put his tablet back in the truck, he hadn't unlocked the door first!

And I hadn't seen either him or his dad lock it up afterwards.

I grabbed Jimmy by the arm. "Stay here and keep an eye out."

"Wha…?" he was looking at me like I'd lost it. "Dude, I just told you…!"

But I was already down on all fours and moving fast for the truck again.

Grabbing hold of the handle to back-door number two, I took a deep breath and braced myself.…ready to bolt, if I set off an alarm. From the corner of my eye, I could see Jimmy, waving his arms like he was in a rave or something.

I ignored him and pulled the door open.

Nothing…no alarms, no angry voices, nothing.

Scrambling inside I took a quick look around; there had to be something in here that would let me know where these mammals were head…uhhh, what now?

Yeah, yeah…I know what I just said. Look, don't ask me to explain: I don't know why I did what I did. Call it a hunch, or instinct, or whatever; I just had a feeling, okay?

Okay…well after maybe a minute of searching, my eye fell on Ronnie's tablet…and a tiny, green pinpoint of light in the upper, right-paw corner; he'd forgotten to shut it off.

Ohhh-kay, but had he been playing a game, or had he been chatting? If it was choice number one, bummer…but if it was choice number two, then maybe…

Just…maybe…

Ordinarily, a tablet that size would have been too big for a fox to handle, especially one my age. Luckily for me, Ronnie had left it lying on the seat, face up. A quick swipe of my paw across the screen and it lit up almost instantly.

And then O, Happy Day, I was looking at a chat screen. The last two messages were from whoever had been on the other end. 'Later, C-ya', and before that 'Where'd U go?' The last text from Ronnie before he signed off had been, 'That big jerk better stay away from her, while I'm gone!'

Oh-kayyy…if nothing else, at least I now knew why he hadn't wanted to make this trip. But that wasn't what I needed to know, and so I scrolled up with my paw, looking at the earlier texts. After maybe two more pages—bingo!

'FINALLY, we're heading home…but it's gonna take like forever to get there. Ray's got all these lame-o places he wants to check out on the way back…'

There was more, but I'd seen enough. I punched the power switch, found a rag, and wiped off the tablet screen, the only thing I'd touched inside the truck cab. Whoa, but I was feeling good. You didn't need a map to know that if these folks were on their way back to Oklahoma, they'd for sure be going our way.

My jubilation lasted until I closed the door behind me. That was when I remembered…

What difference did it make, where these folks were headed, if there was no way Jimmy and I could hitch a ride with them—at least not without getting caught?

Or…was there? If they'd gone off and left the truck-door unlocked, then could they have also…? Nope, no way…nobody could be that careless.

And yet…

I scurried back to the trailer door. Onagers being larger than foxes I had to jump up to reach the handle, but when I got hold of it…well, what do you know? It gave right away, and the door swung open. I dropped down and turned to call Jimmy, but he was already halfway there. No time for cheers or high-fives; we scooted inside the trailer and shut the door behind us.

As things turned out, we hadn't needed to get a rush on; it seemed like eons before those onagers finally came back. While we waited, I explained to Jimmy what I'd found on Ronnie's tablet. He wasn't nearly as certain as I was that we'd made the right move but, like me, he understood that we'd pretty much run out of other options. It was either this, or we pull the plug.

When the onager family returned, we had one short, tense moment. If any of them came into the trailer before we pulled out, Jimmy and I were toast. But then we heard a truck door opening and closing, and then another, and another…and then the engine cranked, and we began to move.

But only for a short distance before we stopped again and heard doors opening; Uh-ohhhh…

Unable to resist, Jimmy peeked out a window…and let out a quick breath of air.

"S'okay Silver," he whispered, sliding back down again. "We just stopped to get gas is all." That was a relief, but not a total relief; there was always the chance that someone might…

Without warning, the trailer door swung open, and Ronnie came inside, headed for the mini-fridge, up towards the front. For a hint of a second, we dared to hope that he might not notice us.

But then one of his ears turned sideways—and then before we knew it, he was looking straight at us.

The next few seconds seemed to take years. Should we bolt, should we try to bluff our way out, what should we do?

As it happened, we didn't have to do any of those things. Ronnie beat us to it; he made pushing motions with his hooves, and then put what passed for a finger to his lips.

And then, crouching low, he returned to his original task…going to the fridge and pulling out not one but three cans of strawberry lemonade. He gave one to Jimmy and one to me, and then touched the rim of his can against ours as if making a toast.

And then he left without a single word.

My buddy and I were bowled over, but we weren't about to complain. Just the same, we didn't even try to crack those cans…not until we were sure that we'd hit the highway.

Nope…Ronnie never gave us up. And you shouldn't be surprised, Erin. You've seen plenty of his 'tude yourself over the last few days; 'Down with authority, we're not gonna taaaake it. '"

Yep, you got it…if Ronnie's family lived here in Zootopia, you better believe he'd have been out there in Savanna Central the other night. That's why he never snitched on Jimmy and me; his way of sticking it to dear, old dad—and all the other adults trying to keep him down.

If we peeked out a window even twice during that ride, it was a lot. And neither of those looky-loos gave us even a clue as to where we were headed. Not that it mattered; by now, we were too burned-out to care. We were either going the right way…or we weren't.

This time, we didn't fall asleep on the trip, it was mid-afternoon, and the drive turned out to be a much shorter haul than the last one. Three hours later, I felt us make a U-turn, hopefully onto an exit ramp.

Right away, Jimmy and I grabbed our stuff and prepared to move. We would know that the trailer was going to be staying put for a while when we felt it backing into a space and heard the engine shut off. The plan was to bolt as soon as the motor died, and then if anyone saw us…well, they saw us. At least this way, if they did, we'd have a head start.

After maybe half an hour of slower driving, we hung a right and I felt the trailer ease to a stop. Jimmy thought we should go right then, but I said no, not yet, and for once, I made the right call—though I didn't know it at the time. If we'd moved when Jimbo wanted, we'd have walked right into the arms of…ah, I'll tell you about him in a second

Maybe ten minutes passed before we started moving again, way more slowly than before. And then after maybe another five, we stopped again, and I heard the sound we'd been waiting for, the beep-beep of the back-up signal. A second later, we were rolling backwards at a dead crawl, and angling around to the right. Jimmy threw on his pack and so did I, ready to bolt the instant we heard the engine quit.

Why didn't we go right then? Uh, with all due respect, Mr. Rodenberg…when you're backing your vehicle into a parking space, where are you looking?

In the rear-view mirror, riiiight. That's why we stayed where we were…though I gotta admit, we were seriously tempted to get a move on right NOW.

But anyway…at last, we felt the trailer come to a stop and heard the engine turn off. That was it, there was our cue to boogie.

Except…before we could take even a single step, the trailer door opened and Ray poked his head inside. Agggh, grrrrrr, it must have been his wife who'd backed us in while he'd been on the outside, guiding her. Once again, something we should have thought of in advance was coming back to bite our tails off.

Luckily, he wasn't looking in our direction; it was Ronnie's visit all over again. Yeah, except that when his dad saw us—and he would eventually—he wouldn't be giving us any free lemonade, he'd be giving us over to John Q. Law.

That was when we heard… "Raymond? Get out here and talk to your son!"

Ray grimaced, brayed, "Heeyaww, NOW what?" and practically threw himself back out the door. He was so ticked-off, he didn't even bother to close it.

Needless to say, Jimmy and I weren't about to pass up an opportunity like that. A half-second later, we were diving into the underbrush behind where the trailer was parked.

Ahhhh, that's a good question, Erin. Did Ronnie act out on purpose to try and give us some cover…or was it all just a coincidence? In all honesty, I have no idea.

It didn't take long for Jimmy and me to figure out where we were, the Gulf Beach Luxury RV Resort and Marina, in Milfurred Connecticat. There was this big sign, right over the main entrance.

We were happy, but we weren't thrilled. We had gone in the right direction yeah, but we had ended up more or less back where we started. Milfurred was further south than Danbeary, but it was also further to the east. For all practical purposes, we'd spent the last two days running in circles.

The bad news was that it was going to be harder than heck to catch a ride from this location. There wasn't a highway anywhere in sight, and this wasn't the kind of place where you stayed overnight and then moved on. And even if it had been, what were the odds of finding another trailer, about to get on the road with an unlocked door?

And besides, we weren't going back inside that RV resort anytime soon—or at all. To explain why, I need to rewind a little.

First of all, never mind the name, the Gulf Beach Luxury RV Resort was about as tony as your average Motel 6; nothing fancy, everything pure plain Jane; cracker-box and cinder-block, you follow what I'm bringing out? And, as I'm sure you're aware, Counselor, dishonest mammals are never nice mammals. Such was the case with the assistant manager—or, maybe he was the maintenance mammal, I dunno—at that RV Park.

Jimmy and I were seriously hungry when we exited that trailer. Well, what can I say, bunny-girl, we were a pair of growing, young foxes. Besides, we had skipped lunch in order to catch that ride, remember? Anyway, looking around, we spotted this clapboard set-up that could have passed for a baseball dugout, all decorated with things like buoys, life rings, dried out starfish and what have you, painted over in this really ugly aquamarine-blue. The name of the place was the Seaside Grill, but Overpriced Tourist Trap would have been more appropriate. Seriously, how tacky could you get? Ordinarily, Jimmy and I wouldn't have gone near a joint like that, especially since there were four or five animals ahead of us.

Our bellies, however, had other ideas, and so we went over and got in line. But no sooner did we take our places than we heard someone behind us.

"Ayuh theah, you two!"

I cringed, and Jimmy almost jumped. For a second there, I thought Momma Lou had somehow managed to track us down. If that voice had been just a little more high-pitched, I could almost have sworn it was her.

We turned around, and there was the most grizzled looking sea-otter I'd ever seen in my life. Seriously, the guy had a face like a hedgehog's rear, and his fur was the color of snow sprinkled with coal-dust. He was dressed in Chinos, pulled up nearly to his chest, a pair of suspenders and a flannel shirt…and he was NOT pleased to meet us.

"You two boys guests hea, then?" he demanded, putting his paws on his hips. I didn't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes; he sounded like the worst-ever impression of a down-east tug-boat captain.

We could tell by the look on the guy's face that he already knew the answer to his question, so there was no point in lying about it. Instead, I let Jimmy do the talking; he was always better at playing an innocent little kid than me.

"N-No sir; we were just stopping to get something to…"

That was all he managed before Captain Bristle-Face cut him off.

"Didn't y' see th' sign thea?" he said, pointing a finger, "The Seaside Grill's f' r'sort guests ONLY."

No, we hadn't seen any sign, and we couldn't see one now, no matter how hard we tried to find it. Thinking back on it now, I doubt, very seriously, that there was any such thing to begin with.

Meanwhile Cap'n Grizzles was pointing towards the front gate.

"Right then…you two skedaddle and don't y' come back, y'hea'?"

That was the closest Jimmy and I came to laughing at the guy; 'skedaddle', who the heck used that word anymore? We didn't though; there are some animals you DON'T make fun of, and so we just said, "Yes sir," and turned to leave. We were about halfway to the exit, when we heard this loud, piercing whistle that made us want to stick our fingers in our ears. "NOW what?" I wondered. We had gotten the message; we were out of there, what the heck else did this guy want? When we turned around, he had his arms folded and his nose in the air.

"Ayup, I mean it, FOX-kids. I see y'here again, I'll be callin' the p'lice. Now scoot!"

We obliged him as quickly as we could.

Well, like I said a minute ago, that was the bad news. The good news was that our new location turned out to be a pretty decent place to crash while we decided on our next move. There were piers, up and down the beach, with spaces for us to sleep underneath during the night and a bathhouse where we could get cleaned up. There was also a small market right up the road where we could pick up any supplies we might need. There was even a boardwalk…of sorts; no amenities, but there it was. Best of all was the food-cart pod, set up almost directly opposite the entrance to the RV Park. I bought my first-ever lobster roll from one of those carts…and I've been hooked ever since.

While we ate, Jimmy and I were finally able to have a few laughs at Captain Grizzleface's expense. No wonder he'd been so suspicious; I suggested. Who'd want to eat at his crummy excuse for a snack-bar when there was food like this available?

"Nobody but some sneeeeaky fox kids, trying to scope out the place for a ripoff," Jimmy half-snarled, lifting his paws as if preparing to pounce…and causing my soda-pop to nearly come out through my nose. His jab wasn't really that funny, but it was uncomfortably close to the truth. The thing that really rocked me was…I'd run into that 'tude about my species plenty of times by then—but up until my encounter with that sea-otter, it had always come from prey species, never another predator.

After eating, Jimmy and I went to the bathhouse to clean up and get changed. We'd been smart enough to bring along an extra set of clothes, but we didn't have bathing suits; we planned to snag those when we got to Wildwood. Because of that we had to take turns; one of us would shower while the other stood watch. It took a lot more time than it should have; we didn't have towels either. Ever try to dry your whole body under one of those larger-species paw-dryer things?

Yeah, yeah Snowdrop…ha, ha, giggle, giggle. No, I didn't come out 'aw fwuffy.'

Soon as we were done washing up, we ran into some more good luck. The market up the road turned out to have a little laundromat attached to it, and so we were able to get our other clothes clean too. Sheesh, this place was almost like a dress rehearsal for when we hit Wildwood—but only almost, and if anything, it only served to whet our appetites for getting there.

While we waited for our clothes to dry, we started planning out what to do next.

And that was as far as we got—a start. For the life of us, we couldn't figure out how we were supposed to catch a ride from here…to anywhere, much less our final destination.

When we bedded down for the night, Jimmy and I were still trying to figure it out.

We had already ditched the idea of sleeping under one of the piers; there were piles of trash and slimy rocks under the first two that we scoped out.

Underneath the boardwalk, on the other paw…there, it was nice, and sandy, and dry. Yeah, there was trash, but nothing we couldn't get rid of fairly easily.

Matter of fact, we weren't the only ones who had that idea. The first spot we checked out, we heard a voice growl out at us "Taken!" The same thing happened two more times before we found a space to call our own, making sure to crawl as far underneath as we could, so we wouldn't be easily spotted.

It wasn't until…until…

Y-Yeah, I'm okay. I just…y-you'd think by now, it'd be easy for me to talk about…lemme catch my breath for a second, okay?

When I finally woke up, it was late in the morning; I had slept a lot longer than I planned. Like I said, I didn't have a watch, so I rolled over to ask Jimmy what time it was.

He wasn't there, and neither was his backpack…but he'd left me a note.

"Got an idea. B Back in a few."

I remember grumbling to myself; couldn't he have hung around 'til I woke up and talked it over with me first? "You better be on to something, Jimbo," I growled, and then hunkered down to wait.

…And wait…

…And wait…

…And wait.

I waited two whole days for Jimmy to come back…and he never did; I never saw him again.

I don't KNOW, dangit! To this day, I have no idea what happened to him. Even later, after I picked up some computer skillZ and learned how to run deep searches, I still couldn't figure out where he'd gone; never even came close. Heck, even Kieran never had any luck…

Kieran McCrodon; didn't I tell you about him, Erin…? Yeah, well if anyone could have found something online that might've led me to Jimmy, it was him. But he struck out, too; it was like my bud had just vanished into thin air. The only thing I know for sure is that he didn't go back to the foundling home. Even today, the diocese still has him listed as 'missing.'

Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. There are no arrest records for ANY grey fox in that vicinity, not for that day, or the next two months…or ever, if you factor in my buddy's age. There's nothing about him in the Wilfurred Police Department database, the Connecticatt State Police database…or even the Zoo Jersey State Police database; yeah, I checked that too. There's no record of any grey fox kit showing up at one of the local clinics or an ER either.

Yeah, right…if that had happened, he would have ended up back with The Sisters; but like I just told you, Mr. Rodenberg, it didn't happen.

What did I do? I didn't know what to do. For two more days, I just stayed there under the boardwalk, waiting and hoping that Jimmy would come back, even though I knew deep down that he wasn't going to.

Finally, on the third day, I went out and started looking for him. I knew I wasn't going to have any luck, but I hoped that maybe I could at least turn up a clue as to where he'd gone. I asked the guys who ran the food carts, the clerk at the grocery store, and everyone I met up with on the beach. I asked the seal running the bait shack out by the end of one of the piers, I asked the koalas who came around to clean the bathhouse and empty the trash. Nobody had seen him…at all. I even asked a meter-maid…no she wasn't a bunny Erin, she was a beaver.

And yeah, that wasn't the smartest move…but by then I was getting desperate.

Not desperate enough, though, to go poking around the most obvious place to look; the place where I would have started my search if it hadn't been for a certain jerk sea otter.

Yep, exactly—the RV Park. That, in fact, had been my first thought when Jimmy didn't show up for those first two days; that he'd gone back there for whatever reason and been busted by the police. Yeah, right, except…if that was the case, how come the cops had never come looking for me? I knew Jimmy would never give me up, but what about Captain Grizzleface? He had seen us together, and for sure he'd have told The Mammal that my buddy had a partner.

Nope, Jimmy couldn't have gone to the RV Resort. That was what I kept telling myself, but as time passed that argument got weaker and weaker. Like it or not, I was gonna have to pay that place a visit; it was the only location where I still hadn't gone looking for him.

All right, fine, except…how was I supposed to get in there without being spotted? That resort may have been a little bit on the sleazy side, but it was pretty darn popular just the same. Nearly every trailer space was filled—surprising for that early in the season—and there were different kinds of animals all over the place. With that many eyes around, who needed a stinking CCTV system? I'd be spotted the moment I set foot inside that place. Finally, I decided the only thing to do would be to sneak in after dark. I could manage one quick look around and that was it. And if anyone so much as glanced crossways at me, I'd clear out fast.

Looking back on it now, I understood what was going on in my head. I had already given up any hope of finding out where Jimmy had gone. But, at the same time I didn't want to boogie without being able to say I'd done everything I could to try and find him.

And after that…? Say hello to the 21st Century Schizoid fox. One minute I was ready to hang it up and go home. And the next…well, what if Jimmy made it down to Wildwood after all—and I didn't even try to get there?

These were my thoughts as I crouched in the underbrush outside the Gulf Beach Luxury RV Resort and Marina, waiting for the sun to go down.

For once, Lady Luck was riding with me; the night was both moonless and overcast. Yeah, the fence surrounding the RV park was seven feet high and topped with barbed wire, but it hadn't been maintained. There were gullies and washes underneath where the rain had done its dirty work.

I had begun this expedition with no real plan; no idea of where I was going to go or what I was going to do once I made it inside the resort. But as soon as I crossed under that fence-line, my next move hit me like a brick upside the head, I needed to go and look up Ronnie.

Finding him was easy. Just like I figured, there he was…lounging in a quad chair outside his folks' trailer, messing around on his tablet again. UN-fortunately, he wasn't alone. His sister was there, playing a board game with two other girls, a sheep and an antelope.

Ahhhh, dangit; I should have known my good luck wouldn't hold for very long. All I could do was hunker down in the bushes, making sure to stay downwind, and hope the terrible trio would get bored and go somewhere else…and soon.

Oh, well…I told myself, at least there wasn't any sign of Ronnie's mom and dad—and for sure, HE wouldn't be going anywhere. I knew his type, even back then; give 'em a tablet or a laptop, and you can build a stinkin' freeway around their tails and they won't notice.

Not having a watch, I had no way of knowing what time it was when the girls finally left, but it seemed to happen spontaneously or something. Just like that, they got up, put the game away and boogied. Good, stowing that board meant they wouldn't be coming back, at least for a while.

And a little while was all I needed. Cupping my paws around my muzzle, I spoke in a loud whisper, "Ronnie…Ronnie!"

At first, I didn't think he heard me, but then I noticed one of his ears was turned in my direction.

I whispered again, "Ronnie!"

He set down the tablet and started looking all around the campsite. And that was my cue; I crept out of the underbrush and stood up, raising my paws and speaking softly so as not to startle him.

As if that wasn't going to happen. He nearly jumped straight through the trailer awning when he saw me.

And with good reason, as I quickly found out.

"Wha…you? What you think you're doing back here, you crazy fox-idjit?" He was waving his hooves as if trying to conjure up a spell to make me disappear. "I'm not gettin' you another lemonade." He had an accent a lot like his dad's.

"That's not why I'm here," I said, making shoving motions with my paws, "Listen…"

"No, YOU listen!" he brayed, taking two steps towards me with his ears laid back and waving a hoof at the trailer. "My dad knows there was someone, rode in with us the other night…and he knows it was a couple of foxes."

Agggh, grrr…I could have kicked myself right back over the fence again. Why hadn't I remembered; why hadn't Jimmy remembered? An onager's sense of smell isn't quite as sharp as a fox's; no one was going to notice that I'd been inside the truck cab. That had taken me less than a minute, and I'd left the door open. But two foxes…riding inside a closed trailer for three whole hours? Yeah, Ronnie's old mammal would have been able to pick up on THAT, all right.

Meanwhile, HE was about ready to split a gut.

"Dangit", he was stamping the ground with a hoof. "I finally manage to convince Ray that I didn't' know nothin' about any stowaways and you have to show up all sudden-like!" He pointed back at the underbrush. "Get OUTTA here, fox…'fore Otis sees you."

I didn't need to ask who Otis was; Captain Grizzlehead, the sea otter…had to be. Just the same, I stood my ground. I wasn't leaving until I asked him about Jimmy.

"I just need to…"

"You just need to GO!" Ronnie cut me off; now he was stamping with BOTH hooves, "Ray ain't said nothin' to anyone else yet, about us having uninvited guests on board…but if he does and Otis gets wind of it, what do you think's gonna happen—'specially if he sees you here? Yeah, I noticed him talkin' to you and your friend back there."

Ohhhh, foxtrot. I didn't need to think; I knew. Ol' Otis might put the crotch in crotchety, but he wasn't stupid; he'd figure out in a second that Jimmy and I were the fox-kids who'd hitched that ride on that trailer. And that'd be all the excuse he'd need to call the cops.

As if reading my mind, Ronnie said to me, "You got no idea, dude. That sea-otter calls the p'lice for everything. Just this morning, he had 'em out here to break up a 'fight' that wasn't anything but an argument. And they always come when he calls; he's got two relatives on the force." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "That's what he says, anyways."

"Okay, I get it," I said, speaking fast and trying to get it out before he interrupted me again. "One thing and I'll go, okay? My buddy Jimmy's disappeared. You seen him at all, anywhere?"

Ronnie's ears went back again.

"No!" he dropped it like a hammer, "No, I haven't, and I couldn't help ya if I did." He pointed at the bushes again. "And that's it; you got ten seconds to clear out before I start yellin' for Ray. I don't much like to tattle, but it's your tail or mine…and it ain't gonna be mine."

I felt my own ears turning backwards. Foxin' A, he didn't have to be such a jerk about it.

"Okay…Oh…"

"One…Two…Three…"

I was gone by the count of four.

But I wasn't out of there yet…though not by choice. When I got back to the fence, just my stinkin' luck! This family of chipmunks had decided to park a firepit right in front of the hole where I'd come through.

AND they were blocking the way to both of my alternate exits too.

Lucky for me, I'd stuck to the underbrush on my return trip. But now, I was gonna have to find another way out of that RV park.

And when I did…okay Fate, you win. I'd try to make my way back to Danbeary, and hope the Kaneskas wouldn't be too hard on me when I got there.

I turned a U and began slithering back the way I'd come and trying to move as quietly as I could.

And that was when I saw lights flashing through the leaves—red and blue lights. Somehow, I forced myself to stick my head outside and check it out.

Yep…there it was, a police van, pulled up to the entrance gate. And there was Otis, leaning in through the driver's side window. When I pulled myself back into the underbrush, I was ninety percent into a full-blown panic, when…

I-I can't really describe what happened next. All of a sudden, I just felt like, 'The HECK with it; the heck with everything!' I'd had enough of every stupid thing going south on me. Taking too long to get to the rest area, going the wrong way, Jimmy disappearing and now this. That's it, go ahead and bust me; I don't care anymore! And where had those cops come from anyway? Even as I asked myself the question, I thought I knew the answer. Aggghh, grrrr… backstabbing, donkey-dirt-bag!

Caution to the wind, I just burst out of the bushes, not caring where I was.

Turned out I was back at the onager family's trailer—and there was Ronnie, kicking back in a camp-lounger. Only this time, he had his back turned and a pair of earbuds plugged into his head. Sweet! I stomped over and yanked them out of his ears.

"You punk! You snitched me out!"

Ronnie spun around so fast he fell right out of his chair. When he turned and saw me, I knew what was coming next—and it wasn't gonna be any claims of innocence.

But this time, I was ready.

"Go on, yell for your dad…I'll tell him you INVITED us into your trailer!"

Ronnie's mouth snapped shut and his ears went back, but then they fell sideways; I had meant what I said and he knew it.

"I didn't tattle, dangit!" There, he'd said it—and maybe he was telling the truth, but I was in too deep to let it go now.

"Sorry Ron, but it's not either you or me anymore, it's all or nothing…got that?"

"Wh-What do you want?" He was looking all around as if he expected his dad to appear out of thin air at any second.

For some reason, that did the trick; I decided to cut him some slack,

"I Just want to get out of here, okay?"

His ears began to move in every direction.

"Then why don't you just go…?"

"I can't, there's a cop car at the gate, and a family having a picnic right in front of where I came…oh, foxtrot!"

The police cruiser was on the move—and it was coming straight towards us! I spun around and prepared to dive into the bushes again.

And that was when I heard Ronnie make a braying sound that was either a laugh, or a groan, or all of the above.

When I turned to look, I didn't know whether to groan or beg him to kick me in the head. That 'cop car' was actually an ambulance…and it was pulling up in front of a motor home easily five spaces down from us. I had wasted a perfectly good panic attack over nothing.

Just the same, the news wasn't all that good. A crowd was quickly gathering around the EMTs and it was totally blocking any chance of my making it to the fence unseen. Until they dispersed, I was stuck here.

And that wasn't my only issue; I also had a seriously torqued onager-kid standing next to me. Well…him, I could handle at least.

"What I said still goes," I growled, showing him a fang. "You give me up and I'll give you up." And then I dropped to all fours and bolted into the underbrush.

Yeahhhh…I see the way you're looking at me, Erin. And for once, I gotta agree with you; that was a rotten thing I did, threatening Ronnie like that after the way he'd helped Jimmy and me earlier. I got no excuses, it was wrong for me to do that…but if it makes you feel better, I don't think I would have told his dad about him helping us, even if I had been caught. If the same thing happened today I might, but not back then.

Okay, what do you want from me, bunny…you want me to lie? Not happening; I'd rather have you hate me now, than really hate me later.

Hey, don't look at ME, Mr. Rodenberg, she's the one who…

All right, all right, all riiiight!

Moving through the bushes again, I got kind of disoriented. When I came out again, I found myself looking at the marina…rows and rows of slips, most of them occupied by all different kinds of boats, from one-mammal skiffs, to three-story cruisers. Whoa, I didn't want to hang around here. There were lights on in maybe a third of the bigger boats, and the docks were lit too.

But when I turned to go…what the heck? There was another fence between me and the RV park—and a locked gate. What the…? How the fox had I ever gotten through THAT thing? Never mind, I figured; even if Ronnie tattled to his dad, John Law wouldn't be looking for me here—at least not to begin with. Hmmm, maybe this wouldn't be a bad place to hang until the coast was clear…if I could find a spot where it wasn't all lit up.

Wait, there…over by the boat-ramp, a section of dock with no lights showing. Okayyy, let's go check it out.

When I got there, I saw right away the reason that this place was in the dark. It was the repair dock, and it was closed for the evening. There were something like five or six slips, but only one of them was occupied…by a sailboat, I saw when I got closer.

And I don't mean some dinky, little day-sailer. This tub was at least forty feet long and decked out five sides from Sunday. I wondered at first what it…uh, what she was doing here in this part of the marina; there was nothing wrong with her that I could see.

That is…until I noticed that the main mast was lying flat against the hull—in two separate sections held together with rope and tie-straps…and that the ends were all bent and pinched, and the radar dome looked like a broken eggshell. I had to laugh; I couldn't help it. You didn't need to be Sherlock Howlmes to figure out how THIS mess had happened. Sailor Sam must have tried to take his bath-tub toy under a bridge that he'd thought was high enough to accommodate her, only to find out, whoopsie-doopsie…'bout four feet short there, big guy.

I was just about to move on, when I noticed the name on the stern, The Black Whole. Well, at least, whoever owned this bad boy had a sense of humor.

But then, hey, wait a second. Printed right below the name, in smaller letters, was her port of call, Tom's River, Zoo Jersey—a little more than an hour away from Wildwood.

"Awwww nuts!" I told myself, "If this boat was only seaworthy, I could sneak on board…and get caught for sure, DUMB fox!" At last, I was starting to think things through. Walking away, I spotted a gazebo, and decided to go take a closer look.

One of my better decisions; it turned out to be sitting on a raised platform with latticework sides. Easy to see out of, if I put my eye to one the holes between the slats—but not so easy for anyone on the outside to see me.

And if I lay down on my side, I could line up both of my eyes with a couple of spaces between the slats. I did, and saw that the ambulance guys were still there…or at least the crowd was still there. What the heck was taking them so long? Well…nothing I could do about it, except keep watch and wait for the party to break up. And so, that's what I did.

I don't know how long I held out before I fell asleep, but when I woke up again, it was light outside...not by much, it was still early.

But dangit, morning is morning! I had slept straight through the night, and now how was I supposed to get out of here without being spotted? A silver-phase fox isn't a bad thing to be after dark, but not so much when the sun comes up.

And I didn't even know what time it was. Aggggh, grrrrr…Jimmy, where were you?

That was when I noticed that the gate was open; I don't mean unlocked, I mean wide open; ohhhh, wonderful.

But then…I don't know what made me turn to look back over my shoulder, but when I did, what now? It looked like that busted up sailboat was gone. I pulled myself close to the opposite side of the gazebo and looked through the slats—and sure enough it wasn't there. But where…?

That was when I heard an engine cranking, and when I looked, I saw a truck backed up to the boat ramp…a big one. I couldn't make out all the writing on the side of the cab, but what I saw was enough; something…or other Marine Transport, Pompton…something…Zoo Jersey.

Bang! I felt my ears go up and my head click into gear. Whoever owned that sailboat must have decided to haul it back home for repairs instead of having them done here. Ooooo, if I could somehow manage to get on board that thing, next stop, Tom's River, Zoo Jersey—and after that, Wildwood and maybe Jimmy, (I hoped.)

Only…could I make it on board that thing without being seen? Well, I wasn't going to find out, hunkering here. I slipped on my pack and crept out of the gazebo.

Yeah, I'd brought it with me. All of my money was in there and I was NOT going to leave it unguarded.

There was a walkway leading past my hiding place that led to the boat-ramp, bordered by a low hedge…just high enough to offer some cover if I went on all fours and kept my tail down.

The shoreline here was steep, and I couldn't see all of the boat ramp from where I was, there was this big, wooden wall… 'scuse me, palisade on either side of it, about level with the walkway. That was good, really good. I could jump down onto the boat from on top of it.

No…I couldn't. When I got there and looked over the edge, the water was at least ten feet below me and probably more. Yeah, I could jump down onto that sailboat when it got here—if I didn't mind making so much noise, I couldn't possibly be missed.

That—and I'd probably break my leg.

No point in sticking around, I figured I might as well bail before someone saw me. Yeah, except what the heck was going on here? There was the sailboat…lined up and moving towards the ramp—but with nobody at the wheel. In fact, there didn't appear to be anyone on board, period.

And what was the deal with that truck? It was backed up to the edge of the water yeah, but where was the stinkin' trailer? How the heck were they supposed to get that boat out of here without a…?

Whoa, wait just a fox-trottin' minute over here! When I looked back, I saw the sailboat actually RISING up out of the water. And I mean way up out of the water. It was already on a trailer—a big, tall trailer. That's what you need, when you're planning to transport a boat with a keel…and a blue-water sailboat definitely fits that category.

I heard voices then, and when I looked back at the truck, I saw three mammals standing there, talking; a pair of water buffalo and a Fishing Cat. I figured him for the owner; he had a Greek Fishermammal's hat on his head and an angry expression on his face; the exact look you'd expect to find on someone facing a killer repair-bill. That was when I noticed something else, a big spool on the back of the truck, hauling up a tow cable. So, THAT was how they were doing it.

But heyyy…that boat was getting high enough out of the water that jumping onto her was no longer a non-starter. In fact, if she came up much higher, I could manage it, easy-peasy.

I'd have to time it just right, though…After the bufs got the trailer hooked up and right as they began to pull out. And even then, I'd have to abort if sailor kitty-kat decided to hang around to watch the show. Well, whatever was going to happen, I needed to keep out of sight for a while. And so, I crawled back off the palisade, and flattened myself against the grass.

By now, I knew better than to hope for a quick solution to my problems; it would take halfway 'til tomorrow before that sailboat would be ready to roll—but I didn't dare hide myself any better. I had to stay close enough to the action to at least be able to hear what was going on. I could only hope that the transport crew would be done with their work before anyone noticed me. About the only thing I had in my favor was the weather; a stiff, onshore breeze and low, scudding clouds, many trailing horsetails of rain. No one was going out for a pleasure cruise today…which meant the marina wouldn't be getting much business either

Ah, what's that, Erin? Yeah, there was some rain, but it never got beyond a sprinkling; nothing I couldn't handle.

I'd been laying there for…I don't know how long, when I heard something that I really didn't want to hear, the voice of Otis, the grizzle-faced sea-otter. No worries; he wasn't there on my behalf. He was there to talk to Captain Fishing Cat.

Talk? Nahhh, more of a screaming contest…and I gotta say, for once Otis had met his match. That feline had all of his crust and then some. I couldn't make out everything they were saying; they kept trying to yell over each other. But the gist of it was that the fishing cat thought the boatyard was trying to gouge him. "And I won't give your thieves another red cent!"

Otis apparently had other ideas, insisting that the feline owed a fee for 'taking his boat out early.' HIS response was an invitation to take it up with his lawyer!

Ah, you think so Mr. Rodenberg? Mmmm, I'll take your word for it…but the important thing is, after maybe ten more minutes of arguing, they took off together for the resort office. Once again, I didn't know why, and I didn't care. The important thing was that the water buffaloes were nearly finished getting the trailer hooked up, and the sailboat was now far enough out of the water that making it on board would be a simple move—if I could only get a stinkin' opening.

Finally, I heard the truck doors close and the engine cranking. I got up and started to run. And right then, wouldn't you know it, one of those squall clouds swept over me and I was bolting through a waterfall. I didn't mind too much; I'd be out of it soon and it would give me some cover.

That is, I didn't mind until I realized that I'd basically be making a leap of faith. Through all those stinkin' curtains of rain, that sailboat looked like a faded charcoal sketch, making it impossible for me to gauge the distance of my jump.

Too late to stop now; I put it into overdrive and leapt up and out in a classic fox-pounce.

I just barely made it, landing with my paws on the edge of the stern.

And then I was slipping; stupid boat was fiberglass—wet fiberglass, and I couldn't get any purchase, even with my claws. There was a railing up above me, but it was too far for me to reach, and…it was no use, I was falling.

…but only for about a foot and half; thank God this tub had a swim-step. It only stopped me for a second or two, but that was enough. There were paw-holds right beside me, and I was able to grab onto one of them—clambering up and over the stern and scrambling beneath the canvas covering the cabin entrance.

There were couches down below and I just threw myself onto one of them and started crying, I couldn't help it. After everything else that had happened, this latest close call was just too much for me to handle.

But I hadn't quite made it just yet. Less than a minute after we started moving, we stopped again…so suddenly I was thrown straight onto the floor. When I got up, I heard Captain Fishing Cat and Mr. Grizzleface going at it again…and this time the two water-bufs joined in. Long story short, Otis was refusing to let them take the boat until the bill was paid in full. Then everything went quiet for a moment, while they took their argument inside and out of the rain. I don't know how they finally settled it, but eventually, I heard the truck doors closing and the engine starting up again.

And then, at last, we were pulling through the exit and out on the road for Tom's River, Zoo Jersey.

FINALLY, I hoped…