FSE

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C hapter T wo S ummit of C onfusion

Ethan's perception was hazy and his head felt woozy at the sudden jolt out of the car. Blood flowed and he was light headed. It seemed that he suffered more damage than he first initially thought. Ethan coughed, stumbled his hind paws and fell onto the side of the car, He dragged himself along the black curves of the roof and over the bumps of his rear-window blinds that ran down the length to the trunk.

The slender lupine groaned in pain and fell from the rear of the car down to the sheet of ice under him in a bruising thump of his nagging body. He mustered his strength to crawl on his (now ruined )suit past the rear bumper of his silenced camaro, inching his way towards the body that he struck at full force.

His head-fur fell damply in front of his face and as he attempted to brush it out of the way with his paw, he fell completely onto the road, panting and looking up at the dark lifeless sky in a drunken mental fog.

Steam, smoke and his paw pads was all he could smell as he covered his face in utter frustration. The day had gone wrong is so many ways.

"Ya know, this road isn't exactly pedestrian-fuckin'-friendly!" The wolf growled a little as Ethan withered aimlessly along the ground. He removed his paws from his face, his appearance for his big opportunity was surely botched. Well, so-fucking-much for that, the wounded and exhausted wolf thought to himself.

He all too often asked himself 'what the hell am I doing?' since most of his life seemed to either repeat itself or was something far different than what his dreams and desires looked like... mixed with a little confusion along the way. He also felt far behind in life and that was mentally crippling, and that in turn accelerated the downward spiral of his own mundane demise.

From his wet and strained suit to how ruffled his fur was, along with how shaken up he had become... things weren't looking good; especially with the fact that he probably just killed someone. Might was well turn back and head home? No, it wouldn't even be worth it; there's nothing back at there... "Way to put even more pressure on yourself with that thinking..." he muttered to himself.

Enough stalling, it was time for Ethan to assess the situation. He looked around for other traffic and it seemed like the road was deserted of other vehicles, or anyone else for that matter. His eye caught the sight of the damage to his car. Scrap metal littered down the side of the road along with deep skid marks into the ice and snow from his studded tires. Ethan got a deep nerve-racking chill from the sight of the damage; it rattled his senses.

"No no no no..." he hyperventilated "This isn't happening, not again... I can't do this." Ethan went wide-eyed and scrambled the surface of the ice and snow, dragging himself along the wreckage. He growled out loud and yelped when he strained himself to stand back up. The pain shot through his nerves and made his frame shaky as he could barely stand. Ethan limped himself back to his car in a hysterical storm of pain and agony. The wolf quickly threw himself carelessly back inside the car, bruising his sore bones and almost closing the door on his tail in the process.

In a rush he fumbled around with his car keys. Shaky paws trembled and lost all grip on the key-chain; there was no such thing as a nervous grasp. With a clang and a jingle, his keys hit the floor and the wolf retrieved them. As he brought himself back up he got a glance at the rear-view mirror. The dead weight didn't move a muscle since the time of the accident and Ethan really didn't need anything else haunting his conscious wake.

He sighed and lunged his weary body back into the seat of his camaro. He just needed a breather to get his barings straight... and some pills. His nervous shaking caused pills to spill out uncontrollably when he attempted to get a couple out. He threw whatever he had in his paw into his weak maw and curled up in his seat, breathing and panting heavily. His breath was heavy with anxiety and guilt as his restless mind fast forwarded itself into overdrive

The calming affect soothed his own worst enemy. He swung his rusted door back open in a loud creak in the dead silent environment. The road was desolate and the chill of the gentle wind swept his head-fur as the wolf approached the motionless mass. Snow crunched under his paws as he approached, not really sure what to expect.

"Are you OK?" Obviously not, he thought immediately after.

"Hello? I'm incredibly sorry and I uh.. what..." he stuttered off as the so-called mass was nothing but a mere jacket laying on the ground.

How could this be? His car didn't just damage itself! The dark jacket sat by his feet-paws as he continued to examine the scene.

"What a fucking cliche! I bet I could write something better in my sleep! Though I'd probably end up forgetting it in the morning but that's not the point. Nether the less, furs just don't vanish into cold thin air!"

He shouted madly at the empty fogged air around his white muzzle, at the inanimate objects which littered the frozen environment; and at himself mostly. Ethan took a glance back at the wreckage again only to shake his head in disgust. He wanted answers. Fed up and growing increasingly aggravated, the anguish that plagued his very wake was evident by how bristled and lively his pelt was, the wolf's posture and the aura of negative energy that lingered his misfortune.

Ethan bore his teeth, gripped his head-fur and huffed in great displeasure... before riling himself up to let out an inflamed rash of hate against the world. The wolf growled and grunted as he winded up kicking the jacket to the ditch, only to end up stubbing his exposed toes against something, solid inside one of the jacket pockets,

"Ah! Damn it all!" he exclaimed as he hopped on one hind paw, almost slipping on the ice as he held his injured toe in agony. He must have broken some sort of superstition to deserve all this bad luck, that is if he even believed in such hokum.

His curiosity couldn't just leave it there and he didn't hesitate to hobble over to the jacket. He slid down the ditch to eventually sit down and try to relax as much as he could at the time. Ethan stuck his stubbed toe into a pocket of snow to numb it as he reached over to retrieve the black jacket.

"Strange..." he muttered "There's no scent on this, My nose may not be the best out there in the lupine world, but it still does work". He held the jacket so that it faced him at arms length.

There wasn't much to it, plain black; no insignias, logos... no blood despite being struck by a fast traveling camaro. It almost looked brand new... which anything brand new is never seen in The North.

The inside pocket revealed something to him. Ethan instantly reached out to grab it, sliding it out and dropping the jacket at the same time.

"....Bullets?" Ethan's paw grasped around the box which held 24 .308 rounds. He rotated the large rectangular box in his paw. It felt heavy, balanced... as if none were even used. The condition of the box was deteriorated though, water damaged and the cardboard almost just simply melted in his paw.

Of course the wolf's curiosity got the best of him and he simply split apart the soaked container with little effort to reveal the pointed tips of each bullet.

"Who the hell would need this?" Something really didn't add up for Ethan. The poor wolf's mind was going a mile a minute trying to decipher such an anomaly.

Before the deep freeze; violence, warfare, and paranoia along with misguided demented morals ran rampant all across the world. Guns used to be a cheap commonalty and it seemed that the human race felt empty without guns as they felt compelled to fill eachother full of lead. Whether if it was out of deeply engraved and unstable schizophrenia which plagued human minds into a life of panic and mistrust; or whether it was for the sake of malicious intent... guns controlled human minds into some of the worst atrocities committed by man. And all of it could have easily been avoided, but with much like everything else human-kind believed in... no matter how deeply flawed it was... they were driven to do it. Why? Well... Ethan was not certain.

The clang of falling bullets broke his concentration then his vision rushed back to him. Day light was fading, there wasn't much of it during the winter. His reminiscing and speculation would be better suited to when he actually had the time for that; not before.

But there was one last thing he needed to know, and it was in the snow. The dropped rounds outlined the last clue to this wacky puzzle. Tracks, strange ones to say the least. They were huge, more long than they were wide. It was obviously from someone who had been wearing boots, unlike Ethan. The only long footed animal that crossed his mind were rabbits, but what would they be doing out here? And more importantly, what business do they have with guns? They are prey, afterall.

None of it made sense and it seemed the clues only created more questions than answers. He took what was left of the damaged box and a fist full of bullets and stuffed them in his own jacket pockets. He wasn't entirely sure why he had done so, it was another puzzle for him to figure out... maybe inspiration for his up-coming novel?

Who knows.

As he walked back to his not-so prized camaro, he forgot that he fucking smashed the thing! He was about to swear under his breath until he walked around the front to take a look for himself what kind of damage he was dealing with.

"Hmm.." Ethan grunted in a pondering tone. Sure it wasn't it going to impress any lupine bitches; though the meager amount of working vehicles in The North never did anyway.

Sure, the bumper was busted, headlight was completely smashed to bits, the hood dented, windshield cracked and roof bent... but if the axle wasn't crooked or fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition; there might be a chance of actually driving this thing the remainder to The Shimmer.

Ethan inhaled and sighed, pressing his digits just above his closed eyes while rubbing his sinuses. As his paws washed over his face his eyes opened in one shade calmer. Meditation sometimes works. The day wasn't completely gone, nor was it complete FUBAR as of yet, there was still half a day left before he could make an accurate diagnosis of the said day. The wolf pointed his muzzle upward and he observed the location of the sun in the dim cloudy sky.

"High noon.." he muttered to no one. Ethan was thankful that he forced himself awake early in the morning to make this job interview. He could have easily rationalized some excuse to skip getting up in the morning only to regret it later on. Like he usually did. No one's gonna offer a job to someone who wakes up past high-noon. Then again he could have avoided this whole fiasco if he left later. "Who the fuck knows." he concluded his internal dialogue with an external statement.

He paced a circle around his car one last time. Maybe he reached the climax of his bad day, and the rest of it will be smooth sailing? He chuckled cynically at himself for even thinking of such hokum. Signs... karma... destiny... faith; what a crock! Sure he didn't believe in any of that astrology this-is-how-it-is mythology, but he didn't believe that granted him allowance to be an ass. The wolf had a kind nature behind his internal frustration, empathy goes a long ways.

A jacketed arm reached and yanked the creaky door open before he knelt down just outside the door. He was searching for the dropped meds that scurried under his seat. One by one he collected and re-bottled the tiny white tablets of neuron molesting goodness.

He struggled slightly to climb back into the drivers seat and soon closed the door behind him in a mighty thump. He stretched his sore limbs and wiggled his tense torso back into the padded seat, inhaling and checking his mirrors. To say that Ethan was a complete mess would be an understatement. He figured he'd have time once at the Shimmer to try and salvage a shred of credibility before he became judged by his interviewer; not only that, but he just wanted to get the hell outta there.

The wolf turned the key, nothing happened. Turned again with no results. He yanked the key out, stuck back in and the same result. He turned it over and over at faster and faster intervals, emulating the scale of his frustration. He yanked it back out, blew in the keyhole and stuck it back in.

"This isn't a fucking video game, Ethan!" he yelled before giving up, slammed clenched paws on his steering wheel over and over before flailing in anger, throwing all his papers and belongings off his dash and all over the cabin of his Camaro.

Siphoned. It would have explained why his car all-of-the-sudden crapped out on him after a mere fender-bender. He had put in a full tank before getting his license suspended (which in itself cost a fortune). When he bought the gas, he didn't think about siphoning gas for free. Hell, he stole the car already, why not steal the gas? It was a common occurrence in The North, another obstacle in the absurdly humongous feat of driving and getting around the settlement.

After he vented his rage and calmed down to face facts, he needed to figure what to do, and fast. He had no choice but to travel on paw, with all his baggage... both physical and all the discontent he had to carry. He didn't look forward to that. He was too far away from home to walk back and he could theoretically make it before nightfall, that is if he doesn't encounter another roadblock such as this one. But what if he didn't get the job and the Shimer didn't let him stay overnight for free?

The wolf bore his teeth and growled in sheer overwhelming frustration, tilting his head up and gripping the steering wheel tightly in strong paws. He lowered his head to glare deeply at the ignition as he turned the key one last time, though it was utterly futile to even think that it would do anything.

The last bit of rage was vented. He huffed in disgust and started to collect various things from the cabin of his Camaro and stuffed them angrily into an outside pocket of his luggage bag. He kicked the drivers door open as the rusted door bounced back slightly. He tossed his luggage out onto the icy road and slung his laptop back around his shoulder.

He soon enough retrieved his bag from the iced surface, almost falling in the process. Ethan really needed to be more careful it seemed. He turned to face his hungry Camaro, unconscious and silent. The car didn't serve him much in the past, but maintained a good life thus far, relatively speaking. He could attempt to push it off into the ditch, though he figured the moment he lets go of the parking brake, it would slide downhill along the ice and eventually over the edge only to fall to its (and possibly someone elses) death.

His eyes darted as he pondered what to do, the arctic air washing over his ears and the small snow drifts flowed serpentine-like along the surface of the ice. Nether the less, he was on a tight schedule and needed to high-tail it either way. Ethan turned 90 degrees and began to walk. Sometimes the best ideas were the simplest.

The wolf couldn't let trivial things rent space in his mind nor could he afford to go over every single possible outcome over a dumb black car. He kind-of felt bad just leaving it there though, he grew a slight dependency upon the machine for the odd long trip... that was when his license wasn't suspended. His lupine loyalty sometimes made him grow too attached to things. Loyalty was his element, if nothing else.

The distance between him and the broken-faced Camaro grew farther and farther as his paws crunched the light snow along with the creak of the wheels on his luggage bag. His eyes were hooded as he gazed off into the distance, following the curves of the road slowly but surely. Some say there used to be lines along the road, to divide traffic; if so, it would have helped Ethan avoid getting suspended... but of course ice is always changing, melting, reforming... making it impossibly useless to even attempt to bring them back.

Buzz-Buzz... Ethan's follicles flexed as he bristled in surprise. A message? For Ethan? As much as his life was on his laptop, his phone also was apart of him; or so he'd like to think. Sometimes... rather, most of the time his gadgets were an extension of himself; attachable anatomy.

He'd be lost without it, naked even... it was his livelihood his trustworthy companion his.... "Fuck!" Ethan said as he opened the message. Just another alert from his service provider. He was a month late on his bill, and it was one of those friendly reminders to pay his balance owing.

The anti-social wolf kind-of got himself caught up in the hype of things which lead to his most dangerous fascination; social media. He was well aware of the risks and hysteria behind the brain rotting and obsessive compulsion which it surely brought to even the toughest mindsets. Despite his dismay, disgust and even down-right hatred towards the programs and those who use them, he was hooked like a junkie, desperate for more and never satisfied.

Of course all this could be reached on his laptop, though as much as he liked his laptop he didn't take it everywhere as he did with his phone (which ironically enough Ethan sometimes forgot his phone was actually; a phone). Secondarily, if he was to be held up (a way of life in The North) he wouldn't care as much if his phone got stolen as opposed to the life he build on his computer.

There were three programs he mainly used on his phone: Howler, FurBook, and LupineInk. All three of them were comprised of dainty, superficial content and was highly derivative. Be that as it may and beyond all the stress it caused the white-wolf to make himself go through, he yearned it.

He needed some sort of outside connection, and he really didn't like meeting others without knowing something about them first. This was to avoid awkwardness, wasted time and acted like some sort of security as he was weary of regular folk. There is no telling of what really lurks beneath the surface. When you are online you can read ones vibe, ones diction, ones values and what makes them tick. Any little bit of knowledge prior to creating a committed relationship helps to avoid the social awkward convention of having to be deceptive in order to spare hurt feelings or to cut ties all together.

There was a fine line of keeping one's identity along with interacting with kindred spirits; or hunkering down in crippling paranoia to avoid mind-numbing social convention .A balance of being social and being yourself was tough for Ethan; he mainly choose not to lose sight in who he was as opposed to stooping himself to for the sake of social belonging.

It wasn't like he wanted to be alone, he hated his loneliness and boredom most of all. It was hard to chose the lesser of two evils; a lack of life or a lack of identity. The human routine that was deeply embedded in today's society wasn't the life for Ethan and his hatred crawled through his bristled fur; eating him from the inside.

He hated being trapped in social loops, doing the same thing as he did before. Partaking in automatic and meaningless conversation which always yielded the same results no matter true feelings at hand. The possibilities of each day given is infinite and should stagger the mind. The sheer number of experiences in life is truly uncountable but people in today's society choose to only take a few paths. A day relived over and over will narrow the vision the slaves of the working force with each day a slight variation of the last. Ethan preferred dangerous freedom over controlled slavery.

It was one of the many reasons why Ethan quit his job; that, and the fact he fucking hated customers with their social highness and self righteousness... they were garbage, lazy fucking garbage... like the rest of 'em; deluded into thinking they were special. Empathy and consideration didn't live in the mind of the customer. They see a worker, they see a slave, not someone that helps.

Deep in his long internal monologue, he lost track of his paw-steps and the time past made some leeway towards his destination but like a bad habit his phone came back with another vibrating message. Ethan fumbled around in his drenched pants, messing around the contents inside to retrieve his phone.

"Who could it be this time?" He muttered, assuming it couldn't be his service provider again.

With a mere flick of his padded thumb his dwindling rage came rushing back to him like a broken dam that flooded all his senses, drowning him in irrationality.

"Fucking bitch..." he muttered then began to growl at his phone, his white fur bristling madly all over again. He immediately closed LupineInk (along with said journal) and with an angry vise-gripped paw he wound-up for a hefty throw but stopped himself just in time before losing another bitter-sweet companion.

As romantic as it may seem to throw away a cell phone, one that caused him stress from time to time, in the end it wouldn't be very practical as he kind-of still needed to use it.

"Why does she have to be everywhere..." he softly sighed to himself, slipping his phone back in the cover of his pocket. He slowly shook his head and nearly closed his heavy defeated eyes as he continued to walk.

Ethan always knew he'd be walking the wastes again, though not necessarily like this. This time around he had a pseudo-purpose, or at least an 'attempt' if you will. He knew despite how tired, wet, cold and weak his legs were as they stuck to his drenched pants and paws pounding against the ice; there was an end to the road... quite literally. The wheels on his luggage drug through the light snow, making twin mile long thin trails as he and his belongings made it past the apex of a long curve.

The main tower of the Shimmer pierced the dull sky, so lifelessly gray that it would never bleed sunshine. He saw in the distance a lot of people packing moving trucks, scrambling to get last minute things loaded and out of there. It was only a matter of time before he would meet his interviewer and the butterflies began to stir in his hungry stomach.

Ethan unwisely began worrying about his options if he failed to land the job; if he didn't get it, it would be the end. His landlord wouldn't be too thrilled knowing that he was unemployed and he'll surely lose his apartment. He couldn't crawl back to his old retail job because he walked off and he wouldn't be able to swallow the guilt if he mooched off a friend.

He covertly watched out of his peripheral vision at all the movers and residents who were leaving The Shimmer and they looked back at him. He walked between the moving trucks and closer to the main entrance of the hotel, trying not to let those staring eyes get the better of him. He was wet, dirty, dingy, must have stunk like the wettest wolf in The North and his clothing looked like drenched wash cloths. Even if he had looked professional the mere act of walking into somewhere where everyone else was leaving was surely to generate an automatic curious response.

There was no reflective surface to learn of what the damage really was to the poor wolf. The ice was clouded and had a layer of snow and the only mirror he had was back in the Camaro.

Oh well, Ethan thought, he should just try his best and live with the results given.

His wet pant-legs audibly sloshed and slapped against his thighs as he walked, his luggage not fairing better as he walked past the glaring eyes which followed him and to the front doors. Wet clothes just made Ethan want to take them off, they were unnecessarily and absurdly uncomfortable to the wolf, but once again social convention disallowed what seemed right to him. As he entered the dry and clean hotel he could see his pant-legs leaking water in faint streams from the hemmed bottom and he felt kinda guilty walking across the carpet in his dirty paws to the front desk. From what he gathered from his first job interview online, he would likely end up cleaning spills of the such, so he'll have plenty of time to clean up his wet trail... if not, it'll suffice as a symbol of his disappointment for not being hired.

He approached the main receptionist desk and a female snow-leopardess sat behind said desk. She never rose her eyes from the terminal behind the desk despite the clear and loud slopping of his drenched pants slapping together as he walked up towards her. Ethan stood there for a few awkward seconds as she continued to ignore him and pay apathetic attention to whatever was on her terminal-screen.

"*ahem* Excuse me, I'm..."

"You 'Weiss'?" She interrupted without adverting her eyes

"Y-yes I am, I'm looking for Mr. Callahan's office. I have an appointment with him today."

She finally adverted her eyes to look up at him with a judging posture and glaring eyes. He could feel her judge him by his appearance alone. Ethan's eyes darted slightly as she quickly scanned him, though it felt like an awkward eternity.

Without saying anything nor even moving her posture she wheeled her chair along with her self a couple feet to the left, revealing a door that read

'Main Office: F.Callahan'

Ethan embarrassingly replied in a shaky voice "Heh... thanks.."

She rolled her eyes and returned back to her original position to return to her merry life online. He dragged his luggage and himself behind the main desk and followed suit to the door.

This was it, now or never, do or die, cliche or cliche.... a paw reached to grab and twist the handle. With a smooth crack and swing of the door he peered his head inside as he saw Mr. Callahan sit at his own terminal, eyes not adverting for the wolf neither.

"Mr. Callahan?"

"Yes yes, come in and have a seat." he sharply replied.

The wolf entered and shut the door behind him, setting his stuff down by the door before fully standing back up again. He approached his own desk with an extended paw, expecting to exchange a shake when eyes met.

"My name is Wiess Sch..."

A quick turn of his head; piercing judging eyes went into a disbelieving shock at the very moment he saw Ethan.

"What the hell is this?!"