FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Bedlam consumed the hotel's entrance. Walking out of the office building across from the ballroom didn't give me a true sense of the sheer scale of things. At least, not until I spotted dozens of local news vans and several more police cruisers show up around the corner. They surrounded the Art Deco building to the point where I worried someone would notice me.

Luckily, nobody did. Not when a prominent mayoral candidate and his aide were suspected of multiple murders. The only downside was that I wouldn't see the suffering looks on either of their faces.

My truck sat parked where I left it, a few blocks away beside an alleyway. Some punks had scratched up and carved a few gang symbols while it stood abandoned, but I didn't blink. What did make me perform a double take, then roll my eyes, was the sight of a slip of paper on the windshield. Apparently, I'd forgotten to put coins in the meter. I simply tossed it in the gutter, started up the engine, then picked up Cherry at the rendezvous point.

Without looking away from the road, I decided to tune the radio.

“—breaking news bulletin," a male voice animatedly announced in a crackling voice. “In a shocking twist to an already tumultuous mayoral election for Lakertown, leaked audio from an unknown source started playing on speakers at a Halloween fundraising event for candidate Richard Walker III. This audio file allegedly reveals one of Walker's trusted aides talking about hiring contract assassins and implying that he played a part in the deaths of a local woman, two men, and a missing teenager. Lakertown detectives have already taken Walker into custody for questioning, but the aide recorded in question has vanished from the fundraising event. One officer reportedly said they're likely to release an APB. We will keep you updated on this story as it develops!"

I frowned. “That can't be good…"

My eyes traveled from the road ahead of me to the one to my rear. Nothing exploded or appeared out of nowhere just yet. My low growl turned into a mutter to myself, and to the dingo in question. Where the Hell did Corbin go?

Can't think about it now, I told myself. Focus on getting to Cherry first.

Fewer and fewer trick-or-treaters lined the city streets until I eventually reached Ledgeview Terrace. There, plenty more cubs and kits in costumes ventured between the expensive dwellings. At least one home had a line forming along the sidewalk. I remembered nearly speeding past after noticing a teenager carrying a rifle, then pointing it at me in the truck.

It turned out to just be a water pellet gun. I could tell from the blue splatters appearing on the windshield and the glint of the bright neon colors only just glinted from my headlights as I drove by. Damned kids.

Part of me wanted to let go of the vigilance. Part of me wanted to drop the rigidity in my limbs itching to grab my firearm at a moment's notice, or stomp down on either the brake or the gas pedal. There had to still be at least several contract killers from the Reaper's Row searching for us, unaware of the bounty no longer being payable within a couple of days. None of them would hesitate to pounce, even on a busy night like All Hallow's Eve.

Amongst the trick-or-treaters, one figure stood out to my right, walking along the sidewalk. My ears perked and my muzzle formed a relieved smile. A seemingly innocuous snow leopard stood at a crossroad intersection not too far from 3564 Meadow Ridge Boulevard, standing perfectly still as monsters, cowboys, and aliens crossed the street. I recognized him with the hoodie down and the tacky silhouette of Lakertown on the back. The same one I'd worn earlier that day, discarded in the back seat.

I came to a halt at the stop sign, waiting for them to pass, and for the feline to notice me. He did. The white fur coloring and black spots might have fooled anyone else, but not me. It all came down to his smile that positively glowed.

The 'snow leopard' approached the passenger side window, knocking on it as I rolled the glass down. “Hello stranger," he asked, “would you mind if I snagged a ride?" He entered without waiting for an answered, sat down after closing the door, and cheekily asked, “Gas, grass, or ass?"

“Already have plenty of the first, don't need the second, and I've already sampled the latter," I replied nonchalantly, rolling up his window and waiting for the pedestrians to finish crossing. “Though I've never slept with a snow leopard before. Is it different from ocelot?"

Cherry let out an offended gasp as he buckled himself up. We both smirked at each other, and my disguised ocelot took the time to hand me back my phone.

“What's that?" he asked, pointing to the blue gel splatters on the passenger side of the windshield. “Alien goo or something?"

“Some brat shot water pellets a couple minutes ago," I said. “Did you run in any trouble?"

“Nope." Cherry relaxed into the seat. “Did you?"

“I got a parking ticket on this truck," I replied.

“A parking ticket?" he asked.

“Yep," I said. “The city expects a paid fine of forty-five dollars."

After a few seconds, Cherry replied all too seriously, “Do you plan to pay for it?"

The words barely left his lips before the two of us started snickering. I nearly didn't notice the last of the pedestrians finished crossing and no other cars were in sight as I drove the truck further down the boulevard.

A mutual silence fell between us. It felt comfortable, relaxing, even with the nagging feeling that something terrible would happen any second. What would Corbin do to retaliate before being taken into police custody? What could he even do?

“You don't have to stick with me," I suggested to Cherry. “We can make a quick call to St. Francis and convince Abraham to keep you safe with your brothers. After two or three days, the bounty will be offline, and you should be safe enough to…have a normal life." My words fell silent as Cherry placed one of his paws atop my right one on the steering wheel.

He smiled behind the white dye on his fur, shaking his head.

“Normalcy is boring," he said. “Wherever you're going, I want to be there with you."

I returned the smile, giving him an affirmative nod. My focus returned to the road. We were beginning to transition away from Ledgeview Terrace, heading towards the main highway and Lakertown International Airport. Hopefully, the Coyote didn't decide to leave us behind.

“I'll still want to leave one more phone call with Dennis and Alan," Cherry mentioned. “Let them know I'm okay and tell them it's goodbye for now."

“We'll do that once we touch down in Canada," I started to say, only to cut myself short.

An engine roared behind us. An intense light reflected from the rearview mirror.

“Shit!" I reached for my holstered P230. “Down, down!"

Gunshots pierced the air, and the two of us ducked as I floored it. One eye kept focused on the road while the other tried looking behind me. The bullets missed, yet the rogue car accelerated behind us, hitting the truck's rear bumper. I was jolted forward but held the steering wheel and my gun. Something metallic shortly bent like a screeching banshee.

I lowered the window. As if he were reading my mind, Cherry held the wheel steadily as I leaned my head out and twisted around to see our pursuer. I prepared to fire back.

A smaller car. A Fjord model like ours, only it wasn't a truck but a hybrid. Narrowing my eyes through the glaring headlights and the street lights flashing by, I saw a familiar canine steering it back into out backside.

He must have followed me somehow from the ballroom. I could see it on him. The dingo was furious, rabid mad. So was I. The instant my paw lifted my P230, the car swerved.

I fired three times. One bullet struck his cracking windshield only to hit the unoccupied passenger seat. Another missed entirely to strike the speeding pavement. The final one hit the mad dingo's hood. It didn't seem to do much damage.

“He's actually following us! How insane is he?!" Cherry screamed while steering the truck past honking cars and the screams of terrified pedestrians. “Tunnel!"

I slipped inside just in time to not find myself decapitated from the edge of an underpass tunnel. Corbin's car continued to ram the truck's tailgate, forcing us to push aside a sedan to our left. Its occupant's horn hollered, then devolved into screams as gunshots rang out. My mind raced. The gunshots came from a handgun, not a revolver or a pistol. It had to be modern. There wasn't a way for me to see what kind—or how many bullets it held—without having my brain immediately splattered from a headshot. If Mitchell Corbin knew how to shoot like that.

The rear window shattered. The other shot hit somewhere I couldn't see. Being in the leftmost lane with an upcoming wall so close to my left side, I couldn't take a shot.

“Cherry!" I handed him my P230. “Here! Remember the lessons!"

Panicked at first, Cherry instantly calmed down as he held my pistol. He firmly nodded, then shifted himself around to aim through the shattered rear window. Once again, the mad dingo's car impacted our backside.

Cherry fired one round. Two. Three. Four. And five in rapid succession. My eye traveled to the rearview mirror to see the pursuing vehicle's windshield now an obscuring spiderweb.

“I think I hit his shoulder!" he hollered. Our ears still rang from the booming shots, though it lessened greatly as we exited the tunnel.

I grinned, glancing back at his work. “Excellent, Cher!"

Indeed, my ocelot hit him! The hybrid car swerved madly, almost hitting other cars slowing down to avoid our chase. A new lane opened wide from an exit. Suddenly, he had an opening and sped up alongside my left flank.

I leaned back as far as I could, giving Cherry room to reach his arm out and empty the rest of the bullets. They all missed. Ricochets shattering his rear passenger windows. Though I did spot blood dripping from his right shoulder. Sadistic and uncontrolled fury were etched in the dingo's face, his eyes widened to their limit as Corbin continued speeding several feet forward.

“You fucking heathens!" he ranted uncontrollably. “You ruined it all! You ruined me!"

“Reload!" I told Cherry. My right paw blindly motioned to the bag at his feet. The ocelot didn't hesitate to grab for a replacement clip. “Duck!"

He fired a few more shots. Before I could ask how many fucking clips Corbin had stored in the car, I suddenly felt a familiar sensation strike my chest. Dots flooded my vision, then dissipated. It felt as if a brick slammed into me between heartbeats, and I clipped one vehicle before Cherry took control again.

“Markus!" he hissed. “Markus, you're hit!"

I grunted, looking down to see a bullet caught in the Kevlar. “Only hit the vest!" came my quick reply. My back palm brushed his paw away and I firmly grasped the wheel again. “I'm fine! Get to hitting that bastard!"

“On it!" Cherry threw his concern to the wind, preparing to aim again.

Beyond the frenzy, I saw we made it halfway into Rosecrest. Spectacular buildings for hotel chains dazzled by neon signage and glowing advertisements surrounded the dark highway. It all passed by in a blur. The vehicular chaos around us was persistent. More screams, more squealing tires, shrieking horns, and police sirens resounded from somewhere nearby.

“Fuck!" I hissed, swerving hard to the right to avoid Corbin's car slamming into us from hard braking. “We don't have much time! Cherry! Aim for the tires!"

I swerved to the left, narrowly avoiding a city bus. Just as I did, my ocelot protégé finished reloading and glanced out of his window. The dingo's hybrid car once again threatened to perform a hard braking, which would slam into us and give him ample time to fire at our windshield. The Benefactor's damaged car roared ahead of us. It lurched back.

“Now!" I ordered.

I swerved right again, but it didn't deter Cherry, who fired two shots. One struck the pavement. The other hit true on the right rear tire, and rubber exploded around it like a popped balloon. He started to slow again.

“Take him out!" I hollered. “You got this!"

I sped to the left and began flanking our pursuer. Before he could fire another bullet, Cherry ducked and so did I. Glass shattered everywhere as one bullet slammed into the windshield and roof and another turned the passenger window into a confetti of sharp diamonds. Luckily, most of them littered outside the truck thanks to our momentum. The instant the enemy bullets quit firing, it was time, and Cherry shot up from cover to aim. I slowed down the truck.

The moment turned into an eternity. Years later, the details wouldn't escape my memory, not into obscurity or due to old age. There was Mitchell Corbin, the Benefactor, the aide to Richard Walker III, the man responsible for all our carnage. Inside the driver's seat of the damaged car, Corbin sat upright behind the wheel. He was in the middle of reloading his handgun, only to look up right at us. Right at me. Right at Cherry, who squeezed the trigger.

I swore, my ocelot cried out, “Checkmate, motherfucker!"

Blood exploded around the dingo's chest. He spasmed. His dilated eyes bulged out from their sockets. He seized wildly for the wheel, only to turn too hard. The car swerved out of control, clipping a few vehicles before finally colliding directly into a concrete barrier. His airbag deployed, obscuring our vision of the dingo. Without waiting, I sped down the highway, hyper-focused on the road ahead until I felt certain no police were following us.

“Oh my God, oh my God, did you see that?!" Cherry cackled with utter glee. “I shot him! Did you see that, Markus! I hit him! I actually hit him in the chest!"

I possessed enough awareness to say, “You sure did," then received a kiss on the cheek.

His joy and relief was infectious. “I'm a real pro shooter now, huh? Haha!" he hooted, punching into the ruined rooftop. “Eat your heart out, Jacob Candle!"

My tail refused to quit wagging throughout the rest of our drive.