FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter theme: https://youtu.be/hLzmNUWYKk8

Billy rubbed his red ears as he stood before the mirror on the third floor bathroom of his school, the stinging pain still there from yesterday.

"I'm going to Deadman's pond," announced Billy.

Roger stood next to him, tidying up his collar.

"Are you sure?" Roger said, pressing a zit he found on his nose. "If you think we should go there for hockey, I don't think it'd work. The time it'd take us-"

"I'm going once class is over," interrupted Billy.

Roger's zit popped as Billy spoke. A dribble of blood pooled down his forehead. He nabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the fresh wound. "Okay. Are we taking the dirtbikes?"

"Yes."

"Good! Sweet." When the blood stopped flowing, Roger threw the towel in the trash.

The boys left the restroom, Roger following Billy for despite being a grade apart, their class schedules allowed for a "walk and talk" before class.

Roger spoke, "the dirt bikes should both have full tanks, so we'll be ready to head to Deadman's pond once we get to your house."

"Alright," acknowledged Billy without looking in Roger's direction as he marched down the hallway, "I'll be seeing you..."

Just before Billy ducked back into class, Roger abruptly stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey wait!," Roger Exclaimed, "I'm grounded. I'm gonna need to call my dad when we get to your house. Can you give me an excuse? "

Billy answered, "tell him you're helping me at a job and you're getting paid."

Roger, now at ease, left for his class as Billy finally entered his.

A half an hour later, Billy was already at the front door of his house, opening it as slowly and as cautiously as possible as he entered. So quiet and dark was it inside that Roger jumped when he heard the door slam shut behind him.

"Quit fucking around Roger" Billy barked in a hush tone. "You know where the phone is. Go call your dad."

Roger stepped around his blonde friend, and disappeared into the kitchen. Once Roger was out of sight, he let his mind wander aimlessly. Listening to the sound of his heart as his ears still winced pain.

Then Billy's Father came through the front door and said "Hello."

"Hello", Billy responded, startled by his father's sudden appearance.

The giant of a man walked past his son into the kitchen to get a beer, paying no mind to his son's friend on the phone.

With beer in hand, Billy's father returned to the living room where Billy was. "What are you guys doing?"

"We're taking the dirt bikes to Deadman's pond," declared Billy.

Mr. Wolcott Senior sipped his drink as stood in front of Billy. "Don't you mean Honeymooner's pond?"

"It's Deadman's pond, dad," said Billy, staring at the fireplace.

A few more sips and Billy's father responded, "now just because what happened happened doesn't mean we have to forget everything that's good. Changing names to dumb nicknames."

The son paid little mind to his father, stepping past him toward the kitchen entrance.

"Billy," called his father, stopping him just before the kitchen entrance.

"What dad?" Billy turned to see his father had sunk into the recliner with his drink.

"Don't go out on the ice," his father advised. The almost empty drink in his hand swished in its can as Mr Wolcott Senior shook it, looking at it instead of his son. "Please."

The blond boy clenched a fist, his ears hurting once again. Rebellion stirred inside of him, and as he thought of a million ways to declare his independence as a young man, Roger took his attention with a tap to the shoulder.

"Let's go. Dad says it's cool." With that, Roger sped towards the front door, greeting Billy's father on the way out, "Afternoon Mister Wolcott."

"Afternoon Roger." Replied the father, raising the can. "Say hello to the Reverend for me."

And with that, the boys went to the garage, put on their goggles and fired up their dirt bikesThey rode and rode them to the curb of Billy's house. Instead of taking a left on Billy's road, which lead south towards kings highway, splitting Catuvella's downtown from its boonies and heartland, and ran from Orc Harbor to Seaside road, the boys went north, a few blocks to the right of the Wolcotts house, where the street came to an end at a cul-de-sac, crowned by a dirt path walled by lobster traps stacked ten feet high. This path, dubbed the Root, bypassed some conservation forest and ran parallel to the old Catuvella cemetery before dumping the two boys at the abandoned east-west railroad. Beside the browned and rusted steel tracks the boys flew on their dirt bikes. Billy up front in his yellow model, Roger tailing in red as close as he could without eating a mouth full of frosted debris and gravel. With 250cc the boys reached their destination in no time at all, spotting the naturally formed c-shaped bump that led from the abandoned east-west railroad to Honeymoon forest, revving down before crossing it. The transition from dry dirt and gravel to sand and crushed leaves was smooth, and once they were over the hump and in Honeymoon forest they stopped their dirt bikes and walked them the last half mile before the pond.

The heat of the engine and the excitement of riding made Billy forget how cold it was. He only realized this when he wasn't moving fast enough to see his breath fog in front of him.

"It's cold," Billy exclaimed, enjoying the frigid air against his still-burning ears. "The ice will be thick when we get there."

"Sweet." Roger replied, lagging behind as he struggled to push the large machine. "Did you bring skates?"

"No," answered Billy.

With crunching leaves and twigs underfoot, Billy was enjoying the serenity of the forest. His nerves calmed as the smell of rotting leaves and wet bark hit his nose. Soon, however, the clearing where Deadman's pond lay came into view and the aroma changed. Now the crisp smell of naturally frozen fresh water hit the boys' nostrils, invoking visions of past hockey games at the frozen black pond. Upon reaching the sand-floored landing of the pond, they propped their bikes on its kickstands, and walked onto the ice.

"This is nice." Billy said, staring at the ice beneath his feet.

"I know!" Roger took his goggles off and shoved them in his pocket. "Fuck man, I wish we brought our skates. It's like perfect over here by the beach."

"Yeah," responded Billy.

However, for some reason unbeknownst to Billy, his thoughts shifted from the ice to something that lay beneath it. Not under where he stood but... somewhere else at the frozen pond. "Let's keep walking," Billy said, mind still enamored on his sudden desire to know what lay beneath.

"Okay. We gonna measure the dimensions of the good stuff?" Roger pondered what sort of benefit he could make out from this trip. "Maybe we can come here on the weekends."

"Yeah," said Billy, but the blond boy was no longer thinking about hockey. "Maybe."

He walked along the edge of the shoreline, tracing the kidney shaped body of water with Roger flanking by his right, always close to the beach. He didn't pay any mind to the short boy's suggestions concerning goals, sidelines and whatever little tidbit about playing frozen pond hockey he came up with. No, Billy's mind was focused on the bottom of that lake. Thinking, pondering, hoping that maybe as he traced the edge of that pond once or twice he would see what he was looking for.

Instead he was suddenly overcome by sad memories from last year. Of TV dinners hastily put together by his sobbing father. Of lonely bedtimes when there was no one to barge in and pester him with kisses and jeers until he fought them back for treating him like a kid. Of waking up in the morning, expecting everything bad from last night to have just been a bad dream, only to go down the stairs and remember that this nightmare was not one you could wake up from.

Their third round walking the pond, Roger had given up on talking to Billy. He clearly was no longer paying attention to what he was saying, but Roger was okay with that. However, since Billy was no longer thinking in terms of ice hockey, Roger had to make sure that Billies trek around the frozen pond doesn't effect the intricacies of ice texture, which in turn affected how much resistance a puck had to a stick. So Roger put his hand on Billy's shoulder, ready to say they should stop before they walk around the frozen pond a fourth time, When they heard something southwards.

Or Rather, someone.

By the boys' dirt bikes on the shore was an ancient beat up old red truck. And standing behind its opened door was none other than the cream-furred rabbit Elizabeth Dagger.

"Ah fuck." Roger exclaimed, and he darted towards the shore.

"Villiam Volcott, yu ar in trouble!"

"Fuck off lady he's busy!" Came Roger, trudging against the ice in earnest defense of his friend's deep thought.

"Yu ar very rude!" She stepped forward, hands on her hips. "Ve have und agreement und yu ar breaking it!"

"He's not your fucking slave!" Roger yelled, not ten feet away from her. "Fuck off!"

"Schiesse yu ar vorse then him!"

As his crush and his friend fought, Billy was on his knees, brushing the frost to peer into the depths below. Something down there had caught his eye, reflecting the light and glittering through the ice.

"Yu! Are! COVARD. UND. SCHIESSE!"

"You eat carrots because you can't give blowjobs! With your BUCK! FUCKING! TEETH!"

"GUYS!" Billy yelled.

The rabbit and the short boy stopped their fighting and looked to see Billy standing. "Stop fighting. I'm coming to work."

Roger sighed in defeat while Elizabeth started for her truck.

Then, taking a step towards the frozen shoreline, Billy heard a crack, and before he could register what it was he fell through the ice, splashing into the frigid water without so much as a scream. Instead, Roger was the one to scream, falling to his knees and shaking. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck." He grabbed his face, wringing and massaging his cheeks with his fingers as thoughts of having lost his friend filled his mind. He pounded the sand where he knelt and cried.

As soon as Elizabeth saw that Billy was gone from over her shoulder, and started to run away from the shore. Beneath the ice Billy struggled, swimming against the ice sheet above him, hoping to bump into the hole he blundered into. But light was a cruel bitch underwater, and what seemed to be an exit was just more of the underbelly of the ice sheet that trapped him in the muddy darkness of the water. He felt goosebumps all over his body as his clothes absorbed the frigid water. His throat aching for a breath of fresh air. His fingers, cut and bruised from yesterday's box shenanigans, stinged as he pressed and shoved them against the ice, desperately looking for a hole to the surface within the expansive ice sheet. As seconds passed, his cheeks began to feel like they were going to burst as his lungs screamed for oxygen, leaving him nothing he could do as he sunk to the bottom of the frozen pond but be consumed by terror, despair, and darkness. Meanwhile, back on the shoreline, Elizabeth tied a rope from the hitch of her truck to herself. She mounted the closest dirt bike, Roger's own red beast, and revved it to life. Positioning it before a soil-topped stump along the shore, she throttled forward and ramped off the stump to smash through the ice. Exploding into the cold waters through the ice sheet, the rabbit lady let the bike sink to the bottom and searched for the boy. She spotted him at the bottom, back flat against the mud, and not being deterred by the sight of his lifeless body, she dove down to grab him and hoisted him to the surface. Roger watched as through the massive hole in the ice Elizabeth created, she emerged with Billy over her shoulder.

She sluggishly brought herself onto the ice, walked back to shore, and then threw billy on the comparatively warmer sand. She ripped open the puffed flannel of his jacket and groped her paw-beans against his chest, pressing once, twice, three times before bringing her lips to his and repeating the process until, finally, Billy sprang back to life coughing up water.

"Oh mein gott..." She slammed a fist against his stomach, making him cough again. "Dont yu scare me like sat hever hagain."

Though her gesture made him smile, Billy didn't care to say a word, more focused on what he had clutched in his fist as he slowly brought it up to the rabbit's face, brushing his knuckle against her furred-cheek, and then opening his hand to show her a small bronze ring inscribed with initials 'J.C.'