Sibirskaia: Your Local Twelve O'Clock News Part 4
(November 26th)
Noon.
Today -- this dark and rainy Tuesday -- was a 'teacher work day:' a holiday for the students of Sibirskaia High, but not for its teachers. Tomorrow, the three day break for Thanksgiving would begin in earnest, for everyone. But today, while his students' break launched early, Scott Hammond sat at his desk, in his quiet and empty classroom, grading papers.
Perhaps it was petty...childish, even, for a grown man to envy his teenaged students having the day off. But he'd never claimed to be a well-adjusted adult. And at least he could take solace in the fact -- looking out his window at the rain -- that this wasn't much of a day to enjoy having off, anyway.
That, and at least he wasn't alone. He was lucky enough to work with the raccoon he loved, after all. And no day here was complete without at least one visit...
...from James Callaway.
As usual, Scott saw him coming down the hall before he ever made it to the door.
But today was different. Of course, it wasn't as if James had never seemed urgent before. But today, he was nearly sprinting! Something was wrong. And Scott rose to meet him as he burst through the door. But he was left recoiling on instinct, as the invading raccoon barely halted himself, in time to avoid crashing into his desk.
"James! What are you-"
"Whatever you're doing...stop!" his lover breathlessly cut him short. "Where's your TV remote?"
Scott stammered to respond. "It...it's by the white board," he pointed...
...and watched as James spun to rush for board.
"James!" The fox tried, again, to get an explanation, "Take a breath! What's going on?"
"Just watch," he answered as he seized the remote. "You need to see this."
Your Local Twelve O'Clock News On Location
(November 26th)
Just past noon.
In a busy food court, a young hyena watched his local twelve o'clock news. From the television screen flashed the affiliate's calling card...before it was replaced with the image of a newsroom, and of its two near-plasticine anchors.
The female cheetah to the right spoke first: "A local middle school coach, in Brooksboro, was arrested yesterday evening on multiple counts of sexual misconduct with children."
And the stallion to her side added: "A frightening story, as you can imagine, for many parents in Brooksboro this morning. News Eight's Jerry McCollough is live on the scene with more. Jerry?"
The image cut from the newsroom to the exterior of a school, where a ferret stood -- well dressed, even more well quaffed, microphone in paw, and with his name in bold block letters beneath him: Jerry McCollough.
"Allen, Emily;" the ferret began, "News Eight has learned that Anthony Sutela," the dark and disheveled face of a wolf filled the screen. A mugshot, as the reporter continued: "a coach and teacher at Brooksboro Middle School, has been arrested and charged on nine counts of sexual misconduct, including sexual assault, statutory rape, kidnapping, child abuse, and child molestation."
~
In her kitchen, a husky -- a mother -- watched the same news report...
...as previously filmed footage replaced the mugshot. Vehicles passed in front of a school sign. Police cars congregated before a school administration building. A football team trained on a practice field. A locker room lay empty.
But the reporter's voice remained, "A spokesman for the Sakhalin County Sheriff's Department has disclosed that it was a student who first came forward with the accusations, reporting the claims to a school resource officer. Since then, five other children have made similar accusations, and the police suspect that DNA testing may link Mr. Sutela to even more unsolved cases."
The footage gave way, back to the image of the reporter. "School district officials declined to speak on camera," Jerry went on, "but, in a written statement, had this to say:"
~
In a darkened living room, another husky -- a father -- was watching as well...
...as the ferret was replaced with a calm, blue and white graphic: a block of text on the screen, which he read: "Protecting our students is our highest priority, and the district intends to cooperate fully with the police department in their investigations."
The text cut away, and Jerry stood, still, before the school as he continued, "As of this morning, only one incident is believed to have occurred on school property with a student. And, while the school district says they hope nothing else occurred on campus, they stress that they will work with the police to be sure."
Previously filmed footage replaced him, once more. Students walked to and from the school building. Anthony Sutela's silhouette hung its head in the back seat of a police car. But, still, the ferret's voice remained, "Some parents have found comfort in these statements, but others feel it's too little, too late."
~
And, in an otherwise empty classroom, a fox and a raccoon -- two teachers -- sat in silence, as the story unfolded before them....
...and a fruit bat -- a concerned parent labeled 'Heather Pierson' -- took the ferret's place upon the screen. "With this many children coming forward," Mrs. Pierson began, "I have no doubt that even more will. I mean: there's no way he's done something like this THAT many times, but only ONCE with a student." She shook her head in disgust, "I just can't believe the school district...I mean, how're we supposed to trust leaving our kids there, when they hire somebody like HIM?"
Again, the image cut back to Jerry McCollough, as his news report drew to a close. "The Sheriff's Department is urging anyone else with information to come forward, students or otherwise. And they remind News Eight that despite what has happened, it's important to remember that, this morning, a predator is behind bars."
And with a practiced and professional little nod, in spite of the subject matter at paw, the ferret concluded: "Live from Brooksboro Middle School: Jerry McCollough, News Eight."
The television went dark: Jerry, and the school, and the mug shot, and the plastic anchors all gone. But Scott's eyes did not turn from the black, glossy slate. They couldn't.
Silence fell upon the room, save for the tap of the remote as James set it aside. Scott could see him turn in his peripherals. But he did not shift to meet him. He stared. Stared past the polished glass and empty black. Stared at the face of a wolf no longer there.
Even as the raccoon spoke...
"A back wolf," James began. "Named Anthony. I guess I'm right to assume...?"
"...you are," the fox answered. But still, his eyes did not stray. "That was Tony."
With a sigh, James asked: "Did you know?"
And finally, Scott's neck snapped to meet his lover's gaze, "What?"
"I...I don't mean it as an accusation," the raccoon held up his paws as he stammered. "I remember what we talked about. There was nothing we could do. And it would've made perfect sense for you to keep it from me, after my big outburst. But I just-"
"You just have to ask," Scott concluded, as he slumped in his chair.
"Yeah."
"Well, no," he answered. "I didn't know he was teacher...or a coach, or whatever. I don't even know everyone working at this school, let alone anyone in Brooksboro."
James hummed, hesitant to respond, "...right."
And the fox narrowed his eyes, "You don't believe me?"
"No, no! I do," James assured him. "It's just. You only met him once, right? And you were really drunk. So..." he took a breath, "are you sure it's him?"
"I couldn't forget that face."
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? He COULD forget it. He would have. He almost did, in fact. Tony was just another wolf in another bar: just the piercing eyes of a predator, shining through dim light and Scott's drunken haze. And that's what he would have remained -- a fleeting memory -- had Jeffery not made him something real. Had Scott not learned the truth. But now, that face? Those shining eyes? Now, the fox would never forget them.
"Scott?" James's voice drew him from his thoughts. "Are you okay? I..." he'd drawn closer now, standing alongside his lover's desk, "...I thought this would make you...I dunno, happy?"
"Happy?" Scott narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah! I mean: they got the guy who hurt Jeff!"
"They did. And that's a good thing. No one else'll have to go through what Jeffery...or what the others went through. At least not from Tony." He paused with a sigh, "But..."
"But...?" And at once, the raccoon seemed to have an abrupt realization, "Oh! Are you worried about us?"
"Us?"
"Yeah. Are you worried that he might...say something about Jeff?"
But Scott just laughed. And it was so loud and sudden a fit of laughter, that it even took Scott, himself, off guard. So he wasn't surprised to see a look of confusion on James's face, as well...
...as he slowly asked: "I take that as a no?"
And as his chuckling died away, the fox coughed and settled. He sat straighter and took on the voice of a stranger...playing the role of Mr. Anthony Sutela, himself. "What's that officers? You think I only raped SIX boys? Oh no! Let me write down a list, so I can get the maximum prison sentence allowed!" And he shook his head to explain: "James, he's facing enough from the current accusations and -- probably -- DNA. He's not gonna' pile more on top, if they can't already catch him for it. We're safe."
"Then what's wrong?" James asked again.
"What's wrong?" Scott repeated. "What's wrong is that it's MY job to go home and break this news to Jeff, now."
The raccoon, though, simply blinked in continued bewilderment, "Break it to him? That makes it sound like bad news. Don't tell me he won't he be happy, either."
"Oh, I expect he'll be ecstatic!" Scott predicted. "It's just that...well..."
"...you'd just rather not remind him of Tony," James presumed...
...and the fox added: "Or of the paw that I played in all of it."
"Scott, we've been over this," James argued. "It wasn't your fault."
His lover, though, simply shook his head, "That doesn't matter. What we're talking about, here? It was the night I betrayed him, and it always will be. I just..." Scott sighed, "...I just thought it was behind us, is all."
"Do you really think it's something Jeff could just...put behind him?"
And the fox flinched. He was right. Of course he was right. Just because they stopped talking about it, didn't mean it had gone away. And no matter how easily Scott could put it in the past...didn't mean Jeff could do the same.
"Well..." the fox smiled a hopeful little smile, "maybe he can, after today."
And James returned that smile to ask: "So, should we go, then?"
"Hmm?"
"Well, I mean, there're no students here. We don't HAVE to stay," he explained. "So why don't we cut out early? Get home to him."
"No, I meant..." Scott raised a brow, "...we?"
But his raccoon simply shrugged, "You really think I'm letting you deal with this alone?"
And Scott's smile spread. Of course not. He'd said it was only his job to break this to Jeff, but he should have known better. It was theirs, now.
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," he answered. "Tony will still be behind bars just as much at 4 o'clock as he is now. He's not going anywhere, and neither is Jeff. There's no need to rush."
~
Scott felt the raccoon's paw clutch his shoulder as he opened the door. Comfort. Support. The conversation waiting inside...it terrified him. But the paw on his shoulder pushed him on. So long as he wasn't alone, he could make it through.
But there was no gray cat to greet him today, as his front door swung open. No smiling face and open arms. And he knew why, instantly. His heart sank as he ventured inside. He knew. Before he'd even made it to his living room. Before he was met, yet again, by Tony's dark and disheveled face...
...he knew.
And there was the scene: Jeffery on his knees, remote in paw, and their television's DVR paused on the image, the mugshot, of Anthony Sutela. Jeffery didn't move. He didn't so much as twitch at their approach. He simply sat...and stared...
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Jeff always slept late, and he never watched the local news. What 14-year-old boy does? He wasn't supposed to find out this way. He wasn't supposed to see this. It was Scott's place to tell him! The fox was supposed to come home, to hold him, and to break this to him as gently as he could.
But this? The stark, cold, and unforgiving sheen of a television? The tactless and direct delivery of some unknown reporter? It was all wrong. Scott had intended a velvet glove. But this? It was a bare palmed slap to the face...
And now, all the fox had left was damage control.
"...Jeffery?" gently, he called to his son.
And the boy stuttered and shook as he answered. "I..." Scott could hear the tears in his voice, "...I know you like to see the news...when you get home, y'know? And I...I..." the little kitten sat, stiff as a board and fighting with his every fiber to stay in control. "I just wanted to be nice. I didn't know that...I didn't know."
Slowly, Scott knelt down by his boy. Silently, carefully, he slid the remote from that tiny gray paw, before tossing it aside to the cushions of the couch.
"It's him, Scott," Jeffery went on. "It's Tony."
"I know it is, Kitten." The fox raised his arms, leaning in to take hold of his son, "It's okay."
But the cat pulled away from the hug, "Okay? How is it okay?"
"Because he's in jail, now," Scott answered, as his arms fell. "They caught him."
"You're safe," James added, from behind the couch...
...and Scott asked: "Isn't that a good thing?"
"No!" the kitten snapped, without thinking, only to shake his head. "Or...I mean, yeah. Of course it is. But..." and he trailed off as he looked, again, to the frozen mugshot on the screen.
"James," Scott implored. "Turn that off."
And the raccoon didn't say a word. He didn't even nod. He simply snatched up the remote from where his lover had thrown it, and quickly turned off the set...as the shamed and defeated wolf -- the faded nightmare -- disappeared.
"Jeffery..." Scott moved closer, offering another hug...
...but this time when Jeffery reeled back, "Stop it!" he jumped to his feet. "Just...just back off, Scott. Stop."
And it hurt. It stung the fox to know that Jeff wouldn't even let him touch him. But this wasn't about Scott. It was about his kitten. And he pushed that sting aside. "Sweetheart, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
But the boy simply let out a dark and teary laugh, "You really have to ask?"
"Jeff," James spoke up, to help, "we know it's a painful reminder, but..."
"You know? You KNOW??" the cat hissed back. "No! You don't know what it's like. Neither of you do. How could you even begin?"
"Then tell us, Kitten," Scott asked as he rose to his feet.
"Tell you? Tell you what?" Jeffery demanded. "You wanna' know how it feels to get raped? Used? To be helpless? Alone? To scream out but to have NO ONE come to help? To know that he-
"Jeff, please," the fox stopped him. "Calm down."
"Calm down? I should calm down?" Jeff repeated. "Right! Because what reason could I possibly have to be upset, right now?"
"We're not your enemies, here," Scott explained...
...and James added, "We're just trying to help.
"I mean: James came over here, today, just for you. For this."
But the kitten met their pleas with sarcasm and spite, alone. "All this way, just for me?" he looked at James. "Well I'm sorry to be such a fucking inconvenience, then!"
Again, James tried, "Jeffery-"
"No!" but the boy wouldn't hear it. "Screw you, James! I didn't ask for you to come! And I won't be guilted into being happy, when I'm not!"
"Jeff!" finally frustrated, Scott barked. "Stop it."
"No!" Jeff screamed back, "why don't YOU stop, Scott?"
At once, the boy rushed past the fox and off toward the hall. And, though Scott reached out to catch and to halt him, the little cat spun free of his paw.
"Don't touch me!"
As his son threw up his arms and stormed away, Scott's thoughts strayed from the matter at paw. For an instant, he considered how lucky he was. His kitten seldom had such outbursts. Seldom acted the part of the moody teenager. But when he did, like today, it was always with good reason.
And off Jeffery went: down the hallway, and through the door to his basement room.
And that slamming door echoed, still, through the house, as James timidly spoke up. "I don't mean to...to try and say I told you so, but..." With a breath, he asked: "Should we have come home earlier? Is he mad that we waited...?"
"No," Scott shook his head as he stared down the hall. "No, he just found out about everything...probably five minutes ago? That was..." he motioned toward the blank television, "...that was a different channel than the one we saw. It was an early evening broadcast."
"Then what was all that about? What did we do wrong?"
"It's not anything we did, James," he answered. "He's not really mad at us. He's just...lashing out."
Seemingly exasperated, the raccoon proposed: "So, should we give him some space, then?"
"No," again, Scott shook his head. "You heard him: all that stuff about being helpless and alone?" he repeated. "The last thing he needs, right now, is to feel alone, again."
"So..." confused, James asked: "you mean, he stormed off...but still he wants us to follow him?"
"I don't think he knows what he wants," the fox shrugged as he padded from the room. "But I also don't think it matters."
Down the hall to the basement door...down the stairs to the basement itself...and past the still-unpainted wall they'd so recently built for their cat...Scott found Jeffery face down in his seldom-used bed. The raccoon on his heels hung back, leaning against the door frame to the little room. And the crying kitten didn't speak or even flinch, as his father sat down beside him.
"Jeffery?" the fox began again, slowly and softly. "We're sorry, Kitten. We didn't mean to push you. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. Let's just forget about it, for now, okay?"
"Forget? Right. Yeah," Jeff's voice came muffled through his arms and pillow. "Cause isn't that what we always do?"
And from the doorway, James tried to clarify: "Maybe that was a bad choice of words. I think what he meant was-"
"I know what he meant!" Jeffery lifted his head to cut the raccoon short. "He meant we should ignore it. Pretend it didn't happen. Sweep it under the rug and move on. Act like everything's perfectly fucking fine!" And he turned to look at the fox on his bed, "Right, Scott?"
"So, that's why you're upset with us, then?" Scott assumed. "Because we-"
"Because it's all your fault!" his kitten screamed.
And a pain shot through the fox's chest. His fault? Of course it was. That mugshot wouldn't mean a thing, if it weren't for him. Anthony Sutela would be nothing but a passing news story. If he hadn't gotten drunk. If he hadn't brought the wolf into their home...
...but before Scott could even react. Before he could grovel or apologize. Jeff looked him in the eye, and went on: "Your fault..." then turned to James, "and his..." before finally hanging his head with a defeated little whisper, "and mine."
The fox was at a loss, "I...I don't understand, Kitten."
"All those other kids, Scott? All the ones since me..." he explained, barely above a murmur, "...we could have stopped it. But we didn't."
And finally, Scott understood. It all made sense. Raped? Used? Helpless? Alone? Screaming out, and no one coming to help? Jeffery hadn't been talking about himself. He'd been taking about them. The others. About anyone -- everyone -- who Tony had hurt these last two and a half months. He was talking about the ones he could have saved...
They'd had the chance. Scott, Jeff, and James. They could have spoken up. They could have stopped Tony then, before anyone else had gotten hurt. But they chose not to. They were afraid, though with reason. And they'd let Tony get away.
It all made sense, now. The tears. The anger. He blamed his fathers. He blamed himself. And Scott knew he had every right...
...as the boy's head lowered back to his pillow with a weak, muffled, little sob, "It's our fault."
~
And Sibirskaia continues...
* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist
If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *
So there you go. This four chapter arc comes to an end. All across Sibirskaia, the cast was busy with their own daily lives: Kris missing his son, Will & Aaron trying to find a way to save the rabbit's career, Robyn & Elliot each struggling with their strained relationship, Mic finally cornering his adorable little stalker, Hunter & Donald simply enjoying their time off from school, and Scott & James busy at work. But all the while, that news story was playing in the background...
And now you've seen the report in full. And for those of you who hadn't guessed, you know what it was about. Ever since chapter 8 of A Warm Bed, many of you have been asking when Tony would return, and if he would get what's coming to him. And now, he's in jail. Is it enough? Has he really gotten what he deserved? Was this a victory? Hard to say. But Tony -- Anthony Sutela -- is behind bars.
Could there still be more to the story, though? Mic seemed to think so. Maybe we'll find out next time when "Sticks & Stones" finally returns.
Anyway, thanks for reading! I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, add me on skype, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com
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See you around for the next 10 chapters of Sibirskaia!