Dresden Station Chapter 1
First submission onto SoFurry! This is a novel I've been working on titled "Dresden Station." The originally was the fourth chapter in the book but the few people who read it suggested I make it the first.
The center snapped the ball and, leaving his gloved paws, sailed to quarterback who took possession of it and shuffled backwards. Assessing his options, the quarterback saw a single player who had a chance of receiving the throw. Having more time than usual to complete the pass, the quarterback stood his ground, unmoving as the giant center held off the onslaught of attack. The quarterback nodded to his receiver downfield once he scooted to the side, hurling the ball to the player who outflanked the persistent coyote guarding him. The team watched the imperfect spiral lose stability in the air but the receiver ran for it anyway, catching it in awkward paws that held the ball tight like a newborn baby. The scoring team shouted and hollered when the receiver spiked the ball in the end zone.
Mark stood motionless, leaning forward against the chain link fence. He played with the dirty and weathered links, feeling the sharp edges, and watched the players take formation again. The center intrigued him; his eyes tracked his every move as if physically tethered. For reasons he didn't understand, he saw grace in the center's duties unmatched by the other kids surrounding the massive creature in the huddle. Mark knew the center's job well, studying his routine from afar longer than he'd care to admit. He refused to make mental critique of the kid's performance even if he snapped the ball a little too late or a lineman broke past his imposing frame, sacking the quarterback; the game belonged to the center. He didn't know his name but supposed it didn't matter, surmising the center didn't know his. Fantasizing about what his name could be, Mark pinned him as a Bruno or a Rufus or, his personal favorite, Rex. One day, he thought, I'm going to find out.
Kids hurried past Mark, ignoring him and going about their business to play kickball or perform tricky stunts on the jungle gym. Judging by the bright sunlight, he knew his recess dwindled down, biding his time until the players would leave the field and "Rex" would brush past him, Mark's only opportunity to glimpse the kid up close. He planned accordingly but more often than not, his plans derailed due to classmates making jokes about him spending recess alone, refusing to play with anybody else. Fortifying his walls with steel, Mark blocked them out of his head and focused on the task at hand--Rex.
The sun shifted again and cast odd shadows across the goal posts and swings. Mark calculated how much time remained in the game but the shouts and laughter echoing around the playground abated his train of thought, watching Rex line up against players who grunted and spat. Again, the center snapped the ball perfectly but the quarterback's paws faltered, causing him to lose the ball in a sweaty grip. Rex tried to block the rush but the kid on the outside flank, a leopard, found a hole and dashed past his efforts, catching up to the fumbled ball that lolled haphazardly on the grass. Bending down for a running intercept, the leopard's feet accidently made contact with the football, sending it flying towards the sidelines. In slow motion, it crashed against the chain link fence, making the rusty barrier jingle and sway. Mark froze.
"Hey," a player shouted, "grab that and toss it back to us!"
"Uhh..." The ball taunted him. He didn't dare try to grab it for the ball, and the entire sport of football for that matter, belonged to Rex. He would not allow his tiny paws and slender frame to be a part of something so important to their recess time. For a moment, he thought of himself playing football one day but banished the silly idea out of his head, picturing himself throwing like a girl or being flattened by larger animals set up to tackle. But if Rex protected me, I might have a shot.
Staring at the ground, he noticed the ball began to roll away upon the ground trembling under heavy paws. A strong scent entered Mark's nose, he felt his heart race but kept his eyes down; he could not have prepared for this. The ball mocked him while he cursed the quarterback for not catching it. Rex did his job! Why couldn't you do yours?
From the corner of his eye, a pair of dirty sneakers came into view, much larger than any other creature on the field could wear. Rex's scent, exactly as he imagined it, grew stronger with every breath he took. Mark could hear nothing but his heart sending blood to his ears in a vain attempt to bring his head back down to operating temperature. They instinctively flickered, trying to catch the cool spring breeze that blew across the playground. Two huge legs, brown and furry, lumbered closer. He clung to the fence as if a life raft was all that separated him from an imminent doom but his clammy paws weaken a valiant effort.
"Hey," Rex said, dominating Mark's personal space, "you wanna play?"
"I--," Mark stuttered and chewed his words like he had a muzzle full of cement, "No--no..." His stomach lodged itself in his throat, making breathing heavy and deliberate. The only action worth considering was keeping his head down and not moving a muscle.
"Oh c'mon," Rex spoke from high above, "you'd probably be really good at it! Definitely no worse than some of these other guys." Warm laughter bellowed from a large muzzle, causing the shaken cheetah to reconsider his bad luck but he held tight to the fence, his eyes remaining glued to the grungy football laying between Rex's sneakers. At his feet, the ball looked small.
"Hey, don't ask that kid to play with us! He's fucking weird! Just ignore him so we can get back to this, we're still a touchdown behind!"
_ _ "Hey," Rex shouted back, "this kid's a cheetah! You know what that means? He's _fast. _ He'd outrun any one of you guys!"
Rex turned his head back to Mark who resembled a statue and not a feline built for speed, "Don't listen to them, they're just jealous. What's your name?"
"My name?" Mark patted himself on the back, he made progress, using a full sentence for the first time but the question perplexed him. Why did the center even care? The name "Mark" could not compete with a name like Bruno, or Rufus, or Rex. He felt ashamed of himself and his name, wishing he had not inconvenienced the center with his petty existence. "My name is M--"
Rex cocked his head, the corner of his mouth slid upward, parting his lip. "It's what?" The lack of judgement in his voice shrank Mark even more, he thought his heart would burst through his chest.
"Well," Rex continued, "my name's Ruzam! And if you ever want to play football with us just say so!" He moved close to whisper into the cheetah's ear as it flickered about, "I just hope if you do, you're on my team." His teeth, white and sharp, outlined a huge smile that shoved his cheeks to the outsides of his face.
Ruzam... Ruzam. _ _Mark repeated the name a couple more times before realizing he hadn't moved an inch. His fight or flight muscles readied themselves, that name was too perfect for his kind of species. Thinking he couldn't compete with such a name and certainly not about to make conversation with the center wasting his own time talking to a pathetic cheetah, Mark's "flight" response persuaded his next action. He used the fence as a springboard to evacuate the playground as quickly as possible. He outran everything he could at a breakneck speed. His heart, muscles, and vision acted like his ancestors abilities would have, chasing down zebra and jackrabbit on an open Sahara. Once alone and safely hidden away by dumpsters and trash cans lining the back of the school, he hung his head and sobbed.
"Mark?"
A voice carried Mark out of his daydream and back into reality. A cheetah wearing a drab green military uniform sat on a computer chair in front of him. He looked out of place among the action figures and video games posters which hung from Mark's bedroom wall. Relatives and guests occasionally climbed upstairs, either looking for a bathroom or to ogle Lilly who slept silently in her crib. "What did you want to tell me?" He smiled warmly, putting a spotted paw on Mark's knee.
"Oh," replied Mark, scratching his head and stiffening his tail, "it's nothing..."
The cheetah got up and closed the door, he knew his little brother too well and something was definitely on his mind. "You sure little chee?" He grinned and took a seat next to Mark on his bed.
"Why do you have to go Brian?" Mark finally asked with genuine concern painted across his snout.
"You know why," he sighed, "they need me overseas to fight. But I'm working alongside some really good people so I don't want you to worry about me. I'll do my tour then I'll be back in twelve months, I promise."
Mark nodded. Occasionally watching evening television with his parents, he knew the ramifications of his brother going to places he'd never heard of before. The idea terrified him and sometimes kept him awake at night.
"Besides," he continued, "I already put in a good word to Coach Michaels about you, he wants you to try out for football when you go to Carson." He laughed, "Just don't give him too much shit, alright? I have a feeling he'll be gunning for you with your kind of speed. You're a hellova lot quicker than I ever was."
Mark smiled for the first time, sniffing scents of his busy household that bustled with people wishing to bid his brother farewell on a noble conquest. He wondered if he too could ever muster the kind of courage it took to leave home and venture into the unknown, far away from creature-comforts and a loving family.
"But I know you didn't grab me to talk about football or the Army. Something's on your mind little cheetah, I can tell."
Mark thought about it and looked for something to play with in his paws. He knew he had but one chance to get this off his chest, if not he'd have to wait another year at least. "Well," he breathed, focusing his efforts on exhaling slowly. His chest, covered by a grey Planet Destiny hoodie, trembled as he spoke, "I kinda like someone."
"Ha!" Brian slapped his knee and chuckled, "I knew it!"
"Yeah..." He fidgeted, grabbing one of his toys to fiddle with in anxious paws. He saw himself so young and helpless, still collecting action figures while his brother risked life and limb for his country in a far off land. He dropped the toy on his bed and studied the ribbons on Brian's pressed overcoat. He felt vulnerable and small.
"So," he continued, not hiding his delight, "what's her name? She cute? Is she a cheetah?"
"No," the caution in his voice felt forced. The image of Rex, or Ruzam rather, playing football at recess cloaked his foreground making it difficult to concentrate, but he brushed it away, choosing his words carefully, "it's a grizzly bear actually."
"Oh," his green eyes opened wide, "no shit? I never figured you as the bear type but they're something else, that's for sure. You know my friend Ronnie? He dated a grizzly for a long time, he said she was spectacular." He winked. "So, what's this lucky lady's name?"
This is it, he thought. The sight of his brother walking out and laughing, promptly telling his parents their son is a faggot made his lips quiver. His minced face squeezed tears from his eyes. Looking down, his grey hoodie became soaked with moister he could not control. There was no hiding now for he set his plan into motion, feeling the ledge of the high dive give way underneath his toes as he crept forward to take the first leap. Breathing one final breath, he jumped.
"Well, it's not a she..." Mark braced for impact. The water felt so heavy jumping from that kind of height. If he didn't poise himself perfectly, a broken neck, or worse, could certainly become a reality.
An eternity passed, only broken when a pair of paws squeezed his trembling body, pulling him tight against ribbons and medals.
"Mark," he said, holding tight, "you are so fucking brave, you know that?" Hearing his little brother give a piece of himself choked Brian up, "I love you so much." He gently kissed the top of Mark's head, feeling his tiny body shake in his arms.
Through sniffles, Brian heard, "I am so sorry, Brian. I'm so, so sorry..."
"Mark," he replied, "you have nothing to be sorry about. I mean that. I love you for who you are and you're always going to be my baby brother."
Pausing, Mark said clearing his throat, "So you don't hate me?"
"I couldn't hate you if I wanted to. I got your back little cheetah, always remember that."
"Are you going to tell mom and dad?" He asked, taking a sleeve to wipe away tears. The deepness of understanding in his brother's eyes drew him close, feeling lucky Brian played such an important role in his life.
"No," he said, "that's your job. I will stand by your side when you decide to, if you decide to. But I promise, they will still love you no matter who you are. Being yourself is the most important thing to them and they want nothing but you to be happy." He rocked his brother in a pair of strong arms, "But I'll always be here for you, you have my word."
"Thank you," he said, still crying into his uniform. In Brian's arms, he felt his pride melt away, revealing his true self, not the cheetah who cowered behind thick walls and spoke to no one. The drab fabric absorbed his tears right above the ribbons, "So, what do I do?"
"About this grizzly bear boy you like?" Brian sat up and ran a paw through his whiskers, "That's a tough one. For starters, have you talked to him yet?"
Mark shook his head, remembering he must have looked like an idiot on the playground. He wanted to kick himself for blowing a perfect opportunity.
"Well, I think you should talk to him. Get to know him some, spend some time with him and be a friend to him. Find out what he likes to do and take an interest in that. I mean, that's how it works for women, I can't imagine for guys it's any different," he shrugged, "but I think that's a good first step."
"Ok."
"And then," Brian thought about it. His expertise in dating and relationships didn't cover the homosexual variety but he put himself in Mark's shoes and tried his best, "if he likes boys too, you go from there."
The sudden epiphany made Mark's mind race; he didn't know anything about this guy, only his kindness towards him and skill on the football field. Had it not been for a clumsy catch, he wouldn't have known his name either.
"So," Brian continued with a smirk stretched across his muzzle, "is he cute?"
Mark's face burned. He giggled into his brother's overcoat, picturing his bear once more, "Yeah, he is very cute, and he's really kind. He makes me feel good about myself, like I can play on his team and he would still be my friend even if I screwed something up... He just," he removed his face, getting a look at Brian. The understanding in his brother's eyes guided his feelings, "I feel funny whenever I think about him." The words, he thought, sounded awkward hearing them aloud. His face felt as if it would sizzle away, his yellow fur turned a deep shade of red. A strange sensation, starting in his toes and floating upwards, filled his heart, making his one hundred pound body feel like he could float away at any moment.
Brian shot Mark a mischievous smile as he ruffled his headfur, "You still haven't told me this grizzly bear's name."
His name. Alone in his bedroom, Mark couldn't say the name "Ruzam" to himself, let alone to his brother who wanted to know the name of the bear who accompanied Mark in his dreams, holding his paw and sharing a root beer float out of a single glass. Ruzam became the object of Mark's desires and figured if he said his name aloud, he would break the bear's spirit by having such a lowly and pathetic creature acknowledge his existence. Breaking the bear's spirit, Mark thought, deserved a fate worse than death.
After a moment, he gulped, "His is name is Ruzam."