ã€ŠBen&#x27;s Storyã€‹


 Prologue - A Discordant Melody

    Carla peered at Ben quietly from her tree branch, ensconced behind some dense foliage. The young brown squirrel stifled a devious snicker with her paw as she watched the other squirrel wander about in the early spring sun, looking for her.

    ¡°I¡¯m right here, silly!¡± She thought, sticking out her tongue at him playfully.

    The hapless Ben looked up at her tree, but the five-year old critter didn¡¯t see his friend behind the thick wall of leaves. He sighed; having spent five fruitless minutes so far searching for her.

    ¡°Carla!¡± The little rodent called out with slumped shoulders. ¡°Where are you? I give up!¡±

    The eighteen-year old gray squirrel babysitting them looked up from her phone to rebuke him. ¡°Come on, you can¡¯t do that! You¡¯re just gonna give up like some weenie?¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not good at this¡­¡± He pouted; his little ears and tail drooped.

    ¡°Excuses! Keep looking till you find her, and I¡¯m not helping you, so don¡¯t even think of asking.¡± She ordered and promptly returned to her game of ¡®Candy Mountain¡¯ without another word.

    ¡°Dumb kid can¡¯t just go up that tree?¡± She shook her head as she busily swiped her paw across the phone¡¯s colorful screen to snag those coveted points. ¡°Whatever, I¡¯m still getting paid for this, so what do I care?¡±

    Not even a minute back into her game did she feel a frantic tug at her tail. She nearly dropped her phone in surprise and turned her head about to face another diminutive squirrel.

    ¡°Melody?¡± Ben¡¯s three-year old brother, Peter, looked up at her with wanting eyes; his little paws over his tummy.

    ¡°What is it, sweetie?¡± She forced a polite smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m hungry. Can I have food pwease?¡±

    ¡°Oh for Pete¡¯s sake,¡± she mumbled under her breath and set her phone down. ¡°Hold on, I gotta find that bag your daddy left me with¡­¡±

    She looked under the table, the bench, and all around her, but didn¡¯t see the bag of goodies Mr. Avery left her. After a few moments, she smacked herself on the forehead with her paw.

    ¡°I left the snacks in my car.¡± She got up from the bench. ¡°Watch my phone for me, thanks.¡±

    She left her phone on the plastic table and scurried all the way to her vibrantly pink car. She hastily popped open the fairy-festooned trunk and saw the duffle bag. It was entirely blue, save for some green lettering stitched onto it that read ¡°Pratley College.¡± Below that, and with smaller letters, was stitched, ¡°Ronald Avery¡± in a darker hue of green. She opened it to check if the snacks inside still smelled edible. The pleasant, verdant aroma of celery, cucumbers, and other greens wafted into her nostrils, telling her that all was well inside the bag.

    ¡°Great.¡± She closed the bag, snatched it up with her mouth, closed and locked the trunk, and waddled back with the heavy baggage to the plastic, yellow table. Peter hungrily lunged at the bag when Melody yanked it away and threw it onto the table.

    ¡°Patience, grasshopper!¡± She wagged a disapproving paw in his face. ¡°Also, I don¡¯t see your brother, or that girl, whatever her name is. Where are they? No one¡¯s eating till everyone¡¯s here.¡±

    He pointed up at the tree where Carla was hiding, and they soon heard the two squirrels laughing.

    ¡°You¡¯re so slow!¡± Carla remarked. ¡°Wanna play again? I¡¯ll count to fifty, and you hide.¡±

    ¡°Kids! Lunch!¡± Melody barked like a naggy drill sergeant, causing the two squirrels to clamber quickly down the tree. ¡°Your folks left you some good crap, er, I mean veggies and fruits and yummy legumes!¡±

    ¡°You said a potty word!¡± Ben gasped and covered his mouth.

    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t think I did.¡± Melody casually shook her head as she gestured for the kids to sit down.

    ¡°You said-¡±

    ¡°Shush!¡± Melody cut him off, not wanting this kid¡¯s parents to let her go over the innocuous c-word. She had college to pay for soon, and textbooks that would amount to half her tuition. ¡°How about this; don¡¯t tell your mommy and daddy what I said, and, uh¡­I promise I¡¯ll take you all to the movies next time.¡±

    ¡°Oh cool!¡±

    ¡°Awesome!¡±

    The boys loved the idea, though Carla didn¡¯t bask in their enthusiasm.

    "You''re just saying that so we won''t tattle!" She frowned disapprovingly at Melody.

    Melody clenched her fists as she glared at the little girl, but quickly softened her composure and just laughed lightly.

    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding, of course! Look, I¡¯ll just tell your parents I made a little mistake and they¡¯ll forgive me. No one needs to get mad; no one¡¯s perfect.¡± She took some paper plates from the bag and began loading them with some wholesome, nutritious goodness.

    ¡°But you¡¯re still gonna take us to the movies, right?¡± Ben refused to drop this important subject.

    ¡°Of course, sweetie.¡± She smiled warmly, grateful he didn¡¯t care that much about her language anymore.

    Peter was the first to offer a suggestion. ¡°I, I wanna see that movie where, where, where the people are like, PEW PEW and then there¡¯s FIRE and then, and then, and then the monster says RAWR, and then,¡± Peter paused to regain his thoughts, ¡°and then, there¡¯s this REALLY COOL machine that says BZZZ I¡¯M A LASER ROBOT, and then, and then there¡¯s this BIG WOOF like, like grampa, and, and, and he has these REALLY SHARP TEETH. Ooh, ooh, can we see that one, Miss Melody?!¡±

    Peter¡¯s little tail swished excitedly and his tiny limbs flailed theatrically as he described his personal favorite movie of all time. Ben and Carla had to maneuver out of the way to avoid getting hit.

    ¡°But dad took us to see that last week.¡± Ben rained on his brother¡¯s parade. ¡°I wanna see something else.¡±

    ¡°But Ben!¡± Peter griped. ¡°I wanna see it!¡±

    Little tears started to well up in Peter¡¯s eyes, and Melody gently took hold of his paw, like a nice, older sister. ¡°Of course we¡¯ll see it, little man. It¡¯s a great movie.¡± She remarked, having no idea what movie he was even talking about.

    Ben threw his hands up in the air, but Carla put a paw out to him, silently urging him to stay calm.

    ¡°Maybe we can let Ben choose next time, and then I can choose after that?¡± Carla offered.

    ¡°You¡¯ll make a good diplomat someday.¡± Melody pointed at Carla approvingly.

    ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°Nevermind. Let¡¯s just enjoy our lunch.¡±

    The shade the ez-up provided was very welcoming, though the squirrels didn¡¯t care for the uninvited flies swarming their little party. A particularly portly bugger plopped itself on a chunk of pear Ben was about to sink his teeth into, paying the rodent no regard.

    ¡°AAH!¡± The startled rodent jettisoned his corrupted pear as far from his face as possible, not knowing how many plagues and pandemics that foul creature could¡¯ve been carrying. The expelled fruit rocketed through the air into Melody¡¯s face. It struck her squarely on the muzzle before she could deflect it or catch it.

    Ben gasped and slapped his paws over his mouth. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! I-I didn¡¯t mean to-¡±

    ¡°What gives?!¡± Melody clenched the fallen pear in her paws and raised it as though she was going to chuck it back. The other three squirrels flinched; Carla instinctively put her arm in front of Ben to shield him. However, Melody¡¯s phone spontaneously started to play an 8-bit version of her favorite pop song, ¡°Peace is the Way.¡± She recognized the number on the screen as Ronald''s, so she dropped the pear and answered.

    ¡°Hello Mr. Avery!¡± She cheerfully chirped.

    ¡°Melody!¡± Ronald answered back. ¡°How is it over there with the kids?¡±

    ¡°Well, you know,¡± she laughed lightly and tousled Ben¡¯s head fur, causing him to recoil, ¡°they¡¯re so delightful; I almost want to just keep them for myself!¡±

    Ronald chuckled. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll have to say no to that, but I¡¯m happy you¡¯ve taken a liking to them. Anyways, please tell them I¡¯m going to be there in ten minutes to pick them up, including Carla. Her parents are also here.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Oh, does this mean the baby is here?!¡± Melody¡¯s tail swished.

    ¡°Yep! Little Rachel was born just an hour ago, and Evelyn and I couldn¡¯t be more thrilled!¡±

    ¡°Aw! Well congratulations to you two! I¡¯d love to see baby Rachel when I have time! I bet she¡¯s the cutest and sweetest little thing ever!¡±

    ¡°Of course! You can come by anytime! Anyways, I¡¯m going to head over there now, and I¡¯ll have your payment too. Thanks for looking after them.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Anytime!¡± Melody sang. ¡°See you soon!¡±

    Meanwhile, Ben¡¯s ears were still perked and his senses alert. Was Melody going to throw that pear at him now?

    ¡°Welp,¡± Melody smiled at the boys, ¡°your dad¡¯s coming to pick all of you up in ten minutes, and then you¡¯re going to see your new baby sister. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Peter replied, ¡°but when are you gonna take us to that movie?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more excited to see the baby!¡± Carla¡¯s tail wagged.

    ¡°Me too!¡± Ben echoed, relishing the thought of having another sibling to play with. Melody¡¯s paws were no longer on the pear, so he was no longer on high-alert.

    ¡°Before you leave though, I have something I want to give to each of you; just a little thank you for letting me watch you today. Wanna follow me to the car?¡±

    The kids didn¡¯t need to be asked twice; the babysitter likely had goodies or toys she wanted to shower them with. They eagerly followed her, though Peter raced ahead, as though the car would magically unlock for him first.

    ¡°Calm down kiddo, it¡¯s not going anywhere.¡± Melody laughed at the child¡¯s fervor. She began to unlock the passenger-side of her car and told the three to wait behind her. They watched with wide eyes as she opened the glove compartment, wondering what precious bounty laid in its depths.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­I know I put them in here¡­¡± Melody muttered to herself, setting her phone on the passenger seat without fully paying attention to where she laid it.

    Close to the edge.

    While Peter and Carla were fixated on whatever Melody was soon to unearth, Ben was distracted by the phone hovering halfway off the seat. He wanted to nudge it forward himself just so it¡¯d be more stable, but also didn¡¯t want to touch her phone without her permission. While the gray squirrel continued shuffling things about in the compartment, he tugged lightly on her bushy tail.

    ¡°Uh, Miss Melody?¡± He asked softly.

    Before Ben could utter another word, the startled Melody whipped herself about and inadvertently kicked her phone with her left foot. The younger squirrel watched as the device crashed onto the slab of sidewalk he stood on. The unmistakable clamor of cracking glass rattled their ears, and little Ben gasped.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! I-I¡± Ben stammered, but the angry scream and petrifying death stare from the older squirrel silenced him.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit!¡± Melody snapped and leaped down from the seat to pick up her phone. The screen was still intact, but a fresh, jagged zigzag spanned its width. She quickly tested its basic touch functions, and though they still worked, she was no less inflamed.

    ¡°I-I-¡± Ben started to cry. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean-¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?!¡± She cut him off like an executioner¡¯s ax. ¡°You couldn¡¯t wait another five seconds for your toy? You impatient little BRAT!¡±

    Spittle from her fuming invective speckled his little face; he wanted to speak, but her threatening posture and bared teeth besieged the younger squirrel into quivering submission.

    ¡°Do you THINK I wanted my phone like this?!¡± She shoved the device in his face, nearly hitting him with it. ¡°You know how much this damn phone cost me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Ben repeated, looking down and still crying.

    Carla got in between the two. ¡°Hey! It was an accident! Stop being mean to him!¡± She interjected. She wanted to add that it was Melody who broke her own phone, but didn¡¯t want to incur additional wrath upon herself.

    ¡°Accident or not,¡± Melody didn¡¯t remove her gaze from Ben, ¡°this is YOUR fault.¡±

    The accusation was a barbed, poison dart that plunged into his soul and lodged itself there. The sting silenced any shred of defense Ben still had. After all, had he not made Melody jump, her phone would still be okay.

    It was all his fault.

    ¡°And I¡¯m going to tell your dad about what you did; there¡¯s NO way I¡¯m paying for this.¡±

    Meanwhile, the four of them heard the familiar sound of Ronald¡¯s sleek, green car approaching them. Melody¡¯s ears perked up, hearing the sound of hard-earned dollars coming her way. She also grinned slightly, knowing he was going to recompense her for his clumsy son¡¯s mistake.

    ¡°Hey, look who¡¯s back!¡± Melody cheerfully sang as she switched personalities. ¡°It¡¯s your dad!¡±

    Peter was the first to run to his car, scared the babysitter would bite his head off next. Carla contemplated snatching Melody¡¯s phone and stomping all over it, but instead followed Peter for the sake of civility.

    ¡°Ben, come on!¡± She called him, but her friend was frozen in place, as though he didn¡¯t hear her. He continued to stand before Melody, like a convicted felon awaiting his next flogging. When Melody started for Ronald¡¯s car, he followed her.

    ¡°Melody, I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he moaned once again. ¡°Can you forgive me?¡±

    She turned and faced him with a sweet, sisterly smile on her face. ¡°Of course I do!¡± She picked him up and hugged him, turning her head ever so slightly to make sure his father noticed. Ronald did notice the babysitter¡¯s display of affection¡­as well as the guilt and defeat on his son¡¯s face.

    Not three seconds after Ronald got out of his car did Peter tackle him with a desperate hug.

    ¡°Whoa, slow down there, buddy! Did you have fun with Melody today?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like her. She¡¯s scary.¡± Peter refused to let go despite his dad trying to pry him off. ¡°I wanna go home.¡±

    ¡°Aw, I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t that bad; you¡¯re just not used to her yet.¡± Ronald defended his and his wife¡¯s choice for babysitter that day. They never hired her before, but her ad was convincing (it mentioned she was also going to Pratley, so how could Ronald deny his support?) With her paycheck in hand, he started to rationalize his choice further until he noticed Carla as well.

    She also looked scared.

    ¡°How was it today?¡± He asked her, a contrived smile on his face to shield his budding concern. Before Carla could answer, Melody caught up, with Ben behind her. Though the younger squirrel wasn¡¯t crying anymore, Ronald beheld his tear-stained cheeks and reddish eyes.

    ¡°Mr. Avery!¡± Melody interrupted the worried father¡¯s line-of-thought. ¡°Congratulations on the baby! You must be really proud.¡±

    The older brown squirrel nodded and smiled. ¡°Thank you, Evelyn and I couldn¡¯t be happier.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure of it,¡± Melody fixed her eyes on the envelope Ronald was holding, half-paying attention to his words. ¡°Would love to see her sometime.¡±

    Ronald noticed her subtle gaze upon the money in his paw. ¡°Ah, sorry. Here¡¯s your payment.¡± He promptly handed it to her, and the gray squirrel had to resist from tearing the envelope apart like some feral beast.

    ¡°So, how were the kids?¡± He inquired, hoping to gain some insight on the children¡¯s negative reception of her.

    ¡°Well, you know,¡± she chuckled nervously, ¡°they were a handful at times, but I managed.¡±

    ¡°If I requested you to watch over them again for a whole day, would that be something you¡¯d enjoy?¡±

    ¡°Of course I would! They¡¯re such lovely children.¡± She sang as she subconsciously began opening the envelope; her eyes still fixed on Ronald. ¡°And with Rachel now, I can¡¯t imagine all the extra pay, er, PLAYtime all the children will get.¡±

    Ronald nodded, fighting to keep a neutral smile on his face. Melody¡¯s words and tone took him back to an unpleasant time. The adults at his and Cecilia¡¯s orphanage employed the same fake, sickly-sweet, verbal saccharine when dealing with the children. If not for the conversation he overheard about the increased funding the building would get thanks to him and his sister being added there, he would¡¯ve bought into it. He knew their caretakers cared more about filthy lucre than their wellbeing. The fact that they continually overlooked quiet, little Cecilia during dinner, and how he always had to split his meals with her just so she wouldn¡¯t starve, was evidence enough.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± he simply uttered.

    ¡°Oh, and I really, reeeeeeally hate to bring this up, but¡­¡± Melody clicked her tongue and turned her head to face the submissive child before facing Ronald again. ¡°Ben accidentally broke my phone¡¯s screen, so I¡¯ll have to be compensated for that.¡±

    This was all Carla could take. ¡°He didn¡¯t break it, YOU did! You¡¯re the one who kicked it!¡±

    Melody let out an innocent laugh. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mind her, she¡¯s just mad at me because she wanted to stay longer. You know how kids can be.¡±

    Carla wanted to interject again, but Melody continued.

    ¡°Besides, Ben already apologized for it,¡± she faced the child again, ¡°right Ben?¡±

    The younger squirrel looked up into her eyes with fear as she manipulated him with her smile.

    ¡°You said it was all your fault, right¡­sweetheart?¡±

    ¡°...Yes¡­it was my fault. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Carla yelled in disbelief. ¡°No it¡¯s not!¡±

    ¡°It is too!¡± Ben countered with uncharacteristic sharpness. ¡°I-I scared her and made her kick it! I-it¡¯s all my fault!¡±

    Carla¡¯s mouth was agape, and Melody nodded and grinned. ¡°Oh Ben, it¡¯s okay.¡± She playfully pinched his cheek and chuckled. ¡°You know I forgive you; everyone makes mistakes. I like that you¡¯re so responsible and honest.¡±

    He nodded, buying into her faux-flattery.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve beaten this dead horse enough.¡± Ronald finally cut in, letting out an exasperated sigh he intended to keep inside. ¡°Let me know the estimate of the damage and I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± He didn¡¯t think for a second his son was guilty either, but didn¡¯t want to drag this out either.

    ¡°I appreciate that, thank you!¡± She went to give him a hug, and he subconsciously stepped back to avoid her. She didn¡¯t notice though, wrapping the distrusting brown squirrel with her arms.

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± He made no more attempt to sound enthused. ¡°Well, thanks for looking after them.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± She smiled. ¡°And congrats on the baby again!¡±

    Ronald beckoned the kids to get into the car, and they climbed in like eager children excited to get away from a plague. He got in himself and told his young passengers to buckle up. He heard the clicks of all their seatbelts then buckled his own. He looked one more time at Melody, who was already gazing euphorically upon her check; the torn-up envelope discarded lazily at her feet. He tapped his horn twice, which was his signature way of saying ¡°good-bye,¡± but Melody merely returned a half-hearted wave; her eyes never leaving that check. Not even the toys she forgot to give the children crossed her mind again.

    ¡°You¡¯re no different from them¡­¡± Ronald muttered to himself as he backed out. ¡°Next time we¡¯ll pick more wisely¡­¡±

    ¡ª

    Within the following few days, the family was back home with their new addition. Rachel was a little smaller than an adult mouse, and was almost completely hairless and blind. Though she couldn¡¯t see her own parents or brothers yet, they were happy to see her. The small, fragile rodent enjoyed and soaked in every new moment and experience with her senses. Her tiny ears perked up at the distinct voices of her family members as they called her name.

    Even Ben¡¯s spirits were lifted as he let his sister blindly grasp at every square inch of his face and head (except his eyes, obviously). She seemed particularly fixated on his nose, and she grabbed at it as though trying to steal it.

    ¡°Hey, get your own nose!¡± He laughed. However, the infant mistook his playful tone for hostility, and she started to whimper and back away.

    ¡°Huh? Wha- no! I-I was joking!¡±

    It didn¡¯t matter, Rachel scurried away with a frantic squeal, hoping to find mommy or daddy. Ben stood and let out a defeated sigh.

    ¡°Of course she hates me¡­¡±

    That night didn¡¯t help much either. He had a dream where he was back at the park with Melody, but instead of her phone being on the seat, it was Rachel. He reached for her to keep her from falling, but inadvertently knocked her off with a clumsy paw, and she plummeted straight down into the gutter and vanished into the darkness with fading squeals.

    ¡°NO! RACHEL!¡±

    He was about to dive into the gutter himself when Melody yanked him back up with a forceful arm.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit! This is YOUR fault!¡± She dangled the helpless squirrel before her face. He trembled and whined as he beheld her sharpened molars and fangs, her forked tongue, as well as the orange, fiery glow emanating from the back of her throat.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! I-I didn¡¯t mean it! I swear!¡± He cried.

    But she beat him relentlessly with the same accusation over and over.

    He broke her phone.

    He killed his little sister.

    He was responsible for every crime and every sin.

    He was the root of all evil.

    Him.

    She thrust him to the ground in fury and jabbed a finger into his face. ¡°Everything is YOUR fault!¡± He looked up at her to find any shred of forgiveness.

    But there was none.

    ¡ª-

    Evelyn woke up at 2:38 that morning to lull crying Rachel to sleep for the seven-billionth time that night. Ronald was sound asleep on his own side of the bed, but to his credit, he took his turn of baby-duty just twenty minutes ago.

    ¡°Comin¡¯, sweetie¡­¡± Evelyn yawned as she trudged to the adjacent room. However, she stopped when she also heard crying from Ben¡¯s room. She walked up to his door, and just before she knocked, she heard him talking to himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault¡­it¡¯s not¡­I¡¯m not bad, I swear¡­¡± He moaned and sniffled.

    Evelyn had no idea what he could¡¯ve been talking about, but it was enough to make her stop and pray. She didn¡¯t know what decided to take over her son¡¯s mind, but she hated it.

    The worst part was that¡­Ben¡¯s story was just beginning.

 Chapter 1 - Bens Climax Begins

    Three years after Ben and Melody last saw each other¡­

    A forlorn, eight-year old Ben sat in his room, putting pencil to paper as he spawned an artistic creation.

    ¡°Ears¡­eyes¡­mouth¡­nose¡­¡±

    Ben¡¯s paws were ever so careful; his heart and soul being poured into this masterpiece. He wanted to make sure it looked perfect. It was a lovely, mild day outside, but Ben was too preoccupied to think about getting any fresh air or sun. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like the outdoors would disappear; he could go out and enjoy it any day.

    ¡°Arms¡­body¡­legs¡­¡±

    A knock at his door made him jump. He quickly lifted the loose plank beside him and deposited the drawing and pencil into the floor as if they were confidential nuclear codes. He let the plank drop back into place before Peter and Rachel burst through the door.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you knock if you''re just gonna run in without asking?¡± The oldest sibling protested.

    Peter ignored his question and grabbed his brother¡¯s arm, as though about to pull him somewhere. ¡°Hey Ben! Let¡¯s play a trick on dad!¡± His tail fluttered with excitement.

    ¡°Uh, why? I-I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is!¡± Peter threw his hands in the air. ¡°It¡¯ll be funny!¡±

    Ben sighed. ¡°What¡¯s the joke?¡±

    ¡°I want to put that whoopie cushion next to the door so when he steps on it, it farts!¡±

    Rachel giggled at the mere mention of the word. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be funny!¡± She squealed.

    Even sullen Ben couldn¡¯t resist cracking a smile. ¡°I have a better place to put it. Give me it.¡±

    For the few minutes Ben played with his siblings, there was a spring in his step that hadn¡¯t been there all week. He took the fart device with his mouth and scurried to the spot he had in mind. Peter and Rachel followed him into the family/TV room, and they snickered as the older squirrel tucked the loaded pillow under their dad¡¯s sofa cushion.

    ¡°Whatcha¡¯ doing over there?¡± Their mother asked as she methodically sliced narrow strips of flat bread.

    ¡°It¡¯s a secret!¡± Peter put a paw over his mouth.

    ¡°Yeah! We¡¯re gonna twick daddy!¡± Rachel¡¯s tail swished excitedly.

    ¡°A secret? I won¡¯t tell ¡®im a thing then.¡± She replied, not taking her focus off her cutting. ¡°Excited for the picnic later? I know Uncle Xavier, Aunt Claudia, and Aunt Janet are really lookin¡¯ forward to seein¡¯ y¡¯all again. How long¡¯s it been¡­a year?¡±

    Evelyn stopped cutting for a moment to rack her memory banks.

    ¡°They ought to bring their instruments again,¡± Ben remarked, setting the sofa cushion on top of the inflatable joke. ¡°That was really fun when they played that song they wrote.¡±

    ¡°Aw yes,¡± Evelyn nodded, resuming her cutting. ¡°I remember that; it was lovely. Claudia really knows how to make that cello sing¡­¡±

    Peter interrupted them. ¡°Dad¡¯s coming!¡± He pointed out the window and saw Ronald walking toward the house along the familiar dirt path lined with tall coniferous trees. He bid hello to passersby hiking the opposite way and whistled as he approached his house.

    ¡°Get the door for your father, please.¡± Ben¡¯s mother instructed him as she moved onto rinsing the lettuce. Meanwhile, Peter cleverly placed one of his dad¡¯s books on the sofa cushion beside the landmined one. After all, if Ronald was planning to read anything later, he would be forced to sit and activate the prank device. It was fool-proof in the child¡¯s mind, and Rachel¡¯s giggles affirmed his ingenuity.

    Ben didn¡¯t want to open the door, as there was something out there he didn¡¯t want to see. It was the reason he was so miserable every day this past week, but since his mother insisted on it, he did as she said.

    ¡°Ben!¡± His dad picked him up briefly to hug him, and the young squirrel saw it once again.

    The property that used to belong to Carla¡¯s family.

    She and her family moved away last week due to a business opportunity her father didn¡¯t want to turn down. Carla told Ben the week before that she was leaving, and despite her assurance she would write and call him often, she couldn¡¯t stop him from breaking down into tears.

    ¡°B-but¡­you¡¯re my best friend!¡± He squeezed her with a desperate hug. ¡°Don¡¯t go!¡±

    Carla couldn¡¯t say anything to console him, and the moment Ben watched their van carry her and her family into the great beyond was the moment his heart shattered. Today, he wasn¡¯t crying so much, but his friend¡¯s absence lingered in his soul like a loathsome weight.

    At the very least, he still had family, and the picnic should cheer him up.

    Ronald greeted his other kids similarly and kissed his wife on the cheek.

    ¡°How was work hon¡¯?¡± She returned the kiss.

    ¡°Eh, mostly uneventful, but I¡¯d have it no other way. Most exciting part was when some mining company called and asked if they could excavate right under Blueberry Grove.¡±

    Evelyn shot him a surprised look and shook her head. ¡°They¡¯re outta their ever-lovin¡¯ minds to even think of defacin¡¯ such a pristine place! For Pete¡¯s sake, that¡¯s where we¡¯re havin¡¯ our picnic!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought too, but I just plainly informed them about the law here. You can¡¯t mine anywhere unless you jump through a hundred hoops with the authorities and have a very good reason for it. Even if I wanted to approve it, my boss would have the final say.¡±

    All this talk about their dad¡¯s work as a forest ranger was white noise to the kids. Peter couldn¡¯t hold his impatience any longer and tugged at his dad¡¯s tail.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you gonna sit down?¡± Peter pleaded, putting his paws over his mouth to stifle his snicker.

    Ronald turned and looked down at him. ¡°Uh, eventually¡­why?¡±

    ¡°Because I have a surprise! I think you should sit right there.¡± He pointed to the cushion hiding the prank underneath. Rachel sat on the cushion beside it, unable to hide her gleeful grin.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± She blurted out. ¡°It¡¯s a BIG FART!¡±

    ¡°Rachel!¡± Peter facepalmed. ¡°It was a secret!¡±

    Ronald pretended he didn¡¯t hear her. ¡°A surprise? I¡¯d love to see it!¡±

    The three children watched as their father sat in his usual spot, and when he activated the fart pillow, they burst into laughter.

    ¡°Ew! Yucky!¡± Rachel squealed.

    ¡°Ah man, you three got me!¡± Ronald also laughed, joining in their joviality. While jokes about bodily functions weren¡¯t his cup of tea, he couldn¡¯t get enough of seeing his kids laugh and having fun, even if it was at the expense of his own dignity.

    Most of all, he was happy to see Ben smiling.

    ¡°Alright, well I¡¯ll have to get you all next time!¡± Ronald made a mock-evil laugh. ¡°But for now, I¡¯m going to help get things ready for the picnic. I hope you¡¯re all excited for it!¡±

    ¡°Ooh!¡± Rachel interjected. ¡°Can I show gramma and grampa my doll?¡±

    ¡°Your wolf plushie? Of course you can; I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll love it.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, and can I show you something I made?!" She tugged excitedly on his paw.

    ¡°You did? I¡¯d be delighted to see it!¡±

    Ronald followed his daughter to her room and Peter tagged along, remembering he also had something he wanted to show him.

    Ben stayed behind, and as his mother realized they were left by themselves, she seized an opportunity.

    ¡°Ben, want to help squeeze the juice out of these lemons? I¡¯m makin¡¯ your favorite; fresh strawberry lemonade.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± He obliged and scampered into the kitchen. His mother¡¯s homemade lemonade was the perfect libation, in his opinion, to slake one¡¯s thirst. When mixed with strawberries and blocks of ice on a hot day, it was irresistible. He also liked helping his mom prepare food and drinks, even when his tasks were simple.

    As Ben drained juice into the pitcher lemon by lemon, his mother asked him another question.

    ¡°How¡¯re you feelin¡¯ lately?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He replied casually.

    ¡°So¡­you¡¯re not sad anymore about Carla goin¡¯ away?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m fine now.¡± He answered shortly, like he wasn¡¯t comfortable talking about it. Evelyn didn¡¯t believe him for one second.

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound fine-¡±

    ¡°I said I¡¯m fine!¡± He protested sharply, almost making his mother drop the knife she was using to slice the cucumbers into the salad. She stopped.

    ¡°Alright Ben, I¡¯ll stop askin¡¯.¡± She kept her voice cool and resumed her slicing. She stopped again when she heard him sniffle five seconds later.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I yelled¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh hun, of course I forgive you. Here,¡± she promptly set her knife down and hugged her son.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m so¡­stupid,¡± he started to cry, ¡°I¡¯m so bad¡­¡±

    ¡°Ben, stop that.¡± His mother pulled away a little and looked straight into his glassy eyes. ¡°You know that ain¡¯t true.¡±

    ¡°But it is¡­¡±

    This wasn¡¯t the first time Evelyn and Ben had this argument and the mother felt like she was running out of things to say. She sighed and said a silent prayer for encouragement and longsuffering.

    ¡°Why do you think that? Did your father or me ever say you were stupid and bad?¡±

    Ben shook his head.

    ¡°Then who did? You¡¯re not gettin¡¯ these thoughts from your family, so someone somewhere¡¯s been feedin¡¯ you lies.¡±

    Ben shrugged.

    ¡°And you know your family loves ya, Ben, and you know God does too, don¡¯t ya?¡±

    He nodded, but nothing broke the frown on his little face. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m just a really bad person. I bet Carla really moved because she didn¡¯t like me anymore¡­¡±

    Meanwhile, Rachel showed her father and brother the pretty purple bellflower she found in their backyard earlier, and after they admired it, Peter showed them a drawing he made of their family.

    ¡°Oh wow, you drew all of us!¡± Ronald remarked at the crudely-drawn yet expressive squirrel family. ¡°This is very nice.¡±

    The scene portrayed them playing in their backyard. Ronald was hiding something in the ground, and Peter was looking for it. At the same time, Evelyn was watering a garden plant, and Rachel was hiding amongst the flowers.

    And last was Ben. He was up in one of the pine trees by himself.

    Looking sad.

    ¡°Aw, how come Ben¡¯s not playing with us?¡± Ronald asked.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s always sad.¡±

    ¡°How about this¡­can you draw me a picture of all three of you playing together and being happy?¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s never happy.¡± Peter added, like this was a scientifically-proven fact. ¡°Even when we do play with him!¡±

    That hurt Ronald to hear, but he couldn¡¯t blame him for that assessment. Even before Carla moved away, Ben wasn¡¯t the most bombastic and chipper kid on the block. His friend¡¯s departure only amplified his somber mood. Ronald combed his brain to figure out what hurt Ben so much to make him the tragic soul he was today, but no memory reared its ugly head.

    Meanwhile, his wife rapped lightly on the door to get his attention.

    ¡°Ron, hun, can we talk in private?¡± She addressed him calmly, indicating this wouldn¡¯t be pleasant.

    ¡°Yeah, coming.¡±

    Ronald left his son and daughter to play in Peter¡¯s room as he joined Evelyn in their own. She quietly closed and locked the door after both were in, then she started to cry softly.

    ¡°It¡¯s Ben¡­I¡¯m runnin¡¯ out of ideas on how to help him¡­¡± She rubbed some moisture from her eyes.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Her husband asked.

    ¡°Well¡­first he raised his voice at me ¡®cause he didn¡¯t want to talk about this whole thing with Carla, and then¡­he apologized and started to beat himself up like usual. He called himself ¡®bad¡¯ and ¡®stupid,¡¯ and then he said Carla moved away because she didn¡¯t like ¡®im anymore. I tried to talk sense into him, but he kept flagellatin¡¯ himself like a criminal.  I just¡­How¡¯d he get this way? What¡¯d we do wrong?¡±

    Ronald held his wife close. ¡°We¡¯ve done nothing wrong; we¡¯ve been doing our best to raise our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Every day and every week, we teach them and remind them about God¡¯s perfect grace¡­we just can¡¯t let ourselves give up on him.¡±

    ¡°I know¡­but it breaks my heart to hear the son I gave birth to tear himself to pieces over nothin¡¯. Did we do somethin¡¯ to make Ben hate himself so much? I¡¯m just¡­I don¡¯t know anymore.¡±

    Ronald said nothing for a little while as he tried to come up with ideas. ¡°How about¡­I¡¯ll have a one-on-one with him today and see if he¡¯ll open up to me. He and I will hike to the picnic; that¡¯ll give me time, maybe, to pry out whatever monster¡¯s in his brain. We just need to be patient; sometimes the loving advice of a parent or the correction from the word of God, doesn¡¯t affect someone right away.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a plan; I pray you¡¯ll have the right words to say. I sure couldn¡¯t find ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be hard on yourself; we¡¯re a team. If either one of us can get Ben to see the joy he¡¯s meant to have in God, we all win.¡±

    He opened the door to leave the room when he caught Peter scurrying away. He quickly caught him by the tail and stopped him in his tracks.

    ¡°What¡¯d we tell you about doing that?¡± Ronald frowned. ¡°That conversation was none of your business.¡±

    ¡°I was just curious.¡± Peter defended himself weakly. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Next time we catch you, you¡¯re grounded. If we wanted you in the conversation, we would¡¯ve asked you to come in with us, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay. I promise I won¡¯t do it again.¡±

    Meanwhile, Ben watched the mailman through the kitchen window attempt to cram their mail into their mailbox. The larger white fox was having some trouble.

    ¡°Go in you stupid stack of-¡±

    He noticed the young squirrel observing him and stopped short of cursing his mail.

    ¡°Oh, hi Ben!¡± The canine smiled just widely enough to show most of his teeth and look unintentionally threatening. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you there; how¡¯s your day?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good, Mister Larson.¡± He answered with as much charisma as dried toast. ¡°How¡¯s your day?¡±

    ¡°Good, good, can¡¯t complain.¡± He answered before resuming his fight with the Avery¡¯s mailbox.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it in.¡± Ben offered and walked outside to accept the mail.

    ¡°Careful, it¡¯s heavy. You got a lot here.¡± The fox grabbed the clump of mail with his mouth and attempted to drop it into Ben¡¯s waiting paws. He caught one page of coupons, and everything else fell onto the wooden porch.

    ¡°Uh, sorry¡­¡± Mr. Larson muttered.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯ll take the rest of it in. Thank you.¡±  Ben knew the fox couldn¡¯t afford to waste his time helping him, as he had more mail to deliver. Mr. Larson bid him good day, and Ben sat there and looked through today¡¯s collection. There were several pages of coupons from local stores, as well as businesses from nearby Evergreen. Ben sighed until he noticed a few pieces of mail that were actually letters.

    ¡°This is from...Marie¡­Tyndale..,to dad.¡± Ben struggled to read the name. ¡°And this one¡¯s from¡­Dylan¡­Tyndale¡­also to dad? I don¡¯t know these people.¡±

    The names weren¡¯t relevant to him; the fact that he saw nothing from Carla stomped his fragile little heart into the ground.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t like me anymore¡­¡± He moaned and sniffled.

    With heavy steps, he brought all the pieces of mail into the house, including the junk. His parents helped him after they looked out the door and saw the untidy pile.

    ¡°Mr. Larson must be on duty again; did you say hi to him?¡± Ronald asked his son, but the distracted child didn¡¯t process the question.

    ¡°Carla hates me.¡±

    It was all Ronald could do from exhaling a concerned yet impatient sigh. ¡°Ben, come on¡­¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t send me anything¡­nothing in there¡¯s for me¡­¡±

    ¡°Ben, buddy,¡± his dad gently pulled him aside, still leaving some mail on the porch, ¡°she moved only a week ago and lives far away now. With all the craziness involved with moving, maybe she hasn¡¯t thought to write a letter yet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Ben contemplated, unable to avoid being pessimistic. His gaze remained fixated on the ground, as though he wasn¡¯t worthy to look any higher.

    ¡°When I first moved to college when I was eighteen, I had to deal with not only moving, but finding my classes and getting familiar with the campus. I didn¡¯t think to write my mom or dad until a month later. They knew I didn¡¯t hate them; they understood I had to figure out how to get used to my new life first. Just give Carla some time, okay? She¡¯s been your friend for four years; she¡¯s not just going to throw away your friendship like that. She still likes you.¡±

    Ronald observed his son¡¯s expression and body language for any sign that his little speech worked. The younger squirrel looked up at his father and stood up a little straighter, as though the burdensome load he carried became lighter.

    ¡°I guess,¡± Ben conceded; a ghost of a smile appeared on his face, ¡°Maybe she still likes me; I¡¯m just being a baby.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not, and I wish you¡¯d stop slapping yourself down like that. You care about your friend and want to hear from her again; that¡¯s not being a baby. I would say that perhaps you just need to have a little patience, that¡¯s all.¡± Ronald patted his son on the shoulder.

    Father and son brought in the rest of the mail, of which three-quarters of it wound up in the trash can or shredder. They were coupons for items no one in the house used, charities soliciting ¡°Current Resident¡± for money, and political flyers from the candidates running for mayor of their small town of about a thousand residents. Nearby Evergreen was a larger municipality of about twenty-thousand, whereas the Avery¡¯s nondescript town, Pine Trails, barely dotted the map.

    Exactly as it sounded, Pine Trails was a forest town with dirt trails that wended their way through the trees. There were no major retailers here; only small businesses like grocers and cafe owners. Many of the residents knew each other and got along, and anyone needing anything beyond the basic commodity more than likely went to Evergreen to buy it. Ronald and Evelyn loved it here; from its strong sense of community, to its small but Christ-centered church, to the verdant scenery and plenteous streams, to its towering conifers, the two squirrels saw it fit to start their family here.

    Blueberry Grove, the site of the family picnic the squirrels and wolves were intent on enjoying later that day, was a large park situated to the east of Pine Trails. It was common for families to spend their time there together and relax when the weather was placid. One section had playground equipment, another had small trails conducive to leisurely walks or morning jogs, and another had picnic tables designed for bigger gatherings and parties. The park got its name from the various blueberry plants that speckled the scenery, but that wasn¡¯t the park¡¯s most impressive feature.

    The river that coursed its way southward along the east side into Evergreen was easily the site¡¯s biggest spectacle. The river¡¯s bottom was layered with countless red, blue, and green stones that made the river appear as a work of art. Of course, the time to enjoy the view most was when the sun was at its zenith, when its light struck the stones¡¯ pseudo-lustrous surfaces and made the water glisten. This created a brilliant, pulchritudinous display seen almost nowhere else in the world.

    It was a no-brainer for the Averys to enjoy the day there.

    ¡°So what time will your folks be there?¡± Evelyn inquired Ronald.

    ¡°Three, or so they said.¡±

    ¡°Knowin¡¯ them, it¡¯ll be more like two forty-five.¡±

    ¡°Heh, you can thank Claudia for that. She¡¯s always been one to insist everyone arrive early for everything. Ever since that time Xavier got stuck in traffic and nearly arrived late for one of their performances, she¡¯s been a stickler for earliness.¡±

    ¡°Well, hopefully I can get this ice cream done by then.¡± She set a paw over her new ice cream maker. ¡°Last one jammed up on me and broke; cheap ol¡¯ thing.¡±

    ¡°I can stay and help with anything you need.¡± Her husband offered.

    She adamantly shook her head. ¡°You should take Ben out, like you said.¡±

    The child¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°Take me where?"

    ¡°Ooh, ooh, Can I come?¡± Peter chimed in before their dad could reply.

    ¡°I was thinking of taking you on a little hike to Blueberry Grove; the weather¡¯s nice, and I think it¡¯ll do you a lot of good.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°But that¡¯s far.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only a mile; that¡¯s not too bad. Besides, I think you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­okay.¡± Ben acquiesced, not feeling like he should be permitted to enjoy anything.

    ¡°I still wanna come.¡± Peter tugged at his dad¡¯s paw. ¡°Can I? Please, dad?¡±

    Ronald hesitated; he really wanted to talk to his older son alone, but was there truly any harm in letting his younger son tag along?

    ¡°I¡¯ll be good; I pinky promise with a cherry on top.¡± The pinky-less Peter added, seeing his dad mull it over.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why he can¡¯t go.¡± His mother remarked.

    ¡°Well¡­alright.¡± Ronald relented. ¡°But promise me you¡¯re not going to get tired and ask me to carry you.¡±

    ¡°I super-DUPER promise!¡± He vowed enthusiastically.

    ¡°Good! That¡¯s the kind of promise I can count on.¡± Ronald chuckled and patted his little head. ¡°I¡¯ll just grab some of my things and we¡¯ll be out.¡±

    ¡°And Rachel and I will join ya when everything¡¯s done. She¡¯s back in her room nappin¡¯ by the way.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡± He went to his room to collect his cell phone, house key, and wallet. He turned on his phone screen to see a long chain of group texts involving him and his four siblings. He cocked an eyebrow as he flicked upwards though the litany of exchanges, most of which belonged to Xavier, who was the root of this lengthy conversation.

    ¡°Guys! I had that nightmare again about Kiam and that creepy goddess thing. It started moving and then these roots came out of the ground and trapped me and then..."

    Ronald remembered that whole ordeal; it was some months after he left for his first year at Pratley. His wolf siblings were kidnapped by an evil, pagan sorcerer bear who did everything he could to coerce them into being his own children ("kinder" was the word Kiam used, according to the triplets) in order to fulfill some sick, base desire. He trapped them in a forest they couldn''t escape, and tried to get them to appease his false goddess, mutter des bodens, or, "mother of the soil/earth." It was a harrowing test of their faith and a testament to how well their parents raised them in the ways of the Lord. It was a long time ago, but nightmares about it haunted them off-and-on to this day.

    Ronald would have to read the rest later; he didn¡¯t want to keep his sons waiting. He simply texted back, ¡°Catch up later. Tell me more at picnic thx.¡±

    Xavier texted back ¡°c u there¡± within two seconds, and Ronald stowed the device into his little bag, along with his key and wallet. The car key would be left for his wife so she and Rachel could arrive at the picnic later (and have an easier time transporting all that food and drink). He also set down his letters from Marie and Dylan, intending to read them after getting home later. In all likelihood they were probably just checking up on him and updating him on their lives. Despite what he put them through sixteen years ago, he was grateful they were still good friends with each other.

    Ronald found his daughter curled up in her little bed and cradling her little mouse and wolf plushies like they were little babies (though the wolf was as big as her).

    ¡°I¡¯m going out, so behave for mommy, okay?¡± He whispered and kissed her on the forehead. Her little ear twitched and she shifted slightly, squeezing her plushies tighter.

    Ronald finally bid his wife goodbye and best of luck with the new ice cream maker.

    ¡°Just try not to stress it; you¡¯ll be fine, and the ice cream will be delicious.¡± He assured her.

    ¡°Me not stress about cookin¡¯? What planet''re you from?¡± She quipped and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

    ¡°The planet of caring husbands, of course.¡±

    Meanwhile, Ben and Peter were roughhousing on the sofa and their father raised his voice to get their attention.

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll leave without you!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± The boys immediately stopped and joined their dad, Peter almost tripping over his brother¡¯s tail. ¡°We¡¯re ready!¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Ronald opened the door.

    ¡°Have fun!¡± Evelyn waved them goodbye and threw a subtle smile in Ben¡¯s direction. She truly believed this short trek through nature would help him; it was already an improvement that he wasn¡¯t looking at the floor right now. ¡°See ya later!¡±

    The three males returned her goodbye and embarked on their hike to Blueberry Grove. When they reached the end of their padded dirt walkway, Ronald led them to the right, down the serpentine trail that twisted gracefully through tapering trees. He let out a contented exhale.

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t have picked a better day for the picnic.¡± He remarked. ¡°Looking forward to seeing your grandparents, uncle, and aunts again?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ben muttered, turning his head back to look at Carla¡¯s old house again, as though expecting to see her there.

    ¡°Is it the big park again?¡± Peter threw in his non-sequitur.

    ¡°Yep, and there¡¯s all sorts of things there you can play on; slides, swings, carousels, sand boxes; you name it!¡±

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯ll ask uncle Xavier if he¡¯ll push me on the swing again. He pushed me reeeeeally high last time!¡± He flung his little arms into the air.

    ¡°That was fun.¡± Ben recalled; a wistful smile appearing on his face for all of one second. ¡°But Carla was there too¡­¡±

    Ronald took up his sword to combat his son¡¯s negativity. ¡°You¡¯ll have fun today with your family even though Carla won¡¯t be here. And, believe it or not, I¡¯m a little sad about it too. I was friends with her parents before she was even born, but I also understand people want to move on to other things sometimes. Just because they moved, it doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t enjoy things anymore, right?¡±

    Ben shrugged. ¡°I guess¡­but what if Carla really wanted to get away from me? What if she¡¯s secretly happy she doesn¡¯t have to see me again?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t visible to Ronald, but he was certain there was a monster inside his son¡¯s head making him say these things. He wanted to dig in there with his hands, yank it out, and stomp it to death. Jack Tyndale let a monster take abode in his brain for too long, and it destroyed him. If Ben was being tormented too, Ronald wanted to do everything he could to blast it to smithereens. He stopped walking and planted a firm hand on his son¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Look at me, Ben.¡± He said sternly, his son doing what he said. Benjamin saw the love and concern in his father¡¯s eyes and felt convicted.

    ¡°Be honest with me¡­Do you hate yourself?¡±

    There it was, point-blank. Ben¡¯s eyes coyly shifted away as he spent several seconds fumbling for the answer he thought his dad wanted to hear.

    ¡°N-no¡­I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Ben looked down at his feet, but Ronald tilted his chin back up to face him again.

    ¡°Then why would you think Carla would be happy about not seeing you again? You have no reason to think that; she always loved playing with you and having you over, and she was very sad when she realized she wasn¡¯t going to see you anymore. She cared about you. A lot. Your mother and I also care about you and love you more than you know. We brought you into this world, and hearing all these put-downs from you hurts. Stop acting like no one loves you.¡±

    Most of what his father told him went into his brain, though Ben was distracted by an image seared into his mind for the last three years. He couldn¡¯t remember where it came from anymore, but it was that of a gray squirrel with wild, bulging eyes and gnashing teeth.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit!¡± It pelted at him over and over¡­

    Ronald hugged his son, snapping him out of his brief daze, and cradled his little head against his shoulder. Other eight-year old boys would¡¯ve been humiliated to let their father do that to them in the open like this, but Ben welcomed the diversion from the discordant melody.

    ¡°Do you believe we love you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you believe Carla still likes you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°And do you believe God loves you?¡±

    Ben echoed the same reply, though was slightly more hesitant with it. The little rodent didn¡¯t feel as confident saying that about the Creator of the universe as he could with his own flesh and blood. This didn¡¯t escape Ronald¡¯s notice.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s take a little detour. We have time.¡±

    A little further down the dirt road, Ronald hooked a left, down a narrower dirt road. Not as many trees lined its shape, so it was better lit from the sun.

    ¡°Where¡¯re we going?¡± Peter asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to church.¡± His dad answered.

    ¡°But it¡¯s Saturday.¡± Ben stated, as though his father suddenly lost the ability to read a calendar.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Ronald affirmed, continuing his trajectory. ¡°And we can thank God He doesn¡¯t listen to our prayers only on Sundays.¡±

    ¡°But I wanna go to the park!¡± Peter griped.

    ¡°Hold your horses,¡± Ronald chuckled, ¡°we won¡¯t be very long. I just want to talk to the pastor for a little bit. We¡¯ll head straight to the park right after; I promise.¡±

    The little white building was only an eighth-mile down the side path. Like Pine Trails itself, it was rather small, but held a close union of believers. The name of the church wasn¡¯t creative either. ¡°Pine Trails Bible Church¡± was plastered across the sign to the right of the entrance, with the text of First Corinthians 15:1-4 printed under it, and while some would be turned off by the lack of ingenuity, Ronald and Evelyn saw authenticity in it. No catchy names or slogans distracted from the message the church wanted to convey, that it simply believed and taught the Bible as it was written, and that the gospel was the primary subject that should be preached from it. It was situated in a flat clearing that was mowed every few weeks, and the door was unlocked most of the time. If the pastor wasn¡¯t inside preparing for tomorrow¡¯s lesson, then there was bound to be an elder or bishop who would leave the doors open should a soul choose to come in and request any prayers or ask scripture-related questions. Ronald knew that Pastor William Jr. would be in his office about now; he just hoped he wasn¡¯t occupied at the moment.

    The small trio of squirrels walked quietly into the carpeted lobby, and while they didn¡¯t see anyone else, the unlocked door told them someone else was here. It was so quiet and clean in here that not even Peter dared utter a raucous peep. Ronald led them through another door into the nave. The younger child eyed the pews, tempted to play on them.

    ¡°Not now.¡± Ronald shook his head, reading his son¡¯s mind.

    Meanwhile, Ben looked up at the unadorned cross behind the pulpit, and his little ears drooped.

    ¡°How can You love me? I¡¯m so bad¡­¡± He thought, subtly shaking his head.

    Ronald led them through another door in the back wall that led into a short, carpeted hallway. Once there, they heard the soft whirring sound of a computer fan and keys being pressed rapidly. There was also the sound of an instrumental hymn playing from said computer

    ¡°It is well, it is well with my soul¡­¡± Ronald mouthed the words to himself as the melody poured soulfully from a clarinet. Out of his peripheral vision, he swore he saw Ben mouthing the words too, but he stopped as soon as Ronald turned his head slightly to make sure. Was Ben embarrassed?

    Ronald rapped lightly on the door (though it was already open) and audibly cleared his throat to get the pastor¡¯s attention

    The brown bear who was about Ronald¡¯s age swiveled suddenly in his chair to face the squirrels, as though they just roused him from an hours-long meditation.

    ¡°Oh, sorry ¡®bout that. Didn¡¯t see you there; gimme a second.¡± William Jr. paused the music with the click of the mouse and faced the rodents once again. ¡°Ronald, Ben, Peter; good to see you! Please come in and have a seat.¡±

    ¡°Thank you; I promise we won¡¯t be long-¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, take all the time you need.¡± He gestured to some nearby chairs that looked more comfortable than the one he used for the computer. Ronald didn¡¯t verbalize it, but he appreciated that the pastor thought more about his parishioners'' comfort than his own. The two boys thanked him as they sat beside their father.

    ¡°May I get you anything? Water? A snack? We still have those leftovers from last week¡¯s communion lunch.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, thank you. We really just stopped by because, well, we could use some prayer right now.¡± Ronald informed him then thought about how he should approach this. He wanted prayer for Ben, but would his son feel singled out in this scenario? He knew how his son thought; he¡¯d interpret this session as a personal attack, as though he was the only person who ever needed intercession. On the other hand, Ben needed to know he was loved, not just by those in his vicinity, but by the Lord Himself.

    Ronald made up his mind.

    ¡°I want prayer for my son, Benjamin.¡± He clarified, and as expected, his older son looked up at him with horror in his eyes.

    ¡°Dad!¡±

    ¡°Ben, please,¡± his dad took hold of his paw in a disarming manner, ¡°this isn¡¯t a personal attack. You¡¯ve been feeling bad, and I want you to feel better. Don¡¯t you want that?¡±

    ¡°Little buddy,¡± William Jr. stooped to be closer to Ben¡¯s eye level, ¡°he¡¯s right. This is a good thing your father wants to do for you. If you were sick, wouldn¡¯t you want your mother or father to take you to the doctor, or give you medicine?¡±

    The squirrel nodded silently.

    ¡°And just like Jesus said, those who¡¯re whole and healthy don¡¯t need a physician, but those who¡¯re sick. A lot of those people He helped didn¡¯t treat it like they were being attacked; they wanted to be healed. They called and screamed out to Him for help. Be honest; do you know you need help?¡±

    Ben nodded again, but wasn¡¯t sold on the idea yet. ¡°But¡­what if I¡¯m just really bad and dumb?¡±

    William¡¯s brows furrowed at this unexpected non-sequitur. His gut reaction was to ask who in the world told him that, but took the conversation on a different route.

    ¡°How you feel about yourself doesn¡¯t matter, little buddy. The Bible tells us we¡¯re all sinners, but it also tells us Christ died to save us from our sins. You¡¯re really focused on your sin¡­but don¡¯t you think Jesus took care of that for you?¡±

    Ben nodded silently.

    ¡°And do you think He only died and rose for people who¡¯re ¡®good enough¡¯ or ¡®smart enough¡¯?¡± He air-quoted, to which Ben shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m like this¡­I believe Jesus died for me and saved me¡­but I don¡¯t feel like I deserve it¡­¡±

    ¡°My friend, that¡¯s the whole point.¡± William nodded with a smile. ¡°No one deserves it; what Christ did for you was a gift, not something you earned! You know Romans 6:23?¡±

    Ben froze like an anxious contestant on a quiz show. He flicked his head towards his dad for a lifeline.

    ¡°The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is¡­¡± Ronald whispered.

    ¡°...life?¡± Ben guessed, then quickly corrected himself. ¡°Eternal life?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and the point is that it¡¯s a gift!¡± William Jr. reiterated with a gleeful laugh. ¡°When your parents give you gifts, it¡¯s not because you¡¯re good enough or anything, it¡¯s because they love you! The gospel of Christ¡¯s death, burial, and resurrection¡¯s the same way! If the pain and bloodshed Jesus went through for you isn¡¯t proof of God¡¯s love, then nothing is!¡±

    Ben nodded, as the point William Jr. made was finally tunneling its way into his heart; he didn¡¯t even need to answer such an obvious question to show he understood it. He knew he had no room for feeling terrible, inadequate, and hopeless if God was showering him with so much grace by the gospel.

    But there was no guarantee Ben would always keep this in memory.

    The pastor led the three through a prayer, thanking God for His insurmountable grace, and making supplication concerning Ben holding onto the peace and joy found in the gospel. When all was said and done, Ben felt better and thanked the pastor for his words.

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me, thank God.¡± He gave Ben a friendly headpat as they got up to leave. ¡°Anyhow, what¡¯re your plans for today?

    ¡°We¡¯re having a picnic later with family; no special reason other than to enjoy some time with each other.¡±

    ¡°Oh right, I remember you told me last Sunday. How¡¯re your dad and the others?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re doing great; thanks for asking. Evelyn and I haven¡¯t seen them since last year, so we¡¯re looking forward to it.¡±

    ¡°Glad to hear it, man. Well, don¡¯t let me hold you up any longer; say hi to them for me, and I¡¯ll see you all tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Of course, and thanks again for the help!¡±

    ¡°As iron sharpeneth iron.¡± William Jr. gave a smile and a nod. ¡°Take care.¡±

    There was a spring in Ben¡¯s step as they left the church. His father was delighted to see it, but a bug in the back of his brain made him worry it was fleeting. On their way back towards the park, Ben even egged Peter on to chase him up one of the trees a couple times; Ronald was about to bark at them to stop so they could keep going, but restrained his paternal instinct just this once. It wasn¡¯t often that Ben was the instigator of gaiety and laughter. His dad wanted him to enjoy this moment.

    The three squirrels eventually saw the sky-blue sign a little further down the path that heralded their imminent entry into Blueberry Grove. The blueberry plants and cursive paintwork spelling out the name beckoned the small rodents into its azure paradise. All Ronald had to do was announce that it was just ahead, and the two children took off running like two little brown bullets.

    ¡°You kids¡¯ll wear me out if you keep this up!¡± Ronald laughed and chased after them.

    Ben turned his head to see their dad gaining on them. ¡°Peter! Run!¡±

    The older brother crossed successfully into Blueberry Grove, but the younger was captured. Ronald snagged Peter by the scruff of his neck and halted the helpless squirrel in his tracks, causing them both to tumble and roll over in a fused, furry ball of giggles and squealing.

    ¡°NO!¡± Peter kicked and flailed, but Ronald held him against his torso as he was positioned on his back.

    ¡°Too late! Now I¡¯m gonna eat you up!¡± Ronald fake-nibbled his son¡¯s ear.

    ¡°Ben! H-help!¡± Peter called for his brother amidst the laughing and tickling.

    Ben turned and joined the shenanigans, more interested in creating more chaos than saving his little brother. It didn¡¯t take long for them to get worn out; the three squirrels lied on their backs to catch their breath.

    ¡°Okay, okay¡­let¡¯s not tire ourselves out too much¡­so we can enjoy the picnic later.¡± Ronald uttered between exhales. Not only did he relish seeing his sons enjoy themselves, he was brought back to those times when he and Cecilia played with Marcus in those early days. The wolf always pretended to be the big bad guy, and either Ronald or Cecilia had to outsmart him to rescue the other sibling. Every game ended up with the two squirrels in Marcus¡¯ arms as he captured them in a big, warm hug (while not being too loud to be noticed by the mob, of course).

    The three Averys leisurely ambled into the park, and Ronald directed them to a shaded picnic table.

    ¡°When¡¯s mom and Rachel coming?¡± Ben asked as he plucked some blueberries from a plant.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call her after I set my bag down. Hold on.¡±

    Ronald dug his phone out of his bag and looked at the time. 2:30. Knowing Claudia¡¯s obsession with being early, he expected to see her and the rest of his siblings in about fifteen minutes. She agreed to drive herself, Janet, Cecilia, and Xavier over. Then, Marcus and Diane would arrive probably not long after. He expected his wife was likely wrapping things up about now and ready to drive over with all the food she prepared. He was about to call her when his phone started buzzing.

    Evelyn.

    He swiped his paw across the screen and answered. ¡°Hey, everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Just wanted to say I might be late.¡± She gave an agitated sigh. ¡°This heckin¡¯ ice cream maker jammed up on me!¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s too much of a problem, just forget it.¡± He told her. ¡°We¡¯ll understand.¡±

    ¡°I promised ice cream, and if I can¡¯t deliver, then I heckin¡¯ flubbed it.¡±

    ¡°Honey, you¡¯re stressing again. Stop it, take a deep breath, relax.¡±

    He heard her inhale and exhale calmly, then apologize.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry, I just want you to enjoy the day. If there¡¯s no ice cream, we¡¯ll live. You already made so much for everyone.¡±

    Just then his phone started vibrating again. He saw it was his mother¡¯s number.

    ¡°Uh, my mom¡¯s calling; mind if I answer her real quick?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, thanks hon.¡± Evelyn sounded better. ¡°We¡¯ll see y''all later, with or without ice cream.¡±

    Ben got his answer; mom would probably be late trying to get the ice cream done. Meanwhile, Peter was getting bored and started to wander from the table.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go too far,¡± his dad ordered while he switched calls, ¡°and stay away from the river. Same for you, Ben.¡±

    Before Ronald could warn them any further, he got his mother on the line and turned his attention back to her. ¡°Mom, how¡¯s everything?¡± He asked, hearing Prokofiev playing on their car radio.

    ¡°It¡¯s good, Ron,¡± Diane answered, ¡°listen, we¡¯re going to be a little late. Traffic¡¯s a mess right now; I think there¡¯s an accident up ahead.¡±

    Ronald fettered a sigh in his lungs before it could escape. ¡°They¡¯re doing all that work on the 29; ForTrans always does this on weekend afternoons. I feel dumb about not warning you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡± She laughed. ¡°There are three things certain in life; death, taxes, and traffic that always knows where to find you. We¡¯ll be fine; just wanted to let you know in case you start wondering.¡±

    Meanwhile, Ben and Peter wandered a little bit away from the table, but not so far that their father couldn¡¯t see them. They could still hear him talking to their grandmother, but the sound of the rushing river began to drown him out.

    ¡°Have you seen the river before?¡± Ben asked. ¡°It looks really, really cool. It¡¯s all colorful and shiny and stuff.¡±

    ¡°Yeah I wanna see it!¡± Peter¡¯s tail swished and he scurried in its direction.

    ¡°Wait up!¡± Ben chased him. ¡°Be careful!¡±

    Ronald¡¯s conversation ended with his parents. As stressed as he was becoming about the picnic, he didn¡¯t fail to notice his sons¡¯ whereabouts.

    ¡°Kids!¡± He raced over to them. ¡°What¡¯d I just tell you?¡±

    They stopped less than twenty feet from the river and faced him, guilt etched on their little faces, but Ben¡¯s moreso. Their ears drooped and hands folded behind their backs.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Ben uttered.

    ¡°The river¡¯s dangerous.¡± He warned them. ¡°You can look at it, but wait until all the adults are here. I don¡¯t want either of you falling in and me not being able to help you; I may be your dad, but even I¡¯m not strong enough to fight the torrents.¡±

    Their dad¡¯s speech had the effect of making the river¡¯s rush sound louder and hungrier, or at least that¡¯s how the kids¡¯ ears perceived it.

    ¡°We won¡¯t fall in-¡± Peter started.

    ¡°No.¡± Ronald scowled. ¡°Go play elsewhere, and maybe I¡¯ll let you enjoy the view when your aunts and uncle get here. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, dad.¡± The boys conceded in unison.

    For the next ten minutes, the brothers played in one of the sandboxes, and their father watched. Eventually, his attention began to waver as he kept looking in the direction of the parking lot to hear any sign of his wife, siblings, or parents (it was ensconced beyond a grove of trees and blueberry plants). He looked at his phone again.

    2:42.

    He started tapping his foot and fidgeting. He didn¡¯t know why he was getting impatient; he figured it was only because Evelyn was having trouble with the cookware and his parents were stuck in traffic. The seeds were being planted for a rough picnic experience with stressed and irritated family members.

    His phone buzzed again. This time, Cecilia.

    ¡°Good, they¡¯re almost here!¡± The anxious dad thought. It was finally time to get the party rolling¡­soon, maybe? He answered it promptly.

    ¡°Sis! You almost here?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­sort of? I think Claudia got us lost.¡±

    ¡°For the fourth time, we¡¯re NOT lost!¡± Ronald heard the wolf growl. ¡°We haven¡¯t reached the stupid offramp yet!¡±

    ¡°We passed it back there!¡± Cecilia countered. ¡°My map-¡±

    ¡°Your map¡¯s wrong!¡±

    The bickering continued (Xavier and Janet remaining silent) until Ronald yelled into his phone, making even his sons jump.

    ¡°Be quiet so I can guide you!¡± The irate squirrel commanded their attention.

    Silence.

    ¡°Good. Okay¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Have you reached the Mapleton offramp yet? That¡¯s the one you want. If you passed it, you went too far.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Claudia muttered. ¡°...I think we passed it. Next offramp is¡­Cherry Blossom Boulevard.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s not too bad; don¡¯t sweat it. Get off there, hook a right, and then¡­¡±

    The conversation dragged on, and the boys were becoming bored and hungry. Playground equipment was nice, but they were itching to see family again and enjoy the delicious bounty their little tummies craved. Their father losing his temper also put a damper on their playtime.

    And Peter reeeeeeally wanted to see that river.

    Just a few minutes before three, the conversation seemed to be nearing its conclusion.

    ¡°...Okay, so¡­we¡¯ll stand in the lot so you can see us¡­.okay, see you in a bit.¡±

    Ronald was winded and agitated; for all the talk Claudia loved to drill into everyone about being early, she sure got lost easily. He stopped to gather himself again.

    ¡°Calm down. No need to blow a gasket over this. We¡¯ll have a good picnic; family''s doing well, Ben¡¯s happy again. I have everything to be thankful for.¡±

    Ronald exhaled, and though distracted, still remembered to instruct his sons to follow him to the lot.

    ¡°Come on, your aunts and uncle are almost here. Let¡¯s help them find us.¡±

    ¡°Finally!¡± Peter exclaimed.

    For the three of them to get to the lot, there was the option of hiking through the dense grove or walking around it. While going through it would give them a direct path, it would take longer due to all the plants they¡¯d have to bob and weave around. Instead, Ronald led them around the grove, not wanting to use more energy than he already did. His slightly agitated pace helped compensate for the extra distance. On the flip side, his flustered state caused him to forget his things on the table. Hopefully no one took them, despite the park not being too crowded today.

    Ben and Peter followed¡­well, not perfectly. The deviation to the right took the trio closer to the river; not enough to be dangerous, but just enough to be tantalizing.

    The river¡¯s unending rush was a siren¡¯s melody in Peter¡¯s ears; it was in Ben¡¯s too, but this was Peter¡¯s first time entranced by it. He looked in its direction. He couldn¡¯t see the surface, but he could see splashes of water dancing forth in turbulent leaps, calling to the child¡¯s curiosity.

    ¡°It¡¯s just one look, Peter, just one¡­¡± The river beckoned.

    His brother and father were ahead of him, but not by much. He slowed down and studied his options further.

    ¡°Dad said no¡­¡± He thought, knowing he should obey.

    He gazed again towards the river; still walking, but not very focused on following his dad anymore. Upon further study and confirmation bias, Peter rationalized his thoughts.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look bad¡­maybe I can look real quick; just one second¡­¡±

    As quietly as a small squirrel could, he stealthily darted away from the other two towards the river. Surely his dad wouldn¡¯t mind that; it wasn¡¯t like he was going deep-sea diving.

    Then he noticed the tree situated precariously along its bank. Its branches were sparse, as winter only recently ended, but looked more than sturdy enough to bear the weight of a little squirrel.

    His eyes sparked with excitement¡­a better view!

    Peter¡¯s scurry nearly became a gallop as he gathered momentum and leapt as high as he could onto the tree. He paid no regard to the wired fence running along the river¡¯s edge, nor the posted sign that showed a red line cutting through a silhouetted animal standing by the river, nor the line slicing through a tree with a squirrel standing on its branches. Below the images was printed in bold red: ¡°DANGER. NO TRESPASSING.¡± These were merely suggestions in Peter¡¯s mind; minor annoyances that detracted from the scenery.

    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid. I¡¯m not gonna jump or anything!¡±

    The time that elapsed between Peter¡¯s departure and now was only eight seconds. The last time either Ronald or Ben looked back at him was fifteen seconds.

    Fifteen seconds wasn¡¯t a long time¡­but was more than enough time to get into trouble.

    Ben turned around to tell his brother a funny joke he just made up, only to see him on the tree branch suspended thirteen feet over the river.

    ¡°PETER! WHAT¡¯RE YOU DOING?!¡±

    Ronald was jolted by the outburst, and he pivoted instantaneously to behold the same view. He took off running; not having run this fast since the time he fled from Jack.

    ¡°Peter!¡± He barked, hot rage in his voice. ¡°Get down from there! NOW!¡±

    The six-year old froze, startled by getting caught so soon. He didn¡¯t expect them to notice so quickly that he broke away. He found himself halfway between the trunk, where the branch was thickest, and the tapered tip. He looked down to gauge the branch¡¯s width of where he stood. It was just narrow enough for him to get a good view of the river.

    And it was much faster and scarier than he thought.

    ¡°D-dad¡­?¡± The little squirrel was paralyzed. Ronald noticed the sudden grip of terror that held his son firm. It was the kind of terror that consumed someone who found himself in a situation he thought would be safe, but revealed its danger too late. The squirrel¡¯s claws dug into the branch as tightly as they could.

    ¡°I¡¯m scared¡­¡± He started to cry.

    His father scurried up to the branch but didn¡¯t tread on it yet. He cooled down his anger for now and donned his rescuer mode. He extended his paw toward him.

    ¡°Walk calmly towards me, and don¡¯t look down. The branch won¡¯t break, I promise.¡±

    Peter attempted a first step, but quickly retracted as his movement caused a subtle sway of the branch. More tears welled up in his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna fall¡­¡±

    ¡°Okay, wait there. I¡¯ll get you, don¡¯t worry.¡± Ronald remained calm, though his heart was racing. Ben stood at the base of the tree, not daring to join them. He stared in disbelief and horror as thirteen feet separated his little brother from certain death. His pulse bolted to the neighborhood of 180bpm; his palms became sweaty, and his eyes moistened upon watching him stand petrified on that branch.

    Ronald took his first step towards Peter, and that¡¯s when something unexpected happened. It was something nobody could¡¯ve seen coming, and yet¡­was a trademark in Ronald¡¯s life. It happened to him the first time twenty-six years ago, resulting in him and his sister fleeing their forest home and encountering Marcus, their eventual father. The second time happened nine years later when a stray firework launched at Ronald¡¯s behest, resulting in the destruction of an innocent man¡¯s business, and eventually, his suicide. It happened again, just now¡­

    A third explosion.

    This one emanated from within the bowels of the earth, but was shallow enough to rattle the ground like a behemoth on a rampage. Ronald immediately took hold of the trunk for support, but Peter had less to work with. The smaller squirrel lost his footing and fell. However, it wasn¡¯t the end for him, as his right foot got caught between the branch and a twig. It wouldn¡¯t have been enough to support the weight of a human child, but Peter wasn¡¯t heavy enough to break it. The squirrel tumbled backwards; the action of his foot getting caught prevented him from falling to his death, but also twisted his foot awkwardly and suddenly enough to break it.

    Peter¡¯s scream pierced the air, and Ben started to cry and hyperventilate. Ronald fought against his nerves and the rocking of the tree, but felt like his heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He didn¡¯t know the source of the explosion, but could worry about that later.

    ¡°DADDY!¡± Peter wailed in agony as he dangled above the mighty river. His cries tore at his father''s heart.

    ¡°Stay calm!¡± Ronald yelled both to his son and himself. He inched his way towards Peter, his claws digging and hooking into the branch, knowing what a fragile situation this was. Moisture in his eyes developed, but he powered through his obscured vision. His son would make it out of this alive; he¡¯d make sure of it.

    Peter¡¯s view of the river was not the pleasant experience he hoped for. The brilliant colors beneath its surface were squelched by the interminable voraciousness of the river¡¯s roar and rush. It was a monster that didn¡¯t care whether Peter fell victim to it or not. If he did, it would consume him and continue raging along with no remorse. Peter¡¯s squeals and cries persisted, but his father inched ever closer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± Ronald ordered over the monstrous monotone of the river. ¡°I¡¯m going to free you right now!¡±

    Ronald¡¯s plan was to crouch onto his belly so he could reach Peter and pull him up. Once safely in his arms, he¡¯d nudge his foot free and get him right side-up again. He¡¯d then carry his injured son by the scruff of his neck to safety. It¡¯d be ideal if professional rescue personnel were here, but Ronald feared there wouldn¡¯t be time to call any, so he had to do this himself.

    Now.

    Then...the unthinkable happened.

    Another explosion.

    This one felt much closer to them, almost like it was directly beneath the tree. In a matter of seconds, everything crumbled. Peter was shaken free from the tree like a piece of fruit suspended flimsily from its branch, and he plunged head-first into the swiftly-moving river. Ben had no time to register what just happened; he caught the expression of stark, wide-eyed terror on his brother¡¯s face just a half-second before the river claimed him and forced him beneath its unforgiving surface. His dad plummeted into the river right after. To make matters worse, the subterranean explosion caused small craters to form in the ground and in the river, causing the torrent to rage its course even faster.

    Just like that, his father and brother were gone. Ben pursued them along the river¡¯s bank in panicked desperation, hoping and praying amidst his tears and unfathomable dread that they would be okay.

    The truth was that no one was going to be okay.

 Chapter 2 - The Rift

    3:48pm that same day

    Rachel woke up to the sound of cacophony in the kitchen.

    ¡°No! Work you silly thing!¡±

    She tucked her wolf and mouse plushies under her blanket and slowly scampered to the kitchen. She stared at first, watching as mommy sighed and flipped through the ice cream maker¡¯s instruction manual for the fifty-third time.

    ¡°Mommy?¡± Rachel tugged at her tail. Her mom turned her head suddenly at being jolted from her fight with the cookware.

    ¡°Oh Rachel, I¡¯m so sorry-¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s daddy and Peter and Ben?¡±

    Evelyn gazed at the time on her phone and gasped. She was very late for the picnic! Her family expected her, and now she was coming off as rude. Even worse was that there were five notifications of missed calls from Marcus. Why not Ronald? Phone dead? Preoccupied? And how''d she not hear her phone go off? Was her tunnel vision that exaggerated?

    ¡°They¡¯re at the picnic, uh, just lost track of time.¡± She answered as calmly as she could. ¡°I¡¯mma call ''em and tell ¡®em we¡¯ll be there soon.¡±

    She jumped into her Contacts tab to call her husband, but before she could tap his name, she received a call.

    From Marcus, again.

    ¡°Shoot, he must be really worried about us¡­¡± Evelyn shook her head and tapped the green button to accept his call. An apology was poised on the tip of her tongue.

    ¡°Marcus, I¡¯m so sor-¡±

    ¡°Evelyn?¡± Marcus uncharacteristically interrupted her, his voice sounding alarmed. ¡°Thank God I reached you.¡±

    ¡°Is everythin¡¯ alright?¡± She asked, not expecting that kind of response. In the background, she could hear arguing and crying; not something you¡¯d want to hear at a family picnic. ¡°W-what¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡±

    ¡°Are you and Rachel still home?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­?¡±

    ¡°Come down to the park. Now. Don¡¯t bring the food or drinks, uh¡­¡± Marcus groaned. ¡°We¡­we can detect Ronald, Ben, and Peter¡¯s scents, but¡­um¡­they¡¯re not here.¡±

    Evelyn didn¡¯t react at first, returning a few awkward seconds of incredulous silence. ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not here!¡± Her father-in-law raised his voice, agitation and frayed nerves bubbling over. ¡°His things are still here, but we can¡¯t find him or the kids! Anywhere! Evelyn, you have to come NOW.¡±

    Evelyn¡¯s paws trembled and sweated, making her miss the red ¡®End Call¡¯ button a few times. Suddenly the problem with her ice cream maker didn¡¯t exist anymore.

    ¡°Rachel, we gotta go.¡± She urgently collected her daughter before she could ask any questions. She frantically scurried out the front door to the car, carrying Rachel by the nape of her neck. She realized she forgot to grab her keys in her nightmare-driven haste. She set her daughter down.

    ¡°Stay here sweetie. Grabbin¡¯ my keys.¡± She ran back inside, tears forming in her eyes as she darted to her room. Her scrambled mind took several seconds to see the keys plainly laid by the bed. Blood thundered through her brain as though someone was pounding a bass drum inside her skull. She nearly threw Rachel into her booster seat and raced towards Blueberry Grove at almost twice the speed limit.

    Evelyn¡¯s paws continued to shake as she handled the steering wheel. Accumulating moisture in her eyes blurred her vision, forcing her to brush it away every few seconds.

    ¡°Mommy!¡± Rachel whined, not enjoying the bumpy ride. ¡°Too fast!¡±

    Her daughter¡¯s words didn¡¯t register in her mind; it was consumed with all the worst-case scenarios she could imagine.

    ¡®Bumpy ride'' would end up being an understatement.

    By the time Evelyn skidded into Blueberry Grove, she not only saw Marcus and Diane¡¯s car and Claudia¡¯s car, but two police cars. They were parked near the picnic area, and their alternating red-and-blue lights pulsated in constant monotony. Two officers, a badger and a lemur, were questioning Marcus about what he knew and, to the wolf¡¯s credit, he managed to appear only mildly flummoxed. Diane and the triplets sniffed the air and ground for evidence of the squirrels¡¯ whereabouts, but appeared to make no progress. Cecilia couldn¡¯t do much of anything except search around for clues her brother or nephews could¡¯ve left. Calls were made to his phone repeatedly before this until it was discovered in his bag.

    Evelyn shot out of the car, almost forgetting Rachel.

    ¡°Evelyn!¡± Cecilia darted over to the distressed wife. ¡°Oh gosh, Evelyn, I-I-¡±

    ¡°Anyone saw ¡®em? A-anyone?¡± Evelyn stammered, her eyes pleading Cecilia for a mere granule of good news.

    Cecilia shook her head, visibly fighting back tears. ¡°My siblings and I were the first here. We got here, like, forty minutes ago. Mom and dad got here next¡­none of us saw them¡­¡±

    ¡°I-I need to breathe¡­¡± Evelyn stepped back and Cecilia respected her space. Marcus spotted his daughter-in-law out of the corner of his eye; she appeared to be suffocating from distress.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± He interrupted the lemur and ran to her. He gently scooped the frightened squirrel into his arms and tried to calm her down. It didn¡¯t work, but she didn¡¯t turn him away either.

    ¡°Are they okay? Please¡­tell me you have any good news or anythin¡¯¡­¡± She didn¡¯t know what to think; were they kidnapped? Did they wander away and get lost?

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Her father-in-law sighed. ¡°Good news is we don¡¯t see blood anywhere, and while we haven¡¯t been searching for long, we can¡¯t pick up anyone else¡¯s scent. I may be getting old, but my nose would¡¯ve picked up a kidnapper by now.¡±

    ¡°What do the police know?¡± Evelyn pressed him.

    ¡°As much as we all do.¡± He sighed, not trying to sound dismissive. ¡°But-¡±

    Claudia called over to them, interrupting her father.

    ¡°Hey! Found their scent!¡± Her ears were perked up and tail swished enthusiastically. ¡°I think they went this way!¡±

    This caught everyone¡¯s attention; Evelyn reached her first, darting over like a frantic missile.

    ¡°That way?¡± Evelyn wanted to jump the gun and run alone. She saw a thick grove up ahead; perhaps they were all playing in there and simply got ensnared by an ill-positioned root or twig?

    ¡°Looks like it, but we have to keep sniffing.¡± Claudia warned, guessing her brother and nephews were in the grove, but not saying it so as not to get her hopes up. The others joined up; Cecilia carried Rachel so the police and the wolves could hunt for the rodent members of their family.

    Claudia led the group as she followed the squirrels¡¯ scents; her siblings behind her. They expected their path to lead them into the thick trees, but as they neared it, the scented path deviated to the right. It was as though it avoided the grove altogether.

    ¡°Weird¡­¡± Xavier remarked. ¡°Why¡¯d they change course? No sign of a fourth person at least¡­¡±

    The group cut a berth around the grove, taking them towards the river. Up ahead was the parking lot the wolves and Cecilia walked from not long ago.

    ¡°Ronald told me he¡¯d meet up with us in the lot.¡± Claudia added. ¡°It makes sense their scent''s going this way¡­¡±

    Then something strange happened. Ronald¡¯s and Ben¡¯s scents continued linearly, but Peter¡¯s cut away at a sharp angle. It was as though something startled the child and sent him running.

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Claudia raised a paw.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Evelyn asked, mentally bracing herself for more terrible news. ¡°What do ya smell?¡±

    ¡°Peter went this way for some reason¡­¡± Claudia answered.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep following Ronald and Ben¡¯s smells.¡± Xavier offered, but couldn¡¯t go much further. Not a hundred feet later did Ronald and Ben¡¯s paths make the same backwards deviation. Their paths went in the general direction Peter¡¯s did and it wasn¡¯t long before he and Claudia bumped noses again.

    Near the tree where it all happened¡­and near the river that claimed two of them.

    Xavier was about to remark that he detected Ben¡¯s scent continuing past the tree, as though following the river, but Evelyn interrupted his thoughts.

    ¡°Ron! Ben!¡± She cried out. ¡°You hidin¡¯ up there? Come out! This ain¡¯t funny!¡±

    There was no answer, and it was then the lemur had a terrifying realization.

    ¡°Everyone stay put; I¡¯ll investigate the tree.¡±

    He wasted no time scurrying up the trunk; his olfactory senses weren¡¯t as keen as the wolves¡¯, but he picked up on the squirrels¡¯ pheromones enough to be able to follow them. His ascent didn¡¯t go very far, stopping at a branch suspended about thirteen feet above the ground. Just six feet out onto the branch would put him directly over the river.

    ¡°Please, tell me they didn¡¯t do this¡­¡± He thought as he traversed the branch with utmost caution. Ben¡¯s scent wasn¡¯t up here, but Ronald¡¯s and Peter¡¯s were. He stopped short of putting himself directly above the river, and that¡¯s when he noticed the twig. It wasn¡¯t terribly incongruous against the others, but it was snapped and twisted in an unnatural way. It was nothing one would notice under normal circumstances, but this wasn¡¯t normal.

    ¡°Careful!¡± Diane¡¯s motherly instinct kicked in, seeing the gray mammal crawl slowly across the branch, though the badger assured her he knew what he was doing.

    The lemur stopped at the twig, now only picking up Peter¡¯s scent. Ronald¡¯s stopped a few feet before this spot and he figured he had enough to put a possible story together.

    And it about made his limbs go numb.

    He skillfully maneuvered his way back down the tree; his expression pallid.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s what I feared.¡± He shook his head.

    Evelyn began to tremble and her stomach tied in a suffocating knot. She knew what he was about to say, but she¡¯d rather hear anything else.

    ¡°Something made them run to this tree, and¡­I think Ronald and Peter fell into the river.¡±

    Evelyn put her paws to her face in disbelief, and it was at that moment that the river sounded particularly wrathful and hungry. She let out a pained scream, as though her heart wanted to leap out.

    ¡°No! No! This can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Evelyn, stay calm.¡± Marcus took hold of one of her paws in a gentle, paternal manner. ¡°They could still be alive; worst thing we can do right now is panic.¡±

    Marcus knew what it was like to think someone he loved was dead, and he didn¡¯t want Evelyn to give up hope either. However¡­he and everyone else suspected the worst.

    And didn¡¯t want to admit it.

    Evelyn keeled over and clutched her stomach. ¡°The river¡­you can¡¯t survive that¡­¡± She started hyperventilating again, but her father-in-law wasn¡¯t about to let her repeat this episode. He squeezed her paw firmly enough to make her stop, not wanting her to lose her mind.

    ¡°What of Ben¡¯s scent?¡± The badger asked, cool and collected.

    ¡°It appears it¡¯s following the river.¡± Xavier replied, his snout to the ground as he walked in the smell¡¯s direction. He appeared collected and in control of himself, but his mind spun with all the worst possibilities. One look at the river¡¯s ruthless rush told him not even a grizzly bear could survive that.

    ¡°We¡¯ll follow it and I¡¯ll radio the Evergreen police to help us.¡±

    The black-and-white striped mammal wasted no time nor words. He brought the portable clipped walkie to his mouth and immediately called for help.

    ¡°Evergreen, copy?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± Spoke another male voice over the radio, but was slightly muddled by static.

    ¡°We have an 11-30 in Blueberry Grove. Two brown squirrels; one adult, mid-thirties, one child, six, both males. Fell into river presumably and can¡¯t be located.¡±

    ¡°Copy that. How long ago?¡±

    ¡°Estimated forty to fifty minutes ago according to family.¡±

    ¡°Copy that. We¡¯ll send units to search the banks. We currently have part of our force investigating an explosion in the area, so I¡¯ll tell them to keep an eye out for them too.¡±

    ¡°10-4.¡±

    Dark clouds enveloped Evelyn¡¯s soul; even the warm rays of light from Marcus¡¯ assurance couldn¡¯t dissipate them. She may as well have been alone. Her husband could be dead. Two of her babies could be dead.

    And no amount of warmth from her family would fix that.

    A quick discussion about what they should do followed. The two officers were going to continue following Ben¡¯s path, and Xavier and Janet were going to help lead them with their reliable noses. Cecilia and Claudia meanwhile took Rachel back home. The child was confused and kept asking where her father and brothers were, and all they could say was that ¡°they got lost and mommy is going to find them.¡± Marcus, Diane, and Evelyn were going to drive further down the river and start looking. She wasn¡¯t optimistic her husband and children would be found alive, but at least she drew a modicum of comfort from her in-laws¡¯ stalwart hope. That was the main reason she wanted to go with them in particular.

    In the car, Evelyn was still on edge and couldn¡¯t stop trembling.

    ¡°My heart¡­I feel like there¡¯s bugs eatin¡¯ it up¡­¡± The distressed mother restrained herself as much as possible to keep from sobbing again. ¡°God, please no¡­have mercy¡­I wanna see my babies and my Ronny again¡­¡±

    She clutched her tail and started to cry again, drenching the fluffy appendage with hot tears. Diane reached back to her while Marcus drove. She wanted to tell her she¡¯d see them again and that they were safe¡­but knew those were empty platitudes. She wanted to cry too; losing your son and grandsons the same day was a thought too miserable for words.

    ¡°We just wanted a picnic¡­a simple picnic¡­¡± Evelyn moaned. Diane reached and touched her in a faintly optimistic way.

    ¡°I-I wish I could promise everything will turn out okay¡­¡± Diane started. ¡°But¡­I don¡¯t know, Evelyn. God¡¯s merciful, even now, and all I can say is that¡­whatever happens, you know Ronald is in the Lord, and you raised your boys in the truth as much as you two could. He cares for you in all your troubles¡­He¡¯ll neither leave you nor forsake you¡­¡±

    Diane said that to herself as much as to her daughter-in-law. The Bible taught one was to rest in the Lord in times of peace and times of tribulation.

    Now was the time for tribulation.

    Evelyn simply nodded and closed her eyes. She continued to hold her tail against herself, imagining she was cradling her babies, safe and snug in her arms.

    -

    After Ronald and Peter plunged into the river

    Ben¡¯s short limbs never moved so quickly; the small rodent darted along the river as though fleeing from a beast nipping at his heels.

    ¡°DAD! PETER!¡± Moisture from the roaring river and his own eyes clouded his vision. He kept his attention on the river, hoping to see at least one of them swimming to safety.

    Only white foam and rocks jutted out from its turbulent surface. There was no dad or Peter. Every second that passed without their presence was another knife plunged into the child¡¯s heart. He tripped and stumbled over rocks and roots several times, but no matter how many times he tumbled, he never stopped.

    Two hours, which seemed like two eternities, passed by the time Evergreen came into view. There was still daylight, but building lights began to flicker on, suggesting a busy night life ahead. The river sloped gently downhill and, as it widened, became less ferocious.

    Now the only thing louder than the river was Ben¡¯s thudding heartbeats. His entire body ached with burning pain, but he couldn¡¯t afford to stop. He would gladly let his limbs fall off from wear if it meant finding his dad and brother alive. The repetitive prayer, ¡°Please, God!¡± ricocheted about in his brain; phrases longer than two words were rare.

    Except for one phrase that pinged his frenzied mind every so often.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit! This is all YOUR fault!¡±

    The voice insisted his father and brother fell into the river because of him. He didn¡¯t keep a closer eye on Peter like he should¡¯ve, and he didn¡¯t go up there to help his dad either. Instead, he was a spineless paramecium who valued his own life over theirs; a selfish monster no more valuable than the scum in hell¡¯s deepest sewers. This was entirely his fault.

    As he neared Evergreen, more and more people came into view. A few looked at him, curious as to why the squirrel was running so fast, but not curious enough to ask. He could sense the weight of their gazes; their accusing stares and gestures condemning the child to infernal incarceration. They knew he was guilty and, at this moment, must have been calling for God to obliterate him with consuming fire.

    Ben eventually wound up at a hiking trail on the city¡¯s outskirts. It was getting darker and cooler, but Ben could still see his surroundings well enough. The trail wasn¡¯t crowded, as the hour was late and most people were home eating dinner. The few hikers enjoying the outdoors eyed Ben¡¯s mad dash with a mix of curiosity and concern. One rabbit asked him if he was okay, but the squirrel didn¡¯t stop to answer.

    He darted into a small grove of pine trees on the river bank, a little ways past the trail¡¯s boundary. The river became so calm it was more ambience than noise.

    ¡°D-dad¡­Peter¡­¡± He gasped through labored breaths. ¡°Where¡­where are-¡±

    There. Just twenty feet ahead of the depleted rodent.

    Peter.

    Not moving.

    ¡°PETER!¡± He cried, running to his drenched sibling. Peter was still; body supine, but that didn¡¯t automatically mean he was dead, right? Then again, if he was alive, Ben had no time to waste.

    ¡°HELP!¡± He screamed, hoping to attract any medically-adept hikers and nature-walkers. Peter''s head was turned from Ben. His body was riddled with scrapes. bruises, and dirt, and his foot was contorted from the twig hours before. The older brother immediately guessed water was in Peter''s lungs due to his being in the river. Without hesitation, he commenced the chest-presses.

    The fact was he knew nothing about saving anyone from drowning, but hoped his intuition and sincere motives would save the day. If he applied enough force against Peter¡¯s chest, the water in his lungs should jettison straight out and he would regain consciousness. He saw it in a cartoon once; it wasn¡¯t the best reference, but it was all he knew.

    Ben gave one push with both paws. A soft gurgling sound emitted from Peter¡¯s throat, but his body remained limp. Was it progress? Ben only hoped. He cried for help again.

    ¡°Coming!¡± Came a distant voice. Meanwhile, Ben persisted.

    He pushed a few more times, getting more gurgles, but his body refused to stir. Ben started to sob, but he couldn¡¯t stop now. He decided to apply the mouth-to-mouth procedure, as he recalled seeing that on TV once. Would it work? If so, he wanted it to right now.

    More mouth-to-mouth¡­more pushing¡­more crying for help. Peter''s head slipped to its original position when Ben wasn''t holding it.

    ¡°WAKE UP!¡± He wailed against a sore throat, but Peter remained motionless as a stone.

    Then his desperation increased.

    Believing more force was needed to get the stubborn water out of Peter¡¯s lungs, Ben placed his paws over his chest and pressed as hard as he could. He pounded repeatedly with all the muscle his tiny limbs could afford.

    A narrow beam of light pierced the waxing darkness. Help was here!

    ¡°Wh-what¡¯s going on here?!¡± A frightened female hare gripped her tiny flashlight, watching in stunned confusion and disbelief. She arrived in time to see Ben hitting his little brother repeatedly on the chest. He didn¡¯t look up at her, consumed with his own frantic efforts.

    And then,

    CRACK!

    Something in Peter¡¯s chest gave way, and Ben felt his paws sink deeper than they should¡¯ve. Startled by the violent snap, Ben turned Peter¡¯s head towards him to see if that woke him up. He saw pale, weak eyes, and a mouth partially ajar and limp.

    Still. Lifeless.

    Dead.

    The flashlight was transfixed upon the corpse, and it was all Ben needed to realize that Peter¡¯s empty, unblinking eyes were staring directly into his own. Ben gasped and stared back for several seconds in gripping terror.

    The image seared itself permanently into his conscience.

    His little brother was gone.

    Ben''s airway tightened and his brain¡¯s neurons froze. No thought or word came forth as he beheld what used to be Peter. Every fiber of his being refused to accept this reality.

    The hare screamed, dropped her flashlight and fumbled for her phone. She punched in 9-1-1 as quickly as her digits would allow.

    ¡°Police! Murder!¡± She cried.

    Her call was panicked and brief, but it was all the time Ben needed to disappear from the scene undetected into the darkness.

    -

    About forty minutes after Ben fled the scene

    Ronald¡¯s eyes were closed, but his ears picked up the gentle hum of some electronic machine nearby. He slowly opened his eyes, having to close them a few times as the bright lights in this room were too much to take in.

    ¡°Where¡­what¡­¡±

    Ronald groaned, finally succeeding in opening his eyes just enough to make out colors and forms. There was a lot of white and there were rectangles above him outlined with light-gray framing. The hum continued its persistent monotone and Ronald slowly turned his head to see the source.

    It was an IV pump that held his attention for only a second; the narrow tube attached to it piercing his right arm was much more alarming.

    ¡°Huh? Wh-what¡¯s¡­going on?¡± He muttered in his half-conscious state. ¡°Am I in the hospital?¡±

    He slowly tilted his head upward and swiveled it this way and that to gain a sense of his surroundings. He realized he was lying in a bed, and a blue curtain encompassed it, giving him a little bit of privacy. There was something tied around his right foot.

    ¡°A cast¡­? Why¡­I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±

    With every ounce of mental energy he had, Ronald attempted to recall his most recent memory.

    ¡°Explosion¡­Peter fell¡­then I fell¡­the river was strong, and I¡­I couldn¡¯t find him¡­I swam¡­and then¡­and then¡­¡±

    For a minute, his memories seemed like a dream. The room was his only reality, but his consciousness slowly returned as seconds elapsed.

    ¡°Peter fell¡­I¡¯m here¡­but where¡¯s Peter?¡±

    More details inundated his mind. There was supposed to be a picnic, but Peter ran up that tree. They both fell into the river, and Ronald remembered frantically trying to find his son submerged under the river¡¯s merciless scourge.

    Then he remembered no more.

    ¡°Peter?¡± He called for his son, expecting him to be on the bed adjacent to his own, on the other side of the curtain.

    ¡°Shaddup! I¡¯m tryin¡¯ to sleep!¡± An irate voice snapped at him from the other bed.

    Ronald¡¯s heart began to race; this was reflected in the increased tempo of the heart monitor, but that was of no concern to him.

    ¡°P-peter?¡± He bolted up, ears perked and tail bristled in alarm. ¡°Are you here?¡±

    No answer, only increased heart rate.

    ¡°Nurse! Doctor! Anyone!¡± He called out, his voice nearly cracking. ¡°Where¡¯s my son?!¡±

    His eyes darted here and there for anything else he could use to get someone¡¯s attention. He found the red ¡°nurse call¡± button located to his right on the sturdy bed frame and spammed it repeatedly. He hated being an annoyance, but this wasn¡¯t the time for manners.

    ¡°Coming!¡± Only seconds elapsed before a haggard-looking nurse flung the curtains open. She was a black rat with glasses and about Ronald¡¯s size. However, she was about twenty years older, donned blue medical scrubs, and her eyes suggested she was nearing the end of a twelve-hour shift.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Ronald cut to the chase, rising up as though he wanted to jump out of his bed. His eyes burrowed into hers with paternal desperation. His hand was on the IV as though he wanted to rip it out and tear the hospital apart to find his son, ¡°what¡¯s going on; where¡¯s my son? Please, help me-¡±

    ¡°Mr. Avery, please calm down, I can help you better that way.¡± She put a paw to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She gently removed his hand from the IV. ¡°Don¡¯t touch that.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°How can I be calm? My son, and¡­¡± something interrupted his thoughts. ¡°How do you know my name?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get to that,¡± she performed her routine check of his vitals and other numbers and digital displays Ronald couldn¡¯t decipher. ¡°Seems stable so far¡­are you in any physical pain at the moment?¡±

    ¡°My right foot hurts, but I guess that¡¯s a given¡­¡± He replied, noting the cast.

    ¡°You¡¯re sore from the surgery. I¡¯m glad they got to you when they did; your foot was fractured and needed immediate attention.¡± She suppressed another yawn. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re awake too; I was nervous and praying for you all day.¡±

    There was no enthusiasm or passion in her voice, but Ronald assumed it was because she was exhausted. ¡°Well¡­thanks. Wait, so, where¡¯d you find me? Last thing I remember was falling into the river¡­and I couldn¡¯t find Peter¡­he fell in before me, and¡­I don¡¯t know where he is now¡­¡±

    The tired rat saw Ronald¡¯s crestfallen expression countless times before; patients realizing the predicament they were in. Some were involved in accidents where they survived, but loved ones didn¡¯t. She performed this role for over twenty years of her life, but dealing with it did not get any easier.

    ¡°They found you by the river all beaten and drenched. As for your son¡­I¡­I want to give you good news. We didn¡¯t see another squirrel, but¡­he could still be out there¡­he could be okay¡­¡±

    That was the most optimism she could bring out of herself and give this downtrodden dad. He groaned and his eyes widened in response.

    If Peter was dead, he wouldn¡¯t know what to do with himself.

    ¡°As for identifying you, we matched your DNA sample up in the system. You¡¯re Ronald Avery, and your wife is Evelyn, who gave birth to all three of your kids here.¡± The weary-eyed rodent suddenly blushed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I never told you who I was. I¡¯m Marsha and I¡¯ve been taking care of you since you came out of surgery.¡± She kept another yawn forced down.

    ¡°Is your shift over?¡± He eyed her with concern. ¡°You look like you could sleep for a few days. I appreciate the help, but you don¡¯t need to be burdened-¡±

    She shook her head in disagreement. ¡°It¡¯s my job to take care of you, just like anyone else under my watch, and better yet, I enjoy it. Don¡¯t worry about me.¡±

    ¡°Hey lady!¡± The cordial and patient patient in the adjacent bed demanded. ¡°More jello and lemon ice! Stat!¡±

    She gave Ronald a sideways glance and rolled her eyes as she left to help him. ¡°Some days, at least. You have some next to you too; you should eat it.¡±

    The squirrel looked to his left and beheld the food that somehow escaped his notice earlier. He couldn¡¯t help but smile, albeit wistfully.

    ¡°Some things never change.¡±

    He recalled that time a couple years after his triplet siblings were born where he accidentally broke his left foreleg after misjudging the height of a step. He was running from Cecilia during one of their games, and came down on that foreleg with such force it sent him yelling in excruciating agony. His mother rushed him to the hospital where the doctors and nurses treated him. He remembered eating jello and lemon ice a lot after the operation. It got boring after a while, but did keep him in good spirits and health.

    Twenty-four years later, he was here again. However, no amount of sweet and calorie-dense food would make him feel any better. He starved as he lay in his bed, but couldn¡¯t even consider touching the food, much less consuming it. The fact that his precious son might be dead pulverized his soul; how could he enjoy so much as a crumb of ice while his lost child suffered? Tears lubricated his eyes, and he broke down in seconds. Nothing around him was real anymore.

    Marsha returned with a tray of jello entirely for the other patient. Ronald heard him greedily and noisily inhaling the contents.

    ¡°Not so fast!¡± The rat admonished him. ¡°You need to give your stomach time to digest that¡­and don¡¯t eat the cups¡­oh nevermind. The gastroenterologist will love dealing with this again.¡±

    The rat restrained a disheartened sigh at the bobcat¡¯s poor eating habits, as well as his habit of ignoring everything she said. She passed through the curtain to check on Ronald.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about him-¡± she started, but stopped when she beheld him with his hands on his face, sobbing into them.

    ¡°I just want to hold my little boy again¡­¡±

    Marsha¡¯s heart sank, but what could she do? She could help patients on a medical level, but she couldn¡¯t bring their children back. She wiped a few tears away herself; she knew it was more than likely that his son didn¡¯t make it. She could check hospital records again to see if he¡¯d been admitted here today, or contact other hospitals in the city, but it was a long shot.

    ¡°Ronald¡­¡± She resumed, wiping away the moisture from her eyes and forcing down other tears that wanted to flow out. Her mind suddenly went blank. What could she possibly tell him that would make anything better? What could she tell a man who didn¡¯t know if his six-year old son was alive or not?

    There was prayer. There was no promise it would change the situation¡­but at least she could use it to give the ailing father a tiny shred of comfort. Remind him that God in the flesh also wept and dealt with pain too much for His flesh to bear. With head bowed, she offered up supplication to the Lord audibly enough for Ronald to hear. He momentarily stopped crying and listened to the rodent speak on his behalf.

    He then remembered something he told Ben earlier that day, when he wanted the pastor to pray for him.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been feeling bad and I want you to feel better. Don¡¯t you want that?¡±

    He didn¡¯t know he would be saying those words to himself now. The prayer didn¡¯t remove the dark, dead shadows and grave contemplations burrowed in his heart like a malignant pestilence, but it helped him remember the unending light of God¡¯s words. It shone ablaze in contrast to the pitch black fog that reeked only of the devilish and macabre.

    ¡°O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?¡±

    The brightness of those words didn¡¯t dispel the crippling, horrific possibility of never seeing his child again, nor silence his tears, but at least it reminded him that death wouldn¡¯t have the final say.

    The empty sepulchre on that one Sunday morning long, long ago was all the proof he needed.

    Just before her shift ended, Marsha remembered she had one more thing to tell Ronald. She informed him that after finding him by the river, the police were called, and that they managed to get a hold of his wife and parents. They were assuredly on their way right now. A wave of warmth overtook him, but it was fleeting.

    ¡°How long ago?¡± He asked.

    ¡°About two and-a-half hours.¡±

    ¡°But¡­Blueberry Grove isn¡¯t far from here¡­shouldn¡¯t they be here by now?¡±

    It was a rhetorical question of course. No one had the answer to that and it sprouted worry that wasn¡¯t there earlier. He thought about using the bedside phone to call his wife.

    But was deathly afraid of what he might find out.

    -

    ¡°Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!¡±

    The buzz of Rodney¡¯s cell phone startled the beige and cream-colored bat from his meager five-minute nap. It was all he was able to squeeze in between now and cleaning up the peas and carrots his one-year old son chucked in disgust against a wall his wife cleaned earlier that day. It didn¡¯t help that his five-year old daughter loudly and obnoxiously berated her brother for being a slob. She thought she was helping her parents, but only helped in contributing to the clamor. Rodney knew he would start his new career tonight; he just wished this call would¡¯ve come eight hours later, after a restful slumber.

    He groggily slammed his hand against the phone and answered it. Sliding the green button across the screen was a monumental task when disoriented.

    ¡°Rodney here.¡± He yawned loudly and didn¡¯t bother to muffle it. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°We have a case for you at the lab; get here within thirty minutes.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, mhm.¡± He put an effort into sounding awake.

    ¡°Rough day?¡±

    ¡°No no. Uh, yeah, I¡¯ll be down there. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    He hung up and hurriedly crammed as much freshening as he could into the time allotted. One quick shower and six-ounce ¡°Beast¡± energy drink later, he was perked up and ready to go. He left just enough time to kiss his family goodbye before darting out into the night.

    And it was for a job hardly anyone would want in the first place, much less associate with a family man.

    Coroner.

    This was his first night on the job and he was oddly excited to get started on his inaugural case. Many saw him as a morbid soul obsessed with death, but those who knew him better saw otherwise. He knew it was a job that had to be done. He wanted to help bring closure to friends and family of the deceased¡¯s loved ones, as well as play a part in helping lessen their causes of death in the future. He loved life and hated death, and studying its causes helped him tackle it and be less afraid of it himself. He continually reminded himself that death was an unavoidable fact in a broken, sinful world, yet it was necessary for those in the Lord to undergo its fleeting horror. As it is written, ¡°this corruption must put on incorruption.¡±

    That¡¯s what he chose to focus on. Aside from that, he had no way of knowing whether the departed soul went up or down (always a sobering thought) upon its body¡¯s demise, but rested in the knowledge that God did for them what was right and just.

    As he flapped his wings through the damp and rainy night sky, he said a small prayer that, whoever he was going to perform this autopsy on, was safely in the Lord¡¯s heavenly realm. Below laid a sea of scintillating lights sprinkled against the darkened landscape of Evergreen, showing that life went on for most, even when it stopped for others.

    The lab in which he was to commence his work was beside the police station. He touched down before the locked, metallic door and fumbled about in his bag in the most discreet possible way for his badge. He was glad no one else was out now (too cold and wet), as the jostling of items in his bag spawned inordinate clatter. He didn¡¯t arrive particularly organized.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me. Just invite the whole town to come over and give me a good mugging.¡±

    He eventually found his plastic white badge and stood right against the wall as he scanned it under the RF device. The tiny red light on top turned green, and he opened the door and entered as quickly as he could. It would lock again automatically after being closed, or if the doorknob wasn¡¯t manipulated within two seconds of scanning. He closed it as soon as he was completely inside, and a single ¡°click¡± affirmed it was locked again.

    Dimmed hallway lights automatically brightened when the bat¡¯s motion was detected. They illuminated a tiled and spotless white hallway of which other rooms were connected (he already had excellent vision in the dark, but it didn¡¯t bother him). Most of the rooms were labs, though not all of them were intended for performing autopsies. Some served the purpose of performing routine analyses of chemicals and other objects relevant to solving cases. A green digital display before the hallway entrance listed who was working in what lab at what time. The bat found his own name, room, and time he was expected to be there.

    ¡°Laboratory 17A¡­I have three minutes. Perfect.¡±

    This was the building where he conducted most of his work when he shadowed other coroners and medical examiners, so he knew where to go. That didn¡¯t eradicate the butterflies in his stomach; this was going to be his first time flying solo, and some family somewhere would have to depend on him for answers.

    He badged in to unlatch the door to Lab 17A and walked inside. Not to his surprise, the lights were on, as someone else was already here. Another law enforcement authority, a white mink, awaited Rodney by the operation table. Beside him was something that caught most of the bat¡¯s attention.

    A small yellow body bag, a sight that always made his heart sink.

    Before Rodney could speculate what occupied this plastic coffin, the mink began debriefing him on what the authorities knew so far.

    ¡°He¡¯s a brown squirrel, likely six or seven years old. Found by the river just off Pine Creek Trail by a hare. The hare reported the body just over an hour ago and claimed she witnessed another squirrel kill him. She said that-¡±

    Rodney quickly shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know what the witness thinks; the evidence will speak for itself.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± the mink, stone-faced, interjected, ¡°just trying to give you a possible lead. She reported that she saw him pounding and pressing on the victim¡¯s body repeatedly, and that she heard the victim cry for help before his life ended.¡±

    ¡°Huh¡­so, where¡¯s the other squirrel?¡±

    ¡°The witness says he must¡¯ve fled the scene while she was calling police. It makes sense, given it was dark and she was preoccupied.¡±

    Rodney nodded. This indeed sounded incriminating, but he did his best to push her testimony out of his head for the time-being.

    The body would speak volumes more than the hare ever could.

    After the mink left, Rodney got to work. The hardest part wasn¡¯t going to be all the studying and examining, nor would it be the blood and other bodily fluids oozing and leaking about.

    It would be the part where he identifies the body and notifies the child¡¯s family.

    Placing the call would be about as horrifying as death itself.

    He carefully unzipped the body bag, a container not even a foot in length, and the child''s body slowly came into view. First his ears, then his pallid eyes, then his muzzle, then his mouth which was faintly ajar, and so on. The little boy looked as one who wanted to speak, to plead for life, but his words would be forever sealed in this mortal coil.

    Rodney couldn¡¯t help but grab a tissue before finishing opening the bag. He wasn¡¯t expecting to deal with a small child like this. The victim was hardly older than his own daughter.

    ¡°Okay, little buddy¡­You¡¯ll never know who I am, but I¡¯m going to do everything to make sure your family gets answers. First¡­I¡¯m gonna need to find out your name, and I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not ¡®little buddy.¡¯¡±

    Along with all of the other operating equipment in the lab, there was a computer that gave him access to a government database that listed every documented citizen living in this country. Also listed was their contact information and all other associated documents related to that person. Once he positively identified the body, he could find out who his family was and proceed to call them.

    And subsequently destroy any shred of hope they may have still been holding onto.

    Rodney took the body''s right-front paw with a gloved hand and held it briefly against a print-scanning device hooked up to the computer. A window popped up on the monitor, indicating his print was being picked up. The rectangular field was dark blue, and a lightly-pulsating green bar inched slowly right-ward as Peter¡¯s print loaded into the system. The name ¡°ScanTech¡± was superimposed against the blue gradient in bold white font. It was generic, but got the job done.

    Nearly three minutes later, the program emitted a chime, and the monitor¡¯s entire display lit up with additional windows containing names and statistics.

    Name: Peter Avery

    Animal: Squirrel

    Age: 6

    Date of Birth: June 8, 2005

    Place of Birth: Evergreen Community Hospital, Evergreen, AC

    Residence: Pine Trails, Inland Valley District

    Parents: Ronald Avery, Evelyn Avery

    Siblings: Benjamin Avery, Rachel Avery

    Other statistics about the deceased child took up most of the screen, and this program allowed Rodney to click on and visit other links associated with Peter. He could view his dental records, hospital records, and most other kinds of documentation ever uploaded into the federal system. He could click on any of the names of his family and view all their information as well. Since Ronald and Evelyn had phones, their numbers were listed. Needless to say, abusing this system to harass or hunt down individuals was a major felony. This access wasn¡¯t granted to Rodney lightly. It could only be accessed via monitored government computers to mitigate the threat of abuse. More information than the bat could imagine lay at his fingertips, but he was only interested in the parents¡¯ phone numbers.

    He let out a pained exhale. Clicking on Ronald¡¯s number would trigger the computer¡¯s voice module and confirm that he wanted to call him. Once he said yes, the computer¡¯s phone would initiate the call.

    Ronald Avery: (055) 7506-741

    After a few seconds of hesitation, he tapped the number, highlighting it in light-blue.

    ¡°Call Ronald Avery?¡± The mechanized voice asked.

    ¡°...Yes.¡±

    Another second passed. ¡°Calling Ronald Avery.¡±

    A black window popped up on screen with volume options and a red ¡°end call¡± button. There was an additional GPS-tracking button, but it was grayed-out and locked behind a warrant code. Unless Ronald was a convicted felon on the lam, Rodney had no use for it.

    Seconds of uncomfortable silence ticked by as the ringing persisted. He heard his own heart beat increase in tempo during the gaps of silence. He looked back at Peter¡¯s body as he waited, a fantasized expectation forming in his brain that the child would jump back up and Rodney would simply tell Ronald that his son was okay all along. It was all just a big misunderstanding, and the Averys would resume their lives as though nothing happened.

    But Peter remained lifeless.

    A sudden voice from the computer¡¯s speakers interrupted his thoughts.

    ¡°Hello¡­Marcus speaking.¡± Rodney saw that name earlier; he was Peter¡¯s grandfather. The voice sounded tired and somber.

    Rodney knew that soon it would be accompanied with tears.

    -

    Hours earlier:

    In an effort to cover more ground, Marcus posited the suggestion that he, Diane, and Evelyn take the other side of the river from the police. More were promised to join the search, but having two extra wolf noses on the hunt didn¡¯t hurt. Xavier and Janet worked in tandem with the badger and lemur, their olfactory senses informing them that Ben remained on their side.

    Somewhere between Blueberry Grove and Evergreen, Marcus decided to pull over. Their side of the river was lined with thick forest, and in the event Ronald or Peter washed ashore here, locating them on foot was the only feasible option. He pulled offroad, nestling his car within a flat and somewhat-ensconced nook.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start here.¡± Marcus said. ¡°I¡¯ll take Ronald¡¯s things.¡±

    Diane handed him the bag with their son¡¯s phone, key, and wallet, loosening the leather strap so her husband could easily carry it about his neck. He lowered his head so she could fit it around him. Evelyn carried her own phone and keys.

    ¡°Where should we head?¡± Evelyn asked, pain present in her voice.

    ¡°We¡¯ll follow the river. It should calm as we approach the city, so it¡¯s more likely Ronald and Peter would¡¯ve escaped there than back the other way.¡±

    Evelyn nodded but said nothing. Her father-in-law¡¯s use of ¡®escaped¡¯ denoted his usual optimism, but she couldn¡¯t ignore the sinking feeling in her gut that the river claimed their lives.

    She¡¯d fork over her own life if it truly meant they escaped.

    The trio began their hunt. They stuck together while keeping their senses peeled for any movement. With so much thick brush closing in on them, it was easy for two unconscious squirrels to remain unnoticed here. The late afternoon sun provided light to aid their search, but it was sinking quickly. They called Ronald¡¯s and Peter¡¯s names to strike their attention. It wouldn¡¯t matter if they were unconscious (or worse).

    But it was better than nothing.

    They entered a clearing after thirty minutes of combing the river bank, and the city of Evergreen came into view. Its outskirts began at the bottom of a gentle gradient overrun with tall grass and wildflowers. Marcus and Diane had no problem standing above it, but Evelyn had to stand on her toes just to see above the grass. She climbed onto Diane¡¯s back to get a better view.

    ¡°It¡¯d be better for you to stay on the ground.¡± She advised. ¡°You¡¯ll have a better chance of seeing them if they¡¯re in there.¡±

    ¡°I know; just wanted to see what was ahead.¡±

    Before she could climb down, her phone suddenly started playing Beethoven¡¯s ¡°F¨¹r Elise.¡± It was her ringtone, but she was so on-edge that it made her jump.

    ¡°Oh dear, sorry ¡®bout that!¡±

    ¡°Who is it?¡± Marcus asked, stopping his search.

    Evelyn read the name on the screen. ¡°Evergreen Community Hospital.¡±

    Her heart jumped as she accepted the call. This must have been Ronald calling to tell her that he and Peter were hurt, but in good hands. He was going to tell her that there was nothing to worry about. Peter had only minor boo-boos and wanted to see mommy so she could swarm him with hugs and kisses, and tell him she was never going to lose him again. Ben was probably there too; he must have followed them to the hospital and wanted to be home again, safe and sound.

    ¡°Ronald?¡± She answered, expecting to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

    ¡°Hi, is this Evelyn Avery?¡± replied a voice that sounded male, but nothing like Ronald. ¡°This is Lieutenant Sykes of the Evergreen Police Department-¡±

    ¡°Did you find Ronald? Peter? Ben?¡± She interrupted him.

    ¡°Ronald is here; we found him unconscious and with a fractured foot by the river. He is being taken to Evergreen Community Hospital to have his injury taken care of. I don¡¯t have any information on Ben''s or Peter¡¯s whereabouts, but your husband is in good hands.¡±

    It was a mixed blessing; Evelyn wasn¡¯t sure whether she should be relieved or terrified out of her mind. Where were her sons?

    And were they still alive?

    The fractured foot was horrible, but it could¡¯ve been much worse. At least he was alive.

    ¡°Thank ya¡­that takes a little off my mind¡­How long¡¯s the surgery take?¡±

    ¡°A few hours, but you can go down there now to wait for him if you want.¡±

    ¡°We will¡­¡± she sighed, ¡°tryin¡¯ to find my boys¡­no luck yet¡­¡±

    ¡°Keep looking; they¡¯re still out there.¡± Sykes wanted to be encouraging, but it was difficult feigning optimism. ¡°I assure you we have our best looking for them too. Jones called in the 11-30 earlier; said he was working with others in your family to find your sons.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Evelyn didn¡¯t feel much better though she knew he was trying to help. ¡°I appreciate all the help¡­thank ya¡­¡±

    The call ended after a quick bye, and Evelyn related to her in-laws what Sykes told her. A discordant amalgamation of relief and stress filled them too, resulting in cautious hope. They agreed to keep looking for the boys; at least they knew where Ronald was and that he was being taken care of.

    The three of them didn¡¯t stop calling out the children¡¯s names, and they asked every person they bumped into if they¡¯d seen them. Every query yielded a ¡®no,¡± each occurrence little by little snuffing out Evelyn¡¯s hope. A mere ember remained.

    The early-spring sun eventually relinquished its daytime rule to the oncoming night. Light from downtown Evergreen and surrounding suburbs helped, but the three still needed to resort to their flashlight apps.

    Still no squirrels in sight.

    ¡°Marcus¡­¡± Evelyn moaned. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m comin¡¯ at the end of my rope¡­no one¡¯s seen ¡®em. I¡¯m so scared¡­what if th-they¡¯re¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll look all night if we have to.¡± Her father-in-law answered, making eye contact with her. His expression was tired, but she could see he wasn¡¯t defeated. ¡°I know you¡¯re hurting, but you have to keep your head held high; Diane and I know what it¡¯s like to lose children; those days they went missing were the longest days of our lives. We didn¡¯t give up though, and neither should you. I won¡¯t let you.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Diane also looked at her with tired eyes and spoke with a voice bordering on raspy. ¡°Your children would like nothing more than to see their mother and father again. You have to keep fighting for them.¡±

    Diane¡¯s motherly instinct wanted to assume Evelyn¡¯s pain upon herself. That night Ronald fled from Jack, and those nights her triplets suffered at Kiam¡¯s whims, despite being so long ago, were still painful to think about. Evelyn was crushed beneath the same kind of pain, and Diane was going to fight to make sure her daughter-in-law saw her children again.

    No mother should ever have to deal with this horror.

    A light drizzle greeted the trio, but the trifle bit of water didn¡¯t stop them. Evening gave way to night, and there was just enough light from the city to make out general forms around them. They watched for any that resembled a small squirrel; Evelyn¡¯s desire to see her children created illusions that made certain rocks look like Ben or Peter. There was one instance where she excitedly called out Peter¡¯s name, thinking she saw him. She scurried over to the form to scoop her child up into her embrace and never let him go, only to discover it was a particularly-shaped plant. Her heart sank when she gripped only damp leaves and twigs.

    ¡°I¡¯m such a fool¡­¡± She wiped moisture from her eyes and sniffled.

    ¡°No you¡¯re not.¡± Marcus intervened. ¡°I¡­I thought for a moment it was him as well¡­¡±

    Suddenly the tune of Bach¡¯s ¡°Air on the G String¡± erupted from Ronald¡¯s bag. It was his ringtone, but still made Evelyn jump. It was unnerving hearing that lovely, familiar piece while her family dangled precariously over possible doom. She prayed whoever was calling had good news for them. It must¡¯ve been Peter or Ben calling from someone else¡¯s phone.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get it.¡± Marcus walked to the shelter of a nearby pine and set the bag on the dry ground. He took the phone out and looked at the screen¡­and his body and mind froze.

    Evergreen Coroner Lab.

    ¡°No no no no no¡­¡± Marcus stared blankly at the screen; his mouth held agape and color drained from his face. This couldn¡¯t be real; it had to be some malicious prank.

    ¡°Marcus¡­?¡± Diane noticed his stunned expression. Whatever it was, it was bad. Evelyn observed him too. Something told her this was going to be the most unwelcome call of their lives. She gripped a clump of Diane¡¯s fur with unrelenting anxiety.

    The poor mother wanted nothing more than to be wrong. She simply wanted her sons back and put this day behind her.

    Marcus didn¡¯t answer them as his mind was elsewhere. With a shaking paw, he swiped the green button to the right and answered.

    ¡°Hello¡­Marcus speaking.¡±

    A couple seconds passed before someone answered. ¡°Hello, this is Rodney Beltran, coroner for the city of Evergreen¡­before I continue, are you the father of Ronald Avery?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± His voice was low and lacked energy. ¡°He¡¯s¡­at the hospital¡­they¡¯re taking care of him¡­¡±

    ¡°Is there other family with you right now?¡±

    ¡°My wife and daughter-in-law. Please tell me you¡¯re calling with good news¡­we¡¯re looking for my two grandsons¡­I¡­we just want to know they¡¯re safe¡­¡±

    Marcus fought back some water forming in his eyes. Of course a coroner¡¯s lab wasn¡¯t going to call with good news, but he wanted to believe this would be an exception.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Marcus heard a pained sigh on the other end. ¡°I don¡¯t have good news about that, Mr. Avery. I am deeply sorry to inform you that¡­Peter was found by the river earlier this evening,..I-I''m so sorry..I know this was the last thing you wanted to hear¡­¡±

    A sledge hammer pounded into Marcus'' gut and knocked the wind out of him. He felt hollow; eviscerated by a sickle that left his insides strewn about in a devil-may-care, gory heap.

    ¡°¡­H-he was six¡­¡± Marcus sniffled and tried to restrain the tears poised to leak out and roll down his tired face. Diane and Evelyn couldn¡¯t make out his words, as his back was turned to them, but they could hear him about to cry.

    Evelyn thought she was going to collapse.

    ¡°Mr. Avery,..¡± Rodney wanted to cry too, but he had to convey he was someone who wouldn¡¯t let his emotions cloud his judgment. ¡°Please¡­tell Evelyn how sorry I am about this, and¡­I promise that I¡¯ll do everything I can to give all of you closure. Call me if you need anything¡­I will let you all know as soon as I have answers¡­¡±

    Marcus didn''t answer as words escaped him. What was there to say?

    Rodney knew he should wrap up his call; this conversation was a painful experience for the wolf more than it was for him. ¡°Stay strong for your family¡­¡±

    The hellish call ended. Marcus¡¯ sniffles became agonized yipps. He dropped Ronald¡¯s phone as his limbs shook.

    ¡°M-Marcus?!¡± Diane ran to him with wide strides, tears forming in her eyes. Evelyn was frozen.

    He slowly faced them; his crumpled composure weighed down by the ghastly news. Neither female ever saw him so pallid and forlorn. With strained effort, he parted his lips and spoke; his eyes squarely upon Evelyn.

    ¡°...Peter¡­¡± He gulped and looked down. ¡°was found by the river...H-he''s...gone.¡±

    An ear-piercing shriek rattled the wolves¡¯ bones as the bereaved mother keeled over.

    ¡°MY BABY! MY BABY!¡± She screamed into the clouded sky before crumbling and burying her face into the wet dirt.

    ¡°Evelyn!¡± Diane scooped the small squirrel into her arms, letting her wail and sob into her fur. Diane cried too, and Marcus held her close to himself, trying to remain as their anchor, weeping with them. No words were uttered or exchanged among them, only wails and agonized squeals of agony. Evelyn let out intermittent screams amidst her sobs; her small hands clutched Diane¡¯s fur so tightly it pinched some of her nerves, but she didn¡¯t mind. The pain of her departed grandson hurt more.

    Flashes of Peter¡¯s life reeled through her mind. She remembered bringing him into this world. She remembered that blind, helpless baby grabbing at her paw the first time. She remembered different birthdays he had, few as they were. She remembered how he buried his face into her homemade acorn cake on his second birthday and laughed gleefully as chunks of icing wound up all over his face, and how he smeared the frosting all over his dad¡¯s snout. She remembered the time he cut his foot on a protruding stick, and how he ran to her crying so she could take care of his owie. She remembered all those nights daddy would read him a bedtime story, and how he asked him every night to say a prayer for him. Every mannerism and quirk, every giggle and boo-boo, every silly word and little joke¡­

    It was all over.

    Nothing in Evelyn¡¯s life was real. The rain wasn¡¯t real. The trees weren¡¯t real. Marcus and Diane weren¡¯t real...Only darkness. Black, all-consuming misery. No light amidst the void, only suffering and horror. The goodness and levity she once enjoyed wrested from her grasp and destroyed by the endless, cold abyss.

    ¡°We just¡­we just wanted a little picnic¡­somethin¡¯ fun...''appy¡­¡± Evelyn rasped after what seemed like an hour. She didn¡¯t scream anymore, but the tears didn¡¯t stop. ¡°And no one knows where Ben is¡­I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s okay¡­I-I don¡¯t wanna lose ¡®im too¡­¡±

    Marcus ended his silence. ¡°We should visit Ronald and start looking for Ben tomorrow. God still cares for us¡­though it¡¯s easy to forget when this happens¡­.Let¡¯s be strong for each other..." A subtle air of confidence in his voice returned. "When one member of the body suffers¡­we all do. We weep, but remember that we¡¯re not forsaken¡­Darkness will not win¡­¡±

    His gaze was focused upon Evelyn, still in Diane¡¯s arms. She looked at him and found solace and stalwart resolve in his eyes. There was agony and exhaustion in his face, but defeat was nowhere to be found. He was the anchor that held the ship afloat, even when it was on the brink of becoming flotsam. She saw why her husband and his siblings spoke so well of him as a father.

    The three made the long journey back to Marcus¡¯ car; Diane carried the afflicted squirrel the whole way. The rodent still felt gutted and ground into a pulp, but at least her in-laws were strong and cared about her.

    Minuscule glints of light against the void.

    -

    Pitter-patter, pitter-patter¡­

    Ben¡¯s tiny feet scurried blindly through Evergreen''s partially-deserted streets. The drizzle moistened the cement sidewalks, but stumbling wasn¡¯t on his mind. In fact, he didn¡¯t know exactly what was on his mind anymore. Thoughts coursed through his neurons in a disorienting haze. His little brother wasn¡¯t going to wake up again...nothing made sense anymore.

    The little squirrel raced past homes and businesses. He didn¡¯t turn his gaze to them, but knew everyone was staring. Families and friends shot accusatory gestures and scorching, searing glares at him.

    Murderer.

    Killer.

    Devil.

    Fingers rapidly dialed 9-1-1. Police cars and helicopters launched from their dens to track down this vile little monster and bring justice upon him. Righteous vengeance surged through his pursuers as they brandished blood-hungry pitchforks. Destroy that child of wickedness. Let his discarded entrails festoon the streets and feral beasts of the field consume them till nothing remained. Let the citizens of Evergreen celebrate in the streets with drunken dancing and joyous shouting as Ben¡¯s decapitated head adorned the iron spire''s tip.

    His father would join the festivities. So would his mother, sister, Carla, everyone. Her family was right to move; her parents obviously perceived a bloodthirsty killer in him.

    The angels in heaven as well; they must know eliminating this putrid rodent would finally bring peace to the world.

    Ben knew he deserved the unquenchable, sulfurous fires of the lowest hell¡­but was too scared to stay behind. He wanted death¡­but dared not to stare into its slitted, yellow eyes. The familiar sight of blue and red lights, and doppler wails of screeching sirens caused the squirrel to turn and dart into the cold embrace of a darkened alley. His tail disappeared beneath a dumpster as three police cars zipped by.

    They knew.

    He resumed his escape to nowhere. He didn¡¯t know what laid beyond the city, but was assured there¡¯d be nothing that could restore reality. The only thing he would ever know from now on was his brother¡¯s death-cold stare into nothing.

    And it was all his fault.

    Everything was.

    By midnight, the drizzle was a moderate downpour. Ben absconded beyond the city¡¯s eastern border into a vast prairie. Atmospheric light gave the distant mountains a faint, ethereal outline; their seemingly diminutive height suggesting a staggering distance between them and him. Before him stretched an infinite expanse of grass, flowers, and other elements of nature awaiting spring¡¯s nurturing touch.

    Ben darted up the slippery trunk of a secluded pine and ensconced himself from the world¡¯s pointing fingers. He finally let out the despairing shriek kept caged in his lungs the past few hours.

    He curled into a tiny ball of misery and bawled against the distant thunder without restraint. No one was around to hear his screams and comfort his pulverized soul. Cold, alone, drenched. It was a fate he richly deserved. The accusations played without end through his mind, and Peter¡¯s ghostly expression peered directly into his own. His whole being wanted to deny what happened. Peter was his little brother; never meant to die. There were years and years ahead of them intended for bonding, teasing, japes, encouragement, doing things together.

    Life.

    Before now, death was just an abstraction. Ben''s young mind was not prepared to confront it. No child was ever supposed to perish. Mommy and daddy were never supposed to outlive their little ones. Mommy and daddy were never intended to witness their baby¡¯s cold, lifeless body descending into the ground.

    But it happened.

    Ben sobbed all night. The distant city lights flicked off as the insufferable night gave way to dawn, and the inclement weather ceased. Meanwhile, his frail mind presented an uncomfortable dichotomy, a conundrum he didn¡¯t know how to solve.

    He could go back to Evergreen and face the music. Those wanting his death would be there¡­but maybe his family would too? Would his parents forgive him? Would grandma and grandpa welcome him back with open arms of mercy? Would his aunts and uncle still accept him as their nephew? Perhaps. He knew they loved him¡­but would they love him after this? Even if they did¡­how could he face them now? How could he look up at his mother¡¯s face, knowing he slaughtered one of her children?

    Then his mind went to the other option¡­death. Just die. The horrid reality of Peter¡¯s untimely departure brought about by his own hands, was far too grave for the child to live with. His own death would be a welcome escape from the endless horror his life now was. It was also what he deserved, so it would serve two justified purposes.

    If only he wasn¡¯t terrified of going through with it. Once dead¡­he couldn¡¯t go back.

    He was stuck between a lifelong sentence of misery and shame, and a death sentence he was too scared to go through. Ben was paralyzed in a limbo of unrelenting suffering. Nowhere to turn for solace. Nowhere to turn for forgiveness. Nowhere to turn for understanding.

    Perhaps¡­nowhere to turn for God¡¯s love.

    The weary squirrel gazed weakly into the sky from his branch. He wanted answers, but was too fragile to ask.

    ¡°God¡­¡± His tormented mind started, but couldn¡¯t add another word. As if a perfect and righteous God cared about this monster. Killer who shed innocent blood.

    His thoughts turned briefly to yesterday. The pastor was insistent on God¡¯s forgiveness and grace, and so was his dad. Were they right? A soft caress of sunlight bathed the child¡¯s backside as he waded through his stream of consciousness, intruding in his thoughts. The warmth was unexpected, given last night¡¯s storm, but it felt nice. Ben instinctively swished his tail in reaction and turned to face the sun. It peeked from behind a slit between remnant storm clouds. He squinted as his eyes became filled with the sun¡¯s radiant glow. After his pupils became acclimated to the light, he climbed down the tree. The grass was still wet and the ground was muddy.

    Moist dirt always felt good under his feet; he¡¯d often run outside the house after a good rain just to play in it. He¡¯d scrunch it between his toes and hands, and no matter how many times his mother warned him to wash it off before coming back in, he usually forgot. He''d end up leaving muddy pawprints on the floors she just cleaned. Peter always laughed like a maniac as he chased his older brother with the same muddy feet. Feeling it again brought back happy memories, and the faintest smile appeared on his face.

    But it disappeared as quickly as it came. His life couldn¡¯t allow another second of levity. He didn¡¯t know if God was really how his father or the pastor described, and whether he should live on and slog through interminable pain, or look for a way to end his misery.

    A contrasting juxtaposition filled the sky¡¯s canvas. The eastern sun illuminated the sky with brilliant blues, pinks, and yellows. There was warmth and life as birds flitted about to start their day, songs and praises creating a sonorous morning symphony. The western sky resembled the previous night. Dark, dense clouds that stubbornly held their place, refusing to release the land beneath from its drab prison of shadows.

    Ben stood directly under the two halves.

    One side presented light and forgiveness; people who were perhaps forgiving and willing to give him another chance, even if it meant living with unending pain. The other side presented gloom and destruction¡­but an easy way out.

    He didn¡¯t know which way to go.

    Beleaguered with hunger, sadness, and exhaustion, the tiny critter couldn¡¯t keep his eyes open much longer. A small, abandoned burrow nestled by an inconspicuous rock provided a resting spot. It appeared to belong to a family of mice originally, given it was a tad snug, but was just enough to accommodate his small frame. With no energy left to wallow in his suffering, and no one around to bother him, he finally curled up and fell asleep.

    His decision could wait.

 Chapter 3 - Safe With Me

    Just after Rodney delivered the bad news.

    The black call window disappeared from the screen after Marcus ended the call. Rodney was glad he didn¡¯t have to hear the gut-wrenching cries of Peter¡¯s mother or grandmother, though that wasn¡¯t to say hearing the pain in Mr. Avery¡¯s voice was any easier. He could tell they loved Peter, having been out for who knows how long searching for him deep into the night. It grieved his heart that this was how their search ended.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t deserve this¡­but when was life ever fair?¡± He shook his head and turned his attention back to the body Peter once inhabited. It was silent, but Rodney knew it had a lot to say.

    The first step was to inspect for all visible signs of injury, and this was where Rodney had to heave his sentiments aside and treat this corpse as a case to be solved. It wasn¡¯t hard for him to see all the cuts and scrapes marring the child¡¯s battered frame, or the foot that was contorted as though someone violently twisted it like a corkscrew.

    ¡°Breathe, Rodney, he¡¯s not feeling that anymore.¡± The bat told himself. Ready to proceed, he flicked the bright table light on and dimmed the room¡¯s ceiling lights to a dark azure. Every detail on Peter¡¯s body came to life. Rodney could make out the individual hairs, spots, and blemishes on his skin. The dried blood from his manifold cuts glistened faintly and he perceived the equally numerous flecks and granules. He took note of his dampened fur as well. He wasn¡¯t sure if that was due to the river he was found by, or if the body bag he was transported in wasn¡¯t completely waterproof, and some of the rain permeated and made contact with his skin.

    Of course, these were all just cursory notes. Rodney expected the x-rays to reveal more and, if needed, an actual incision.

    ¡°I should find out the source of that water first; if it¡¯s rainwater, I gotta tell them not to use this material for the body bags anymore.¡±

    After all, a few drops was all it took to wash away potential evidence or tamper with the results of a case study. He couldn¡¯t fathom giving the boy¡¯s family a tainted account ruined by the rain. With a sterile swab, he collected a minuscule dab of water off Peter¡¯s right paw and stored it in a small, cylindrical container in order to analyze the contents at a molecular level. As he did, he hesitated briefly to note the granules that accompanied it.

    ¡°That¡­is that from the trail¡¯s dirt¡­or a rock? I¡¯ll have to verify that too¡­¡±

    A coroner couldn¡¯t afford to overlook any detail; the smallest grain of sand could harbor, for example, a trace molecule of cyanide. There didn¡¯t appear to be anything unusual about the granule except that¡­

    ¡­Maybe it came from the attacker¡¯s weapon of choice. The witness did report that the boy was murdered.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t jump to conclusions; analyze these first.¡± He shook his head.

    Of course, Rodney¡¯s lab was equipped with technology that¡¯d easily allow him to analyze these diminutive objects down to their subatomic levels. It didn¡¯t take long for him to find that the water held minuscule particles of dirt and minerals, and the granule was an ordinary speck of soil. Nothing about it divulged anything of use to the bat.

    But the water confirmed one piece of the puzzle.

    ¡°River water, like I thought. But¡­¡± He looked back at Peter¡¯s body; one tip of his wing under his chin. ¡°Why were you in the river?¡±

    He didn¡¯t know how significant the river¡¯s role in his investigation was quite yet, but that detail might play out over time. There was one larger issue that was more pressing on his mind at the moment.

    Who was the attacker?

    If the witness¡¯ report was accurate, then Rodney would expect to find the assailant¡¯s DNA on Peter¡¯s body. He studied the mangled torso once more and looked for patterns resembling prints, or darker spots indicating bruises. He knew that any bruises he found would need to be meticulously studied; contusions made ante or post mortem could make the difference between determining cause of death and whether the person seen striking Peter was really to blame.

    Then he noticed them. They were faint and moderately obscured, likely from smudging from being inside the body bag, but the shapes were there.

    Squirrel paw prints, indicated by telltale dirt patterns. They were concentrated mostly on Peter¡¯s chest, though some were found on the upper abdomen. Rodney looked over the rest of the child¡¯s supine body, but didn¡¯t see the small paw prints anywhere else. He even studied the victim¡¯s neck, knowing that strangling was the primary mode of execution by an unarmed assailant, but there was zero evidence of hands, cord-like objects, or anything squeezing his neck. No indent of any kind in sight.

    ¡°It appears all the deformities and contortions on Peter¡¯s body are centered on his foot and thoracic cavity, and there¡¯s no other physical or visible signs of violence elsewhere.¡±

    Of course, Rodney made sure to log all of his observations and thoughts, as well as photograph every marking and wound. Everything he did, even down to sampling a few drops of river water, had to be meticulously recorded and dated. If not for his bosses at the National Sheriffs Department and Bureau of Justice, then for himself

    The next step was to identify the prints on Peter¡¯s chest. Because Rodney didn¡¯t have the presence of the other squirrel, getting a read on the prints would take longer. It was far from impossible, though. He applied a special piece of tape to the most prominent smudge on Peter¡¯s chest and transferred as big a sample as he could onto it (while removing a small patch of fur in the process). Then he laid the piece of tape on a demarcated section of desk by the computer, and scanned it with the same device he used for Peter¡¯s paw. The same screens and windows popped up on the monitor, but the process was slower this time.

    ¡°At least it¡¯s picking up the prints¡­soon we¡¯ll know who else was there¡­¡±

    During the eight minutes Rodney waited for the results, he thought about what kind of monster would hurt and murder a small child like this. What level of hatred and cruelty could someone possibly harbor to pound the life out of a helpless child? Peter was young enough to be his son, and his paternal instinct thirsted for recompense. Ronald and Evelyn¡¯s hunger for justice would surely be much greater. The bat uttered nothing, but his mind raced with seething rage. The killer had to pay.

    The information lit up the LED screen with a triumphant chime, snapping Rodney out of his mental fixation. His eyes immediately poured over the information¡­and saw a name he didn¡¯t quite expect.

    Name: Benjamin Avery

    Animal: Squirrel

    Age: 8

    Date of Birth: March 18, 2004

    Place of Birth: Evergreen Community Hospital, Evergreen, AC

    Residence: Pine Trails, Inland Valley District

    Parents: Ronald Avery, Evelyn Avery

    Siblings: Peter Avery, Rachel Avery

    The data spawned a level of cognitive dissonance the bat wasn¡¯t prepared for. The facts stared him in the face like they were an ancient, enigmatic riddle spun by a sphinx guarding a royal tomb. Rodney¡¯s mouth hung open in abject shock.

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s¡­his brother!¡± He exclaimed. Then his mind recalled something Marcus told him earlier.

    ¡°...we¡¯re looking for my <u>two</u> grandsons¡­¡±

    There he was, the other grandson. The two brothers were together, and the implications of Ben¡¯s presence were dire. If the witness was accurate about her statements, then it¡¯d mean Peter was killed by his own flesh and blood.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to believe that¡­how do these two boys wind up by themselves; one perishes and the other allegedly strikes him repeatedly? And how''d Peter end up in the river? It¡¯s possible¡­but this isn¡¯t the whole story. Peter¡¯ll have to start telling me more¡­¡±

    Rodney jotted down this unseemly discovery in his log. Given the locations of Benjamin¡¯s prints, Rodney knew he should focus on Peter¡¯s thoracic cavity and look for potentially fatal damages in it. If a rib snapped off somehow, it could puncture a vital organ, like the heart or the lungs. Whether Benjamin had the strength to accomplish such a feat would be an issue to resolve later.

    For now, it was time to bring out the skeleton x-ray machine. If the child had any broken ribs, the electronic display would show Rodney every single one. Of course, a broken rib or bone itself can¡¯t kill someone, but it could be the lead he needed to find out how Peter died.

    And find out if his brother was truly the killer.

    ¡ª

    Earlier that night, at Ronald and Evelyn¡¯s house

    Cecilia successfully lulled Rachel to sleep in her own bed with a lullaby her mother made up. She used to sing it to the triplets when they were babies, and the squirrel and her sister still remembered it.

    ¡°Sleep sound my dear child

    Mommy is here

    May your dreams be mild

    With nothing to fear¡­¡±

    There were a few more stanzas, and while it wasn¡¯t the greatest poetry of all time, it did its job. Hearing Cecilia sing it to Rachel brought Claudia back to those days long past, and though it usually made her happy to hear, the words hit differently tonight.

    She and her sister had plenty to fear. Their father notified them not long ago that Ronald was in the hospital, and that he and everyone else were still looking for Benjamin and Peter. Knowing that one of them likely plunged into the river brought unbound terror to the girls.

    As soon as Cecilia watched Rachel drift to sleep and clutch her fluffy mouse plushie, she cried.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna be sick¡­¡±

    Claudia embraced her sister and cried with her, neither sibling willing to keep their anxiety bottled up any longer. They restrained it only for the sake of not wanting to alarm their niece, who expressed mostly confusion rather than concern over this dire situation. The three-year old had no concept of family members being away for this long.

    Nor the concept of never seeing a loved one again.

    ¡°Me too¡­me too¡­¡± Claudia echoed.

    A couple minutes of wordless silence passed by as the sisters comforted each other. Cecilia was the first to end it.

    ¡°Ron and his family need our prayers¡­dwelling on our fears won¡¯t help.¡±

    ¡°Right...if for anything, to put us at peace.¡± The wolf gently set her sister down. ¡°I-I¡¯ll start.¡±

    Still in Rachel¡¯s room, the sisters took turns praying. Their jumbled minds had trouble forming structure and coherence at first, but they powered through their tears and hiccups. Their weak, trembling voices found place to thank God for their family and for securing their souls in heavenly eternity, remembering that, in everything, to give thanks. They asked for their family to be strengthened by God¡¯s unbound love and grace, and that Benjamin and Peter would make it back into the loving arms of their parents safe and whole again. Part of their attention was fixed on listening for either of their phones to ring. Cecilia briefly recalled the scene in Acts twelve where God answered the prayers of those in Mary¡¯s house so quickly that when Peter announced his presence, they didn¡¯t believe it at first. Perhaps their own prayers tonight would be answered this very moment, but their situation was not the Apostle Peter¡¯s¡­and there was no guarantee the night would end well for everyone.

    The sisters remained in Rachel¡¯s room for some time; both were famished, but at the same time couldn¡¯t fathom tasting a morsel while their brother¡¯s family suffered out there in the dark. Few words were exchanged between the girls; most of the noise in that room came from the occasional, awkward grumble of their stomachs and Rachel¡¯s cadenced breathing as she slept.

    Cecilia¡¯s phone rang, shattering the quiet. The tune of ¡°Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Variation 18¡± belted out at max volume and made the sisters jump. Claudia quickly placed her paws over Rachel¡¯s ears while her sister scurried nervously to her phone.

    ¡°It¡¯s dad!¡± She announced. Finally, the tension would end and the family would all be home tonight. The last time the girls wallowed in this level of suspense over his wellbeing was when he fled for his life; they didn¡¯t find out till the next day that he survived Jack¡¯s murderous, blind rampage. It was a bittersweet moment; seeing Ronald safe again, but learning that Jack lost his own life as his wife helplessly watched. Cecilia and Claudia had been in harrowing scenarios before that all ended well. This too would turn out alright.

    Claudia listened in on the conversation as Cecilia took it into another room. Within seconds, the optimism in her voice disappeared. Claudia couldn¡¯t make out what her father was telling her sister, but he sounded distressed. She left the room to find her sister and listen to the conversation more clearly; her heart beat faster as she listened to the tone of Marcus¡¯ voice. She thought she heard Peter¡¯s name spoken and, as she stepped into the room Cecilia was in, she saw her sister scream and drop the phone with spastic hands.

    ¡°Sis!¡± Claudia quickened her steps. ¡°Wha-¡±

    ¡°Peter¡¯s dead!¡± She sobbed, her hands covering her face as she wept.

    Claudia swept her smaller sister into her arms and sobbed with her; their tears only interrupted by the occasional hiccup or yip. This was cruel and unfair in every possible way¡­they intended the day to be fun and filled with laughter and mirth.

    Yet the bell tolled indiscriminately and thunderously for those whom the reaper¡¯s sickle thirsted. It didn¡¯t care that Peter was an innocent child. It didn¡¯t care that the Averys loved each other and wanted to spend a pleasant, sun-filled day together. It didn¡¯t care one iota about the pain and grief it caused. Its sole occupation was death. It unilaterally stamped the period over Peter¡¯s short life; not a single ¡°nay¡± could come to his defense.

    The sisters felt lost; they didn¡¯t even get to say goodbye to their nephew. He was ripped out of their lives without warning and they could barely imagine how much pain his parents were in. Plus, what would they do if Rachel woke up right now and asked about her family? Lying was out of the question, but the truth would leave a permanent sting.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­but Peter is dead¡­you¡¯re not going to see him again.¡±

    Cecilia knew there were more euphemistic ways to say it, but even the gentlest answer would hurt. To the sisters¡¯ relief, the first thing Rachel said to them when she woke up half an hour later was, ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    Good. Food would keep her occupied for a little while. Claudia, being a performer, instinctively forced a smile onto her face as her niece walked in and made her request.

    ¡°Rachel!¡± The wolf stood up and walked casually to her. ¡°You¡¯re hungry? Here, let¡¯s go fix you something reeeeeal nice, okay?¡±

    She picked the tiny squirrel up with her mouth and made her way to the kitchen.

    ¡°Is mommy and daddy home?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Soon!¡± Cecilia blurted out without thinking. Thankfully, that pacified the child¡¯s inquiry¡­for now. It wouldn¡¯t be long until she asked about her brothers. She hated that she gave her niece false information, but her frantic mind couldn¡¯t come up with something more honest.

    Claudia fought against the crippling agony in her heart to keep her assuring ¡°auntie¡± smile on for Rachel. Her actions weren¡¯t as well-performed as she mindlessly moved boxes and jars around in the pantry and didn¡¯t focus on any of the labels.

    ¡°I want that!¡± Rachel scurried past her aunt and climbed up to one of the higher shelves. She grabbed a small, single-serving carton of ¡°Morrison¡¯s Famous Mac ¡®n Cheese.¡± Not only was it delicious and extra cheesy, but it had a picture of a happy cartoon cow on the front.

    ¡°You want that, sweetie?¡± Claudia took it from her, keeping the smile on her muzzle.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Her face beamed and little tail swished excitedly.

    ¡°Sounds good! Just sit tight, young lady, and I¡¯ll make the best mac ¡®n cheese you¡¯ve ever tasted! You¡¯ll have to start calling it AUNT CLAUDIA¡¯S Famous Mac ¡®n Cheese!¡± The aunt exclaimed with a tone so contrived that Rachel laughed. The wolf beheld how happy and carefree her niece was over the most trivial things. Her little world was in the here-and-now. There was no hurt beyond owies and booboos that mommy could kiss and make disappear. It was a world where her family was always there; a world where death wasn¡¯t a concept. It didn¡¯t exist. Mommy and daddy were always there to take care of her and love her and her brothers were always there to play silly games and share secrets with. It was a world that, in this moment, Claudia wanted to escape to.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Rachel asked; the child¡¯s voice snapping the wolf back into reality. She didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d spent a whole minute just staring into space.

    ¡°Y-yes, of course! Now come on, uh, go have a seat, okay?¡±

    Rachel clambered down the shelves and to her usual seat at the table. Claudia angled the box so she could read the tiny directions under the light, but her eyes glazed over. She read the required ingredients eight times through before realizing she needed to move on to the directions. Her distracted gaze shifted briefly back to Rachel, still happy and excited for the cheesy meal she couldn¡¯t wait to plunge into. She noticed the square, wooden table¡¯s layout.

    Five chairs.

    For a family of four.

    Claudia had been here a few times before to eat with her brother and his family. Rachel always sat between Peter and her father. She recalled one moment when Peter tried to help his sister, then two, get her own food into her mouth with a spoon without making a mess. Her motor skills weren¡¯t all there yet, but her brother helped her patiently. It was innocuous and mundane, but Claudia thought it was sweet.

    ¡°What a precious boy you were¡­th-this isn¡¯t fair¡­we¡­we all loved you so much¡­¡±

    Claudia set the box on the counter and started to cry, not caring about hiding it from Rachel. The child bounded over to her to ask what was wrong, but the bigger canine scooped the small rodent into her arms before she could say anything.

    ¡°I love you, Rachel¡­I love all of you¡­¡±

    The child didn¡¯t know why she said that, but she reciprocated the sentiment. Red flags slowly propped up in her young mind, and it wouldn¡¯t be long before the reality of death would make an unwelcome crash into her world.

    And Claudia was mortified at the thought of being the one to defile her niece¡¯s world with it.

    While Rachel enjoyed her cheesy supper in ignorant bliss, Cecilia found herself mindlessly meandering through various rooms. She was exhausted, but couldn¡¯t sleep; she was starving, but didn¡¯t want to eat. She wandered into Ben¡¯s room; his door being left partially open.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re okay, Ben¡­¡± she prayed silently.

    Ben¡¯s room looked well-maintained, despite him being a little boy. His small bed was made and his little bookshelf was tidy and orderly aside from <u>How Wally Saved the Bronco Times</u> and <u>The Secret of Swamp Sewer!</u> lying haphazardly atop another row of books. His games and toys were stowed away neatly under his bed and in his toy chest¡­except for a single rogue crayon lying indolent in the middle of the floor.

    ¡°Forgot one! I¡¯ll get that for you.¡±

    Cecilia stooped to pick up the red crayon when she noticed something unusual. The gap between the wooden planks the crayon was near was a little wider than the others¡­and the squirrel thought she saw something under it. She stooped lower; her right eye nearly meeting the floor.

    ¡°Is that¡­paper¡­and more crayons?¡±

    If this was a little vault Ben wanted to keep secret, Cecilia knew she should walk away. But, as it was with people confronted with the covert and clandestine, she quickly justified a solid reason for opening the plank.

    ¡°...He won''t mind; I¡¯m his aunt after all!¡±

    She nudged the plank slightly to give her hands enough leverage. After finding her grip, she easily lifted and slid the plank to the side. The vault was small, its opening four by eight inches wide, and six inches deep. She was right about what she saw; paper, crayons, pencils, and erasers.

    ¡°You draw? Why are you hiding this?! I¡¯m sure your parents would love to see it!¡± She proceeded to take the piece of paper out. ¡°I¡¯m sure it looks beautif-¡±

    She stopped mid-thought as she beheld her nephew¡¯s drawing. Never had a piece of art left her this speechless.

    -

    Marcus, Evelyn, and Diane stood together in the hospital¡¯s elevator as it ascended to the third floor. The friendly doe receptionist told them that was where Ronald was recuperating from his surgery. Marcus and Diane muttered a ¡®thank you,¡¯ but Evelyn remained silent. Her mind was occupied with the thought that her husband was about to have his world crushed.

    In the elevator, Marcus laid his paw comfortingly over Evelyn¡¯s.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him.¡± Was all he said to her. She simply nodded without looking up at him.

    The steel doors slid open at the third floor, revealing a clean, white-tiled hallway lined with various numbered rooms. Evelyn had been up here three separate times; one for each time she recovered from bringing her children into the world. The memories brought her to a happy, but fleeting place. It was here she¡¯d entertain thoughts of what it was going to be like to be a mother; even upon giving birth to her second and third children, those thoughts began afresh. Her children were special in their own ways, and she couldn¡¯t wait to nurture and teach them about how to live out their journeys through this world. Being a mom gave her immense joy.

    She was still in denial that Peter¡¯s journey was over. Her world may not ever make sense again.

    Marcus led the others in silence towards Ronald¡¯s room. He hoped his son was awake and alert; it was better to get the horrible news out now than wait. As they got closer, they heard his voice, as well as another that was gruff. Marcus guessed it belonged to a larger feline or canine.

    ¡°Sorry I was being a jackass.¡± The deeper voice declared loudly enough for the adjacent rooms to hear and likely wake up sleeping patients.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ronald uttered. The two heard footsteps enter their room.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Ronald?¡± The bedridden squirrel heard his father and his ears perked up. There were two beds concealed behind curtains, and Marcus didn¡¯t want to open the wrong one.

    ¡°Over here!¡±

    Faster than one could blink, his wife darted in and leapt upon him with a tearful hug. He returned it, though it made his right arm hurt thanks to the IV in it.

    ¡°Ronny!¡± She nearly suffocated him with her embrace and Marcus had to pull her away slightly.

    ¡°Evelyn, mom, dad¡­¡± Ronald smiled, but only briefly. ¡°You don¡¯t know¡­you don¡¯t know how glad I am to see you again. I-The nurse told me I had surgery on my foot because it was fractured¡­They found me by the river and helped me¡­I don¡¯t remember what it was like being in the river very much, but¡­I¡¯m just happy to be alive.¡±

    ¡°I am too.¡± Evelyn offered a weak smile. She opened her mouth again as if to say more, but decided to remain reticent.

    Ronald was about to ask if everything was okay when his father let out a pained sigh. The wolf¡¯s ears drooped and he sniffled. Whatever he had to say, it was not going to be pleasant.

    ¡°Son,¡± Marcus took a few steps toward him, putting his assuring paw gently on his shoulder. Diane and Evelyn slowly started to cry again; Evelyn leaving the curtained area because she couldn¡¯t bear to hear it again.

    ¡°Dad¡­what¡¯s going on?¡± He looked into his face and saw a morose and beleaguered expression, it was enough to inch his blood pressure upwards.

    Marcus hesitated for several seconds in uncomfortable silence before opening his mouth to speak. His eyes shifted away from Ronald¡¯s, and with a grave whisper, intoned, ¡°Peter was found dead by the river¡­I am sorry¡­¡±

    Diane left the bed to console Evelyn, who shattered into tears yet again. Meanwhile, dead silence filled the air around Ronald. His ears nor any of his other senses registered anything. The bereaved father stared blankly at nothing. His mouth hung agape and his limbs trembled.

    ¡°No, no¡­not my son¡­I-I tried to save him¡­¡± His voice trailed off and his whole body started to shake, almost resembling a convulsion. He released a sudden, agonized yelp, as though a javelin thrust him through. Tears and sobs erupted from the stricken squirrel as he buried his face into the pillow.

    To his credit, Marcus kept himself together despite being the messenger of bad news. He still had to call Xavier and Janet, whom he assumed were still looking for their nephews. It was a soul-sucking venture, but better he did it than Evelyn or Diane.

    Speaking of which, the two women came back through the bedside curtain. Evelyn leapt up to Ronald¡¯s side so he wouldn¡¯t have to suffer without her. They gripped each other¡¯s paws and didn¡¯t let go.

    ¡°Going to call Xavier and Janet.¡± Marcus sighed and left the curtained area. Diane nodded and whispered to him.

    ¡°Thanks for being strong.¡± She nuzzled his neck lightly.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying¡­¡± He uttered and shook his head.

    He found a quiet spot in the hallway and tapped Xavier¡¯s name in his ¡®contacts¡¯ list. His son picked up after several elongated seconds.

    ¡°Hey dad.¡± Xavier answered with a hopeless voice.

    ¡°Hey. Uh, is Janet with you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. We can¡¯t find them¡­We¡¯re getting scared. We, uh, lost Ben¡¯s scent¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m with your mom, Evelyn, and Ronald right now at Evergreen Community. Ronald had surgery and is recovering right now, but the three of us can join you.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°Are you close to the hospital?¡±

    ¡°No, but we can call for a cab down there if you think we should turn in for the night.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a better idea; we¡¯re all tired and we¡¯ll function better after some sleep. Meet us here and we¡¯ll find a motel or something nearby.¡±

    Xavier and Janet met up with the others in Ronald¡¯s room a half-hour later; the two were dirty and weary, like two field workers who¡¯d spent all day in the hot sun. They were about to ask how everyone was until they noticed how dejected and forlorn they looked.

    ¡°Xavier, Janet, come with me.¡± Their father instructed with a subdued tone and led them into the hallway. The younger wolves looked their father in the eyes, as was their habit when they knew he had serious news for them. Given today¡¯s circumstances, they feared the worst.

    For the fourth time that night, the older gray wolf brought the sledge hammer down on his family. It was the fourth time that night he brought someone to tears and ripped their heart out. It was the fourth time, but the last hurt Marcus as much as the first. Janet was the first to crumble into tears; her brother held her, letting her cry into his fur. Their father held them both as Xavier followed his sister¡¯s suit.

    However, only a minute passed before Marcus¡¯ phone rang.

    Rodney again.

    Marcus groaned. He wanted to sleep and put all this misery behind him. He hated that every other sentence out of his mouth the past few hours had been about death, and just when he thought he was finally getting a break¡­here was the coroner¡­again. He wasn¡¯t mad at Rodney, but then again, he sort of was.

    He found a quieter corner of the hallway and slid his paw across the screen to answer rather than smash his phone in a frustrated paroxysm. He reminded himself that Mr. Beltran was just doing his job and keeping his promise.

    ¡°Hello.¡± He uttered painfully. ¡°...Marcus speaking.¡±

    ¡°Hi¡­I apologize for calling so late, but I have an important update on my research. Are you still with your wife and Evelyn?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­and Ronald is here too.¡±

    ¡°Any word on Benjamin?¡±

    ¡°...No¡­¡± Marcus groaned.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure if this information will help you or law enforcement pinpoint his location, but I can tell you with certainty that Ben was with Peter before, at, or shortly after his passing. I¡¯ve already let the police know.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Marcus almost dropped the phone. ¡°Tell me more. How do you know this?!¡±

    ¡°I identified his pawprints on Peter¡¯s body; they were mostly concentrated on his chest, and couldn¡¯t have been more than a couple hours old. Other prints from his parents and loved ones were present, as expected, but were considerably weaker and didn¡¯t match the fresh dirt patterns on his fur, like Ben¡¯s did.¡±

    ¡°Are you insinuating-?¡± Marcus bared teeth slightly.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not saying that at all.¡± Rodney calmly defended, knowing the bereaved grandfather would say that. ¡°All I know is that Ben made physical contact with Peter more recently than anyone else in the family. I¡¯m not accusing anyone or anything; I¡¯m saying this means Ben can¡¯t be that far from the scene, and he might be able to help us understand what happened.¡±

    Rodney knew the hare was the main witness to the event, but didn¡¯t want to cause the Avery¡¯s anxiety over the fact that the lone witness thought Ben murdered his brother. For now, she wasn¡¯t relevant to them.

    And he hoped she¡¯d never be.

    ¡°Sorry I jumped down your throat.¡± Marcus ceded. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­I¡¯ve been on edge all night; you understand¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright; I only called about this because I thought it¡¯d be a relief to hear your grandson may be close by.¡±

    It was a relief, though a small one. The Avery¡¯s already enlisted the help of police earlier that day to help them find Benjamin and Peter. One search ended horribly while Ben somehow eluded their search efforts. Why was it taking so long? Was his grandson hiding? Was he lost?

    Was he dead?

    ¡°We¡¯re spending all of tomorrow looking for him too.¡± Marcus failed to suppress a yawn. ¡°I appreciate what you¡¯re doing, sir.¡±

    ¡°You should get some sleep. If you want to initiate your own search, I¡¯d suggest going down to the police station in the morning and finding out where Peter was found. That¡¯d be your best starting point.¡±

    Would the police be open to the Avery¡¯s conducting their own search? Bad memories of Detective Kite came to mind; how that inept chipmunk told him not to look for the triplets because ¡®they¡¯d undermine the investigation.¡¯ Marcus wasn¡¯t in the mood for a reenactment; hopefully the Evergreen police would be more sensible and agreeable to letting four wolves track down their family¡¯s scent.

    After midnight, Marcus booked a couple rooms for himself, Diane, Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn at a nearby Sunrise Inn so they could get some much-needed slumber and start fresh the next day. Evelyn and the siblings shared a room, and Marcus and Diane occupied another. Once Marcus was in his room, he tried calling Claudia to ask how she, Cecilia, and Rachel were holding up, but no one answered.

    ¡°Probably asleep. I¡¯ll send them a text¡­¡±

    Marcus texted his daughters about the family¡¯s plans to look for Ben tomorrow and to keep their nephew in their prayers. He silenced his phone, set an alarm for six, and drowsily plopped the device screen-down on the balsa-wood table beside the bed. He rolled over to face Diane, who sleepily nuzzled his neck and nestled her head against his chest. He gave her a light kiss on the forehead and fell asleep.

    -

    Ben watched helplessly as Peter¡¯s body laid inside an ornate, blackwood coffin and lowered into a bottomless pit.

    ¡°Peter!¡± The boy cried and yanked on the cables lowering his little brother further and further into the ground.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡± A dark-suited Ronald coldly intoned, peering at his son with a dead stare. ¡°You did this to him.¡±

    A black-veiled Evelyn appeared beside Ronald and glared at Benjamin with eyes red from exhaustion and anger. ¡°You always hated ''im¡­you killed my baby on purpose¡­¡±

    Benjamin took a step back. ¡°W-wait! It¡¯s not-!¡±

    A faceless, formless gray figure appeared beside Evelyn. Benjamin couldn¡¯t make it out, but its words were all too familiar.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit!¡± It barked. ¡°This is YOUR fault! You ruin EVERYTHING!¡±

    Blind terror gripped Benjamin¡¯s heart, but he couldn¡¯t move. Chains from the ground held him paralyzed. A long, cold arm extended from the gray figure, resembling a nameless specter seeking to imprison souls with insurmountable dread. It seized the helpless child and pulled him mere inches from its face. The young squirrel thought he saw thin, yellow ovals inside the gray form and black slits boring into his eyes.

    ¡°You will be found¡­¡± A raspy, guttural voice oozed out like black sludge from an old, plague-infested sewer. ¡°The maggots in the lowest hell will feast on your organs¡­¡±

    ¡°Please¡­no¡­¡± Ben weakly wriggled and squirmed, but the monster¡¯s grip was taut.

    ¡°They¡¯ve already begun.¡± The form cackled. Ben¡¯s gaze shot down and he saw tiny, wormlike abominations slithering up his legs. As they moved upward, his skin disappeared, exposing bone and pieces of viscera. He screamed in protest, but the gray form only laughed, exposing black, sludge-caked molars tattered with chunks of flesh and fur.

    ¡°END HIM!¡± It roared as the maggots consumed the little squirrel. A small skeleton was all that remained when they filled themselves, and a disembodied Ben watched as the form crushed his bones into a powder with a blow from its fist. Poor Benjamin cried and pleaded for forgiveness and restoration¡­but all backs turned to him.

    -

    ¡°Hey, you there!¡± The backside of a giant paw nudged Ben¡¯s rump. ¡°What¡¯cha doing in there? Everythin¡¯ alright?¡±

    The squirrel¡¯s eyes shot open. He was back in the mouse burrow and sweating bullets. Was someone trying to yank him out? He realized his tail wasn¡¯t fully tucked under his body, and feared that whoever was outside was trying to extract him.

    ¡°AAAH!¡± Ben protested as he felt a paw grasp the base of his tail firmly and slowly pull him out. ¡°Stop it!¡±

    The larger creature ignored him as he lifted the helpless squirrel higher and higher. He adjusted his grip so he could hold the squirrel normally rather than let him dangle uncomfortably by his tail.

    ¡°You poor fella¡¯, you¡¯re all dirty!¡± The larger creature turned Ben around so he could get a good look at his face and overall condition. The squirrel came face-to-face with a seven-foot tall grizzly bear. He had a towering and sturdy frame, a strong, rounded jaw, and an iron-like grip perfect for dragging horrible little rodents to jail. He wore a wide straw hat and glasses and carried gear of some kind on his back. His skin sagged a little in places, causing Ben to take him as an older person, probably around Marcus¡¯ age. He had a slightly gaunt figure for an ursine form, but was hardly decrepit. He looked like he took care of himself.

    ¡°AAAAHHHH!¡± The squirrel wailed and flung his tiny arms; maybe he¡¯d land the perfect punch and take out the giant bear.

    ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s okay.¡± The giant brown stranger spoke soothingly and held a pacifying paw to the child¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna hurt ya.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Ben stopped struggling, but his little heart still pounded a mile a minute. The shadow cast by the hat¡¯s brim over the bear¡¯s eyes made his expression difficult to read, but the bear didn¡¯t seem to be a person of ill-intent. He cradled Ben like one would a frightened animal and his initial onset of terror was replaced by confused relief. Perhaps this was a nice bear.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Bill, and I saw ya as I was walkin¡¯ to my favorite fishin¡¯ spot. Only squirrels I see out here are ferals, so I knew somethin¡¯ was up when I saw you in that hole. What¡¯s a little kid like you doin¡¯ way out here all alone? Where¡¯re your folks at?¡±

    ¡°I, uh, uhhhh¡­..uh,¡± Ben stammered as the bear waited patiently for an answer. ¡°I, uh, I¡­I got lost, and, uh¡­you see, we were going camping, and, well, uh¡­I got separated from them.¡±

    Bill furrowed his brow. ¡°Ya hidin'' somethin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Wh-what?! N-no! It¡¯s the honest truth! I s-swear! Cherry on top!¡±

    This was it. Bill must¡¯ve been an undercover cop from Evergreen and was here to drag Ben back to the city and accuse him in the sight of the whole town. The evidence would be laid against him and the townspeople would stone him to death.

    Bill didn¡¯t say anything at first as he studied Ben¡¯s expression and body language. The frightened squirrel gazed back up at him with terror and timidity in his eyes, but made no attempt to flee. Something else was afoot in the rodent¡¯s life, and the elderly bear couldn¡¯t drop it.

    ¡°How ¡®bout I help you find them?¡±

    Ben gasped and his eyes darted frantically; the last people he wanted to confront were his parents. How could he stand before those whose precious child he murdered? His heart raced.

    ¡°No wait!¡± Ben nearly screamed. ¡°I-I was lying!¡±

    Bill waited.

    ¡°You see¡­I-I¡­I don¡¯t have parents or, uh, a family at all! I-I¡¯m actually running away from, uh¡­oh yeah, the orphan place! I hate it there, uh¡­they hit us every day and don¡¯t let us eat, uh, s-somet-times!¡±

    Bill nodded. ¡°Oh dear¡­let me guess, is it the one on Townsend Road, in Evergreen? The one with the blue roof and colorful awnings?¡±

    Ben didn¡¯t know what an awning was, but he nodded. ¡°Yeah, that one!¡±

    Bill nodded again and exhaled a pensive sigh. No such place existed because there was no Townsend Road in Evergreen. It was also telling that Ben¡¯s body bore no bruise markings; strange for an ¡°orphan who got hit everyday.¡±

    ¡°You poor, poor thing.¡± Bill clicked his tongue and shook his head. ¡°...How ¡®bout¡­you hang out with me for a while and I¡¯ll take care of ya? I got food and everythin¡¯; I can share.¡±

    Bill gave Ben a reassuring smile. Could the vulnerable squirrel trust him? The bear seemed to believe his story; an undercover cop would¡¯ve blown his alibi to smithereens. Perhaps the grizzly was genuine and wanted to help the child, and it¡¯d be nice to confide in someone who didn¡¯t know about his transgressions. The small rodent nodded and accepted his invitation.

    Perhaps Bill would help him figure out what to do.

    ¡°Thank you, uh, sir.¡± Ben said.

    ¡°Just happy I could help¡­son.¡± Bill gave the little squirrel a playful nudge with his paw, like how a grandpa might play with his grandson. Ben let a smile make an appearance on his face for once and climbed up onto Bill¡¯s shoulder. He couldn¡¯t explain it, but he had a gut feeling that Bill, being much older and wiser than him, would know how to help him. Was it because his own dad was helped by a stranger when he was Ben¡¯s age? Perhaps Bill would be to Ben what Marcus was to his dad.

    A solution.

    ¡°Like fishin?¡± Bill asked.

    ¡°My grand-¡± Ben was about to mention his grandpa when he covered his mouth with his paws. ¡°I mean, my grand¡­friend liked fishing! I¡¯m no good at it though.¡±

    ¡°A grand friend, you say?¡± Bill chuckled. ¡°I like the sound of that. Did he live in the orphanage too?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­yeah, he did. I-I¡¯m gonna miss him.¡±

    ¡°He run away too?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, uh, a lot of us did. He went a different way than me.¡±

    ¡°Aw, sorry to hear that, son. Perhaps I can be your grand friend? We¡¯ll go fishin¡¯ together; I¡¯ll even teach ya.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure!¡± Ben couldn¡¯t say no to distraction.

    -

    Bill¡¯s fishing spot was just a mile to the east. Ben remained reticent; his brother¡¯s demise continued to gnaw and tear at his insides. He put on a peaceful front but wanted to crumble to pieces and melt into the ground. Away from people, away from guilt, away from a wounded life that promised a perpetually hopeless existence.

    ¡°Somethin¡¯ troublin¡¯ you?¡± Bill asked as the sparkling stream came into view.

    ¡°Y¡­no¡­.I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°You can talk to me, son; I won¡¯t judge.¡±

    The older ursine set his gear down when they reached the stream. The mere sight of flowing water made Ben tear up and whimper; Bill felt his tiny hands grip his fur tighter.

    ¡°Ben?¡± Bill turned his head and faced him.

    ¡°Uh¡­.¡± Ben stammered. ¡°I, uh, I¡­I¡¯m soooo bad at fishing. I¡¯ll be embarrassed¡­¡±

    Bill chuckled. ¡°Come on, you think I¡¯m gonna punish you or something for missin¡¯ a fish? Who cares? I miss them suckers all the time!¡±

    The bear carefully opened his bag and took out a tackle box that appeared to be brand new. Ben¡¯s curiosity was piqued, as is the case when an unusual box is opened in the vicinity of a small child. Nothing in the box looked familiar, but he assumed it was stuff meant to help Bill catch fish.

    ¡°What¡¯s that hook thing?¡± Ben pointed.

    Bill extracted the item. ¡°It¡¯s a hook; it keeps the fish from swimmin'' away once it gets trapped. It gets stuck on it, then I reel it in.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Ben nodded.

    Ben watched Bill assemble his fishing rod and line; he asked intermittent questions in the process but didn¡¯t focus on anything he said. The gentle stream roared in his ears as it swept his brother and father away.

    ¡°Ben?¡± The bear nudged the stricken squirrel from his stream of consciousness and looked on him with fatherly concern. ¡°Are you cryin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°N-no!¡± Ben brushed the water from his eyes and mucus from his snout. ¡°I-I¡¯m fine¡­¡±

    Bill let out a pensive grunt. ¡°How ¡®bout¡­I¡¯ll catch a fish, and then I¡¯ll let you try. I¡¯ll guide you and everything, but you gotta pay attention.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try¡­¡±

    Bill let his line down beneath the stream¡¯s supple surface with a gentle plop. He fixed his attention on the stream for unsuspecting catfish, perch, trout, and whatever other kinds of fish a bear could ever want. For a moment, Ben¡¯s addled mind was drawn to the sprinkles of afternoon sun that glittered in the water. They danced in cadence with the rhythm of the river. It was a movement that paid no heed to anyone¡¯s woes and tribulations; it journeyed the course determined for it since creation and never deviated. Timeless, never-ending, and dependable.

    Ben¡¯s mind was then drawn to his own Creator. Timeless, eternal, trustworthy¡­

    Words he once heard his pastor say marched into his mind like a battering ram intent on tearing down Satan¡¯s strongholds.

    ¡°Faithful¡­merciful¡­forgiving¡­raising the dead¡­¡±

    The thought of Peter alive again soothed the little squirrel¡¯s mind for a second, turning the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly.

    ¡°Nuts! Almost had it!¡± Bill exclaimed, throwing a boulder into Ben¡¯s stream of thought and damming it.

    ¡°H-huh?! I-I¡¯m sorry!¡± Ben snapped his head toward the bear and apologized by instinct. He was sure Bill¡¯s outburst had to do with the squirrel¡¯s worthless existence.

    ¡°Almost got that pike; stupid lil¡¯ bugger¡­What¡¯re you sorry for?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Ben stuttered. ¡°I thought I d-did something bad¡­¡± He hung his head. ¡°Maybe I scared the fish away¡­I-I always mess things up. Everything¡¯s my fault¡­¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes started to cloud with moisture and Bill set his rod down. ¡°Where on earth did¡¯ya hear such a crazy thing?¡±

    He didn¡¯t have an answer to that, but his mind plastered the familiar gray form in his conscience. It towered over him and pointed without end; accusation dripping from its finger like toxic bile.

    ¡°You STUPID little shit!¡±

    The next image in his mind was his little brother. Lifeless, cold, staring into nothing. His fists pounded relentlessly onto his chest until he struck the fatal blow.

    ¡°I killed him¡­It¡¯s all my fault¡­¡±

    Ben¡¯s tirade of thoughts that ground him to powder the previous night returned. Bill dropped his fishing rod as the tiny squirrel broke down and screamed in agony.

    ¡°I KILLED HIM!¡± He crumbled into a scraggly heap of brown on the river bank. He took in a mouthful of dirt and grass, but didn¡¯t care. The ground could¡¯ve opened up and swallowed him for all he cared. ¡°I KILLED MY BROTHER!¡±

    The grizzly beheld the hapless rodent; the small thing heaving and coughing as his tears soaked the ground. He gently scooped the kid into his arms and let him cry onto his chest.

    Bill wasn¡¯t surprised by any of this.

    ¡°Stop, STOP!¡± Bill urged, but Ben wept sore.

    ¡°I did too!¡± Ben wailed. ¡°I h-hit him over and over a-and he died! It¡¯s ALL my fault!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°But I DID! I-I tried to save him! H-he was drowned, and, and¡­I tried to get all the water o-out, but¡­but i-it didn¡¯t work! I...wanted to wake him up¡­I didn¡¯t wanna kill him¡­I-I¡¯m¡­¡­so evil¡­¡±

    Ben¡¯s voice was partially muffled by Bill¡¯s fur, along with his own hacking, coughing, and tears. Bill¡¯s mind raced as he cradled the gutted child in his paws. His leisurely day of fishing and mirth was interrupted by a little boy who killed his own brother.

    ¡°Ben¡­¡± The bear dolefully uttered. ¡°I¡­I¡¯m so sorry. I had no idea-¡±

    ¡°I should die a billion times! I¡¯m EVIL and STUPID and BAD!¡±

    ¡°Stop! For the love of God, stop!¡± Bill held him firmly before his face and spoke to him sternly, which made Ben quiet down immediately. ¡°Look¡­how ¡®bout¡­we go to my house and talk about this. You need help and I can give it to you. You just¡­need to calm down and think¡­¡±

    The caring expression from the bear struck a familiar chord in Ben¡¯s heart. He was sure he¡¯d never seen Bill before today¡­yet he felt like he did. All he knew was that he should trust this bear.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you sort your mess, son. I¡¯ve helped people before¡­they had troubles, like you; folks at the end of their rope only wantin¡¯ peace and answers. I know I can help ya¡­¡± Bill focused his eyes intently into Ben¡¯s.

    ¡°...but you¡¯ll have to trust me.¡±

    Ben surveyed his surroundings. All around him were endless fields, groves, rolling hills, and forest-laden mountains in the distance. In this great, green expanse¡­he saw no one else but Bill. No one else to offer help, no one else to offer solace, no one else to offer hope and forgiveness.

    Not even his family was around.

    Were they even looking for him? A portion of his family were wolves, and somehow not one of them tracked him down yet. Maybe their noses weren¡¯t working, or they hated him and didn¡¯t care enough to look for him. It was obviously the latter.

    ¡°Good riddance,¡± he pictured his grandfather with a dour expression and spitting on the ground in disgust, ¡°don¡¯t have to see that horrible grandson of mine anymore.¡±

    A thought crossed Ben¡¯s mind that he¡¯d also likely disappoint Bill in a matter of time, as it was his manner to disappoint everyone he ever met. However, the bear didn¡¯t seem to hate him yet, so the squirrel viewed him as his only option.

    ¡°I¡­I¡­I trust you.¡± Ben admitted pitifully. ¡°I really hope you can help me¡­¡±

    Bill rubbed one of his fingers lightly under Ben¡¯s reddened eyes to wipe the remnant moisture away. ¡°I will, son, I will.¡± He smiled.

    The bear cut his fishing short, but didn¡¯t mind. He wasn¡¯t having as much luck with the fish as he¡¯d like and his mind was too fixated on Ben to concentrate on anything else. He packed up his gear and let the frazzled little squirrel climb onto his head so he could hide under his straw hat (can¡¯t let the police spot him and take him away).

    ¡°Comfortable up there?¡± The grizzly asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ben uttered. Minuscule slivers of late afternoon sun permeated the hat, allowing the squirrel sufficient darkness while enabling him to peek outside.

    ¡°Welp, let¡¯s go then. It¡¯s five miles to my house, so sit tight.¡±

    -

    A light drizzle speckled the land as Bill entered Evergreen city limits. Not many people were out; those that were were running errands, leaving work, or simply milling about. A few said hi to Bill as they passed by and he said hi and smiled back.

    No one was aware of the napping squirrel on top of his head.

    He turned onto his own street as the sun was setting. The 300 block of Donovan Street was a cozy, upper middle-class neighborhood. It was also a cul-de-sac; Bill¡¯s house being towards the end of it. He waved hi to a red panda father teaching his little kid to ride a bike and Mrs. Jackson, a dingo in the middle of unloading groceries from her trunk. He greeted her with a with a cordial ¡°How do you do?¡± Most families were inside as moms and dads were setting dinner or urging their stubborn kids to finish their homework. It was encroaching on Sunday evening after all.

    Halfway down his street, the bear spotted a piece of paper with a photo on it taped with multiple pieces of tape to one of the light poles. He deviated from his path to get a better look at it. Meanwhile, Ben¡¯s eyes slowly opened as his nap ended.

    ¡°Bill?¡± He yawned.

    ¡°Shh¡­¡± The bear shushed him. ¡°Want the cops to find ya?¡±

    Ben laid low. Had a police officer been nearby, he would¡¯ve surely outed himself with his careless, brazen outburst. He wasn¡¯t able to see much outside because it was getting dark, but could tell this was a neighborhood.

    ¡°There¡¯s more houses here than at home. Where are we?¡±

    Out of one slit, he noticed the paper as well. He couldn¡¯t see the photo, but he noticed the word printed in bold and all-caps above it.

    ¡°MI-M-MISSING,¡± He read, ¡°MISSING..PER-?¡±

    Ben adjusted his position to try to see more of the paper, but Bill¡¯s paw blocked it from view¡­

    ¡­before tearing it off, crumpling it, and stuffing it into his bag.

    -

    Ben¡¯s vision remained obscured as Bill walked to his cedar front door. The outside light he left on illuminated the porch with a bright, warm yellow. Slivers of light found their way through the straw hat, tempting Ben to leap out and finally discover where he was.

    ¡°Coast is clear, son.¡± Bill announced after he unlocked and opened the door. He took his hat off and hung it up on the rack. Ben didn¡¯t jump off right away, taking in his new environment.

    ¡°Whoa¡­¡± Ben¡¯s eyes bulged at the spacious and affluent display; at least it was opulent compared to his own house. The foyer was nearly the size of his own room. The room to the right was the dining room. The floor was made from cocobolo wood; it was reddish-brown and had irregular patterns that swept across the span of the room, a novel and curious thing to the squirrel. The table seemed large enough to recreate The Last Supper, and an exotic plant Ben didn¡¯t recognize occupied its center. His observations would¡¯ve continued had his empty stomach not noisily demanded food.

    The last time he ate was when his mom prepared pancakes and hash for breakfast yesterday. Almost thirty-six hours ago.

    ¡°Take a seat at the table and I¡¯ll make ya something.¡± Bill realized he forgot to give the child food from his snack box earlier. ¡°What do ya like?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­I guess¡­anything''s fine, thanks¡­¡±

    As famished as he was, Ben knew he didn¡¯t deserve to eat and sustain himself anymore. Perhaps Bill would be charitable and cram the food down his throat.

    ¡°How''d you like¡­¡± The bear racked his brain for a few seconds. ¡°Morrison¡¯s Famous Mac ¡®n Cheese? Don¡¯t eat it myself, but the grandkids love it.¡±

    Ben instinctively drooled when he mentioned it¡­then he moaned sadly. It reminded him of when his mother would prepare it with extra cheese and added herbs and seasonings for him and his siblings. He remembered the last time they ate it, half of Peter¡¯s helping wound up on his face like make-up in an attempt to induce a giggle siege on Rachel and irritate mom. Rachel thought it was the funniest thing (though not more than the whoopie cushion) but Evelyn wasn¡¯t happy she had to clean the mess. It was hard removing sticky cheese from fur.

    He couldn¡¯t accept that Peter wasn¡¯t around to do that anymore¡­he loved making everyone laugh.

    Including his depressed brother.

    ¡°Sure¡­I¡¯ll have some, thanks¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound thrilled about it.¡± Bill chuckled.

    Ben shook his head. ¡°N-no, I am. I¡¯m just sad¡­¡±

    ¡°Thinkin¡¯ about your brother, aren¡¯t-cha.¡± He stated. "What was his name?"

    Ben nodded and moaned. "Peter..."

    ¡°Look,¡± Bill knelt and lifted Ben¡¯s chin up so he could look him in the eyes, ¡°I don¡¯t say it to be mean¡­but¡­Peter ain¡¯t comin¡¯ back, and there¡¯s no use cryin¡¯ about stuff you can¡¯t change.¡±

    ¡°I know¡­¡± Ben sniffled.

    ¡°But I¡¯m gonna help you deal with it, ¡®kay? We¡¯ll eat first, get cleaned up, go to sleep, then I¡¯ll¡­¡± Bill hesitated for a second. ¡°help ya.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Ben wiped his nose.

    ¡°Now go sit before I give ya another talkin¡¯ to. I¡¯ll make the best mac ¡®n cheese for ya and I want you to enjoy it!¡± He gently patted Ben on the back and the squirrel sauntered over to one of the fourteen chairs surrounding the table. He thought about the bear¡¯s words¡­his brother¡¯s death ate at him, but what would his self-flagellation do? Crying and sobbing weren¡¯t going to change anything, so why not just try to enjoy things?

    If God was going to kill him one day for murdering his brother¡­he may as well soak what he could out of life before facing the consuming fire.

    The TV was blaring in an adjacent room. Ben didn¡¯t pay attention to it, but Bill listened. It was tuned in to NBS, a mainstream news network on channel eight that Ben¡¯s parents never had on in the house. A female otter with a black, wavy wig and a red bow talked into a camera.

    ¡°...As police continue to investigate the murder of Peter Avery and his brother¡¯s disappearance, other arrests have been made by Evergreen law enforcement. Two miners have been apprehended in connection to two explosions that occurred in Blueberry Grove yesterday afternoon. Reports say they violated orders from Evergreen Forest Authority not to mine in the area. Charges are expected to be pressed¡­¡±

    ¡°Murder of Peter Avery¡­and his brother¡¯s disappearance¡­¡± Bill furrowed his brow as he looked over at Ben. ¡°You mentioned your brother¡¯s name was Peter¡­are you¡­yes¡­I¡¯m sure you¡¯re¡­¡±

    Ben caught Bill looking at him, though the bear only returned a friendly smile.

    ¡°I just realized¡­I could be a while.¡± Bill announced. ¡°Want to go in there and watch a cartoon or somethin¡¯? I can change the channel for ya.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure!¡±

    The news cut to a different story right as Ben scampered into the room. Bill changed it to channel forty-one, the cartoon channel his grandkids loved watching. On the screen appeared two cowboys hunting a ne¡¯er-do-well named Peg-Leg Larry, an evil black bear with a permanent scowl who tied damsels onto railroad tracks and robbed banks with a generic pistol. Ben remembered his dad saying he didn¡¯t like this show after getting adopted, but the young boy was hooked by the zany antics and goofy plots.

    Meanwhile, Bill silently inspected all the windows in his house to make sure all the curtains were closed and nobody could see inside. It took a minute since there were two floors, but it was worth it if it meant keeping nosy people from snooping about. He paused at a window in his own bedroom as he thought of Ben and his situation¡­and a tear rolled down his cheek.

    ¡°I¡¯ll save you from those people, Ben¡­I¡¯ll save you from a life of sadness¡­¡±

    He picked up a picture frame on his oak nightstand and gazed upon it for a few minutes. It was a faded-color photo of him and his wife as newlyweds almost forty years ago. He lovingly brushed his paw over her young, beaming face.

    ¡°Donna, you left us too soon¡­but you knew what was best. Thank you for giving me the courage to do the right thing¡­¡±

    He paused for another minute as other thoughts inundated his mind. After leaving a gentle kiss for her, he set the frame down and returned to cooking dinner.

    -

    Earlier that day, early morning

    Rodney didn¡¯t sleep all night¡­after hours¡¯ worth of x-rays, incisions, and analyses¡­he found the answer.

    The Averys would have closure soon. He didn¡¯t know if Marcus was awake yet, but he hastily dialed his number nonetheless. The forlorn grandfather expressed anger the previous night at the thought of Ben even being considered as Peter¡¯s killer. It was more than understandable, but Rodney knew he had to let the evidence do the talking.

    Soon the wolf and his family would be struck by cold, hard facts¡­the reports the bat had to submit to the City Sheriff and Defense Attorney would forever impact the family.

    He wanted to cry for the poor squirrel.

 Chapter 4 - The Door to Bens Past

    A few hours before Rodney called Marcus again.

    Two in the morning ¨C Most of Evergreen was asleep, tucked into their cozy beds while night owls worked their shifts. Bakers toiled in their hot kitchens to produce palatable pastries for that morning, truck drivers speedily and safely transferred product to retailers in time for that week¡¯s sales, road workers closed off lanes to fix cracks and bumpy surfaces.

    And one coroner remained wide awake; the body of a deceased child on his examination table. The body belonged to Peter Avery only twelve hours ago, but now was under Rodney¡¯s studious care.

    The surface samples and bruises only related so much. The coloration of the contusions revealed that some were made before others; some were red, while others were bluish. It wasn¡¯t a precise way to gauge their age, but it meant it was possible that not every marking on Peter¡¯s body was caused by his brother.

    With this much bruising, an internal inspection was needed. No child could get battered this much without procuring damage to organs, bones, or tissues. The contorted foot remained a mystery. Rodney didn¡¯t think it was linked directly to the boy¡¯s death, as aside from the rare case of podiatric fat embolism, hardly anyone ever died from a broken foot. He intended to study it though.

    The skeleton x-ray revealed broken bones, as Rodney expected. However, the extent of damage done to the rib cage was staggering. If the dark blue fragments on the electronic display were accurate, then Rodney would expect to see a fractured sternum as well as ten pairs of broken and shattered ribs upon dissection. There would be hardly anything left to even call a rib cage. Rodney let out a small gasp but kept his composure.

    ¡°I hope...you were gone before that happened¡­¡±

    Other thoughts crossed the bat¡¯s mind as he retrieved the scalpel to begin the dissection. On one hand, the violence he saw depicted on the screen troubled him. Ten pairs of fragmented and fractured ribs was a level of trauma he couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around. He¡¯d seen cases of those who perished from physical abuse; even the most barbarous of offenders rarely induced this level of carnage. However, Rodney¡¯s skepticism of the hare¡¯s account heightened...it didn¡¯t add up with the display before him.

    ¡°Unless Ben grew to the size of a bear and bludgeoned his brother with an iron cudgel...there¡¯s no way he could¡¯ve done this.¡±

    This didn¡¯t necessarily excuse Ben, but it did imply there was a gaping hole in this macabre puzzle. The hare was not the only one who missed something yesterday...Ben missed something too.

    With steady and patient hands, Rodney began the Y-shaped incision that would soon unveil a ghastly catastrophe. The cut began at the left shoulder blade and slowly forged its way to Peter¡¯s breast bone. A thin line of dark, coagulated blood appeared as the knife progressed to the sternum. This line was mirrored when Rodney performed a symmetrical cut from the other shoulder blade, causing the two lines to form a shallow ¡°v.¡± He made one final slit starting at the vertex and terminating at the pubic bone.

    He was glad Peter¡¯s parents weren¡¯t here to see this; he doubted even Marcus would¡¯ve been able to stomach such a grotesque portrayal of his beloved grandson.

    Rodney opened the newly-formed flaps of skin and was greeted by a massacre. The exposed chest cavity screamed at him in a gory hodgepodge of shattered bone, cartilage, and arteries. Desensitized enough to not puke out his own viscera, Rodney took photos of the destruction and uploaded those into Peter¡¯s case file. The sight before the bat¡¯s eyes made him think someone took a sledge hammer to the little squirrel and pounded the daylights out of him. He brought his focus first to all the fracture points, using the necessary tools in the meantime to move tissue aside for a better look.

    ¡°Not only are the ribs shattered...it appears his rib cage was violently smashed in by a force of horrific magnitude...these impact points appear to show this...rib fragments not only bent inward, but some appear to be lodged deeper into his chest.¡± Rodney internalized and recorded his thoughts and findings into the case log as he carefully poked and prodded through the damaged tissue and ruptured blood vessels. ¡°The fact that there was minimal, visible sign of this traumatic injury is telling...the only explanation I can think of right now is that he was struck in the chest by something broad enough to impact his entire thoracic region at once, forcing everything inward. That may be why there wasn¡¯t much blood on his chest.¡±

    As Rodney continued to pour over the scene, he recalled what the mink told him about the hare.

    ¡°She saw the other squirrel, presumably Ben, hitting Peter repeatedly...but¡­how could a squirrel do this much damage, if in fact Ben did all this? There¡¯s no way his hands would¡¯ve been able to exhibit enough force to shatter bones like this. A bear? Sure, but not a small rodent!¡±

    Rodney knew that, as ghastly as this bloody display was, it ensconced the answer to Peter¡¯s demise. Broken bones alone don¡¯t kill someone, but the bat was positive they¡¯d lead him in the right direction. If his rib cage was this staggeringly damaged, then whatever was behind it had to be damaged too. The heart and the lungs were the primary organs the rib cage defended, but if the rib cage was shoved inward with catastrophic and brutal force...the heart and lungs would be adversely affected. It¡¯d be certain death.

    For a few seconds, Rodney pictured the poor child; displaced rib fragments causing a pneumothorax and making every breath a hellishly agonizing experience. Peter would¡¯ve struggled and gasped for air while intermittent coughs would¡¯ve caused intense chest and shoulder pain, exacerbating the trauma. Perhaps pieces of rib were situated in his heart as well, and maybe the trachea, and perhaps-

    Rodney noticed a tear drop from his eye and splash onto the tiled floor. He quickly wiped his eyes in somber embarrassment.

    ¡°Relax, Rodney...relax.¡±

    The bat collected himself and resumed his work. The answer to Peter¡¯s death had to be close; a misplaced piece of bone lodged in his heart or trachea would be enough to cause anyone to give up the ghost. With shears and sharp-end scissors in hand, Rodney made his way to the lungs.

    -

    ¡°Dead?!¡± Peter laughed at a disoriented Ben. ¡°I¡¯m not dead!¡±

    ¡°B-b-b-but¡­you, uh, f-fell, a-a-and-¡±

    ¡°Kids!¡± Ronald barked as he pulled into the theater parking lot. ¡°Stop arguing; it¡¯s Tuesday!¡±

    ¡°Sorry, dad.¡±

    The doors flew open as the car spat everyone out at the same time. The scene transformed into Blueberry Grove as Ben face-planted onto the grass. It was warm and wet, as though it¡¯d just been watered. Peter yanked him up by the back of his neck with tremendous force, making him nearly lose his balance.

    ¡°Let¡¯s play ¡®Find the Acorn!¡¯¡± Peter¡¯s tail swished.

    Rachel leapt out of the Pratley duffel bag her father was carrying. ¡°I wanna pway!¡±

    ¡°Okay, but you¡¯re the acorn.¡± Peter said.

    ¡°Yay!¡±

    A bright warmth filled Ben¡¯s heart as he watched his little brother gleefully scurry through the flowers and bound up every tree. Peter was alive the whole time! There was no river, no hare, no Bill, just¡­

    Normality.

    ¡°Ben!¡± Peter urged the idle Ben from halfway up a 50,000-foot pine. ¡°Come on!¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡± He darted after his little brother. The pine tree extended upwards and upwards, scaling into the boundless blue sky. Ben closed in on him and performed a daring leap to snag his tail. ¡°Gotcha!¡± His little fingers came within a centimeter of the appendage, and then¡­

    He woke up.

    ¡°Wha-?¡± He muttered as his pupils adjusted to the dark room. Pallid, cloud-obscured moonlight shimmered on the walls of the guest room. The bed he was in was massive for the squirrel¡¯s tiny frame; it was clearly intended for a bear. The silk sheets and woolen blankets swaddled the child in welcoming warmth; Bill laundered and smoothed all the bedding hours before to make sure his sleep was comfortable. The young squirrel moaned in pained wistfulness as he realized Peter wasn¡¯t here.

    ¡°It seemed so real¡­¡± He whimpered, the moisture in his eyes quickly disintegrating into a river of tears. He crumpled as much of the blanket as he could with his little arms and sobbed into the mass of cotton and silk. The ball of bedding helped muffle his screams and wails. Nothing hammered in the death of a loved one so much as the death of a lovely dream basking in their likeness. Euphoria and mirth were cruelly supplanted by the sensation of rusty, jagged nails forcefully twisted into his heart. They marred every pleasant, cheerful, and mundane memory he shared with his brother. They jeered at him with their crooked grins and guttural guffaws, reminding him that Peter was never coming back.

    ¡°Loved that dream? Too bad it was FAKE!¡±

    Ben could only stew in his tears for so long before his parched throat pleaded for water. He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and hopped off. The door was left ajar so the small rodent could slip through if he needed anything (Bill permitted him to get water and use the bathroom, of course). He slinked silently through the slim crevasse of the door frame and into the hallway. Its motion-based lights activated upon his movement, guiding his path safely.

    He scampered lightly through a couple hallways before finding himself in the dining room. This room laid adjacent to the kitchen and family room, also containing a thick, sliding-glass door leading to the backyard patio. A sturdy stairwell lined with an ebony banister connected to the dining room and led to the second floor, where Bill slept. He gave Ben a room on the first floor as he insisted it was the best one; it had the comfiest bed, biggest TV, and the most amount of toys. It was the room his grandkids always clawed each other over. Ben accepted his offer, though didn¡¯t think about using any of its child-centered amenities. He just wanted to hide there and beg the ceiling to crash down on him in his sleep.

    The light brightened as Ben set foot in the kitchen, causing the young squirrel to pause and squint momentarily. He adjusted to the brightness after half a minute and helped himself to a small, refreshing cup of filtered water. He greedily gulped down all the cold water without stopping to breathe; his dry throat welcoming the satisfying sensation. Upon imbibing the remnant dregs, he heartily shoved the cup against the lever to fill it with more water.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay out here.¡± He thought as he filled himself with more water. ¡°There¡¯s more light, and-¡±

    A sudden but stifled thud ricocheted through the dining room; It wasn¡¯t loud, but was enough to make Ben drop his cup in terror.

    ¡°AHH!¡± He immediately dove into the pantry and hid behind a large bag of Miller¡¯s Flour. He curled and shrank back as much as he could, wanting to make it harder for the invading monster to see him. The thumps continued about once every fifteen to thirty seconds, but there was something unusual about them. Not only did they get weaker each time, they sounded like they weren¡¯t coming from outside.

    They sounded like they were coming from underground.

    Curiosity prodded Ben out of the pantry, though he clung to semi-drowsy vigilance. His adrenaline abated and was replaced with the youthful yearning for discovery. The clamor, though intermittent and waning, didn¡¯t stop. Little Ben crept stealthily along the cocobolo floor on his belly, tracing the source of the sound with a wary ear.

    ¡°Hello? Anyone there?¡± He whispered into the floor, as though someone was on the other side. There was no verbal reciprocation to his inquiry, but there was another thud.

    It was closer!

    Ben¡¯s heart raced. He persisted in his search until he wound up in a nook. It wasn¡¯t part of the dining room and was hard to notice because of the way Bill positioned his standing plants and birds of paradise. An additional light lit up as Ben found himself in this mysterious, obscure section of the house.

    Before him were stairs leading downward.

    Towards a door.

    A rare smirk crossed the child¡¯s face and his ears perked up. ¡°Oh cool, a basement! What¡¯s in there?!¡±

    While this house was not as large as Marcus¡¯ mansion, the boy had visions of his grandpa¡¯s basement. It was practically another floor; eight guest rooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, a recreational den for games, toys, a TV, and a small library. Whenever Ben was over, it was his and his siblings¡¯ favorite place to hang out.

    Surely an affluent bear with young grandkids had a similar set up.

    He bolted down the stairs so quickly his light frame nearly skidded into the door. He eagerly clambered up the frame to maneuver the doorknob, but before he could wrap his tiny hands around the steel handle, he heard a sound that was nothing like a thud.

    ¡°Mffmffpffmffpf!¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes bulged from their sockets and he stumbled to the floor in surprise. Frantic scratching sounds accompanied the garbled mumbling and moaning.

    ¡°Wh-wha...Who¡¯s th-there?!¡± The child froze, confused panic encouraging action and hesitance at the same time.

    ¡°MPFMMHHMFF!¡±

    ¡°I-I-¡± The conflicted rodent stuttered for several aimless seconds. ¡°I-I¡¯m com-¡±

    ¡°BEN!¡±

    Bill¡¯s staccato growl eviscerated the air with a rigid, chilling blare, freezing Ben¡¯s insides to the bone. The squirrel wasn¡¯t facing him, but he heard the bared teeth and fangs in his anger.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sor-sorry¡­¡± He whimpered as his diminutive body shrank into a corner. The child cried as he expected the grizzly to bear down on him and grind him to a pulp with a disciplinary stomp. The noise behind the door ceased, but Ben was too harried by his nerves to notice.

    ¡°I¡¯m so bad a-and evil and I d-d-didn¡¯t mean to-¡±

    The grizzly stooped and lifted the panicked rodent into a firm but reassuring grip. ¡°Stop that, I¡¯m not mad at ya.¡±

    The squirrel¡¯s glassy little eyes peered up at his. ¡°...you¡¯re...not?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not; I just didn¡¯t want you to get hurt. See, it¡¯s not safe for ya down here. I blocked the stairs with those plants for a reason.¡± Bill informed as he walked back up with Ben in the crook of his arm. The soft, woolen sleeve of his crimson-red nightgown caused the small animal to nestle into it a little more.

    ¡°Wh-what do you mean? It¡¯s dangerous down there?¡±

    ¡°Could be if you open the door.¡± Bill answered, reaching the top of the stairs and sliding the plants back to their original posts with his free arm. ¡°My water heater acts crazy sometimes and if you got too close, it could burn your skin right off. It¡¯d be a hell-simulator for ya!¡±

    Ben was about to ask another question before his mind envisioned himself boiling away in one of hell¡¯s sulfuric vats. His imagination added ledges that were barely high enough for him not to reach, and burnt, tar-slathered hands grabbing him by the throat and yanking him downward. Their crooked, rusty fingernails pierced his skin and sank into his throat as he fought their bondage.

    ¡°Ben, wouldja stop crying?¡± Bill gently held Ben¡¯s little head between two of his fingers with just enough force to make him gasp and snap out of his stupor.

    ¡°Sor-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re fine, son, just stay up here from now on, okay?¡± Bill¡¯s eyes narrowed in on his; his gaze wasn¡¯t threatening, but it was as a stern father warning his son not to place his hand over a hot stove. He tucked Ben back into his bed and bid him goodnight before going back to his own room. Ben¡¯s agitation abated after a few minutes as his little frame curled up under the blanket.

    ¡°But...I thought I heard a voice, like someone was trapped...do water heaters do that? What about the bangs and the scratches too?¡±

    Ben mulled over these anomalies but soon gave in to sleep. He¡¯d ask Bill in the morning.

    -

    Marcus¡¯ eyes wearily creaked open after a generous two-hour sleep. His dreams largely consisted of either watching Peter die in various ways, or Evelyn sobbing over his still torso, pleading and begging God to raise him from the dead. He was relieved to have a momentary reprieve from that.

    Diane was asleep, though Marcus felt moisture on her cheeks when he caressed her face. She uttered a quiet and forlorn yipp when he touched her.

    ¡°We¡¯ll get through this...I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±

    He rolled out of bed as silently as he could and stretched his stiffened limbs. He sauntered to the mostly-spotless kitchenette to slake his thirst. The gray wolf caught his reflection in the polished toaster after turning the light on, though wished he hadn¡¯t. His eyes were sallow and expression defeated; the pupils squinting at him through the appliance showed a broken grandfather. He saw a man who wanted to weep for his grandson but fettered himself with a stiff upper lip.

    But he sensed the fetter shaking loose. A brief but lucid hallucination placed Peter on the marble counter. The bereaved wolf honed his attention on him with perked ears.

    ¡°Grampa!¡± The little squirrel¡¯s tail swished happily. ¡°I drawed you REALLY BIG! Wanna see it?!¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    Peter reached behind himself and produced his drawing from thin air. Marcus¡¯ imagination placed the crude likeness of a gray wolf on the sheet. It was colored in with a light gray crayon and ¡°mrcus¡± was inscribed underneath. The wolf¡¯s paw reached to take it before the hallucination vanished.

    He only grabbed air.

    ¡°Oh...Peter¡­¡± Marcus¡¯ ears drooped and he released a choked whimper. He clenched his paw as it laid on the counter; fighting back tears but unable to prevent some minuscule trickles from rolling down his cheeks. ¡°I-I...I didn¡¯t even get to say goodbye¡­¡±

    He inhaled steady breaths to calm himself down. He didn¡¯t think there was shame in crying, but didn¡¯t want to make a scene and wake his wife up. He poured himself a glass of tap water and downed it in a few quick gulps. He washed it and set it in the rack to dry. Satiated, but no less heavyhearted, he sleepily trod back to his bed. As he positioned himself comfortably under the blanket, his eyes caught a glimpse of the display on the radio clock.

    5:34.

    He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping he could get at least another hour of rest before getting up again to go down to the station.

    Then his phone started humming. He typically set it up so it¡¯d stay silent when he¡¯d normally be asleep, but made an exception for tonight in case Rodney or other law enforcement needed to get in touch with him. With a mixture of irritation and optimism, he read the screen.

    Evergreen Coroner Lab.

    Marcus¡¯ heart nearly leapt from his chest...he¡¯d soon receive some answers! Whether it was cause of death or Ben¡¯s whereabouts, he starved for information.

    Specifically relief and closure.

    ¡°Rodney, tell me you have good news!¡± The anxious wolf cut to the chase.

    Diane was woken by her husband¡¯s voice, but merely opened her eyes halfway. She listened in silent attentiveness, but Rodney¡¯s words were difficult to make out.

    ¡°Rib cage¡­¡±

    ¡°Fractured¡­¡±

    ¡°Lungs¡­¡±

    Marcus said little, letting the bat divulge the cold, hard facts. Diane caught some more words.

    ¡°Tried to¡­¡±

    ¡°Mistaken¡­¡±

    ¡°Chest presses¡­¡±

    ¡°Ben¡­¡±

    The grandfather continued to listen. When the coroner started talking about Ben, his tone changed. Diane was only half-awake, but perceived the increased sadness in his voice. Marcus was dead quiet, and after Rodney explained a few more things, the wolf uttered a horrified gasp.

    ¡°N-no...Benjamin¡­¡±

    The phone dropped from Marcus¡¯ trembling paw and the tears he tried to restrain burst through his dam of fortitude.

    No one¡¯s life was going to be the same...especially Ben¡¯s.

    -

    Ben¡¯s eyelids slowly lifted as the tired squirrel woke up hours later. A soft, dreamy yellow flooded the room with the warmth of a fresh spring morning. He laid still and listened to the chirping of the jays outside. He exhaled a prolonged yawn and stretched his little body before shutting his eyes again. He wasn¡¯t ready to wake up.

    The ambiance brought him back to Pine Trails. His dad typically woke him with a gentle nudge before going to work just to say bye. Ben would mumble goodbye and curl up to sleep an extra ten minutes before his mom would wake him up for school. He always felt a kiss on his forehead from her, and she¡¯d urge him to hop out of bed bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

    As his mind wandered a little longer, he expected his mom or dad to walk in any moment and rouse him from his bed.

    ¡°Wake up, your pancakes''re gettin¡¯ cold!¡± Her voice rang through his disoriented mind, making him think she was standing over him with an impatient hand on her hip. He bolted up with an apology poised on his lips.

    ¡°Sor-¡±

    No one was there. No mom. No dad. No siblings. No familiarity.

    Emptiness.

    ¡°I-I...I wanna go home¡­¡± He moaned as he recalled the last time his parents hugged him. Droplets rolled from his tear ducts as he considered he might not ever see his family again. He peered out the window into the backyard in hopes they¡¯d be there somehow.

    ¡°M-mom, dad...I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± He sniffled. ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean to run away...¡±

    A light rap at his door sent his thoughts crashing to a halt. ¡°Ben?¡± Bill addressed him. ¡°You up?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah¡­¡±

    The knob turned and the oak door creaked open enough for Bill to poke his head through. ¡°Son¡­¡± He cleared his throat, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I yelled at ya last night; I hope you¡¯re not scared to come out and have breakfast.¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes shifted in confusion before realizing an apology was being delivered to him rather than from him. ¡°It¡¯s okay...I was a stupid little-¡±

    ¡°No, I was harsh with ya when you were simply curious. Here, come and have breakfast. I want to talk with ya and figure out how to help ya.¡± Bill nudged the door open wider, gesturing to the squirrel to follow him. The small rodent scampered after the bear.

    Though Ben wasn¡¯t in his own house, he asked Bill if there was somewhere he could take a bath before eating. He never liked eating when feeling dirty and grimy; even if starving, he insisted on bathing first.

    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll set it up for ya.¡± Bill nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad ya value hygiene.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a hygiene?¡±

    ¡°Making sure you¡¯re all clean so you don¡¯t get sick.¡± Bill expressed a small grin. ¡°You remind me of my son when he was your age; he always wanted to be clean before he did anything.¡±

    ¡°You have a son?¡± Ben asked.

    ¡°Yeah, he was a good son and everything. He¡¯s all grown of course and has his own kids, but he¡¯s still the same way about always bein¡¯ clean.¡±

    Bill set up the bath while Ben silently waited. The bear continued to ramble about his family, not realizing the squirrel was zoning out and simply wanting his bath.

    ¡°...and then,¡± Bill paused to collect his thoughts, ¡°he became pastor of a church in Pine Trails. I don¡¯t go there, but-¡±

    ¡°Pine Trails?¡± Ben¡¯s tail instinctively swished. ¡°That¡¯s where I live!¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? You don¡¯t say!¡± Bill chuckled. ¡°You like it there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s trees and grass everywhere, and everyone¡¯s nice. I miss it.¡± The squirrel answered with a hint of gusto in his voice that faded as quickly as it came. ¡°I...I wanna go home¡­¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Bill grunted as though his mind was elsewhere. ¡°Oh...yeah. I understand.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Well, the bath¡¯s ready. Just, uh, make sure to turn the water off when you¡¯re done and dry with one of those towels.¡± He gestured to a rack labeled ¡°Guest,¡± upon which were a few but very soft yellow towels with decorative fringes.

    ¡°Okay.¡± He affirmed and climbed over the wall of the tub and into the warm water. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Bill nodded. ¡°Enjoy.¡±

    He shut the door and left Ben on his own. The only sound was the steady stream of water cascading from the brass faucet and clashing onto the tub¡¯s acrylic surface. The small squirrel stood under the water, letting its force and heat melt away some of the grime stubbornly caked into his fur. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the rejuvenating sensation. For now, he wished time could freeze. He closed the drain with the steel plug so the water level could rise and submerge more of his body. He climbed up and shut the water off when it reached a couple inches off the tub''s floor. He hopped back in after being satisfied with it.

    ¡°Just like home.¡± He grinned contentedly, thinking about how often he and Peter filled the tub at home and played in it like they would a ball pit. They¡¯d splash water all over the floor as they played with their little boats and engaged in naval warfare. Rachel would often barge in and join in their maritime merriment if their parents didn¡¯t keep a vigilant eye on her.

    His mind continued to wander through the dale of nostalgia until it found the previous night buried in its recesses. Bill¡¯s aimless monologue about his son distracted Ben from the questions he wanted to ask him about the broken water heater.

    ¡°Why¡¯d it make those scratching and voice sounds?¡± Ben pondered as the water level rose enough to cover his feet. He ran through a number of theories as he lathered himself with soap; he could¡¯ve imagined the whole thing, or Bill was wrong and It wasn¡¯t the water heater, or it could¡¯ve been a sentient robot water heater, or-

    A sudden knock on the door made the squirrel jump.

    ¡°You okay in there?¡± Bill¡¯s muffled voice inquired.

    ¡°Huh? Oh, uh...yeah!¡± Ben scrambled to unplug the drain and scrape the rest of the soap off himself. ¡°Just, uh, finished! S-sorry!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Bill replied, ¡°just checkin¡¯ on ya. Made pancakes, eggs, and hash browns; I¡¯ll heat ¡®em back up for ya once you¡¯re out.¡±

    ¡°Uh, thanks!¡±

    The mention of food made his stomach grumble and liven his pace. He was dried, out the door, and seated at the table within three minutes. He¡¯d not only be filled with wholesome food, but perhaps wholesome answers very soon.

    While Ben waited for his breakfast to be reheated, he occasionally turned his head toward the plants ensconcing the stairwell. There were no sounds this time.

    ¡°Still worried about the water heater?¡± Bill caught him looking.

    ¡°No, but...I was, well, wondering about some stuff.¡±

    The grizzly nodded, plopping a second hash brown onto Ben¡¯s plate. ¡°I knew you would, but I assure you ya have nothin¡¯ to worry about. The water heater¡¯s been acting fine all morning.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Ben wasn¡¯t satiated, ¡°I thought, uh¡­¡± he gulped, ¡°I heard something else in there.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Uh...like...a voice, or s-scratching, or, you know, like¡­¡± His pulse raced as stilted words tumbled from his mouth like clumps of mud being cleared from a gutter. Deathly fear of incriminating this kind, old bear choked him. ¡°It¡¯s just, y-you know, just, uh, what I heard. I-I¡¯m sure it was nothing though! I-I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re bad or a kidnapper or anything! I-I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    Bill raised a halting hand and silenced Ben. He grunted pensively. ¡°Hmm¡­it makes sense¡­¡±

    ¡°...What does?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain over breakfast.¡±

    -

    Diane gazed at her husband in reticent horror. He related everything Rodney told him. What she heard about her grandsons, especially Ben, left her vulnerable heart in tatters.

    ¡°Oh Marcus...what are we going to do? Ben¡¯s life is...is...¡± She sniffed and grabbed tissues from the lavender box on the bedside table.

    ¡°ruined¡­¡± The sullen-eyed gray wolf finished her thought with a defeated tone, grabbing some tissues after her and wiping his eyes. ¡°At best, it¡¯ll be very, very hard to fix. Even with the wonderful parents he was blessed with, he¡¯s going to live with this¡­¡± he gulped, ¡°the rest of his life.¡±

    Diane alighted from the bed with quaking limbs. ¡°W-we have to find him quickly and hope to God he¡¯s still alive! I-I¡¯m scared for him!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll wake the others up and we¡¯ll go to the station to start looking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come, and I¡¯ll call Claudia, Cecilia, and Ronald while you wake the others up.¡± Diane offered, then a paralyzing shiver traversed down her spine when she considered how Rachel was going to handle the news. She loved her brother to pieces.

    ¡°Her happy little world will be destroyed...My poor baby¡­¡±

    Marcus acknowledged her with a nod and went to knock on Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn¡¯s door. ¡°Guys, are you up?¡± He had to knock a few more times before he heard blankets rustling and tired paws stepping onto the floor.

    ¡°Dad?¡± Xavier yawned. He opened the door without bothering to tidy his appearance. ¡°Sorry, slept like crap.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine; just wanted to let you know your mother and I will head to the station soon to start looking for Ben.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come.¡± His son offered without a second thought. ¡°I¡¯ll see if Janet wants to come too.¡±

    Marcus waited as Xavier sauntered to Janet¡¯s bedside. She faced away from him, trying to work in undisturbed sleep. She held her sister-in-law in her arms, giving the bereaved squirrel much-needed warmth.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Xavier nudged her shoulder blade with his paw. ¡°Uh, we¡¯re about to look for Ben and wanted to know if you¡¯ll come. Sorry to wake you by the way.¡±

    Janet creaked her head towards him and met his face with a disoriented daze. He repeated himself twice before her wearied mind processed his words. She eased herself out of bed, careful not to wake Evelyn.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± She sleepily greeted. ¡°Yeah...I¡¯ll come.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask if Evelyn wants to come too.¡¯ Xavier suggested, not sure if the heartbroken mother would have the will to comb the city of Evergreen for her son. The last search involving one of her children ended in devastation.

    It took a few minutes, but Xavier managed to nudge the small rodent awake. She slept for little more than an hour; a pallid red filled her half-open eyes as she wordlessly gazed at Xavier.

    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry to wake you right now, but, uh...we wanted to know if you wanted to come look for Ben with us.¡± The wolf quickly regretted his decision, feeling like a cold-hearted jerk for cutting the poor mother¡¯s sleep so short. If only the circumstances could accommodate restful slumber.

    ¡°I-it¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t want to.¡± Janet stepped in, concerned for Evelyn¡¯s physical and mental state. The squirrel¡¯s legs struggled to lift the rest of her tired body up on its fours; it felt like dead weight to her.

    ¡°I-¡± Evelyn grunted as she forced herself up with trembling limbs. ¡°I...I want my son...I want ¡®im safe¡­I¡¯ll go...¡±

    ¡°You look really bad; are you sure-¡± Janet started, but Evelyn protested.

    ¡°...I want to ¡®old my baby again...you won¡¯t stop me¡­¡±

    The squirrel¡¯s eyes pleaded with hers. Despite the hurt they carried, there was an unwavering tenacity in them that burrowed into the wolf¡¯s soul. It was that of a mother who fought for her children no matter how grim the horizon was...no matter how much pain her mind and body were in. Her son was first on her mind.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    There was no way Janet would debate her; the four wolves and the squirrel would search for Ben. They¡¯d overturn every rock, climb every tree, and probe every nook and cranny if that¡¯s what it took. Diane reached Ronald through the hospital¡¯s semi-convoluted array of extensions, but had to leave voicemails for Claudia and Cecilia.

    The family had a brief breakfast and coffee in the motel¡¯s rustic and mostly clean dining room. In the meantime, Marcus divulged to Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn what Rodney told him over the phone (quietly so as not to disturb other diners). Evelyn¡¯s expression grew ashen, thinking she was going to throw up what little there was in her stomach. Marcus urged her to calm down and breathe as he gently rubbed her back with his paw.

    Xavier was about to remark how the rest of Ben¡¯s life was going to be hell until he caught the television screen out of the corner of his eye. He would¡¯ve otherwise ignored it, but a caption at the bottom of the screen wrested his attention from the others.

    BODY OF MURDERED PINE TRAILS CITIZEN FOUND BESIDE RIVER

    The text was depicted in bold white against a blood-red gradient. This was how NBS always did ¡°breaking news.¡± The adrenaline-filled music and abrasive colors usually commanded undivided attention from the viewer.

    ¡°Guys!¡± Xavier whisper-shouted to get his family¡¯s attention and gestured to the screen.

    An orange-brown jackal with various black spots on his groomed fur faced the camera. He donned a somber expression as he gripped the Channel Eight mic in his right paw. Behind him was a small grove cordoned off by police and yellow tape that read ¡°Crime Scene: Do not Cross.¡± The river and a section of hiking trail were visible on the left side of the screen.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a good morning today in Evergreen.¡± The jackal started, his voice deep and sonorous. ¡°Last night, a body was found in the wooded area behind me on this usually calm hiking trail. A report from the Evergreen Coroner Lab has identified the victim as Peter Avery, citizen of the small, neighboring town of Pine Trails.¡±

    The family¡¯s collective jaw hit the floor. Did Rodney inform the media already? Marcus¡¯ lips parted slightly to reveal gritted teeth; he thought Ronald and Evelyn should¡¯ve had first say in talking to the media.

    ¡°Only one person claims to have witnessed what happened to Peter Avery last night. She says she witnessed another squirrel kill him, and while not proven, investigation at the coroner lab has revealed a potential suspect in his murder.¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Marcus barked, startling everyone in the room. Rage coursed through his veins; he¡¯d never been this angered over his fifty-two years of existence.

    ¡°Print analysis shows that Benjamin Avery, the victim¡¯s older brother, was with him the night he died. As of now, he is the only suspect linked to his murder. More to come as evidence is released.¡±

    Marcus wanted to hurl his coffee mug at the screen. His wife noticed his tightened grip on the handle and gently took his wrist with her paw. She felt his heated pulse and attempted to calm him with her touch.

    ¡°Marcus¡­¡±

    He didn¡¯t look at her, but still loosened his hold. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    Meanwhile, Evelyn wanted to scream at the slick, well-manicured jackal on the screen as he delivered those lies. She knew he was only being fed the story from the station, but his words ignited a caustic fury in her heart because this was not what Rodney told Marcus. She didn¡¯t know if the bat talked to the media and royally fumbled his words, but what he divulged to Marcus wasn¡¯t anything like the reporter insinuated.

    ...Ben had nothing to do with Peter¡¯s death.

    -

    This was the first time in Rodney¡¯s life he wanted to kill someone. He was tuned in to NBS''s radio broadcast on his miniature headset while flying home that morning. It was menial listening until they putrefied the airwaves with the same story the Averys heard. He sped to the ground, landed away from other people, and fumbled through his bag for his phone. Heads were going to roll.

    Five minutes later...

    ¡°Who the HELL fed your station that crock of sh-balogna?!¡± He snarled into his phone. ¡°It¡¯s all LIES; there was NO murder!¡±

    Frederick Vance, executive producer of NBS, yawned as the bat yelled. The meerkat leaned back in his suede leather chair. ¡°Look buddy, we got the facts from a reliable source. Can¡¯t help if you don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°You ran this story without even hearing from me or Peter¡¯s family. This is defamation and I WILL press charges whether or not the family does.¡±

    Frederick stifled a snort. ¡°That would be amusing. Look, I got an important meeting soon so feel free to call back in like, I don¡¯t know¡­¡± He gave a casually pensive exhale. ¡°Two hours?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not kidding; don¡¯t you dare hang-¡±

    A dial tone sharply cut him off. The riled bat redialed a few more times, but Vance¡¯s secretary didn¡¯t pick up. He relented and uttered a tired but earnest prayer before swooping back into the sky. He wanted to go home and sleep, but now his mind was preoccupied with finding out the cretin who went behind his and the Avery¡¯s backs and fed NBS those lies.

    ¡°Those cockroaches smeared an innocent child over the airwaves...God, help me against these sinful thoughts; I want really, really bad things to happen to them.¡±

    Meanwhile, the sheriff Rodney relayed his findings to earlier whistled as he drove to the bank to cash his check from NBS.

    -

    The next day, back in Bill¡¯s house

    ¡°Here ya go.¡± Bill lightly slid Ben¡¯s plate before the young squirrel. Ben¡¯s nose absorbed the sweet, buttery aroma of his food. His hand immediately seized the silver fork angled diagonally on his napkin and vigorously sliced off a bite-sized morsel of pancake. Bill observed him studiously from across the table, not touching his own plate yet.

    ¡°Excited about your food there?¡±

    ¡°Mhm!¡± He covered his mouth with his left hand to catch the flakes.

    ¡°Your folks starve ya or somethin''?¡± The bear casually noted, making the squirrel nearly choke when he tried to swallow. He caught his breath before answering.

    ¡°N-no! Uh, I, uh¡­¡± Ben¡¯s ears and tail drooped. ¡°I¡¯m sorry...¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s no problem.¡± Bill smiled reassuringly. ¡°Just makin¡¯ conversation.¡±

    Mildly bewildered, Ben shrugged and finished the pancake. He was about to attack the hash brown when he suddenly stopped. Bill was about to take his first bite when he noticed Ben hang his head in shame.

    ¡°Oh¡­no¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, son?¡±

    ¡°I...w-we were supposed to pray first...we always do it at home but I forgot¡­¡± Ben¡¯s paws covered his face as tears formed. ¡°I-I¡¯m so bad¡­¡±

    ¡°Uh, you know what, I¡¯ll pray. Uh, bow your head, close your eyes, and...what else? Oh yeah, fold your hands.¡± Bill promptly set the fork-impaled egg in its original spot and bowed his head. Ben quickly did as he said and patiently awaited Bill to speak.

    ¡°God, uh, thank ya for, well, everything and the food and, ya know, the house an¡¯ everything. And¡­¡± He subtly lifted an eyelid to see if Ben was still with him. ¡°Oh, and thank ya for...oh yeah, my wonderful guest! I, uh, pray that he will experience peace and happiness forever and ever. Anyways, if you can hear me. Amen...Oh wait, I forgot to say in Jesus¡¯ name. Phew, that was close!¡± He chuckled. ¡°But yeah, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Ben was so confused by the prayer that he nearly forgot to say amen. He wanted to remark on what a weird prayer it was, but didn¡¯t want to insult the person feeding and sheltering him. He returned to his flaky rectangle of potato and Bill, his hard-boiled egg.

    Breakfast continued without any sounds from the cellar. The mystified squirrel looked in its direction every so often, expecting a thud or groan any second.

    Did the water heater fix itself over night?

    After a sip of orange juice, Ben finally spoke up. ¡°Uh, Bill?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Ben anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°You, uh, said you wanted to tell me something? About, uh, the voices and stuff?¡±

    Bill nodded, acknowledging his query but finishing off a gulp of black coffee first. ¡°Yes, I did say that.¡± He wiped his mouth with his napkin and fixed a casual gaze on the child. ¡°The truth is that you were hearing things.¡±

    ¡°...wha-?¡±

    ¡°You imagined those sounds. The thudding was real, but the voices and the scratching weren¡¯t.¡±

    Bill expected the blank stare on Ben¡¯s visage. ¡°I..I don¡¯t...what?¡±

    ¡°Your mind played tricks on you. Haven¡¯t ya noticed it¡¯s been real quiet all morning? No voices, scratches, or anything?¡±

    ¡°B-but...what about, uh, the bangs?¡±

    ¡°That was the water heater, which you did hear. I fixed it up this morning which is why ya haven¡¯t heard it. Ya noticed the water was hot when you took a bath, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah...but-¡±

    ¡°The other noises were an illusion. Given your state, it doesn¡¯t surprise me one bit.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    ¡°You might not, but I¡¯ll try to help ya.¡± Bill cleared his throat, causing Ben to straighten his posture. ¡°Your mind¡¯s experiencing all sorts of trouble right now; you killed your brother, you ran away from your family, you think the police are comin¡¯ to get ya, and you¡¯re in a stranger¡¯s house.¡±

    Ben nodded along with his head hung in shame; he couldn¡¯t refute any of these charges. His brother¡¯s empty stare and lifeless body would forever remind him.

    ¡°And because it¡¯s all happened so fast, your mind is all confused and doesn¡¯t know what to do. If all sorts of bad things happened to me at the same time, I¡¯d be confused too.¡±

    Ben nodded wordlessly. It was true; yesterday he didn¡¯t know if he should find his family or go and rot somewhere. He was stranded on an island surrounded by a turbulent sea of aimless desolation.

    ¡°And,¡± Bill took another quick sip of his coffee, ¡°your mind will imagine things when it¡¯s confused or hurting. I¡¯ll think of an example¡­¡± He paused for a few seconds. ¡°Okay, ya watch cartoons?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Ever see a scene where they¡¯re in a desert and they¡¯re all thirsty and hot, and they see a paradise in the distance?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, i-isn¡¯t it called, uh, a...mirage, or something?¡± He recalled an episode of Mighty Space Tigers from a few Saturdays ago where the crew crash-landed in a desert on a distant planet, and Hunter, the crew¡¯s captain, used that word. The space-faring felines thought they saw palm trees and water far away, but it was a hallucination.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Bill nodded, ¡°and I believe that¡¯s what your mind did. You thought you heard something, but it wasn¡¯t there.¡±

    ¡°B-but why''d I hear voices and scratches?¡±

    ¡°This is what I think...it sounded like you heard someone trying to escape, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°That really could¡¯ve been, well¡­¡± He narrowed his gaze slightly at Ben. ¡°yourself, trying to escape.¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes shifted back and forth. ¡°Wha-¡±

    ¡°You feel like you¡¯re trapped in a situation you can¡¯t control or escape, and that voice and scratching ya heard was you trying to break free of your problems. I¡¯d say...just like someone in a desert looking for water that¡¯s not there...you¡¯re someone looking for a normal life again, but sadly...ya can¡¯t have it back.¡±

    The child¡¯s heart sank. Bill leaned a little closer, not taking his eyes off him.

    ¡°Deep down...your soul believes you can have your life back...but it¡¯s all a mirage. Peter¡¯s not coming back...nothing or no one you loved will come back.¡±

    Ben looked into his expression to find a shred of hope...any chance of salvation. Tears welled up in the squirrel¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°I-I wanna go home¡­please...¡± Ben broke into a sob, but Bill grunted sharply. Ben gasped when he witnessed some of the warmth in the bear¡¯s face evaporate.

    ¡°No...it¡¯s all over for ya.¡±

    ¡°I-I miss m-my-¡±

    ¡°STOP.¡± Bill stood from his chair and his face nearly wrinkled into a scowl, making the squirrel back into a corner of his chair. ¡°It hurts, but face it...your life¡¯s over! You KILLED your brother; do ya think your parents ever wanna see ya again? Do ya think there¡¯s any way they¡¯ll just forgive ya and pretend it never happened?¡±

    ¡°I-I-¡±

    ¡°And ya think some magic old man in the sky¡¯s just gonna wipe away all your problems?¡± Bill shook his head. ¡°He. Does. Not. CARE! Why wouldja pray to some God every morning when He let your little brother DIE for no damn reason?! Why didn¡¯t He help ya? Think!¡±

    Bill¡¯s massive stature eclipsed the sunlight streaming through the window behind him, casting the child in a chilling shadow. The little squirrel trembled and cried with his face buried into the cushion. Bill softened his complexion and sighed. He walked around to Ben¡¯s side of the table.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry...didn¡¯t mean to come off so angry and callous.¡± He laid an assuring paw on the squirrel¡¯s heaving frame, though his touch made Ben tense up even more. ¡°I¡¯m not mad at ya, I¡¯m just...mad at what happened to ya and how this world¡¯s treated ya. Ben, look up at me.¡±

    The bear gently tilted Ben¡¯s little head up with a finger and stooped to make eye contact with him. His sturdy gaze arrested the child¡¯s attention like a stern but caring father.

    ¡°Listen carefully, son...what I said was harsh...but you know I¡¯m right. You miss your mom and dad, but they don¡¯t miss you. Do ya really want to live the rest of your life with them, knowing what you did? How could they possibly love you now, knowing how much you hurt them? On top of that...how about living your life knowing you ended your brother¡¯s life? Is the pain worth it? Is your life worth living knowing you made a mistake you can never, ever fix?¡±

    ¡°But I miss them...and I-I, uh...maybe they¡¯ll forgive me¡­?¡± Ben argued, his sentiments from yesterday shifting.

    Bill slowly shook his head. ¡°You killed their son...they can¡¯t. The pain you caused them and yourself is too much¡­this is why I can¡¯t let you go home.¡±

    Ben felt his insides freeze.

    ¡°My son...I want to protect you from a life of pain¡­¡± The bear gently cupped Ben¡¯s little head in his paw. ¡°And that¡¯s why,¡± he lightly exhaled, a warm smile gracing his face.

    ¡°...I will help you peacefully leave this world.¡±

    -

    The previous day, in Rodney¡¯s lab

    The bat just about dropped his scalpel after seeing what his last incision revealed. It was expected, though a fear in the back of Rodney¡¯s mind during examination told him it might not be there. Given the circumstances, it was the best thing he could¡¯ve found. The substance inside Peter¡¯s chest cavity brought about a bittersweet revelation. The witness¡¯ account turned out to be mistaken on all fronts; it didn¡¯t help Peter in any way, but it meant everything for Ben.

    Water.

    Inside the lungs.

    What this meant was that Peter did not perish at the pounding and pressing of his brother¡¯s hands...he drowned.

    He died well before his brother found him.

    As Rodney photographed the evidence with moderately jittery hands, his mind dwelt on other pieces of information. He still needed to make sense of the other factors.

    ¡°Why did the hare think it was Peter calling for help? Why were Ben¡¯s pawprints all over his chest? Why was Peter¡¯s foot broken? Why were his ribs shattered?¡±

    The wearied bat poured himself a small cup of coffee in the break room to mull it over. The hare, the pawprints, the ribs; all of it swirled about in his brain like a macabre riddle.

    ¡°Hmm...the foot was broken, but Ben¡¯s prints weren¡¯t on it...but...I can¡¯t think of why he''d hit a dead body like that over and over...and why the chest? It doesn¡¯t make-¡±

    A sudden, horrid realization made him stop mid-thought. A queasy sensation filled the pit of his stomach as he rode along this new train of thought.

    ¡°Oh no...Ben...He must¡¯ve thought that...that Peter was still alive!¡± The images and orientation of the pawprints coursed through his mind again. ¡°He found his brother by the river and,...since he was dead, he was completely still. However...Ben must¡¯ve thought he was alive for some reason; probably blind optimism, and his optimism chalked Peter¡¯s stillness to mere unconsciousness. Being at the river, he likely thought water in his lungs was the culprit. That means he wasn¡¯t beating up his little brother nor trying to murder him¡­those pawprints came from attempted chest compressions...he was trying to save his life...¡±

    ...a life that vanished long before he could ever get there.

    ¡°The ribs and the foot? Ben couldn¡¯t have been strong enough to break those on his own, even if he tried. Peter must¡¯ve fallen into the river upstream somewhere and procured those injuries from all the rocks. A tiny creature like him would easily get smashed and contorted by those things¡­¡± Rodney shuddered. ¡°And the voice the hare heard...that wasn¡¯t Peter, that was Ben. He called for help because he realized his efforts weren¡¯t working, and he would¡¯ve fallen deeper into panic. He would¡¯ve hoped that someone would help wake Peter up, and the hare showed up...By then...she¡¯s witnessing Ben¡¯s frantic efforts to revive his brother. She thinks he¡¯s pounding the life out of him, but instead she¡¯s seeing a little boy desperately trying to get water out of his brother¡¯s lungs. She screams murder, and...in a bout of shock and horror, thinking he really did kill his brother...Ben runs away¡­¡±

    And now there¡¯s an innocent kid out there who thinks he murdered his little brother...after trying so hard to save him.

    Rodney abandoned his sense of composure and dissolved into tears.

    -

    Bill gathered his and the squirrel¡¯s plate and carried them to the sink; he couldn¡¯t keep the jovial grin off his face even if he tried. ¡°I have something wonderful to show ya in a bit; I hope you¡¯re excited!¡±

    Ben didn¡¯t reply; his brain¡¯s neurons were firing so chaotically the bear¡¯s words were white noise.

    ¡°Ben?¡± Bill peered at the little squirrel, who appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating. Small, intermittent screams erupted from his mouth as his reality set in. Bill set the ceramic plates down and calmly walked over to him. ¡°Son, please calm down.¡±

    Ben gazed at him with eyes ready to burst from their sockets; his heartrate and breathing intensified when Bill scooped him up with his right arm.

    ¡°No! P-please! LET ME GO!¡± He shrieked at the top of his lungs. A massive, ursine paw gently held his muzzle shut, sealing the child¡¯s screams in his throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t yell like that, it disturbs the neighbors.¡± He sternly rebuked him. ¡°You have nothing to fear...I¡¯m not kidnapping or hurting ya; I¡¯m keeping you here because ya need help.¡± A subtle, knowing smile formed on his face.

    ¡°...And isn¡¯t that why ya came with me?¡±

    At the same time, the same muffled voice and scratching sound Ben heard last night returned. Bill¡¯s expression grimaced for a half second before returning to its former demeanor. He continued to hold Ben¡¯s mouth shut, but the squirrel squirmed and flailed harder.

    ¡°MFFPFFMFHPHMH!¡± He clawed at Bill¡¯s paw, trying to pry it off.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s go see what I have in store for ya.¡± Bill raised his voice a few decibels then started whistling a random, popular tune from when he was a kid. He carried the crying Ben up the stairs with a casual gait; his whistling drowning out the noise from the basement. When he reached the long hallway at the top of the stairs, he shut the bulky, oak door behind him and bolted it.

    Ben had never been on the second floor of this house. The hallway was wider than the one on the first floor, but there weren¡¯t as many doors. After the motion-sensor light flicked on, Ben noticed pictures on the walls out of the corner of his eye. Baroque-style wooden frames held these photos of what the squirrel assumed was Bill¡¯s family. A few were gray-scale and many were in sepia tones; Ben recognized Bill in those images despite his youthful appearance. He was slightly rounder and often accompanied by a female bear about his age. Other pictures included three shorter bears; all brown but with distinguishable features. Other pictures included what Ben surmised to be other relatives like uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews.

    Bill stopped at the door at the end of the hallway, finally releasing his paw from the squirrel¡¯s muzzle. ¡°Calmed down now? Sorry I had to do that.¡±

    ¡°I want to go home!¡± Ben whined.

    Bill sighed and shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re a confused little boy. One minute, you¡¯re runnin'' from your folks ¡®cuz you killed your brother and cry about wantin¡¯ to die; next minute you wanna go home.¡±

    ¡°I-I-¡± Ben stammered. ¡°I...changed my mind! Let. Me. Go. Home!¡±

    Bill raised an eyebrow at Ben¡¯s uncharacteristic scowl and gritted teeth. ¡°Ben...I¡¯ve lived more life than you...I¡¯ve gone through things and seen things that are so bad there¡¯s just no turnin¡¯ back. Believe me...I¡¯d love to let ya go back, but I know damn well your family will hate you forever for what you did. You¡¯ll grow up hatin¡¯ your life more and more...and you¡¯ll be wishing you were dead. Son...I¡¯m doing you a big, big favor.¡±

    Ben shook his head and glared defiantly at Bill. ¡°M-my mom and dad might forgive me-¡±

    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± A deep-throated growl erupted from the bear¡¯s gnarled expression. Two rows of sharp, glistening teeth protruded from his mouth as he roared, sending the squirrel into a panic. ¡°I¡¯m doin¡¯ ya a huge kindness ya little punk; least you can do is thank me!¡± He tapped into Ben¡¯s sense of guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m s-sorry!¡± He wailed; his little paws over the top of his head. ¡°Th-thank you for h-helping m-me! I s-swear!¡±

    The bear¡¯s expression softened as he closed his mouth and mellowed his narrowed eyes. He stroked Ben gently along his back like an affectionate pet-owner. ¡°I should be nicer; you¡¯re a little kid after all. Now, how ¡®bout I show ya how I plan to help ya. Trust me, you¡¯ll love it.¡±

    Despite the playful sparkle in Bill¡¯s eye, Ben wanted nothing to do with what was beyond this door.

    -

    Ten years ago

    Bill gazed over the sea of buildings and street lights that inundated Las P¨ªceas. The sprawling metropolis teemed with life as people nearly four hundred feet below the bear attended parties, clubs, movies, bars, and whatever frivolities everyone planned that Friday night. It was the onset of summer vacation, and much of the joviality stemmed from college students finally freed from the shackles of the school year.

    The grizzly standing on his balcony put a paw to his face, unable to handle the view any longer. His shoulders heaved as he started to cry.

    ¡°Life all around me...and all I feel is death¡­¡±

    The bear¡¯s eyes flicked upward into the firmament. Though light pollution muddled its glory, Bill perceived many of the celestial bodies countless miles over his head. A silent prayer escaped his lips in the form of a cold mist. It vanished as soon as he formed it.

    ¡°God...why¡­why wouldja let it come to this?¡± Bill shook his head mournfully.

    He heard the glass door slide open behind him, but didn¡¯t turn to look.

    ¡°Donna¡­¡±

    His wife wordlessly approached him and lovingly embraced him. He felt her head against the nape of his neck and her arms about his chest. He held one of her paws with his.

    ¡°Bill...my love...my anchor¡­¡± She whispered.

    Bill remained silent for several seconds, unable to come to grips with their new reality.

    ¡°Donna...I can¡¯t...¡± He shook his head.

    She squeezed his shoulders affectionately. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid! Please, trust me...it¡¯s...the right thing to do.¡±

    ¡°But...how can I?¡± He faced her. ¡°A-after twenty-five years together...my beautiful wife...¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s why you should do this! Please...there¡¯s no other way¡­¡± Her sullen eyes met his. ¡°I can¡¯t take the pain no more¡­¡±

    ¡°There must be another way-¡±

    ¡°Bill!¡± Her eyes watered. ¡°I...I can¡¯t go through with this hell anymore...Have mercy, I¡¯m beggin¡¯ you!¡±

    Bill tightened his grip on her paw and leaned to kiss her on the cheek. His will weakened as her pleas melted his weakening fortitude. The agony in her face, the lips that would never form a smile again, the eyes which used to glisten with spirit¡­

    They both knew it would never come back.

    Not after what Donna did.

    ¡°Bill, I just...I just want my sufferin¡¯ to be over¡­We had a good run, but...I can¡¯t go another day with this grievous knot in my soul¡­¡±

    With a heavy sigh and heavy heart, her husband uttered the sentence she longed to hear since the car accident.

    ¡°...It''s...¡± Bill wiped tears from his eyes. ¡°17, 4,...19.¡±

    Bill sensed his soul depart as he uttered each numeral. Her paw squeezed his shoulder one last time.

    ¡°...Thank you.¡± She planted a gentle kiss on his tear-dampened cheek. ¡°You did the right thing¡­¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer or even look at her; not that he didn¡¯t reciprocate those feelings, but that he didn¡¯t want her to behold the anguish in his face.

    He remained on the balcony, keeping his tears to himself while his wife performed what she set out to do. He couldn¡¯t stand to watch any of it.

    The next time Bill laid his eyes on Donna, she was lying supine on her side of the bed. Her eyes were closed and the corners of her mouth turned upward into a faint smile. Her paws were positioned one over the other on her belly; the usual pose she was in whenever she tried to relax or nap on a warm day. Her pink Sonos-brand headphones were situated over her ears, and Bill could hear Debussy¡¯s ¡°La cath¨¦drale engloutie¡± muffled against them at a moderate volume. She was listening to one of her favorite tapes; always having loved the subtle, pacifying tones of impressionist music.

    The climax was the last thing she heard before slipping serenely into the afterlife.

    Bill listened to the piece¡¯s final notes taper into the still air. A chilled silence filled the dimly-lit room as he realized she was gone. She¡¯d know no more pain. No more guilt. No more interminable distress.

    Freedom.

    The widower crumbled at her bedside and wept. He clasped her left paw with his own and cried into it. It would take him some days to harden his conscience and convince himself he indeed did the right thing.

    Rescue her from the agony of a convicted soul. The memories she¡¯d otherwise live with of her car careening out of control and slamming into those hapless pedestrians¡­

    ¡°She was right¡­ya can¡¯t be forgiven from that¡­

    ...I did her a huge favor.¡±

    -

    Ben thought the room was going to be drab and dark, like a prison cell isolated light-years from civilization and ensconced within the bowels of the deepest, dreadful dungeon. There would¡¯ve been a scaffold with a trap door in it, and a noose narrow and taut enough to suspend Ben¡¯s lifeless frame over the floor upon the door¡¯s release. He could already feel his axis bone severing his spinal cord. It was a thought he would¡¯ve entertained longer the day before.

    But now...he pictured his dad slicing the rope with a saw and saving his life.

    ¡°You¡¯re my son and I love you...nothing can ever change that.¡±

    Not even Bill.

    The room was nothing like Ben expected. The walls and ceiling were painted light blue, and white cloud patterns as gentle as a whisper from heaven. A single bed occupied the center of the pastel-green carpeted room. It looked as soft and fluffy as a marshmallow. The color scheme reminded Ben of a thriving, fruitful glen in the heart of spring, and the bed was a serene cloud standing upon its verdant surface. Against the wall was a single balsam table fitted with various drawers, and above it, a twenty-seven inch television was mounted in the wall. Its black, cubic form clashed garishly with the azure sky behind it, but was by no means hostile.

    Why did this look more like a kid¡¯s bedroom than a place a life would end?

    Bill set Ben down onto the bed, purposefully laying him on his back so he could fully experience the swaddling comfort it had to offer. ¡°Not bad, yeah?¡± Bill asked, walking to the small desk.

    Ben shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s really, really soft¡­¡± He uttered in a dreamy voice. ¡°But...I still wanna go-¡±

    ¡°Not after you see what I¡¯m about to offer ya.¡± The bear silenced him. ¡°See, you keep thinking I wanna kill ya, but you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Ben heard Bill shuffling things about in one of the drawers, but couldn¡¯t see, as his huge body blocked his view.

    ¡°I¡¯m not some horrible killer or psycho who wants to hurt ya...what I have is something that¡¯ll help ya escape all the pain in your life while keepin¡¯ ya alive.¡±

    ¡°But it sounds like you¡¯re saying it¡¯ll kill me.¡±

    ¡°No, no!¡± The grizzly chuckled. ¡°Think of it as a dream. I¡¯m not gonna kill ya, like I said, but I¡¯m gonna give you something that¡¯ll be like a very, very long dream. A long, pleasant dream, really. You like nice dreams?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­?¡± Ben¡¯s voice tapered; modulating into a question.

    ¡°I knew it¡¯d confuse ya, but trust me, it really works. You see...I made some medicine about ten years ago that lets ya sleep and have all the nice dreams you want. You don¡¯t have to wake up and live in a world where your brother''s dead...you can have dreams where he¡¯s alive and your family loves ya and accepts ya no matter what. You can play forever and ever.¡± Bill turned to face him with his familiar, knowing grin. ¡°That¡¯s not death...that¡¯s nirvana.¡±

    Ben stood, not sure he heard Bill correctly. ¡°A f-forever dream? But...how? I¡¯ll still die, w-won¡¯t I?¡±

    Bill looked him squarely in the eyes with a straight face. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°No?! H-how?¡± Ben tilted his head.

    ¡°The pill has a chemical that stops your body from getting older, all the while engaging your brain¡¯s cerebral cortex to give ya continuous dreams. See, people die because the body gets tired from doin¡¯ all its functions for all those years, and parts of it break down. Sure, doctors can help fix ya and help ya feel better, but eventually, parts of you break so much that not even the doctors can help ya anymore. You wonder why you see no one drivin¡¯ old cars anymore? They break from being driven so much; that¡¯s like how our bodies work.¡±

    Ben nodded along, not fully understanding him, but still drawn in by his confidence.

    ¡°The chemical I put in this medicine makes it so you can sleep all you want, and since your body¡¯s not doing all that work when it¡¯s awake, it doesn¡¯t break down! Ever wonder why ya need to sleep at all?¡±

    ¡°...Because I¡¯m tired?¡±

    ¡°Because your body¡¯s been workin¡¯ so much all day, right? Ya wake up, go to school, learn, think, play with your friends, eat, run around some more, and then you go home and do your homework and your chores, and you play with your brother, well, when he was alive, at least.¡±

    ¡°I have a baby sister too.¡±

    ¡°But my point is you¡¯re doing so much all day that your body wants to take a break and recharge. That¡¯s why you sleep. If you were sleeping all the time, is your body doing a bunch of work?¡±

    ¡°Uh...I, uh...guess not?¡± A prick in Ben¡¯s mind told him Bill wasn¡¯t being completely honest, but the second-grader didn¡¯t have the scientific prowess to prove it. ¡°Uh...but, uh¡­¡± Ben rubbed the back of his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound right¡­I-I don¡¯t want the medicine, uh, thanks¡­¡±

    He wanted to mention seeing his parents again, but didn¡¯t want Bill to fly into another rage. Bill sighed and slumped his shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re one du-, er, tough customer. How about¡­¡± Bill¡¯s eyes flicked upward pensively for a few seconds before facing Ben. ¡°I show you a video; that way you can see the medicine work.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want-¡±

    ¡°You will after watching this.¡± Bill silenced him with a halting paw. ¡°You wanted my help, and I don¡¯t care how much convincing it¡¯ll take¡­

    ...you will take the medicine sooner or later.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t until the grizzly uttered these words that Ben realized there was no window in this room. No vent he could abscond through. No grate in the floor he could slip through and flee.

    There was only the bed he was sitting on.

    His deathbed.

    -

    ¡°How long have ya been hurtin¡¯?¡± A slightly younger and rounder Bill sat beside a crying kangaroo and offered her a tissue. They appeared to be at the table downstairs, where Bill and Ben had breakfast not long ago.

    ¡°B-been two weeks n-now¡­¡± She stuttered, unwilling to face him or the camera. ¡°I c-can¡¯t stop thinkin¡¯ about that day...It¡¯s killing me¡­¡±

    ¡°And your husband won¡¯t forgive ya?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°No one w-will, a-and I don¡¯t deserve it-¡± Her sobbing intensified and Bill placed an assuring paw on her shoulder. ¡°I-it was such a stupid, stupid mistake!¡±

    ¡°And ya know you¡¯ll never feel better...you¡¯ll never forget what you did to your daughter...ever.¡±

    Her sobbing worsened and Bill pulled her into a hug. Her face was buried into his huge chest, but Ben caught the corner of her eye.

    Immeasurable pain.

    ¡°My baby, I-I¡¯m so sorry! I-I was so EVIL and SELFISH!¡± She wailed so loudly that it rocked the squirrel to his core. It brought him back to the night he murdered his brother. Subtle sensations of guilt tentacled and slithered their way up from the depths of hell and slowly choked Ben¡¯s heart. The kangaroo pulled from Bill so she could extract a photo she kept in her pouch. Ben recognized the gray-scale image; it was a similar kind of image his mom showed him a few months ago when he asked what he was like as a baby.

    An ultrasound. The one in the kangaroo¡¯s paws was blurry, but recognizable as an unborn baby after her kind.

    ¡°Wh-what happened?!¡± Ben inquired, tears forming in his eyes.

    Bill paused the video and replied with grave tone. ¡°She killed her baby.¡±

    The image frozen in the screen paralyzed the squirrel; the mother¡¯s paw touching the fuzzy, gray form of her daughter. She wanted to hold her and bestow as many of life¡¯s blessings on her as she could...to reverse her irreversible decision and bring her into this world like she intended.

    Ben wished he was back at Blueberry Grove that day...if he¡¯d only turned around sooner and stopped his brother from scurrying up that tree.

    Remorse.

    Regret.

    Guilt.

    Ben came to the startling conclusion that Bill wasn¡¯t only showing him this video to convince him to take the pill...it was to show that he was the kangaroo. The will Ben had to go home wafted away bit by bit as the video portrayed the raw, burning agony of the kangaroo. Not completely, but it was like a pounding wave eroding a once-sturdy crag.

    Both were killers that couldn¡¯t be forgiven.

    Bill hit play again and Ben continued watching in chilled silence. Bill and his patient wound up in the same room Ben sat in now. When the bear offered her the pill, she didn¡¯t hesitate, practically swiping it from his paw and ingesting it without the aid of water. For the split second Ben noticed it, it was minuscule and bore a pink casing. It looked generic, like it could¡¯ve been anything.

    ¡°Ben,¡± Bill deviated his attention briefly. ¡°Watch her closely. She just swallowed that pill and I want you to pay attention to how she reacts.¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes were transfixed on the screen. The morose marsupial laid on the bed and turned to the side. For a few minutes the squirrel didn¡¯t detect anything amiss, but eventually, her eyelids slowly shut, her breathing slowed, and the side of her mouth visible to the camera subtly turned upward.

    Was she smiling?

    Several more minutes ticked by. Her breathing maintained a steady cadence, and occasionally her lips would part slightly into a gentle, but happy laugh.

    ¡°How does she look to you?¡± Bill asked the dumbfounded rodent.

    ¡°Like...she¡¯s having a nice dream¡­¡±

    The bear tousled his head fur. ¡°Exactly! Are ya gettin¡¯ it now? Do I seem like a kidnapper and a killer to you? Look what I did for this poor mother; sobbing and losing her mind thirty minutes ago, and now...in a pleasant, heavenly dream that will go on forever. THAT¡¯S the help I¡¯m trying to give you! You want a life of hellish pain, or this?¡±

    He tapped the screen lightly with the remote. ¡°And you¡¯re not even payin¡¯ for it!¡±

    Though most of Ben¡¯s flimsy resolve continued to melt away, a tiny ember remained stalwart in his heart. He still longed for his family¡­

    But this alternative didn¡¯t look so bad anymore. The kangaroo looked so peaceful and content; she must¡¯ve been playing with the daughter she never had in unperturbed, carefree merriment.

    Ben was conflicted.

    ¡°So,¡± Bill clapped his paws quietly, ¡°just say the word and I¡¯ll give you your medicine.¡± He eyed the squirrel expectantly.

    ¡°I...uh¡­can I, uh, think about it?¡±

    Bill fettered his exasperation with the child, assuming he still loved his family, a family that couldn¡¯t possibly reciprocate that love. ¡°...Sure...but in the meantime, I can¡¯t let ya leave. Like I said, you WILL take the pill.¡±

    ¡°Th-that''s kidnap-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want ya goin¡¯ out there and tellin'' everyone about this pill; it¡¯s not kidnapping at all.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s so good, why can¡¯t I tell anyone?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­¡± Bill paused to think, ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of ¡®em. I¡¯d run out really fast, faster than I can make ¡®em. For that reason, I can¡¯t let ya go and blab about it...You don¡¯t want to be guilty of makin'' them run out, do ya?¡±

    A part of him said no, the other said yes...it was a part of him that wanted to believe someone would¡¯ve loved and forgiven that kangaroo.

    Even if God would¡¯ve been the only one.

    Sadly, the kangaroo would never find out.

    Ben¡¯s attention returned to the video to see if anything different would happen. Her eyes and mouth were still closed and expression serene, but something was off.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ben gasped, ¡°Wh-what happened-¡±

    Bill, distracted with fumbling for something in a drawer and forgetting the tape was still playing, swiftly reached for the cord behind the desk and pulled it. The TV shut off instantly. ¡°Huh? What?¡±

    ¡°D-did she stop breathing?!¡± Ben hopped off the bed and his tail bristled in a defensive stance. ¡°Wh-what¡¯s going-"

    ¡°No, no! The tape froze because it¡¯s old, silly!¡± Bill scooped him up playfully. ¡°You know what would be fun? Cartoons. You can watch ¡®em while you think, okay?¡±

    Before Ben could raise his voice further, Bill forced his muzzle shut with his paw and hummed loudly over his stifled yelps.

    As well as the persistent sounds from the basement.

    -

    The night Peter passed away

    After Rachel consumed a quarter of her tiny bowl of Morrison¡¯s Famous Mac ¡®n Cheese, she announced she was full and tired. Claudia, contrived smile still on her face, picked her up and gave her a bath, helped her brush her teeth, tucked her into bed, and uttered a prayer with her. She tried to keep it as casual and innocuous as possible so as not to scare the child. In reality, Claudia wanted to scream her beleaguered heart out to God.

    ¡°Goodnight sweetie!¡± She turned to leave.

    ¡°My nightnight!¡± Rachel squealed.

    ¡°Your what?¡±

    ¡°The nightnight! Pwease can you turn it on?¡± She clutched her mouse plushie.

    A confused Claudia furrowed her brow until she noticed the panda-nightlight plugged into the wall. ¡°Oh, you want this on? Sure!¡±

    The aunt flicked it on, bathing the room in a cozy, pastel blue. Rachel contentedly nestled deeper under her blankie.

    ¡°Goodnight.¡± Claudia nuzzled her and kissed her on the forehead. ¡°I love you. Sweet dreams.¡±

    ¡°I wuv you too aunt Cwaudia.¡±

    Claudia closed her door partially, but before she could think about wandering outside and howling in despair, Cecilia stopped her. She held a piece of paper in her hand and a concerned expression on her tired face.

    ¡°Sis,¡± the squirrel whispered, ¡°look what Ben drew.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± The wolf accepted the sheet her sister handed her and flipped it over to look. Her jaw hit the floor. ¡°Wh-why¡­?¡±

    ¡°I knew Ben struggled with being sad...but I didn¡¯t expect this.¡± Cecilia shook her head dolefully. ¡°He really needs help.¡±

    Neither could stand to look at the image again. How could one gaze upon an image of her nephew...decapitated, torso and legs strewn about in a sea of blood and viscera. Beneath the image was scrawled three words in red crayon.

    ¡°stoopid litle shit¡±

    -

    While Bill tried to keep Ben occupied with the television in the family room, he was doing some business in the basement.

    ¡°Thought I had it here¡­¡± He sharply moved and shuffled various items about on a shelf. ¡°If she hid it, I swear I¡¯ll rip her fuckin'' head off...Ah, there it is.¡±

    His paw grasped the neck of the item he was looking for and extracted it with great care, as though handling a newborn chick. It was a 2002 Lakeridge Merlot, his libation of choice for his date tonight. The temperature of the cellar helped keep the liquor cold and ideal for intoxicating enjoyment.

    He quietly stepped out of the basement. As he started to close the door, the doorbell chimed.

    ¡°Delivery for William Rakowsky?¡±

    ¡°Comin¡¯!¡± He darted up the stairs two at a time, careful not to drop the bottle. He set it gently on the counter and tended to the delivery man, or chimp, in this case.

    ¡°Will? Here, sign this.¡± The chimp handed him the box and form he needed to sign as proof he got the package.

    ¡°Mhm.¡± The bear accepted the blue pen and hurriedly signed his name under the glow of the porch light. He forgot the brass window cranks he ordered a week ago were to arrive today. It seemed more an annoyance than a wanted item at the moment; he had two things on the stove and something in the oven he needed to get to. If he burnt anything, his perfect date with Chantal would be ruined.

    He thanked the delivery guy and nearly slammed the door in his face. He haphazardly tossed the box onto the counter and checked on the salmon he was searing.

    Phew, not over-cooked!

    He remembered the Merlot he intended to chill and placed it in the freezer. He ran through his mental checklist again, knowing Chantal would be arriving soon, maybe.

    ¡°Food, wine, candles, movie, snacks...oh, mouthwash, the silk sheets...oh, and Ben can¡¯t be out here.¡±

    Ten minutes later, he caught sight of the lady bear¡¯s car through the kitchen window. He called to Ben.

    ¡°She¡¯s here, Ben.¡±

    No reply.

    ¡°Ben? Hate to be rude, but ya gotta scram.¡± Bill left the food to check on him. He was on the bear-sized beanbag Bill let him use, but his eyes were closed, as though silently swimming through deep thoughts.

    ¡°Earth to Ben!¡± Bill raised his voice, causing him to jump.

    ¡°Wh-what?¡±

    ¡°Time to go to your room; remember we talked about this?¡±

    ¡°Oh...uh, yeah...sorry.¡±

    Ben scrambled out of the beanbag, clumsily stumbling onto his back before rolling onto his fours and darting away. The decision was mutual to send Ben away during this date; he didn¡¯t like it even when he saw his own parents kiss. Stuff like that was icky and known to spread cooties.

    From his room, Ben faintly heard the two bears chatter and laugh as they had dinner. He stuck his tongue out in disgust and rifled through the toy chest to find something fun to play. At least his kidnapper allowed him toys.

    But playtime was mere distraction. As he assembled the colored blocks into something that resembled a tiger (he was a Mighty Space Tigers fan after all), his thoughts were fixated on something much bigger. When he was in the TV room earlier, he listened to Bill go into the basement and come back out some minutes later. He didn¡¯t follow him in, but did listen for strange noises. Voices, thumps, scratches...he heard none of that, but did notice something else. In the midst of Bill¡¯s distraction caused by the delivery man and his much-anticipated date, he forgot something very important...something that demanded the child¡¯s curiosity.

    He never closed the basement door.

    -

    Four hours later

    Ben grinned as he beheld the four tigers he assembled. They were ordinary tigers and not space tigers, mind you, but tigers nonetheless.

    ¡°These¡¯d be so cool for show-and-tell!¡± His little tail swayed happily. ¡°Peter would¡¯ve thought these were cool too¡­¡±

    At that moment, he heard Bill and Chantal¡¯s voices as though they were walking towards his room.

    ¡°NO!¡± The child darted into the closet; his spine prickled with terror at the thought of seeing the two bears smooch and read gooey love poems to each other. However, he heard their voices and footsteps ascend.

    They went upstairs!

    Ben¡¯s fists clenched in poised excitement and trepidation. He knew Bill would stomp him into a fine powder if he saw him in the basement, but the fact that Bill explicitly forbade him to investigate this enticing enigma demanded Ben investigate it. Besides, he may as well soak up as much adventure and exploration while forced to stay in this house; turn his finite, wall-bordered world into an extravagant escapade!

    He waited several more minutes to make sure neither bear came downstairs again before creaking his door ajar. It swished open softly and quietly, revealing the dark hallway outside. No voices. Bill and Chantal must¡¯ve been asleep.

    Now was his chance.

    As quietly as a bold mouse, the little squirrel tiptoed through the sliver of light and slipped into the protective darkness...at least until the motion-sensor lights flicked on. He froze...did Bill have a way of knowing these lights were on even though Ben was on the floor below? His little heart thudded in tense rhythm as he expected the grizzly to come down and lock him in his room.

    Nothing.

    Ben remained silent as he crept and slithered slyly like a pint-sized ninja through the hallway and into the dining room. The motion lights turning on set him on edge, but once more, there was not a peep from upstairs. He eyed the standing plants meant to block his view of the stairwell.

    ¡°Ooh scary plants!¡± Ben smirked. ¡°Are you going to stop me with your big, scary leaves?¡±

    Ben¡¯s slender frame squeezed effortlessly between the ceramic pots. He stood at the top of the stairwell and beheld the door. It beckoned him to plumb its secrets and explore its possibilities.

    Seeing that Bill forgot to close it before going to bed caused a rare, open-mouthed grin to spawn on Ben¡¯s face.

    ¡°YES YES YES!¡± He sped down the stairs as though a vast forest of acorns and walnuts awaited him on the other side. With a determined snout and ready paw, he nudged the door open a little more. It was dark, but that only made it more exciting. He knew Bill was hiding something down here, and it was time the boy unearthed the forbidden secret.

    His tiny body slipped between the door and frame, and the motion lights flicked on. They were slightly brighter than anticipated, making him shield his eyes and squint momentarily. Soon, he was to lay his hungry eyes on a new world.

    ¡°Oh man, what could be in here-¡±

    ¡°MMPFFMPFMHPFFMM!¡±

    ¡°AAH!¡± Ben yelped and readied a defensive stance. The muffled voice was much closer and louder than before. When he regained his vision, his eyes darted here and there to detect its source.

    ¡°MMFFPMHMMFF!¡± The voice was accompanied by thuds pounding against some unbending, wooden surface. Ben¡¯s head immediately turned to the furthest corner. Various racks and shelves blocked his view, but the sounds were unmistakably coming from that direction.

    ¡°C-coming!¡± He scurried frantically through the messy heap of tools and personal affects long forgotten. The shelves of items blocked some of the light from reaching this corner, but Ben could clearly see what was here.

    An old, discarded toy chest. It was decorated with rot and ornate designs from a decade now only a memory. Atop its lid laid a pile of dusty books. When the voice and thuds came again, the lid shifted.

    Someone was trapped in there.

    Ben¡¯s legs grew weak and his paws sweaty. Realizing the dire situation this was, he hopped onto the lid and frantically slid the books off with jittery, tremulous paws. His eyes occasionally looked to the door; he didn¡¯t want to think what would happen if Bill caught him.

    ¡°A-almost th-there¡­¡±

    Book by book, the weight on the lid lessened. Each slap the books made as they struck the cement made Ben wince, but he didn¡¯t know how to be quieter about it. After the last book, Science Encyclopedia for Fourth Graders, fell atop the pile, Ben hopped onto the floor.

    ¡°O-opening now.¡± Blood pounded relentlessly through his brain. With as much might his little arms could muster, he heaved the lid open. He wasn¡¯t strong enough to open it all the way, but the scent of another animal filled his nostrils immediately.

    Forming enough space between the lid and box, he climbed onto the ledge of the newly-formed gap. With more leverage at his disposal, he used his whole body to foist the lid open the rest of the way. He gazed at the being the toy chest held captive.

    Muffled.

    Bound with cords.

    Dirty.

    Cheeks stained with countless tears.

    Ben was speechless...partly from shock¡­ and partly because a buried, rusty area of his memory bank attempted to place this captive somewhere in his past. He couldn¡¯t place the victim¡¯s name, but her bug-eyed expression showed she remembered him well...frighteningly well.

    She was a gray squirrel.