《Hunted》 Chapter 1 Saturday, August 10, 2013 Thump. Thump. Thump. The jeep scaled the rocky gradient, sending clouds of gravel and dirt in its wake. The sun glinted off its steel surface and bathed the mountainside with relentless heat. Intermittent trees provided moments of shade for the family of four, though the air conditioner was still a must. Gerald McLean flicked a few dust particles off his dashboard display and glanced at the temperature. Ninety-two. It was barely 10:05. A rectangular green sign ahead indicated Lake Dorson was twelve miles away. The Braixen dad grinned at the thought of finally arriving¡­ a verdant, expansive clearing¡­ placid, azure lake perfect for fishing¡­ miles from urban cacophony and smog. Just the McLeans and four days of serenity. How¡¯re you doin¡¯ back there?¡± He peered at his two little Fennekins through the rearview mirror. His son, Terrence, stared out the window with half-lidded eyes and chin propped lazily on the backside of his paw. Fine.¡± He muttered with the enthusiasm of a limp sock. His little sister, Nikki, was conked out to his left. The seat belt held her snug against the back of her booster seat. She wasn¡¯t a baby, but still too light to be free from the extra protection. Dreams of her favorite cartoon characters danced about in her mind. It was a fleeting yet pleasant reality. Oh birthday giiiiiirl.¡± Her father sang in that voice he always used to wake her. ¡°We¡¯re almost theeeeere; time to wake uuuuuup.¡± Her right ear twitched, but eyes remained closed. My babies,¡± mommy Braixen, Michelle, turned to look at them. ¡°All tuckered out.¡± Not tired.¡± Terrence intoned with a bored yawn. Gerald latched open the center compartment without taking his eyes off the road. ¡°I know what¡¯ll get you awake and excited.¡± His paw jostled objects around. Not that¡­ not this¡­ there! His fingers wrapped about the plastic tape and pulled it out. Terrence caught the familiar pink and yellow label in his periphery. Noooooo...¡± Terrence moaned and plopped his head against the door. ¡°I hate that stupid-¡± Relax,¡± his mother said. ¡°It¡¯ll just be one song, we promise.¡± And it¡¯s Nikki¡¯s birthday.¡± His father added. Terrence gave an indignant, open-palmed gesture. ¡°She¡¯s not even awake.¡± His point went ignored as Gerald popped the tape into the player and hit ¡®Play.¡¯ A few seconds of silence served as prelude to the band¡¯s opening chords. The bright, bubbly tones of a piano and acoustic guitar filled the jeep. C-----E-----F-----G----- Nikki¡¯s eyelids lifted as though on cue. The familiar timbres serenaded her ears and brought a gleeful grin to her muzzle. WILEY!¡± She squealed. Riley was the titular character of Nikki¡¯s favorite cartoon, Riley the Raccoon!. It was a little program following the adventures of a sweet, cartoon raccoon as she traveled around the world. It was educational, colorful, and free from drama. This song was Nikki¡¯s favorite; she knew all the words thanks to the 6,037 times she listened to it every week. Busy, buzzy little bees! Buzzing all around my knees!¡± Nikki belted out the words in unfettered gusto. Her mother and father joined in, helping broaden the smile on their daughter¡¯s face. Terrence wanted a gun. Images paraded about his mind in unrelenting annoyance. He¡¯d rather listen to nails scratch a chalkboard. That stupid raccoon with her stupid pink nose and stupid pink ears and stupid bee costume and stupid smiling bees and stupid singing flowers. It was all stupid! He growled and thrusted his paws into his ears as though it¡¯d help. Wait¡­ did his dad just turn up the volume a little? He must¡¯ve seen him suffering in the rearview mirror. He was doing this on purpose. So long as Nikki enjoyed herself; Terrence was just along for the ride. She always gets what she wants...it¡¯s always about Nikki¡­¡± He thought. The song ended after five eternities. Terrence pulled his paws from his ears, resulting in a bout of tinnitus. Pway it again! Pway it again!¡± Nikki squeaked; she¡¯d leap from her seat if not for the restraining strap. Terrence scowled. ¡°Dad, can¡¯t I pick next? I wanna listen to something else.¡± His dad began rewinding the tape. ¡°Well, it¡¯s her birthday. I think one more time is fair.¡± But dad!¡± I¡¯ll let you pick on the way home.¡± He cut him off. ¡°This is Nikki¡¯s special day.¡± Terrence pounded a clenched fist into the side of his door. It silenced the others briefly. His mom craned her head at him. He was staring out the window, arm raised against the side of his head. Was he trying to hide his frustration from her? She heard subtle growls under his breath. Aw you okay, Tewwy?¡± Nikki asked, confused and concerned. His father noticed him too. You know what? I¡¯m in the mood for a little silence instead. We¡¯re almost there anyways.¡± He tapped his fingers lightly on the wheel. His wife nodded. ¡°Good idea.¡± A few miles later, the jeep weaved its way into a clearing. There it was. Lake Dorson. - The sky provided a spotless azure canvas. Distant pines lined the horizon as the McLeans ventured into the clearing. The lake¡¯s presence was made apparent by the sparkling sunlight. The lines of light seemed to dance as the breeze toyed with the water¡¯s surface. The thumping and bouncing of the tires resigned to a smooth roll as the dirt road evened out. Here we are.¡± Gerald announced, feeling relaxed just by the pulchritudinous scenery. ¡°Isn¡¯t it beautiful?¡± This place sucks.¡± Terrence thought as he continued staring out the window. To his father, he simply said, ¡°yeah.¡± I wanna go in da boat!¡± Nikki shouted gleefully. ¡°Daddy can we go in da boat? I wanna see da duckies and fishies!¡± Yes, yes, of course!¡± He turned left onto another road leading to their campsite. ¡°We¡¯ll get all set up and then I¡¯ll show my birthday girl aaaaaall the little fishies!¡± Terrence rolled his eyes. ¡°And you¡¯ll forget I¡¯m even here.¡± His mother saw that. Side mirrors were useful that way. The facilities at Lake Dorson were few. A welcome center, bathrooms, a shop where you could fulfill your fishing and camping needs, and a humble convenience store. Further away was a ranger station overlooking Lake Dorson and surrounding square miles of forest. Because this was a wild zone, precaution was needed to ensure the safety of all campers and feral creatures (sentient Non-Pokemon animals existed, but so did their wild counterparts). As far as wild zones went, it was a ¡°Level Blue¡± zone, the lowest tier. It meant the only wild animals here were small herbivores like mice, squirrels, rabbits, voles, etcetera. There was nothing that would cause significant harm, though you still had to beware of the errant mouse sneaking into your food. The McLeans brought peppermint repellent in case. ¡°Level Green¡± zones included small-to-mid size omnivores such as weasels and raccoons. Yellow included larger herbivores and some carnivores, and Red included the most dangerous. Bears, lions, wolverines, etcetera. Federal regulations over the last hundred years mandated mass transportation of various ferals to designated zones to make camping and general enjoyment of nature safer. Gerald reserved this spot weeks in advance, giving his family easy access to the lake. The jeep slowly rumbled to a stop in a small parking area not far from their campsite. He shut off the ignition and gazed out his window. Tents there¡­ we can fish there¡­ ooh, that¡¯s a lovely spot for hiking¡­ campfire there¡­ and we¡¯ll tell ghost stories¡­ Terrence and Nikki love those¡­¡± A playful punch to his shoulder from Michelle brought him back. Daydreaming again?¡± The kids snickered and their dad laughed with them. So I am. Welp, let¡¯s get set up!¡± He clapped his paws and unlocked the door. The others followed and hopped out. Terrence lethargically exited last and stretched his legs. Yay. Four days of boredom and no internet or friends.¡± He thought as he yawned. His mother glanced at him as though she read his mind. A thin-mouthed scowl crossed her face. Gerald got to work setting up both tents; he and Michelle in one and the kids in the other. He spared no expense getting top-of-the-line equipment. Emerson tents were spacious, easy to secure, woven with thick, weatherproof fabric, simple to clean and, best of all, had tops you could unzip. This feature was designed to help campers bask in the enchantment of relaxing under the stars. Sleeping bags were insulated and would keep them cozy through the coming nights. They¡¯d hardly know only a couple inches separated their bodies from the cold soil. Michelle prepared sandwiches, ham and Swiss on wheat with various toppings and spreads fitting her family¡¯s individual preferences. There was also potato salad, coleslaw, potato chips, and assorted bite-size vegetable chunks for sides. Drinks included water, apple juice, grape juice, soda, and peach tea. For dinner, they¡¯d enjoy whatever fish Gerald caught later. The walleye tacos he made last time hit the spot. Nikki was eager to help. She was mostly motivated by the much-anticipated boat ride, but they adored her attitude. While her father pounded a tent peg into the ground, she put a paw on his knee the same way an importunate dog begs her owner. Can we go yet daddy? Pwease?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Not done yet, but soon. How about¡­ you go play with your brother.¡± Terrence busily pounded at another peg, though his noodle arms forged little progress. ¡°But I¡¯m helping.¡± I appreciate it, but I can take it from here. Go have fun with your sister.¡± Nikki looked at him with hope-filled eyes. ¡°We can pway hide-and-seek!¡± I don¡¯t want to.¡± He protested, knowing it was a losing battle. There weren¡¯t even good places to hide; it¡¯d be the most boring game in all history. There was the forest, but mom and dad probably wouldn¡¯t let them hide there. Hammering this peg was the more exciting and cathartic option. But Tewwy!¡± His father sighed. ¡°Terrence, come on. I brought us here so you could have fun and enjoy yourself.¡± You mean so Nikki could have fun. Nikki, Nikki, it¡¯s all about Nikki.¡± Terrence fumed in his mind. His father continued. ¡°You should be playing right now. I appreciate the help, but I want you to enjoy the vacation. Four days will go by just like that.¡± He snapped his fingers. The defeated Fennekin grumbled and threw the mallet to the ground. ¡°Fine, whatever. It¡¯s all what Nikki wants anyway.¡± His mother stopped what she was doing, and his father¡¯s expression morphed into that of subdued anger. Furrowed brow, the perked ears, the wisp of smoke that seeped from his down-turned mouth¡­ Terrence shrank. Ears drooped, eyes shifted away¡­ instant regret. Perhaps his father will pummel him into the ground with that mallet. Seconds of tense silence fogged the air between them before his father set the tool down. He stood with a grunt. ¡°Terrence, come with me.¡± - The Braixen and Fennekin trudged along the shore. They didn¡¯t stray far from the others, but were out of earshot. Nikki gazed their direction but didn¡¯t follow. She knew this was none of her business. The weight of his father¡¯s silence was a burden. Tension mounted with each passing second of protracted quiet. Gerald stopped walking when they reached a bed of smooth rocks. He sat on one, scaring away a timid squirrel hiding in its shade. Here.¡± He gestured Terrence to sit beside him. No anger in his voice, but he wasn¡¯t smiling. His son sulked and hopped onto the rock. Alright,¡± his father exhaled. ¡°Talk to me. Why are you acting like this?¡± Terrence fidgeted. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry.¡± He answered, not wishing to be in the hot seat another second. Answer the question. Why are you being difficult? I brought us all here for a nice vacation and all you¡¯ve done is complain the whole time.¡± The smaller fox looked away nervously. It wouldn¡¯t matter what he said; punishment would strike when he got home. It was worse that what he wanted to say was accusatory. He may as well say goodbye to his 3DS, computer privileges, and going to friends¡¯ houses the rest of his life. It was all over. His father was growing impatient for an answer. ¡°Don¡¯t make me-¡± Okay! Okay!¡± Terrence panicked. He rubbed the back of his head anxiously. ¡°Uh...I, uh¡­¡± His father put his paw on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared, just talk to me.¡± Don¡¯t be scared? Terrence had every reason to be scared! Incriminating your dad was a felony in all kid-dom. Nothing less than a life sentence. But¡­ there was no way out. The frightened Fennekin spat it out. I-think, uh¡­ you and m-mom¡­¡± His right paw clasped his left arm in agitation. ¡°like Nikki more than me.¡± He clenched his eyes and awaited the guillotine. Gerald was reticent as a slight scowl formed on his muzzle. The Braixen grunted. ¡°Why do you think that?¡± Why the question? Was the accusation not enough? The additional query was a shovel designed to dig Terrence¡¯s grave deeper. I, uh¡­ well¡­¡± Terrence rummaged through his list of reasons, though many fled upon his attempt to recollect them. It was simply the nature of arguments. ¡°Nikki¡¯s room¡¯s bigger than mine and, uh, she got what she wanted for her birthday, but I didn¡¯t get what I wanted for mine. Uh... y-you also played her favorite songs in the car more than mine. I hate that Riley song but you kept playing it.¡± Chopin¡¯s Funeral March played in his head. Terrence¡¯s attacks constructed an ornate sepulcher with his name engraved over it. Now for the inevitable interment. His father looked up as his mouth twitched slightly. Gerald met his eyes. ¡°You really think we love your sister more than you?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Terrence shifted uncomfortably. We love you two equally. You both have a roof over your heads, beds to sleep in every night, a mom and dad who provide for you so you don¡¯t go hungry. We go to your school plays and help you with your projects. Do you think I would¡¯ve brought you along if we didn¡¯t love you?¡± A blip of boldness brushed Terrence¡¯s mind. ¡°But what about the things I said?¡± His father remained patient. ¡°Her room¡¯s bigger because when we moved in, you wanted the room you¡¯re in now. You were four. You may not remember, but you liked that room. We even told you the other room was bigger, but you insisted. So, we let you have it. As long as you were happy, we were happy. When Nikki came along, we just gave her the other room.¡± Terrence¡¯s shoulders slumped. The dusty memory reared its head upon its very mention. And about your birthday, your mom and I searched everywhere for that game you wanted, but it was always out of stock. What Nikki wanted was everywhere. That was just bad timing. Besides, you told us you still liked what we got you.¡± Terrence remembered with a heavy sigh. You couldn¡¯t go to any retailer lately without Riley¡¯s bubbly grin and rosy cheeks assailing your eyes. Of course, the Blu-ray of her recent movie just had to come out close to Nikki¡¯s birthday. The diabolical raccoon did it on purpose. As for playing music she likes, it¡¯s her birthday. I can indulge her a little.¡± But that song¡¯s annoying and I hate it.¡± Gerald couldn¡¯t resist a conceding nod. ¡°She¡¯ll outgrow it. It¡¯s not my favorite either, but I wanted her to be happy. That¡¯s more important than whether I like her choice of music or not.¡± As if on cue, Nikki started belting out the song. Loud, high-pitched, no sense of tonality. Terrence groaned, but his father laughed. Like I promised earlier, we¡¯ll let you pick the first song on the way home. Sound fair?¡± Terrence nodded. ¡°I guess¡­ sorry I was being a butt-face. I¡¯ll be more good.¡± Apology accepted.¡± His father gave him a small hug. ¡°But don¡¯t call yourself that again.¡± They trotted back as Michelle finished building the last sandwich, her own. Mouths watered and empty stomachs grumbled as the bounty awaited them. They sat around the blanket on the warm grass and, after Gerald uttered a brief prayer of thanks, dug in. Though Terrence still wanted to play video games and watch movies than be here, lunch improved his mood. Perhaps a few days away from the comfort of concrete suburbia wouldn¡¯t be so bad. - Click... Click... Click... Chitter¡¯s homepage loaded onto the widescreen monitor. An assortment of tabs and notification icons demanded Nicholas Rutger¡¯s attention. Messages. Latest. Trending. News. Profile. A small, red graphic of a squirrel peered at him from its perch in the upper-left corner of the screen. Nothing fancy, just a silhouette superimposed against a dark background. Its features weren¡¯t detailed, save for its eyes. They faced the Typhlosion, inviting him to peruse all the opinions and arguments he missed while asleep. Not important now. The pyro-mustelid leaned his head forward and left, and lifted one of the slats to his blinds. He squinted and gazed thirty-three stories down at the streets. Masses of people¡­ shouts, signs, slogans¡­ impossible to distinguish, but the crowds were a familiar sight by now. More protesters than yesterday? Or the same? He couldn¡¯t tell. Regardless, he was doing something about it. The cursor slid to the status window and he clicked. It widened, beckoning him to declare what was on his mind. Words flowed from his fingers and into the box with practiced fluidity. My fellow Revarians, I know our nation has fallen into troubled times, but these days are nearing their end. For each day that passes, my team is getting closer and closer to solving our present crisis. All we ask is you continue to do your part. Don¡¯t give up hope. It¡¯s inconvenient, but the sacrifice is worth it if we want normalcy again. God bless Revaria.¡± With a confident smile, he clicked SUBMIT. As if on cue, there was a knock at his door. Your breakfast and coffee, sir.¡± The Typhlosion tapped a button under his desk, causing the door to swing open. ¡°Over there.¡± He gestured to a polished, marble table on his right to which the servant obediently marched. ¡°The speech ready?¡± It shall be on your desk in ten minutes, sir.¡± The tuxedoed Sudowoodo answered, setting the aromatic array of coffee, pancakes, bacon, and eggs where instructed. ¡°I apologize for the delay, Dennis informed me there were last-minute edits-¡± It¡¯s fine.¡± Nicholas never turned his face from the screen. ¡°I¡¯ll call him.¡± He dismissed the anthropomorphic tree and called Dennis. Before he could ask how the speech was coming along, the Grumpig on the other end interjected. THEY FOUND OHARA!¡± Dennis gave a high-pitched squeal, making Nicholas recoil. ¡°Shebaton Caverns! Th-they¡¯re right on his tail!¡± The Typhlosion didn¡¯t respond right away. A mirthful grin crept onto his face. S-sir?¡± Dennis asked. Hm? Yeah.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Well, that¡¯s great! Listen, I wanna know first thing when he¡¯s caught.¡± His voice lowered. ¡°¡­ he¡¯ll pay dearly¡­¡± I¡¯ll call the moment Roark notifies me. But anyways, uh, need to finish editing-¡± Yep, of course. Make it good!¡± He ended the call and set his phone down. He let out a satisfactory sigh as he put his computer to sleep. He got up and walked over to his waiting breakfast, grin still plastered onto his muzzle. Today was going to be a great day. For him¡­ his family¡­ for Revaria¡­ For the world. Justice would soon be served. - Daddy! Daddy! Look at the fishies!¡± Nikki¡¯s tail wagged as she darted from one side of the small boat to the other. The little fox found it hard to keep track of the fish once they swam under the keel, but that wasn¡¯t going to stop her from trying. She reached and tried to swipe at one, but her father put his arm before her so she wouldn¡¯t fall overboard. His other hand held the fishing pole steady. Beside him was a bucket with water and the two fish already caught. I know, right?¡± He tousled her head fur. ¡°How many more do you think I¡¯ll catch?¡± Nikki mulled over the biggest number in the world. ...Fiddy!¡± Fifty and-a-half.¡± Terrence quipped, showing off that he remembered fractions from this past school year. He looked over the edge into the water, but his attention wasn¡¯t on the fish. He fantasized about the existence of a water dungeon ensconced in those murky depths. A daydream emerged as he traversed a perilous map filled with snarling hydras, poisonous squids, and a forbidden treasure chest. He rested his head on his arm as he visited the merchant to buy the ancient water tunic and then- AAH!¡± He yelped as his father nudged his shoulder. ¡°I-I didn¡¯t do anyth-¡± kay there, buddy? Looked like you were falling asleep.¡± Oh¡­ uh, yeah. I was just, uh, thinking and stuff.¡± Gerald observed how he continued to stare out into nothing, and it gave him an idea. ¡°Say¡­ how ¡®bout I show you how to catch a fish?¡± A bewildered look formed on Terrence¡¯s face. It was like being asked to do homework. I think you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡± I¡­.¡± Couldn¡¯t he just play his pretend game? It was the only way to make Lake Dorson exciting. How ¡®bout you have to catch a fish so the¡­¡± Gerald pondered. ¡°noble fish prince will give you the map that¡¯ll help you locate the, uh, Ancient Lightning Rod¡­ stick.¡± His tone turned serious. ¡°You can¡¯t beat Galbatron, the Dark Wizard, without it.¡± Terrence laughed and accepted his offer. With as stern as his dad could be, he wasn¡¯t above playing pretend. Gerald showed how to attach the bait, as well as how to cast the line. Terrence¡¯s arms were too weak to cast it very far, so his dad helped. See, like this.¡± Gerald¡¯s hands guided his son¡¯s. Nikki watched in fascination. ¡°Can I catch fishies?¡± When you¡¯re older. How many fishies do you think Terrence is going to catch?¡± Nikki pondered. ¡°¡­ Fiddy!¡± Gerald instructed Terrence to keep his eyes peeled for movement. They waited¡­ and waited¡­ and waited. Terrence sighed. This was boring. Whoever invented fishing probably liked boredom and making other people bored. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have said yes- A sudden jerk on the line! Terrence gasped and frantically cranked the reel. A war erupted between vulpine and fish; a war that would decide whether the noble fish prince would find Sir Terrence worthy of his map. He fought through gritted teeth, straining limbs, and determined growls. The fish slipped easily away. Terrence grumbled. ¡°Dumb idiot fish.¡± It¡¯s alright, they get away sometimes. You did good for your first time!¡± Gerald patted his shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s try again, but this time, I¡¯ll help you. You just have to be patient.¡± Gerald cast the line again, his hand over his son¡¯s so they¡¯d reel in the next catch together. He caught his son¡¯s demeanor in his periphery. Terrence was focused, with a slight smirk on his face. Thinking about his pretend game? Maybe. It made Gerald happy regardless. Nikki stood on her hind legs, forepaws planted on the ledge for optimal viewing. After a few more attempts, they wrangled a mouthwatering pike onto the boat and into the bucket. Nikki happily applauded her brother for catching it, as did their father. He declared it was going to be tonight¡¯s dinner. Terrence turned his face from the others as he grinned ear-to-ear. This was turning out to be a great trip after all. So much for Nikki receiving all the attention. There was much more to do here than he thought. - Military personnel were stationed about Shebaton Cavern. Silhouettes obscured in darkness as they waited. Others were on the move¡­ slowly¡­ quiet breathing, feet stepping lightly. They avoided anything that would cause a clamor. Imminently, the target would be found. The coward couldn¡¯t run forever and, with the cavern¡¯s only exit secured, he stood no chance. A group of eight soldiers trod lightly into a wide burrow. A trail of incriminating prints led through the granite aperture. The group was armed with M755 rifles, though those were for protecting themselves against the cave¡¯s endemic predators. The skeletons of unfortunate prey littering the environment made them clutch their weapons a little tighter. Ohara himself was not to be killed; Rutger was explicit about him being captured alive. Revaria wanted justice, and Rutger wanted to ensure payback would be broadcasted to the satisfaction of all. The group split into two to take on diverging paths. A figure watched the group on the right as they unknowingly came his direction. He quickly leapt onto a precipice ensconced in darkness and prepared. Not much time to foster energy for a charged attack; he couldn¡¯t waste a second. His Hyper Beam needed to knock them out if he wanted to escape. Hear that?¡± One soldier, a Grovyle, switched on a flashlight with tremulous hands and illuminated the path. Nothing, Save for a few tumbling granules against the wall. A Simipour growled and shoved the flashlight downward with an aggressive paw. ¡°Tryin¡¯ a give us away?¡± But before the Grovyle could pull away and flick the light back up, it was too late. A concentrated blast of blinding energy struck the hapless group. They were knocked to the ground in pained screams before losing consciousness. The figure waited a minute to ensure no one got up before leaping down. His feet hardly made a sound, though the few objects rustling about in his backpack brought a tinge of concern. He waved away extant wisps of dust and surveyed the damage. Didn¡¯t have to come to that¡­ He shouldn¡¯t have sent you.¡± He thought as he shook his head. He knelt to check their pulses¡­ still alive. After confiscating some of their equipment, he fled. The four woke up later with grinding headaches, but otherwise thankful to be alive. They still had their rifles and radios; whoever attacked didn¡¯t take those for some reason. Then the Simipour felt for the spherical trapping devices on his belt. Not there. Neither did the other three have theirs. They radioed the group that diverged at the fork. Calls were repeated. Nothing. Static fuzz greeted each plea for help. They didn¡¯t know the uniforms and skeletons of the other four were piled against a dead-end. The orientation of their bones suggested they never knew what hit them. - The late afternoon sun grazed the distant treeline. The heat of the day waned into a tepid breeze. The smell of raw pike teased everyone¡¯s noses as Gerald descaled it; it meant dinner was soon. Terrence hounded his parents to let him and Nikki play in the forest. If this was the lowest level of wild zone, they should be safe. I don¡¯t know,¡± Gerald said, sending little scales clattering into a bucket. ¡°You might need to watch for radioactive chipmunks.¡± Why?¡± Nikki asked, ears perked. Because they don¡¯t like foxes named Nikki.¡± Terrence remarked. The younger Fennekin was indignant. ¡°What?!¡± He¡¯s pulling your leg.¡± Michelle rolled her eyes, then addressed her husband. ¡°I¡¯ll watch them and make sure the ¡®radioactive chipmunks¡¯ stay away.¡± While their mother walked with them to the forest line, Terrence waxed eloquent about the secret radioactive nuclear plant under Lake Dorson. Yeah¡­¡± He kept his voice low as his eyes darted side-to-side. ¡°They say that every night, a big, huge, GIANT radioactive monster walks out of the lake and looks for little foxes to take back to his lair. When he finds one, he puts them in a BIG boiling pot with green stuff and makes them radioactive too!¡± Wh-what¡¯s wadiotif?¡± Nikki questioned, pivoting her head toward the lake. It was still¡­ for now. It means¡­¡± Terrence paused for dramatic effect. ¡°Your blood turns green, you grow four extra legs, and then five extra eyes! Once you see the radioactive chipmunks, you¡¯ll see what¡¯s coming.¡± Nikki¡¯s fur bristled and she whimpered. Terrence, enough.¡± His mother said. ¡°You¡¯re scaring her.¡± No I¡¯m not.¡± She¡¯s five; she¡¯ll believe anything you tell her.¡± Michelle stooped and picked up her daughter to console her. Terrence grunted. ¡°Fine.¡± A rustling came from their left as something small stirred a patch of grass. Ears perked up as the foxes observed. Terrence was about to announce it was a radioactive chipmunk when the mystery creature revealed itself. A wee field mouse, a garden-variety resident of Lake Dorson going out to forage. It scampered toward a nearby baneberry shrub. It was aware of the foxes¡¯ presence, but trotted on as though no hazard existed. It was used to a life of visitors and no predators. Mousie!¡± Nikki excitedly pointed and reached out her arms. ¡°Mommy mommy can I pet it?!¡± Terrence smirked and lowered into a crouch. ¡°You know¡­ I feel like a nice, good hunt right now.¡± Terrence.¡± His mother intoned, almost sounding like a growl. ¡°Leave it alone.¡± Nikki didn¡¯t understand what was going on until she noticed her brother creeping toward the unsuspecting rodent. ¡°No! Don¡¯t hurt da mousie!¡± With a wag of his tail, the fox leapt, limbs extended and eyes on his target. POUNCE! Panicked squeaking. Teeny limbs flailing. The mouse dangled helplessly from Terrence¡¯s mouth. No! No!¡± Tears welled up in Nikki¡¯s eyes. ¡°No hurtie!¡± His mother glared. ¡°Hurt it and we¡¯ll ground you.¡± Terrence scowled as he lowered his head and let it go. Back to its burrow it hid. ¡°I was just playing! I wasn¡¯t gonna hurt it.¡± We raised you to be respectful and gentle; we don¡¯t treat animals like that.¡± Terrence wanted to retort that wild foxes ate mice, but figured a smart-aleck remark would send him into punishment territory. There was also the fact he wasn¡¯t wild and this wasn¡¯t a hunting spot. All hunting at Lake Dorson was strictly designated to a secluded section of the forest. Am I clear?¡± His mother asked. Yeah¡­ sorry.¡± He looked down in mostly-genuine sincerity. ¡°I-I¡¯ll be nice.¡± His mother nodded. ¡°Good.¡± The mouse waited till the foxes were far away before resuming its foraging. Nikki was upset she didn¡¯t get to pet it, but her mother assured she would get to do that soon. Mice were everywhere. The mother and her children played in the forest, but Michelle made sure their tents were always in view. The encroaching darkness of the summer evening and imminence of savory pike meant they wouldn¡¯t play long. Anoder one!¡± Nikki exclaimed as she snagged a pine cone from inside a log and ran to her mother. The little girl counted her stockpile. ¡°I haf fife!¡± Her fluffy tail wagged. Good job! Can you find, uh,¡± Michelle surmised how much light they had left. ¡°Two more?¡± Meanwhile, Terrence brought over his twenty-ninth. Combined with Nikki¡¯s total, they almost had enough to fuel the Starship Explorer and go to the next planet. He darted away in search for more. Nikki poked about the same log as before, expecting more pine cones to spontaneously appear. She crawled in deeper¡­ deeper¡­ moss, soil¡­ was that a pine cone? She reached a paw forward. Just a stone. But when she disturbed it, there was a sound. A soft squeak. A dark silhouette scurried from its shadow. Nikki beamed. ¡°Mousie!¡± Forget the pine cones. She was going to capture and pet the adorable, fuzzy little murine. Tiny animals existed so she could pet them. The light-gray rodent trod through dirt and leaves toward a modest pile of fallen baneberries. Tonight¡¯s supper before a cozy sleep deep in its humble log. The yellow fox was a few feet behind it, but that was no concern. Conditioning told it she was a harmless visitor just walking by. Nikki had no concept of this. Thinking the mouse would try to run, she crouched and poised to leap. Gently, of course. She¡¯d trap the critter in sudden surprise and pet it to her heart¡¯s content. She watched¡­ Wait¡­ Wait¡­¡­ Now! The fox pounced, her legs propelling her to the unsuspecting mouse in a single leap. Startled by the sudden rustle of foliage, the mouse darted away. Nikki was faster. Hey!¡± She swiped with her right paw upon landing to stop the mouse. She intended to grab its tail. Except the mouse¡¯s maneuvers caused her to misjudge her own and miss the tail. The fleeing animal was pressed into the compact soil with a soft crunch. With a gasp, she pulled her paw away. The mouse lay on its left side. No stirring. No twitching. M¡­ mousie?¡± With a hesitant paw, she nudged it. Nothing. Its supine body was intact, but flattened and contorted. Tears welled up in her eyes. ¡°Oh no¡­ oh no...¡± Hey Nikki!¡± Terrence bounded toward her with a mirthful grin. ¡°We have forty pine cones! We can-¡± He stopped short when he realized she wasn¡¯t looking at him. When he walked closer, he beheld the crumpled, furred mass at Nikki¡¯s paws. ¡°What the-?¡± He looked at her with inquisitive eyes. Teary-eyed Nikki slowly faced him. I-I hurt da mousie¡­¡± Terrence looked at the creature again and realized what happened. His eyes widened¡­ his innocent little sister did this?! Nikki¡¯s tears grew into painful sobs. A vacation meant for fun, playing, and new sights¡­ Brought unintended misery. Chapter 2 The aroma of pike wafted through the mild evening air as Gerald gave it the perfect sear. It would be ready in about five minutes. A passing family of Furrets and Sentrets diverted his attention. Fellow campers. Loud, too. More than a hundred feet away, but every word was clear as a bell. ¡°¡­ ¡¯ow long¡¯s it gonna be closed?¡± The wife asked her husband. ¡°Been three weeks already!¡± He shrugged. ¡°Guess¡¯s good as mine. Ask Sterlin¡¯ ¡®bout it ever¡¯ time I see ¡®im, but even ¡®e doesn¡¯t know. Somethin¡¯s wrong and they¡¯re sayin¡¯ nothin¡¯¡­¡± One of their kids interrupted him before he could elaborate, turning the conversation to the fun things they¡¯re going to do on their vacation. Gerald surmised they were talking about Revaria, one of the many planets to which earth had portals. News for the past few weeks speculated on the sudden closure of those portals. No warning. No notice. The wormholes were rendered inactive one morning, leaving visiting Revarians no answers, no way home, and no way to contact loved ones. He felt pity for stranded visitors on either planet, but could do nothing about it. All he could do was be thankful he knew nobody trapped there and pray the closures would soon be lifted. The aroma of seasoned, pan-seared fish inundated the air, but his attention turned to his wife and children returning. Nikki was sobbing into her mother¡¯s neck tuft. He looked up at Michelle. ¡°She accidentally killed a mouse when she wanted to pet it.¡± She patted Nikki¡¯s back. ¡°I told her it¡¯s okay; mistakes happen.¡± Gerald stood and gathered the crying Nikki into his arms. ¡°There there...You didn¡¯t mean it, sweetie. Don¡¯t cry¡­¡± While her father consoled her, her brother daydreamed. There was a metropolis of mice minding their own business. Going to work, playing, doing mouse things, and then¡­ What was that in the distance?! A GIANT NIKKI! Run for your lives! But no one could escape. The fox trampled the unfortunate mice while she belted out a stupid Riley song. Innocent little Nikki was a killer. It was like a game where you play as a mouse and the final boss was Nikki. Her stomp attack can kill you in one hit, so you had to take utmost care. A chortle erupted from Terrence before he could stifle it. His mother¡¯s death stare bore into his soul. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry!¡± He turned as though he could hide his grin. ¡°I-I was thinking of, uh, s-something!¡± Gerald sliced up and portioned the mouth-watering pike onto everyone¡¯s plates. Leftover potato salad and coleslaw from lunch served as sides. Though Nikki was still downcast, she wasn¡¯t crying anymore. The irresistible allure of food and empty stomach swayed her attention. Gerald ignited the fire pit with Ember, casting the vulpine family in a scintillating orange glow. Above them, a diamond-studded canvas signaled the waning hours of the day. Now was the time to eat together and enjoy family. Terrence and Nikki were about to start shoveling the food in when their father cleared his throat. They noticed their parents bow their heads, so they quickly nudged their plates away and did the same. ¡°Lord God,¡± Gerald started. ¡°Thank You for this time with family, and the food, the pleasant weather, and¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°We pray that everyone stranded by these closures would be able to go back home and be with their loved ones again. In Christ¡¯s name, amen.¡± The other three echoed his amen despite Nikki¡¯s ignorance of the portal situation and Terrence¡¯s halfhearted sympathy. He cared as well as a child could about problems outside his own world. Gerald looked up for a few seconds, taking in the speckled firmament. Was anyone on Revaria was looking back? The family dug in, their appetites unable to hold off any longer. Terrence wanted to tease Nikki about the mouse, but didn¡¯t want to push his parents¡¯ limits. Dinner was peaceful. After the food was enjoyed and all cookware cleaned and put away, it was time for ghost stories. Their mother wrapped Nikki¡¯s woolen Riley blankie around her children while their father spooked them about the frightful Mismagius who haunted Lake Dorson. In the middle of the night, he sought unsuspecting children and tricked them into sleepwalking into his lair deep in the forest. The pulsating illumination of the fire on their father¡¯s face amplified the yarn¡¯s terror. Nikki clutched her brother for protection. He tried to pry her off but shrugged and gave up when she wouldn¡¯t let go. Gerald¡¯s eyes grew heavier as the tale waxed long. Every few sentences were interrupted with stifled yawns. He checked his watch and his eyes widened. Already 10:15? Where did the time go? Michelle stood with a stretch and rubbed her eyes. Nikki was sound asleep, head propped against Terrence¡¯s shoulder. He shook her with his paw, jolting her awake so she¡¯d get off him. She stood and stretched out her legs. ¡°Time for bed.¡± Their father grunted as he stood. He and Michelle had been awake nearly eighteen hours and were ready to close the book on the day. ¡°Your sleeping bags are set up already.¡± Terrence didn¡¯t budge. The young fox wagged his tail as though anticipating hours of playful frolicking. ¡°I wanna stay up.¡± ¡°You can in your tent, but not out here.¡± His father said. Not a compromise the boy was thrilled with, but being awake was always better than not being awake. He nodded with a grumble. ¡°If you stay up, keep the noise down.¡± His mother added. ¡°And if you need anything, come and wake one of us.¡± Her gaze turned to Terrence. ¡°We don¡¯t want you going anywhere by yourself.¡± Terrence shuddered at the thought of having to wake one of them up in the event he needed the bathroom. He¡¯d tell them nothing. ¡°Okay.¡± He nodded. With parting hugs, bids goodnight, and one last birthday kiss for Nikki, the foxes climbed into their tents. The parents made sure their children were in theirs and the zipper pulled up completely before going into their own. Gerald and Michelle conked out not two minutes later. As for Terrence? His night was just getting started. If Lake Dorson was a Level Blue wild zone, what danger was there in exploring? It was an open-world map demanding he locate all the weapons and macguffins that would help him defeat the radioactive chipmunks. Only then would peace be restored to the campgrounds! He laid low for several minutes¡­ Ah, there was that sound¡­ His dad¡¯s distinct snoring. He was out like a log. Mom too. Terrence¡¯s paw grasped the plastic zipper and, with the gentlest motion, began pulling it upward. The dark silhouettes of the mountains and distant forest lined the horizon. A broad smirk crept onto his muzzle. Adventure awaited. - ¡°¡­ You lost him?¡± Nicholas growled into his phone. ¡°Th-they¡­¡± A Lycanroc stammered. ¡°They say, uh¡­ he attacked out of nowhere and-¡± ¡°So tell ¡®em to fight back! You¡¯re telling me that coward foiled you?¡± The Typhlosion shook his head as he started typing a Chitter post comforting Revaria about their unstoppable military. The Lycanroc thought about divulging the fact that Ohara stole some of his men¡¯s trapping devices, but decided against it. He¡¯d rather not spend the rest of his life in prison; he was in enough hot water. ¡°I¡¯m s-sorry, sir¡­ Won¡¯t happen again.¡± Rutger gave an irritated sigh and hung up. That incompetent canine would be disciplined later; he had a speech in five minutes. He was not terribly worried about Ohara. Sure, he knocked out four of his men, but that was like one mouse outsmarting one cat when ten thousand other cats were afoot. That traitor¡¯s time was dwindling. Suited up in his striking blue suit and red tie, Nicholas studied himself one last time in the mirror and headed downstairs. Per usual, cameras flashed and desperate reporters thrust their mics at him, hoping for extra comments and words of solace. His smile broadened and stride grew more deliberate. The embodiment of confidence and anchor for Revaria, Nicholas was a beacon of hope. The return to normalcy was imminent. - A dark figure crouched and crawled into the cover of a stony, narrow recess. Shebaton Cavern was vast enough to enable escape from a national army. Ten thousand ¡®cats¡¯ may have been after him, but they were lost in an endless labyrinth. Meanwhile, he had been here before. He knew this network of paths like a familiar neighborhood. The figure trudged through a mile of damp soil, bag slung over his back. His hands, knees, and feet formed shallow imprints in the ground. Granules tumbled as his lithe frame navigated the tunnel, forcing him to intermittently stop and stifle his coughs. The clatter from his cargo made him wince; the spherical traps jostled about as he moved, but this was the best solution. Better in his satchel than in the hands of his pursuers. His left knee protested with pops and creaks a quarter-mile into the tunnel. He would¡¯ve brought more medication for his weakening knee joints, but had no time. He was fortunate to have taken anything, let alone elude Rutger. The tunnel slowly widened into a chamber bathed in chemiluminescent blues, purples, greens, and reds. A sight that would captivate most people¡¯s sense of mystery and beauty, but not his. Even if he had not been here before, there was no time to gawk. The ample space allowed him to stand (and groan as sharp pain tore through his left leg). He leaned against an outcrop of obsidian to catch his breath. He imbibed two pills of his medication and let the pain take its time waning away. On the bright side, not a soul knew his whereabouts. Even if one of Rutger¡¯s men were to find the tunnel, he could pile rocks against the opening. Many of them had heat-sensors, but the thick walls and abundant life would make it difficult to pinpoint him. After recovering some of his strength, he stacked heavy obsidian chunks against the tunnel¡¯s mouth. A powerful attack could blast them away, but he couldn¡¯t worry about that now. The hunted figure walked toward a patch of soil in the center of the room and knelt. He then set his bag down and unzipped it. No one else was here, but force of habit made him cringe at the sound. He reached in with trembling hands, cautiously shuffling items. The photo¡­ hastily-accrued rations¡­ those spheres¡­ The sight of those made his fur bristle. A mental image of Rutger stared at him, eyes boring into his. Rutger¡¯s mouth turned upward in a polished, toothy grin. ¡°I¡¯ll get you, traitor...¡± He moved the spheres under the other items and stopped to breathe. And then, sounds. Gunfire? It was muffled and concentrated somewhere above the ceiling. ¡°Don¡¯t panic.¡± He assured himself. ¡°Just a predator¡­ probably.¡± In a shadowed corner of his bag, he found them. The seeds and vial of water. The water was untouched despite his thirst. He forged a shallow groove in the dirt, placed a pebble-sized blue seed into it, and filled the hole with soil. When he opened the vial, he poured the water onto the mound and waited. As the water coursed its way through the ground, he listened to the noise. Aside from the clamor above, he felt safe. Soldiers unqualified to be soldiers pathetically trying to stave off some hungry monster. Sad, but not his problem. Eventually, the chaos dissolved into quiet. The peace was welcome. A minute passed and a tiny bud broke forth. A wave of relief swept over him as all the tension in his being dissipated. Eyes moistened slightly. The hell of the previous three weeks was over. It was time to go. - Terrence was about to dart from the tent when a voice seized him. ¡°Tewwy!¡± Nikki snagged his tail. ¡°Mommy and daddy said no-¡± He whipped about and clasped her blabbering mouth shut with a disapproving paw. ¡°Zip it.¡± He scowled. She forced his paw away. ¡°I¡¯m gonna tell!¡± She tried to step past him. ¡°No you¡¯re not.¡± He moved in front of her. ¡°I am too!¡± ¡°No you¡¯re not!¡± Rustling from the other tent silenced them. Terrence noticed the silhouette of his father sit up. He held his breath; his dreams of adventure were about to be dashed. Stupid Nikki and her stupid yelling. She was going to pay for this. ¡°Gotoslee-¡± Gerald muttered incoherently and promptly plopped back to a comfortable supine position. The snoring resumed. Phew, close one. Nikki tried to pass her brother again when he came up with an idea. An impish grin crossed his muzzle. ¡°Alright, you can tell.¡± He stepped to the side, allowing her to dart past. She was about to call for daddy when Terrence continued. ¡°I just hope the Evil Toxic Beast doesn¡¯t find you.¡± She froze and her head swiveled back to him. Her quizzical ¡®deer-in-the-headlights¡¯ expression was priceless. Terrence held back laughter. ¡°Yeah, you see, he doesn¡¯t like it when little children, uh¡­ especially little girls who like Riley, stay up past their bedtime. In fact, it¡¯s even WORSE if he sees them outside their tents.¡± Her little frame trembled, eyes darting about for any sign of this monstrosity. ¡°Legend says...¡± he skulked towards her for dramatic effect. His eyes met hers with sly avarice. ¡°he likes to trap them and... FEED them to his radioactive chipmunks. So... you should just stay here and be safe.¡± Terrence kept a serious demeanor. His sister bolted into the tent with a whimper as tears welled up in her eyes. ¡°B-b-but¡­ why¡¯re you going?¡± Terrence sighed, not anticipating the interrogation. ¡°To, uh¡­ kill the monster¡­ yeah.¡± Nikki¡¯s tears disappeared as quickly as they came. If anyone could destroy the Evil Toxic Beast, it was her big brother. Well, so could daddy, but he was asleep. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°S-so¡­ yeah, just go back to sleep and let me handle this.¡± He waved his paw dismissively. ¡°It¡¯ll be a piece¡¯a cake.¡± A smile brightened her face. ¡°Okie. Be caweful!¡± With the smirk a child gets from pulling the wool over his sibling¡¯s eyes, Terrence darted heroically toward the forest. The Evil Toxic Beast would not stand a chance! Each bound away from their little campground bolstered him with increasing confidence. If mom or dad woke up, he¡¯d be too far away to be found. And if Nikki ever caught on, she¡¯d be too scared to leave the safety of the tent and chase him. It may have been Nikki¡¯s birthday, but this was Terrence¡¯s night. Nikki whimpered, Terrence shrinking into the black, wooded horizon. Worries burgeoned, esteem in her brother¡¯s abilities replaced with heart-thudding dread. Alone in her tent, parents asleep, brother off to confront a terrifying beast in a forest infested with radioactive rodents¡­ With tremulous limbs, she scurried after him. Maybe she could reach him before the beast saw either of them. She could¡¯ve told mommy and daddy, but what if it took too long to wake them? By then, Terrence will have fallen to the cruel monster, never to be seen again. ¡°Tewwy!¡± She wailed as her puny frame bounded through the grass. She wasn¡¯t as fast as him, but that wasn¡¯t going to stop her. Her brother showed no sign of stopping. In fact¡­ he picked up his pace. ¡°TEWWY! STOP!¡± Any moment, a hulking purple monster dripping with slime would reveal himself and capture Terrence. Her legs ached the longer she ran. Soreness. Pain. Terror. Terrence vanished into the trees. Her nerves tightened, but she never stopped. There was still hope; there always was. She¡¯d find him and they¡¯d be safe in their tent again. A glimpse of a Riley episode projected itself in her mind. The innocent little raccoon was lost in the dark, scary forest one night, but her opossum and ermine friends found her. Though they were scared, it turned out Riley was never in danger. She apologized for getting separated and thanked them for finding her. The lesson in persistence and loyalty propelled Nikki onward. Minutes later, she panted past the forest boundary and stopped to catch her breath. ¡°Tewwy¡­¡± She whimpered as she tracked his scent. ¡°Whew aw you?¡± Nothing. ¡°T-tewwy¡­¡± She continued, each tentative step leading her deeper into the forest. As she inched her way through the foliage, the canopy became denser. The negligible atmospheric light diminished. She didn¡¯t see him, but the twitching of her nose alerted her he was nearby. She called his name repeatedly, her voice louder and more desperate with each iteration. ¡°Pwease! Tewwy!¡± Her eyes watered. His scent became muddled as the aroma of the forest overpowered it. ¡°Whew aw-¡± ¡°AAAAH! HELP!¡± Nikki¡¯s ears perked up; the voice erupted from deeper into the trees. She took off. ¡°TEWWY!¡± Adrenaline and blood thundered through her little skull. There was no time. The Evil Toxic Beast had claimed the helpless fox and would soon drag him away. ¡°HELP!¡± The voice was closer! An ember ignited in her chest and gathered heat as she readied an attack. Only enough to light a few birthday candles, but it was all she had. She couldn¡¯t see or hear the monster, but maybe he was just very quiet. ¡°I¡¯m coming I¡¯m coming!¡± ¡°HEL-¡± A nearby SNAP cracked the still air as Terrence¡¯s plea was cut off. Nikki froze. With quivering lips, she uttered his name one more time. Seconds passed... Silence. Her legs went numb. She desperately surveyed her surroundings for any chance her brother survived... Nothing but night and the idle silhouettes of oak trees. Her frame crumpled to the ground, face buried into her paws as her whimpers melted into sobs. The weight of mortality pulverized her like a cascade of cement bricks. Birthdays were meant to be filled with mirth, family, and Riley songs. The fact she would never see her brother again made her- ¡°GOTCHA!¡± A tap on her back made her jump with a shriek. She whipped herself about, prepared to cast the Ember waiting in her lungs. She stopped short. ¡°Tewwy?!¡± She gasped. He keeled over and clutched his stomach in a raucous bout of laughter. No scratches, scrapes, or wounds of any kind. Just a fox giddy over his own japes. The twig he snapped for effect was an improvisation he was particularly proud of. ¡°That¡­ that was SO easy!¡± Nikki was not laughing. Her eyes moistened from Terrence¡¯s pretend fate while his moistened from unfettered guffaws. ¡°It¡¯s not funny!¡± She growled as she wiped away ongoing tears. Terrence rolled onto his feet and eased up on his fit. ¡°Yeah it is!¡± Nikki sniffled. ¡°I¡­ I fought you were died¡­¡± ¡°It was a joke, Nik.¡± Terrence shook his head though his remorseless smile remained. ¡°I¡¯m obviously not dead.¡± The tears didn¡¯t stop. He turned in a quick 360-degree motion, letting Nikki see all of him. ¡°See? I¡¯m alright. Stop crying already.¡± The hemorrhaging from her eyes lessened, but the scowl remained. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sorry.¡± He sighed. ¡°I¡­ won¡¯t do that prank again.¡± Nikki extended her paw. ¡°Pwomise?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± He smiled and shook her paw. His gesture restored a smile to Nikki¡¯s face, but now that her guard was down... ¡°You¡¯re it!¡± He playfully punched her on the shoulder and darted away. ¡°Hey!¡± She barked and pursued him. Terrence looked back over his shoulder. ¡°If you can¡¯t catch me, you¡¯re a smelly sock!¡± He ran, but not at full speed. He wanted to make sure Nikki always saw him. ¡°You¡¯re smewwy sock!¡± ¡°How can I be if you¡¯re one?¡± Terrence fired back as he maneuvered through baneberry shrubs and leapt over protruding roots. He¡¯d slow down enough to give Nikki hope, only to speed up and elude capture. ¡°Hey!¡± She exclaimed a jocular cry. Deeper into the woods they played, Terrence always a few steps ahead. It wasn¡¯t until the intrusion of a river that they were forced to stop. He darted to the right, but Nikki pounced on him. The two tumbled over each other in a ball of squeals and chortles, nearly rolling into the water. Terrence smeared her face with a lump of mud and she reciprocated. Yips of laughter filled the air as the two children became caked in dirt. Meanwhile, an opening in the forest canopy revealed a sea of scintillating specks lightyears away. Distant worlds unaware of their frivolity. Distant people living similar lives. Distant conflict that found no place in their minds. This was Terrence and Nikki¡¯s life. Summer. Playtime. Vacation. All the misgivings the older brother held at the beginning of the trip evaporated. This was fun, and neither wanted it to end. - Through stars... Galaxies¡­ Nebulae¡­ Endless space¡­ An invisible distortion tore through the cosmos. Thousands upon thousands of lightyears traversed in minutes. It would connect with its destination soon. - An indeterminate time later, but still nighttime, budding anxiety eroded the foxes¡¯ youthful merriment. Better go back to their tent and pray their parents didn¡¯t know about this. Being slathered in mud did not help, but good thing they could use the river to wash it off. Into the water they waded and frantically scraped away the evidence of overnight play. Terrence shuddered at the thought of dad looking into their tent and not seeing him or Nikki. Thoughts coursed through him of everything he ever enjoyed being confiscated. No friends, games, wi-fi, or food until he was thirty. Making It back quickly was crucial to survival. Sneaking out for a nightly quest wasn¡¯t the brilliant idea he thought it would be. As soon as he was satisfied with his own cleanliness, he yanked his sister along and stepped out. ¡°Hey!¡± A partially-clean Nikki protested, pulling back in vain. ¡°You¡¯re clean enough. Let¡¯s go.¡± Through the forest he raced, Nikki struggled to follow. The suffocating darkness and obtrusive trees did not help; it was like they conspired against him. Every moment spent navigating these obstacles was another second mom or dad could be waking up. Terrence stopped suddenly; Nikki caught up seconds after. She cocked her head in confusion. An additional snag in the foxes¡¯ return reared its head. ¡°Tewwy?¡± ¡°Wait¡­¡± Terrence panted. His ears perked as he swiveled his head to the right, left, backwards¡­ His heart beat a little faster as the situation coiled itself around him. Every direction looked the same¡­ trees to the right¡­ trees to the left¡­ trees in front and trees behind. A homogenized mass of bark, foliage, and logs¡­ No sign of a trodden path, no sign of Lake Dorson, no sign of the tents¡­ ¡°¡­ Tewwy?¡± ¡°What?!¡± He snapped, causing her to recoil. ¡°Aw you okay?¡± Her ears drooped. ¡°Y-yeah¡­ sorry. Just, uh¡­ thinking. Uh¡­ let¡¯s keep going.¡± Terrence pressed on, hoping his nose or eyes would recognize a familiar scene. His tired feet trudged along the unchanging environment. More trees¡­ more dirt¡­ Oh? Was that something different ahead? A clearing, perhaps? His pace quickened. Relief slowly washed over him. The canopy thinned out as he progressed. Beyond that, he could make out the sky. His pace evolved into a gallop, no cries from Nikki to slow down could deter him. Finally! Out of the forest! Now just get to the tents- He skidded to a halt. His mouth went agape. Mind went blank. This had to be a cruel joke. It was the river again, just a different part of it. Nikki caught up, feet equally sore. Her voice was shaky. ¡°Tewwy? Whew aw we?¡± The question went in one ear and out the other. His limbs trembled as the dilemma bore its gaze on the little fox. He choked out a hopeless whimper as thoughts of dread filled his heart. The thought of being grounded didn¡¯t bother him that much anymore; he just wanted to be back in his tent. Nikki broke the silence. ¡°Aw we lost?¡± ¡°I¡­ uh¡­¡± A little moisture accumulated in his eyes which he quickly brushed away. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Nikki gasped. But, to her brother¡¯s surprise, she didn¡¯t cry. That one episode of Riley came to mind again. If her favorite raccoon can hope her way through tough moments, so could they. A glint of optimism lit up her face as she tried to encourage him. ¡°Wet¡¯s keep wooking!¡± Her tail wagged. Terrence groaned at her incredulous solution. ¡°Where do we start? We¡¯ll just get more lost.¡± ¡°B-but Wiley said neber gib up!¡± She grabbed his paw as though wanting to pull him along. ¡°Don¡¯t gib up, Tewwy!¡± Terrence wanted to argue, as he couldn¡¯t admit that irritating raccoon sounded saner than him, but his better judgment won. Nikki¡¯s solution was more likely to find the campground than staying here and pouting. Besides, there were no dangerous animals around. Terrence was thankful this was a Level Blue Zone and not higher. With a renewed sense of gratitude he was ashamed to vocalize, he regained his composure and led the way. Onward¡­ Onward¡­ Minutes elapsed¡­ nothing familiar yet¡­ more trees, more shrubbery, more- A spark lit up Terrence¡¯s eyes. That tree! It was the one he hid behind when he tricked Nikki! He couldn¡¯t forget that silhouette resembling the skeleton boss from Nightmare Quest! ¡°This way!¡± He took off like a bullet, leaving Nikki trailing once more. His parents could be waiting for them with crossed arms and dour expressions, but it didn¡¯t matter. He would be back in his tent. Onward¡­ Onward¡­ A violent jolt rattled the ground, flinging the foxes to the side like rag dolls. Terrence rolled over a few times before stopping in the crook of some thick roots. Dizzy. Wind knocked out of him. Couldn¡¯t stand up. Another rumble. The ground rocked back and forth with slight, rapid vibrations. Leaves and twigs shaken loose and small critters fleeing their holes. Wide-eyed, Terrence clung to one of the roots. He couldn¡¯t see Nikki, but could hear her screams through the tremulous oscillations. ¡°N-n-nik-kki!¡± The rumbling became louder¡­ more violent¡­ CRACK! Clods of earth cast about in a sudden eruption. Terrence covered his head from the cascading detritus. A pale shaft of blue light shot upward, illuminating the canopy and surrounding trees. It produced a stagnant hum difficult to describe. It was like a machine-animal hybrid. In a panic, Terrence forced himself up and stumbled out from the crook. ¡°NIKKI!¡± The shaft of light was brighter at its base, and the ground it poured from caved inward. The strident glow forced him to shield his eyes. He still couldn¡¯t see Nikki, but promptly realized where her wails were coming from. The newly-formed crevasse. As his pupils calibrated with the alien resplendence, he noticed her little paw reaching up, groping for any kind of leverage. ¡°TEWWY! TEWWY!¡± Her shrieks ripped through him. He bounded to the hole in massive strides, squinting as he closed distance with the light. His eyes adjusted once more and took in the sight. He seized up. Below Nikki was an infinite, bottomless sea of blue light. All Nikki had for support was a protruding root she clenched with her right paw. She reached for Terrence with the other. Terrence clasped his paws around her left paw and pulled. The adrenaline surging through him contended with the light¡¯s unrelenting hum. He managed to pull her up a little, but terror kept her other paw clenched about the root. ¡°Let¡­ go¡­ of that!¡± Terrence yelled, heart pounding. She wouldn¡¯t. ¡°Come... on!¡± He barked, not realizing his weight was causing loose ground under him to slip into the abyss. ¡°Just¡­¡± He grunted, ¡°grab my arm with¡­ your other paw and¡­ I¡¯ll pull you up!¡± Nikki stubbornly held onto the root; it wasn¡¯t until Terrence yelled at the top of his lungs that she obeyed. Her other paw swung up and grabbed his arm. Terrence lurched forward. He did not anticipate the sharp increase of force. The soil slipped away. Terrence lost his footing. Toward the hole they slid. The light blinded Terrence as it consumed his vision. He pulled and pulled. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Arms and legs strained in vain. Nikki¡¯s grip slackened as the gradient turned into a wall. ¡°NO!¡± Terrence yelled, tears forming in his eyes. ¡°HOLD ON!¡± Digit by digit, Nikki lost her grip. Down she went. Her screams faded as the hole tore her away down the bottomless pit. Gone. Terrence had just enough footing to hop back onto stable ground. He could run and get help. His parents. Campground authorities. Anybody. But¡­ what was down there? His heart thudded against his ribs. Mind went blank. ¡­ What if he had no time? Would the seconds spent getting help cost Nikki her life? With a leap, he vanished into the hole. - A Pidgeot and a Mandibuzz soared through the chilled air with unyielding purpose. The alien beam of light pierced the southern horizon. No time to ask questions despite the hundreds inundating their minds. Someone could be in trouble. Was this an attack? Prepare to strike, just in case. Closer their wings guided them. Closer¡­ closer¡­ faint yells echoed in the distance. Faster! An otherworldly hum accompanied the desperate pleas. What was that? It didn¡¯t matter right now. Rescue first, questions later. Lake Dorson was an oasis of peace and isolation. Whoever was causing violence to this innocent would be met with swift justice. The Pidgeot and Mandibuzz glanced at each other, silently signaling a coordinated offense. First move would be a tandem Sand Attack; blind the assailant before inflicting damage. From there, take them out with relentless blows and apprehend them. Below the canopy they flew. Almost there. Then the light flickered and the hum slowly faded. Did the attacker see them and cease? The birds seamlessly weaved through the trees; this mystery Pokemon wasn¡¯t going to get away. Before the birds could reach the dwindling light, it tapered into nothing. Their talons made contact with the ground. They were certain this was where the light was. Nothing here. No sign of any disturbance. Other rangers rushing to the scene were met with the same placid, yet bizarre atmosphere. A search promptly began. Shouts for discombobulated travelers went unanswered. Other rangers decided a census of campers present on the grounds should be taken. Would anyone be missing? They hoped not. Chapter 3 Two long weeks¡­ Mother and father at her bedside every day¡­ Endless tears and praying... ¡­ But she never recovered. Her father clasped her paws with his as she breathed her last. The two-year old Litten didn¡¯t stand a chance; her fragile immune system couldn¡¯t stave off this novel strain of pneumonavirus. It was quick and ruthless. The acute respiratory acidosis struck with no warning and, despite the doctors¡¯ efforts, led to a plethora of other problems resulting in heart failure. Choked sobs and shrieks from her family filled the room as the flatline signaled Lily lost the life she barely lived. The entirety of the children¡¯s ward was like this. Seemed every other minute, another family was cast into the inevitable pit of grief. The pneumonavirus claimed victims as easily as a huntsman picked off fledgling deer. Infant here, toddler there; their brittle systems couldn¡¯t abide its onslaught. As the minutes passed and Lily¡¯s complexion and extremities became colder and bluer, her father¡¯s grief waxed hot. The Incineroar shook his head slowly and repeatedly. He muttered under his breath. ¡°Should¡¯ve never¡­ should¡¯ve never¡­¡± His grief went from a simmer to a boil, tears of bereavement to tears of anger. His teeth clenched into a caustic snarl. His precious Lily should¡¯ve been alive. She should¡¯ve been home, playing with her siblings. She should¡¯ve been running around, chasing butterflies. This virus? Should¡¯ve never existed. The veins in the Incineroar¡¯s arms and face bulged as hostile thoughts inundated his heart; he released his daughter¡¯s paw to avoid crushing it. His wife noticed his demeanor. ¡°¡­ Reuben?¡± He looked at her, but said nothing. His breathing quickened. His hands clenched into fists. ¡°Reuben¡­¡± She subtly shook her head and intoned just audibly enough for him to hear. ¡°No¡­ w-we don¡¯t need this now¡­¡± He grunted in reply and slowly stood up. ¡°Excuse me¡­¡± He turned to leave, aware of the eyes of his family following, but that didn¡¯t matter. He needed to think. His steps carried him down a long, tiled hall. Rooms lining its sides led to more families gutted by the virus. A son here, daughter there, some parents lost all their children. A cacophony of wails tore through the bereaved feline, each tear feeding his righteous anger. All these children could¡¯ve lived... His hostile thoughts morphed into those of unfettered justice. The culprit who robbed all these young ones their lives needed to pay dearly. All this blood was on that villain, Ohara¡¯s hands. Reuben pictured himself strangling that vile Weavile; remove his ability to breathe as painfully as possible and give him a taste of his own medicine. Though Rutger attempted to console the nation that Ohara was close to being captured, it did not convince him. Ohara should¡¯ve been caught day one, yet he was still loose? Revaria¡¯s military couldn¡¯t catch a trapped mouse. No, if recompense was to be served, Reuben would have to hunt him down. Ensnaring wrongdoers was his job, rooting out thugs and ruffians tucked away in nooks they thought were safe. Despite his stocky build, he was stealthy enough to lurk in the shadows and strike at the right moment. Catching Ohara would be no different; Shebaton Caverns didn¡¯t scare him. That Weavile was going to die. - Streaks of white, blue, and purple blurred Terrence¡¯s vision as he stole violently through a sea of infinite black. A similar streak of yellow extended before him as though attached to his face. Nikki was nowhere to be seen but, to Terrence¡¯s horror, neither was he. He reached forward in hopes of finding her, but couldn¡¯t see his arms. Instead, two impossibly-long yellow lines extended before him, as though they were arms- Wait. ¡­ Were those his arms? He dropped his arms and the lines went away. It was then his disoriented mind put another piece of the puzzle together. That streak of yellow stuck to his face¡­ It couldn¡¯t be. Terrence was dreaming. He turned his head to the right and left. The yellow line followed his vision. He looked back over his shoulder, and a wider yellow line stretched behind him for what might have been lightyears. It was like his body was being pulled in opposite directions by forces galaxies apart. Heart thudding from unthinkable panic, he cried for help. He sensed the movement of his vocal cords... but couldn¡¯t hear his own voice. Strangely enough, he heard Nikki¡¯s ¡°TEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWwwwwyyyyyyyyyyy¡­¡­.¡± Like an echo tapering into a void. He shouted back, or at least, hoped he did. His voice was lost on his ears. Still, being able to hear her was an anchor in this otherworldly maelstrom. It was the only familiarity amidst what he could only interpret as a harrowing out-of-body phenomenon. As though wading through severe sleep paralysis, Terrence desperately tried to will himself awake, but every movement of his arms told him they were of no use. Long, spindly extensions he couldn¡¯t control. He tried and tried... teeth clenched¡­ eyes moist¡­ more cries for his parents... Trapped. ¡­ There was no waking up. - Michelle¡¯s eyes popped open and she wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow. She had that dream again. Fiction so close to reality that every iteration made her head swim. Though awake, she was not at ease. She found her husband¡¯s paw and held it. Her breathing gradually calmed. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ just a dream¡­ all just a dream¡­¡± She closed her eyes again and tried to relax. She turned her head left to face her children¡¯s tent. All quiet. No silhouette stirred. Her babies were sound asleep. Everything was peaceful... Better check on them anyways. Just in case. Silently, she let go of Gerald¡¯s hand and slipped out from her sleeping bag. She crept out from her tent and her heart skipped a beat. Their tent flap fluttered freely in the cool breeze. Completely open. ¡°Kids?¡± She strode to the tent, stooped, and peeked inside. Terrence¡¯s sleeping bag looked unused; Nikki¡¯s was lightly rustled. Both were vacant, just their lingering scents. She crawled inside and frantically patted every square foot. Anything they could hide under. Nothing. She backed out of the tent and stood. Pulse raced as she surveyed her surroundings. Were they by the lake? Gallivanting elsewhere on the campgrounds or in the forest? Her eyes strained for movement, but all that greeted her was the still darkness. ¡°Kids!¡± A wave of dread washed over her. Eyes moistened as she tried the next logical thing; follow their scents. A remote, almost imperceptible odor clung to the air in the tent¡¯s proximity. Unmistakably Terrence and Nikki¡¯s but, when she attempted to trace it, the lingering scent of seasoned pike and potato salad clashed with it. Her children consumed into thin air. Back to her tent she scrambled. Gerald woke with a start. His wife quietly shook his shoulder with a tense hand, tears in her eyes. ¡°Wha-?¡± He sat up. ¡°Th-they¡¯re gone...¡± Michelle put her other hand to her mouth as if trying to stifle a scream. ¡°Our babies aren¡¯t here¡­¡± A burst of adrenaline spurred Gerald to the children¡¯s tent in hurried steps. No Terrence. No Nikki. No more answers than his wife had. Michelle shook as she failed to hold her sobs down. ¡°Gerald, wh-where-?¡± He turned and firmly grasped her shoulders. If he had anxiety, it was restrained. ¡°They couldn¡¯t have gone far.¡± He looked toward the forest briefly. ¡°Go tell security and I¡¯ll start looking.¡± His assertive demeanor restored some of her confidence. She brushed away her tears and ran off. As Gerald¡¯s eyes acclimated to the low light, he attempted to scrutinize his surroundings. Grass lightly trampled and¡­ that was it? It was a tinge of relief; a kidnapping would¡¯ve likely shown signs of struggle. The well-kept condition of the kids¡¯ sleeping bags and tent indicated no violence. He also only picked up his family¡¯s scent; no one else¡¯s odor polluted the scene. But that modicum of relief subsided quickly. Kidnapping unlikely but¡­ it meant Terrence and Nikki wandered away voluntarily. Flagrant disobedience. A disappointed frown crossed his muzzle, but he could postpone his anger until after his children were safe. With few words and a heavy heart, he importuned God for guidance, wisdom, and comfort. He didn¡¯t know how much he and Michelle would need. Nor Terrence and Nikki, for that matter. - Ringing in the ears¡­ limbs sore¡­ back aching¡­ unrelenting headache¡­ Terrence groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. Blues of varying kinds all around him. Rocks jutting from the ceiling... glowing, faintly radiant, alien¡­ His tinnitus slowly dissipated. Someone¡­ crying? He turned his head to the right and to the left, grunting as his sore neck muscles protested. ¡°Who¡­ wha¡­?¡± Disoriented phonemes vaporized into the air. The wails sounded like his sister¡¯s¡­ but where was she? Hard to answer when even he didn¡¯t know where he was. He gritted his teeth as her incessant pleas compounded his headache. ¡°M-MOMMY! DADDY!¡± Terrence¡¯s senses returned nerve by nerve. Clearer sight, clearer sounds, clearer feeling¡­ Then he felt the chilled bed of gravel and hard soil against his back. Every pebble a microscopic tack penetrating his skin. His eyes watered from the unforgiving pain and he turned on his side. His new perspective revealed a little more¡­ More chemiluminescent rocks. No¡­ were those crystals? Diamonds? Stretching further toward the other end of the chamber, there was... a tunnel? Not sure. Some darkened passage, hole, or... something. In strained agony, he rolled onto his belly and tried to stand. Dull pain surged through his limbs as his joints creaked. Arms and legs trembled as they fought to support him. Every muscle and bone pleaded for mercy; he felt like he¡¯d just been clobbered by a posse of Machokes. His mental faculties finally righted themselves, he hoped. Memories opened themselves in his addled mind. The blue light, the chimeric hum of machine and animal, the stretching, the tearing through a void¡­ He couldn¡¯t make sense of it. That was a bad dream, a fevered hallucination- More screams and scratches interrupted his thoughts. Nikki! A hunk of obsidian obscured his view, but her voice sounded close by. He trudged from behind the obstruction and saw Nikki desperately scratching at a cracked, concave chunk of wall. ¡°MOMMY! DADDY!¡± Her claws chipped at the unyielding impasse, scattering granules everywhere. Between her cries and strikes, a muffled and indistinguishable voice permeated the wall from the other side in response. Muted vibrations softly rattled the wall, joining the mysterious vocalizations. Terrence¡¯s eyes widened in horror¡­ He and Nikki must have tumbled deep underground! The falling, the darkness, the rocks, the aches; it only made sense. With a determined but wobbly gait, he limped to the wall beside Nikki and added his calls with hers. The noises beyond the wall must have been a rescue team trying to reach them! ¡°H-help! We¡¯re stuck!¡± He scraped at the wall. More dampened rumbles, more voices. Still impossible to discern. Terrence pressed his ear against the granite. The voices were... high-pitched? And was that a metallic clamor? Terrence and Nikki persisted in their calls. More responses. Terrence¡¯s ears perked up. He could¡¯ve sworn he heard ¡®Coming!¡¯ Was it real? A tinge of relief washed over him and he stopped scratching. ¡°Wait.¡± He put an arm in front of Nikki so she¡¯d stop scratching and tiring herself out. She tried batting it away. ¡°But Tewwy!¡± He stood between her and the wall. ¡°They know we¡¯re here already! Don¡¯t you hear them?¡± Nikki wiped away some tears and listened. Her ears perked up. There it was¡­ some kind of pounding beyond the wall! She held her paw flat against the wall and light tremors tickled it. She too couldn¡¯t make out the voices, but it was unmistakable; those were voices. Mommy and daddy breaking down the wall to rescue them! ¡°It¡¯s them! It¡¯s gotta be!¡± Terrence¡¯s tail wagged. ¡°Mom! Dad! It¡¯s us! We¡¯re okay!¡± Nikki loudly echoed his words, his enthusiasm convincing her they were going to be okay. The clamor grew louder. Vibrations rattled the wall more vehemently as the banging got closer. The voices¡­ Terrence tilted his head in confusion. ¡­ Those weren¡¯t voices. In fact¡­ they weren¡¯t even human or Pokemon. The noises grew louder. Closer. Stronger. Terrence¡¯s heart beat faster. His ears drooped as he took wary steps back. Were those¡­ robotic squawks? Chunks of granite and obsidian cascaded to the ground as whatever was on the other side closed the distance. Nikki stepped back just to avoid getting hit. She fidgeted excitedly; mommy and daddy were almost here! That noise? A giant drill they were using to break down the wall. Things like that existed in games Terrence played; she was thankful her parents managed to find one. ¡°N-nikki,¡± Terrence¡¯s voice shook as the ground rumbled. ¡°I-I think¡­ we should g-go¡­¡± BANG! BANG! A miniature rock slide sent pieces of wall crashing to the ground. A cloud of dust enveloped the Fennekins. Nikki yelped and hid behind her brother. Terrence stepped back, unable to see her and nearly knocking her over. They shut their eyes and held up their arms to stave off the dust. A shrill clamor resembling metal grating against metal made their blood run cold. SKREEEEEEE! The discordant squawk shook the chamber, sending more stones clattering to the ground. A massive, eagle-like head protruded from a newly-formed hole in the wall. Dark gray feathers, piercing, black eyes, and a pale, blood-stained black beak. It tore off chunks of wall with its mouth; the action producing a sound resembling gyrating gears and creaking hinges. It cawed again as its gaze met the petrified stares of the little foxes. It had two rows of upper and lower teeth. Metallic, sharp, curved inward, designed to make it impossible for prey to escape once in its jaws. It tore off another granite slab, revealing more of its dark gray frame. Feathery¡­ and feline? It raised a lion-like foreleg and stepped over what little remained of the wall. The siblings screamed and darted away. No time to think. Run. - Ohara crouched behind a boulder and tried to stifle his panting with a tremulous hand. The sharp pain in his knees made that harder; it took stalwart will not to let out agonized gasps. That swarm of Ariados took him by surprise. Hunting him on Rutger¡¯s behalf? No doubt, but how could they have known his location? His sudden panic made him leave his bag behind; not ideal when you were fleeing and wanted to leave no mark of your existence. They just missed seeing him, but would definitely identify the bag as his. His location would be narrowed down. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡­ But if the escape route he planted was still active, his worries would be moot. So long as he made it to Earth, Rutger couldn¡¯t do anything. He just needed the last of the Ariadoses to march away. Slyly, his right eye peeked from behind the boulder and through the dense shrubbery. Gone. Gingerly, and still clenching his teeth from the pain, he slipped away towards the chamber. Reticent prayers shot upward as he hobbled on. Salvation from Revaria was in arm¡¯s reach¡­ just have to endure a little more¡­ Sharp screams in the distance paralyzed him. His ears perked up. Children! Another sound followed. Screeching, metallic, ear-piercing. His heart sank¡­ A cyborg-gryphon on the hunt. Were it chasing him, he¡¯d destroy it with Ice Beam, but it was chasing someone else. Someone who likely couldn¡¯t fight back. Easy prey. An anxious thought emerged. Why was this child in this hostile environment and, moreso¡­ how¡¯d they get here? He could ask that question later. He deviated from his course and hurried toward the frantic pleas. Pain ricocheted throughout his body like lightning as he ran, but he shoved it aside. Save the children, return to the portal, make it to Earth, then rest. - Terrence¡¯s legs strained as he bounded for a darkened cranny ahead. His mind wanted to convince him this was not real. A cyborg-gryphon was not chasing them. He and Nikki were not running for their lives. He would wake up and vow never to sleep again. The palpable terror surging through his nerves challenged his mental facade. He and his sister were not dreaming¡­ they were quarry. A look over his shoulder compounded his horror. She was trailing further behind and her crying only made her an easier target. Iron stomps rattled the ground and scattered loose rocks. The eagle-lion ripped trees and boulders asunder with its beak as they got in the way. Snapped apart like toothpicks. Those yellow foxes were small, but were not for its own appetite. It intended them for its young. Snatch them up, digest them, regurgitate the breakfast for its hatchlings. The gryphon¡¯s gaze narrowed on the younger sibling. Another metallic screech pierced the air, sending chills down the foxes¡¯ spines. Nikki¡¯s cries intensified; the shrill caw petrifying her in blood-curdling horror. ¡°TEWWY!¡± A desperate idea materialized in Terrence¡¯s mind. Brash, but worth a shot. He couldn¡¯t let this happen to his sister. He dug his heels into the ground to correct his momentum and dart the other way. Ember would not be strong enough to defeat this monster, but if it deterred its pursuit, it¡¯d buy them time. ¡°Coming!¡± He shouted as he scurried towards her and the gryphon. The strongest fire he could muster welled up in his lungs. Wisps of smoke seeped through his nostrils as the bridled inferno waxed hotter. Once the beast was close enough, he¡¯d release the conflagration in its face. Fire versus steel. It was the one advantage Terrence held over the chimera. Nikki was in too desperate a state to realize what he was doing. She scampered past him. The gryphon shifted its gaze to Terrence as he brazenly charged forward. Strange, but food offering itself up made hunting a little easier. Terrence opened his mouth to prepare the offense, revealing a vibrant orange glow emanating from the back of his throat. Almost time. Terrence skidded to a halt and stood his ground. He let more heat build up. More smoke. Denser and blacker. He winced from the mounting chest pain, but this had to be done. The gryphon bared its jaws. Rows of teeth prepared to shred its prey. The heat incensed. Sharpening chest pain. Closer. Closer¡­ The smoke darkened more and more. Then, panic. It started blocking Terrence¡¯s vision. He lost the encroaching beast through the thickening miasma and fiery radiance. How close was it? Attack now? Wait? Attack now? Wait? Atta- SKREEEEEEE! NOW! A searing blast erupted from his mouth. His eyes shut from the brightness of the resplendent blaze. A scream joined it; his lungs and throat were not accustomed to an offense of this magnitude. His insides burned. Agonized tears streamed down his cheeks as he expelled every last flame. He hoped it was hurting the gryphon more than it was hurting him. Another scream. Was it the gryphon¡¯s? Terrence persisted. The inferno raged. More fire. More heat. Don¡¯t let up. More fire. More heat. More. More. More¡­ Terrence¡¯s legs wobbled¡­ Vision dimmed¡­ everything quieted¡­ Mind went blank... Nikki shouted his name from an unknown distance... He collapsed. Darkness. - ¡°There¡­ hold still¡­¡± A faint, unfamiliar voice. Terrence¡¯s ears twitched. Stinging sensations in his throat and chest. Blurry dark-blue and magenta apparitions swirled about in an indiscernible pattern. Nikki whimpered some distance away. Was she okay? Was he okay? He rubbed his eyes and tried to foist himself up. Something planted itself on his torso and slowly nudged him down. Another sensation on the back of his head cushioned his contact with the ground. ¡°You need to rest.¡± The voice was male, much older, and subdued, but blunt enough to be commanding. Terrence settled back down. The onset of a question hardly left his mouth before the voice answered. ¡°Your vision¡¯ll be blurry for a few minutes; it¡¯s a side effect of the burn heal. You hurt yourself badly.¡± Terrence said nothing, letting his sight become acclimated to his new surroundings. The cavern ceiling became clearer as the adverse effect waned. Details morphed into existence with each blink. ¡­ Including the Weavile kneeling beside him. Terrence¡¯s eyes widened. What was happening? Nikki smothered him with the warmest sisterly hug before he could ask. ¡°You¡¯re alife!¡± She beamed, tail wagging. ¡°You¡¯re-¡± The Weavile promptly cupped a paw over her mouth. ¡°Shhh¡­ remember?¡± He warned in a hushed tone. He quickly turned a prolonged gaze behind him as though making sure no one heard her. ¡°Who-¡± Terrence began to ask when silenced again; not by a quieting paw, but the scenery. This had to be the same cavern he and Nikki were thrust into, except¡­ Why were they huddled into this constricting space? Terrence realized he could make out individual ceiling cracks because they were barely three feet overhead. The Weavile stooped not just because he was watching Terrence, but because he had no room to stand up straight (he was three and-a-half feet tall). Were they hiding from the gryphon? Perhaps the mysterious mustelid found the perfect place the beast couldn¡¯t reach them. He also had a brown, nondescript satchel by his feet. Bulky, partially zipped open, and likely too heavy should Terrence attempt to heave it. The Weavile turned his attention to Terrence. ¡°Feeling better?¡± The fox nodded hesitantly. ¡°Good.¡± The Weavile intoned. ¡°Stay quiet for now.¡± He pivoted and peeked out from the nook¡¯s entrance. ¡°Need to make sure we¡¯re in the clear before we leave.¡± Terrence stood and shook out his limbs. Pain was gone, but his nerves were clenched. ¡°Uh¡­ is, uh¡­ the monster there?¡± He whispered. The Weavile shook his head and faced Terrence. ¡°Dead¡­ killed it before it could kill you.¡± Terrence¡¯s eyes widened. The dearth of emotion in the Weavile¡¯s words gave sincerity to this revelation. ¡°Your fire¡¯s too weak to kill it; had to use Blizzard, Afterward, I brought you here.¡± His deadpan delivery didn¡¯t match the magnitude of the situation, but Terrence didn¡¯t care. He and Nikki were alive. ¡°Uh¡­ thank you¡­¡± Terrence answered. The Weavile acknowledged his gratitude with a furrowed brow and slight scowl. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt yourself like that next time; making your fire that hot that quickly can permanently damage your lungs. You should¡¯ve kept running.¡± Terrence¡¯s ears drooped; he wasn¡¯t the hero he thought he was. ¡°¡­ Won¡¯t do it again, sorry.¡± ¡°Just be glad you¡¯re okay.¡± The Weavile said and looked outside again. In a maneuver that nearly made the children yelp, the Weavile grabbed them and placed them in the furthest corner. ¡°Not a sound.¡± He ordered the staring, quivering foxes. He crept back to the nook¡¯s entrance. More knee pain, but he bit his lip in restraint. He was twenty feet above ground in the side of a massive boulder. The five soldiers below weren¡¯t looking up, but the slightest sneeze or cough would steal their attention. ¡°He¡¯s nearby,¡± a Lucario announced. ¡°The damage on that gryphon¡¯s corpse is unmistakable. Concentrate on this area; I¡¯ll radio for backup.¡± The Weavile winced. That gryphon was showered in ice; may as well be a neon sign proclaiming his proximity. He was lucky they didn¡¯t have heat-sensors, though most of the soldiers didn¡¯t have them to begin with. Expensive investment. The alternative would¡¯ve been to let the gryphon kill the foxes. He shuddered at the cruel thought. The Weavile kept the group in his periphery and the foxes kept silent. A confused Nikki whimpered under her breath and clutched her brother for protection. Terrence wallowed in a sea of questions. Where was he? Who were those people he couldn¡¯t see? Why was the Weavile hiding? Was he hiding from those people? What even was his name? Were they going to see their parents again? Terrence held his breath under the sudden duress. Adventures like this were fun in video games. Staggering, dark caves, treasure, formidable foes, spying, mystery¡­ Doing this in real life was more horrifying than fun. He should¡¯ve stayed in the tent. Chapter 4 A squadron of soldiers trudged into a guarded alcove after a fruitless hunt. They spent the past twelve hours looking for Ohara and had now passed the baton to the night shift. Demoralized troops buried themselves into sleeping bags to put the day out of its misery. There were eighteen fewer men than when the squadron last woke. Cyborg scorpions, gryphons, komodos, and unicorns brought a grisly end to those unsuspecting souls. No one informed them how perilous the Shebaton Caverns would be. Not even Rutger. Rudy was tucked deep into his nondescript sleeping bag. He was the Lycanroc who informed the Typhlosion of Ohara¡¯s escape. Despite the melatonin, he couldn¡¯t sleep. He rolled onto his right side, then left, then on his back every few minutes. The guilt, compounded with the sweltering, stale air made sleep elusive. The smelly sweat dampening the bag of sand he used as a pillow entrenched him in further discomfort. ¡°Oh God¡­ why¡¯d I do this?!¡± He whimpered under his breath. That phone call burned through his mind, along with a stew of other thoughts. He hated Ohara, like most of Revaria, but it was not worth the nightmare that was Shebaton Caverns. It was general knowledge this place was inhospitable, but no one was prepared for the bloodbath that awaited them. Soldier after soldier picked off by voracious and territorial monsters. It was bad enough their equipment barely worked against those metallic skins, and It was bad enough none of them knew this area¡­ It was worse most of them weren¡¯t even trained to be soldiers. Droves of Pokemon signed up to join the manhunt. Rutger¡¯s passionate speeches, Chitter posts decrying Ohara as a profiteering murderer, monetary incentives¡­ Righteous fury ignited the citizenry. Everyone wanted that Weavile eliminated, never to snuff out another life with pneumonavirus. Because of the urgency and unfettered zeal of the mission, Rutger allotted no time for training. The moment Ohara¡¯s location was triangulated, he ordered the green recruits into action. Stuffed into helicopters and rushed to this hellhole. Some were already members of the military and knew what to do. The other ninety-percent came from menial jobs. Zero combat experience. It also didn¡¯t help that the recent war with Devaal, a neighboring planet, gutted much of Revaria¡¯s military and their technological resources. Rudy was a supervisor at Greg Growlithe¡¯s Grilled Nirvana. He knew how to lead waiters on a busy Friday night, not lead troops through the pits of hell. Mentioning he had leadership experience to that Grumpig was a terrible decision. Coming here at all was a terrible decision. He wanted out. He was happier at his job. Happier serving customers. Happier playing with his nephews and nieces on the weekend. The 500,000-dollar reward was not worth the sacrifice. Suddenly, distant dialogue. He perked his ears. ¡°Yeah¡­ okay, so¡­ I see¡­ I¡¯ll go trap him.¡± Rudy¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Was that about him? Probably. Rutger was not pleased with him during their conversation. He bolted out of his sleeping bag. ¡°Hey!¡± A sharp bark. Don¡¯t look back. Don¡¯t stop. Limbs shook and threatened to give out as the melatonin began kicking in. Blood and pulsating horror pounded through his veins. He knew what was intended. Others woke up to the clamor, some groggy, some peeved at the ruckus. An Umbreon blindsided him with brutal alacrity. The force of the tackle smashed Rudy¡¯s head into the ground. Left cheekbone fractured. Immediately knocked out. ¡°Got ¡®im, sir!¡± The black eeveelution stood tall and puffed out his chest. Seconds later, one of the many trapping devices intended for Ohara claimed Rudy. The ball clicked open as it struck him, followed by a bright, white flash. The fallen canine was absorbed. The sphere wobbled weakly, as its victim was out cold. Another ¡®click¡¯ concluded the oscillations. The blue light around the circumference faded. Locked. Catch secured. Rudy¡¯s family and friends never saw him again. - Reuben sliced and scorched his way through dense vegetation. Shebaton Caverns was still a few days¡¯ trek, but he knew the army wouldn¡¯t find Ohara by then. They couldn¡¯t find grass in a meadow. Rutger¡¯s ability to lead stopped at his fiery orations. He could move you to tears, but couldn¡¯t move an army to catch an arthritic Weavile. The Incineroar didn¡¯t have faith in his leadership even before Ohara was exposed; the desperate recruitment posters and commercials only put him off more. No training or experience required? Pitiful. He¡¯d do better without them. Sure, the steep reward would be nice, but what could replace his precious Lily? What could he earn that would justify her untimely passing? The best he could do was raw bloodshed. Strangle that worthless weasel and slam his fists into his face. Make it hurt. Make him regret being born. A capital offense, as Rutger wanted Ohara alive, but what did he care? As long as Ohara was dead, it didn¡¯t matter what happened. Not even his wife¡¯s pleas couldn¡¯t deter him. He marched onward with unceasing steps. - No soldiers in sight, Malcolm raced to escape Shebaton Caverns. Terrence and Nikki occupied the little free space there was in his bag. The foxes could run, but would tire out well before leaving the cave. The pills he took hours ago alleviated his knee pain enough to enable swift feet; they¡¯d last just enough longer to get them out of the cavern. As long as he was quick and no one made loud sounds, they should be safe. Terrence and Nikki were filled with questions, but knew to stay silent. Such a volatile situation required utmost caution. Through this tunnel¡­ Over that stream¡­ A wide berth around that pit¡­ Under that obsidian outcrop¡­ Feet aching, pain creeping back into his knee, just a little further... Sunlight! The exit became visible after rounding what remained of a massive, obsidian pillar. Terrence peered out from the bag and gawked at the scenery. Columns soared upward into a black expanse, Eroded, oblique edifices adorned with faded pictographs revealed tales of long ago. A Gothic cathedral with broken windows told of a forgotten civilization and forgotten faith. Obsidian statues of Pokemon in royal raiments gazed with authority upon subjects now gone. Terrence¡¯s imagination ignited; he wanted to leap out and explore every square inch of this place. Too bad this was not the time. Malcolm didn¡¯t plan on stopping anyways. The dearth of military presence was good, but he couldn¡¯t let his guard down. All it would take was one vigilant sniper and¡­ His blood ran cold and he replaced that thought with others more comforting. ¡°Almost there.¡± He said. ¡°Outside¡¯s a forest where we can hide and rest, and there¡¯ll be food and water too. You¡¯re probably starving.¡± Terrence and Nikki wouldn¡¯t have realized that unless the Weavile said something. Running from a threat you didn¡¯t understand in an unfamiliar, terrifying world tended to downplay hunger. The mention of forest made Terrence want to bolt away find his parents. The familiar pine-studded landscape would greet him. Lake Dorson would lie beyond. Mom and dad would tearfully scoop him and Nikki into their arms. Overwraught displays of affection normally made him gag, but today he¡¯d let it slide. The foxes squinted from the light once they left the cavern. It wasn¡¯t blindingly bright, but being inside for so long always made the onset of sunlight overbearing. Terrence¡¯s pupils narrowed as they slowly became accustomed to the light. The trees took shape¡­ The hopeful gleam in his eyes faded. His expectant smile fell into agape horror. This was not Lake Dorson. These were not pines¡­ girthy, pear-shaped baobabs loomed over them as a vanguard of giants. Thick roots protruded in arches tall enough for cars to fit under. Contorted branches jutted at odd angles and intertwined with branches from other trees. Clusters of green and purple grapes the size of tennis balls dangled from their tips and various twigs. Some were scattered along the ground. Some were partially eaten, causing a sweet aroma to soak the air and tantalize their senses. A hint of honey, cinnamon, apple, and... was that peppermint? The foxes salivated. Despite the precarious situation, the growing ache in their stomachs demanded food. Malcolm found a damp rut under the roots of a tree a quarter-mile from the cave. He let the foxes out and they stretched their legs. The respite allowed for brief introductions and, with those dispensed with, he gave them a simple instruction. ¡°Wait in here. I¡¯ll get food and water¡­ if you hear strange noises, stay calm and don¡¯t show yourselves. I won¡¯t be long.¡± As promised, he returned shortly with three of those large grapes and a vial of water. Gerald taught his children to pray and thank God for their food before eating, but they abandoned all decorum and sank their teeth into the fruit. Juice splattered everywhere, spattering their muzzles in cool, green liquid. The flavors¡­ it was like dessert. This was something mom would¡¯ve only let them eat after finishing their vegetables. Malcolm sat against a wall, not eating despite his hunger. Right leg bent inward, left leg flexed occasionally to fight the stiffness. While it seemed no one knew they were here, they kept their voices just audible enough to understand each other. ¡°Terrence, Nikki,¡± Malcolm nodded. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sure you have lots of questions but, I need to ask one first. How¡­¡± He hesitated and clenched his eyes briefly as though bracing for imminent injury. ¡°How did you get here?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Terrence returned a blank stare. ¡°Uhh¡­ it, uh¡­¡± He looked down, stumped. How could he explain the inexplicable? ¡°It was¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Malcolm raised a halting hand. ¡°Let¡¯s try this. Did you get here all of a sudden, like you were minding your own business and then¡­ a portal appeared and you fell into it?¡± Both children nodded. Eyes widened. The Weavile turned his face away with closed eyes. ¡°¡­ I see.¡± Nikki¡¯s ears drooped. ¡°Aw you okay?¡± Malcolm met her gaze, the slight frown vanishing from his face as quickly as it came. ¡°...Yeah. Don¡¯t worry.¡± Terrence didn¡¯t believe him; mom and dad talked like that when they tried to hide something. He understood they didn¡¯t want him to worry, but that only heightened his suspicion. However, there were more pressing questions. ¡°So...¡± Terrence took a tentative step toward him. ¡°Uh¡­ there any way we can get back home?¡± Malcolm nodded. ¡°Yes, and I¡¯ll help you. You came here through a portal. It disappeared when you used it, but I can make another one that¡¯ll take you back home. We¡¯ll¡­ have to go far and be quick¡­¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we take, like, a plane though, or-or something?¡± Terrence asked, but the Weavile shook his head before he even finished his question. A blunt response subverted his expectations in the worst way. ¡°This isn¡¯t Earth.¡± Malcolm furrowed his brow. Terrence¡¯s expression went blank. ¡°That portal took you to a different planet. This is Revaria.¡± Terrence¡¯s ears perked. ¡°B-but! I thought-¡± ¡°-our portals were closed? They are. The one you went through was a secret; you were never supposed to fall through it.¡± Malcolm grimaced. His voice stayed level, but a subtle staccato gave it an unpleasant sharpness. ¡°¡­ No one was supposed to find it.¡± ¡°It was an accident! W-we didn¡¯t-¡± Terrence¡¯s heart raced and he shuddered. He was choked by suffocating isolation. His eyes moistened. Malcolm held up a quieting finger. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t mean to use it, but¡­ what¡¯s done is done. Only way you¡¯re getting home is by another portal and, since they¡¯re closed, I¡¯ll have to make it for you.¡± Terrence¡¯s frazzled mind couldn¡¯t make sense of anything. Malcolm¡¯s answers raised more questions; that he was wanted by a bunch of mysterious people did not assuage his trepidation¡­ What would happen if they caught him? Hopeless dread tightened its grip around his neck. He trembled, lowering his head as he sobbed. He was immediately hugged. ¡°We¡¯ll be okay, Tewwy.¡± Nikki¡¯s tail wagged. ¡°Don¡¯t cwy.¡± Malcolm briefly watched the brother and sister before letting out a quiet sigh. ¡°¡­ Yes. We¡¯ll be okay. For now, we should sleep. I estimate¡­¡± He paused in thought, ¡°five more hours until night. That¡¯d be the best time to leave; they¡¯ll be less likely to catch us.¡± Fleeing at night? Why the drastic move? ¡°Malcolm?¡± Terrence asked, brushing away the last of his tears. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ who¡¯s, uh¡­ chasing you, and why? I mean, you don¡¯t seem like a bad guy.¡± Malcolm looked away for a moment, face turned into a slight frown. There were things Terrence and Nikki didn¡¯t need to know; they had enough to be afraid of. ¡°It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about.¡± ¡°But why do we have to wait for night to run away? What¡¯s going on?¡± The fox was forceful. He had a right to know what was happening. Malcolm doubled down with equal force. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Terrence scowled. ¡°But-¡± ¡°Enough.¡± Malcolm furrowed his brow, shutting him up. ¡°We¡¯re not discussing it, am I clear?¡± Terrence¡¯s frown dissipated and he gazed downward. ¡°¡­ Yes.¡± The three went and gathered fallen twigs and branches to cover their little burrow. Sleeping while on the lam was a gamble, yet couldn¡¯t be avoided. Malcolm prayed the fa?ade would be enough. Terrence and Nikki prayed too. The Weavile laid the final two branches over the hole as he stepped backward into the enclosed darkness. Light was visible, but in slivers just millimeters wide. Malcolm positioned his bag so it would double as a pillow. Not easy with all those trapping devices forming awkward bulges, but comfortable enough. He was soon fast asleep. The air became stifled with deafening silence. Save for Malcolm¡¯s breathing and their beating hearts, there was nothing but shadowed reticence. Even outside, not a creature could be detected. The wall of branches shut out most sound. Nikki curled up beside Malcolm¡¯s bag and tried to make herself cozy. Terrence stood paralyzed on his haunches. Eyes glued to the cover. Ears perked for voices. He dared not move and give away their position. The slightest rustle of a leaf and- c-----e-----f----- Terrence gasped and stepped toward Nikki. ¡°Hey, stop-¡± She was whimpering. Her back faced him and after Terrence strained to make out her silhouette, saw she was shaking too. ¡°Busy¡­ buzzy l-little bees¡­¡± A moan hardly above a whisper. She failed to move to the next lyric before burying her face in the bag and crying. Seconds later, there was a gentle paw on her back. She turned and eyed her brother in her periphery. ¡°¡­ buzzing all around my knees¡­¡± He whispered back, causing a light smile to appear on her muzzle. She rested her head against the bag again and fell asleep as Terrence finished the song. - Campground authorities hung posters and fliers all around Lake Dorson. Images of Terrence and Nikki taken a week before the trip populated the area. They were splashing water in each other¡¯s faces in their inflatable pool. Police put posters up too and searched the grounds inch by inch. Nothing. The only clue was the mysterious blue light that illuminated a piece of the sky. No one knew what it was, but suspicions it was a portal grew stronger each hour that went by without the foxes¡¯ presence. No one could link the blue light to the foxes, but the coincidence was bizarre enough that a connection was reasonable. Gerald and Michelle searched on their own, away from the police and camp authorities. They knew their children¡¯s scents better than anyone. By morning, the scent of pike was gone, making the search easier. Their odor led to a stream and pawprints identical to those of Terrence and Nikki. That was where the trail ended. Pawprints led away from the stream in a different direction. They meandered with varying widths of stride and ultimately took the parents in a circle. Hours slipped by. Terrence and Nikki¡¯s names were called. Over and over. Their voices became hoarse and throats sore. The occasional stirring lifted their hopes, only for it to be a rabbit or squirrel foraging for food. Nothing. Evening greeted Lake Dorson. More posters. More signs. More resources. None of it mattered. As the horizon cloaked the retiring sun, Michelle broke down beneath a tree without a word and sobbed. Body trembling, crumbled to the ground. Panic strangled her. Gerald held her and let her cry onto his shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ll find ¡®em¡­ we¡¯ll find ¡®em¡­¡± He whispered to assure both her and himself. His eyes drifted upward with a glisten he fought to hold back. Stars speckled with increasing luster as the last of the daylight drifted yonder. Bright¡­ scintillating¡­ glimmering flecks cast upon a darkened canvas. Gerald¡¯s heart skipped a beat. If that light was a portal that stole his children¡­ Then he could¡¯ve been gazing up at them right now. - Malcolm kicked up clods of grass and dirt as he sprinted through the forest. Eyes dead-set ahead. Adrenaline pounded through him at a deafening roar. ¡°Give up,¡± Rutger¡¯s bellow ricocheted through the trees. ¡°You¡¯re surrounded!¡± The Weavile didn¡¯t stop. A portal opened ahead; it wasn¡¯t far. ¡°Almost¡­ there¡­¡± Malcolm panted. Arm reached forth. Closer. Closer. Another arm extended from the blue light. Another Weavile. A comforting voice tinged with desperation accompanied it. ¡°Malcolm!¡± He ran faster. A twelve-foot tall Typhlosion dropped from the canopy with a resounding thud, blocking the portal. Malcolm froze. Rutger¡¯s gaze bore into his. Visage creased with a vengeful scowl. Teeth and fangs bared. Smoke seeped from his mouth in sulfurous wrath. In his right hand was a trapping device. A lustrous black. No markings, save for a thin line demarcating where it would open and absorb Malcolm. ¡°N-nicholas¡­¡± His heart raced as he took a timid step backwards. ¡°Y-you¡­ you can¡¯t-¡± ¡°YOU did this!¡± The Typhlosion roared, sending Malcolm back several more steps. The surrounding baobabs faded and gave way to an endless cemetery. Dark gray clouds and dampened knolls stretched over the horizon, as did small, ornate crosses and tombstones. They were cramped together because the interred were young and small. Malcolm shook his head and stepped forward. He raised a finger as though about to point, but Rutger quietly forced it down with a gesture. Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, but another gesture muted him. Rutger¡¯s scowl morphed into a sneer as he raised his arm to release the ball. A blue ring emanated from it as it started opening. The Weavile turned and fled. The ball sliced through the air. Closer. Closer... Malcolm yelled as it struck the back of his head. A radiant blue light engulfed him. Pulled backwards. Rapidly compressed. Darkness. His eyes popped open. - Nikki¡¯s eyes opened; her own nightmare screeching to an end just in time. Face drenched in sweat. Heart racing. That gryphon¡¯s blood-entrenched teeth were inches from shredding her helpless frame. She raised her head and stretched her legs. ¡°Tewwy? Malcolm?¡± A soft, translucent mist left her muzzle as she spoke. A draft of chilled air filled the cranny. She shivered, so she lied back down and curled up beside the bag. It was then she realized Malcolm was sitting up. Silent, back facing her and Terrence. One of the branches was moved, probably to allow some air. The daylight was dim, but sufficient to make out his hunched form. Nikki tip-toed around to see if he was okay. She stopped as she beheld his side-profile. Head down, face buried in his hand. He knew she was there, but didn¡¯t stir... Until something touched his knee. In his periphery were two tiny, yellow paws and Nikki¡¯s innocent little face. Her eyes peered into his with naive, but earnest concern. ¡°Misser Malcolm,¡± she kept her voice low, ¡°aw you sad?¡± Malcolm lowered his hand and looked at her. A brief silence elapsed before he answered. ¡°Just had a bad dream, but I¡¯m alright.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sowwy. I had bad dweam too wif da scawy bird. Hif teef were shawp and-and it twied to eat me.¡± Malcolm nodded. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t let that happen to you. You¡¯ll be safe with me and¡­ we¡¯ll make it back to Earth. We¡¯ll have to get moving soon, though.¡± Nikki nudged her brother with her snout. A few incoherent sounds and he rubbed his eyes. ¡°We¡¯w going, Tewwy.¡± He stood and stretched his legs, letting out a big yawn. He hoped it was convincing; he¡¯d actually been awake the past few minutes. He was silent only because his sister and Malcolm were talking. ¡­ What did Malcolm mean when he said, ¡®we¡¯ll make it back to Earth¡¯? Didn¡¯t he live here? If he¡¯s on the run, why not just flee to another country? Why travel to another planet? Was the hunt bigger than Terrence thought? Chapter 5 Some food, two pain pills, and a prayer later, the three stole silently through the forest. Terrence and Nikki rode along in Malcolm¡¯s bag, peering at the baobab silhouettes as they passed. To their relief, there were no other signs of life. No predators. No cyborgs. No people hunting for Malcolm. The Weavile knew his cover wouldn¡¯t last long. As soon as he ventured out of the forest, there would not be much to hide under except night itself. The forest lit up as lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a low, acoustic rumble. Nikki clung to her brother with a whimper, hair bristled. ¡°Just thunder.¡± Terrence whispered, rolling his eyes, though letting her hold onto his arm. ¡°It-it¡¯s a monster.¡± Her voice trembled. Terrence thought for a second before responding. He threw her a sideways glance and muttered under his breath. ¡°¡­ Maybe it is. The big, mean, uh¡­ Lightning Conqueror Warrior who, uh, rides through the sky on his dragon¡­ and it¡¯s made of lightning.¡± A momentary smile crossed Terrence¡¯s muzzle; joking like that made him think of home. Nikki gasped and clung to him even tighter. His smile weakened when she started crying. ¡°I was only kidding. Come on, I just wanted to have a little fun.¡± Nikki¡¯s ears drooped and she wiped her eyes, attempting a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sowwy.¡± Malcolm¡¯s sight was continually on their surroundings. Forward, left, right, up¡­ the kids¡¯ talking consciously sharpened his senses. The military may not be here, but that didn¡¯t stop a vigilante¡¯s thirst for justice. He would¡¯ve preferred if the children stopped talking, but knew that instruction wouldn¡¯t last. They were helpless kids stranded in a hostile world with only each other to latch onto for familiarity. If he was in their situation, he would¡¯ve liked to talk to his sibling. ¡°Try to keep your voices down.¡± Was all he said. As the night drew on, the foxes didn¡¯t say much else. Rain eventually accompanied the lightning, forcing Malcolm to zip his bag more (but not completely). The forest also started to thin out. Malcolm gave a slight nod. ¡°This¡¯s it¡­ yeah, just up ahead¡­¡± He thought, then spoke up. ¡°I¡¯m going to set you down soon and open the bag.¡± ¡°Are we close?¡± Terrence asked, realizing Malcolm never mentioned where they were going. Malcolm realized it too, but was planning to say something soon. ¡°No, but we¡¯re making progress. We¡¯re stopping because I need to empty things from my bag.¡± Minutes later, Malcolm gently lowered his pack and unzipped it. The foxes walked out with stiff limbs and stretched. They were released under the shelter of a rocky outcrop and told to stay while Malcolm did what he needed to. Though the jutting rock kept the rain away, the chilled wind swept biting mist into their eyes and fur. The frigid stingers forced them to huddle together and summon up their innate, internal warmth. It didn¡¯t eradicate the unpleasant sensation completely, but was better than nothing. Malcolm dug through his bag and piled the spheres into the crook of his arm. Terrence managed to open his squinted eyes enough to see them. He titled his head in curiosity. ¡°W-w-what are th-those?¡± He shouted over the worsening rain through chattering teeth. He felt the devices under his feet during the trip, but only thought to ask about them now that Malcolm was holding them. Malcolm stacked the last device in his arm, then brought his other arm underneath it for support. He stood up. ¡°Just,¡± he thought, his eyes shifting to the left for a second, ¡°¡­ things they were going to use to catch me. I¡¯m getting rid of them.¡± ¡°Th-they? Who¡¯s th-they?¡± Terrence frowned. ¡°How d-d-do those things even-¡± But Malcolm was already walking away through the fog-laden wind. Despite his obscured vision, the edge of the gorge was easy to make out. Faded greens and browns gave way to a blackened expanse as he neared the chasm. ¡°Hey!¡± Terrence¡¯s voice just behind him. The pitter-patter of his feet and squishing mud blended with the clatter of steady raindrops. ¡°What-¡± ¡°I told you to stay.¡± Malcolm raised his voice enough for Terrence to hear. Not a yell, but there was the hint of a growl. He stopped a foot from the ledge. ¡°How c-come you never answer my qu-questions?¡± Terrence growled in return, his pace unrelenting. ¡°Why should I t-trust you if you¡¯re k-keeping these secrets?¡± Malcolm thrusted his arms out, sending the trapping devices into oblivion. Terrence watched them descend into the murky unknown as he stopped beside the Weavile. His eyes widened at the endless void at his paws, stepping back a few paces. Malcolm walked back to the shelter and Terrence followed. The Weavile knelt before his pack. ¡°You¡¯re both wet, so I¡¯ll have to rearrange some things so they stay dry.¡± Terrence cleared his throat and stood beside the bag. He set a paw on it as though wanting to stop Malcolm. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer me.¡± Malcolm shook his head slightly, keeping his attention on the items he was shuffling around. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to worry about it?¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± Flustered Terrence couldn¡¯t finish his sentence. ¡°No one¡¯s making you trust me, but I don¡¯t understand why you wouldn¡¯t. I saved you from that monster and then offered to get you home. I¡¯m letting come with me because I¡¯m trying to help you, but no one¡¯s making you stay. You¡¯re not my prisoner; you can find your own way home if you want.¡± He gestured toward the forest. Their eyes met before the Weavile returned his attention to the items. Terrence looked down in embarrassment. ¡°I¡¯m not telling you certain things because knowing them would make you more scared than you already are. What do you need more to be terrified of?¡± Terrence¡¯s ears drooped. The only answer was the pelting rain. Malcolm¡¯s voice was soft again, his gaze shifting between Terrence and Nikki before finishing rearranging his things. ¡°Before we go, though, it¡¯s only fair I tell you where we¡¯re going. There¡¯s a field a few days¡¯ walk away with the seeds I need to grow the portal. However, Shebaton Cavern is one of few places around amenable to growing portals, so after I get what the seeds, we¡¯ll have to go all the way back.¡± Blank stares from Terrence and Nikki. ¡°Wait¡­... what?¡± Terrence queried. ¡°You¡­ grow them?¡± Malcolm nodded casually. ¡°Well, this kind, specifically. Even though all the public portals are closed, there¡¯s still another way for interstellar travel if you use this kind of portal. Not everyone knows this because the science behind it is obscure, but it comes in handy when it¡¯s the only option available.¡± ¡°I, uh¡­ wow, uh¡­¡± Terrence stammered. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ really lucky.¡± His expression remained blank as conflicting emotions swirled around in his brain. This almost sounded like a video game. He, the main character, chanced upon a person who could grow portals using seeds. That this character was strong, yet mysterious, added a layer of intrigue and fun. The present reality of danger hindered the merriment he wanted to soak in. It was better being in front of the screen than behind it. Malcolm nodded. ¡°Indeed, but we should get going. Come on.¡± He tapped the bag and the foxes crawled in. They didn¡¯t look forward to traveling in darkness for several more hours, but they at least had more space now. After making sure neither of their tails were hanging out, Malcolm zipped the bag and gingerly hoisted it onto his back. Off he went. One hour passed. Two¡­ three¡­ The ceaseless rain pelted the absconding Weavile in frigid sheets. Erratic winds caused the deluge to sting his face from varying angles. His pace was slow but, like the storm, relentless. Every step was a stride toward freedom. The lessened weight of his bag helped his speed and morale. Only things in there now were his pills, some plastic bags, an empty vial, papers, and the helpless foxes. Terrence peeked though a sliver Malcolm left open so they¡¯d have air. The baobabs dwindled and were replaced with grass too tall to see through. Intermittent streaks of lightning revealed an occasional, distant hill or birch tree. Uneventful, but the anxiety surging through his veins made him thankful for the boring ride. Every fifteen to thirty minutes, Nikki nudged her snout through the opening and asked if they were almost there. ¡°You asked that three times already.¡± Terrence grumbled. ¡°We¡¯re. Not. Close.¡± ¡°I wanna go home¡­¡± She whimpered. ¡°We¡¯ll get there.¡± Malcolm patiently answered for the third time. ¡°Try to relax.¡± The inclement weather was reduced to a drizzle as pale blue light crept from the east. Moist grass crunched softly under Malcolm¡¯s slackening pace. Drab asperitas clouds hung thousands of feet overhead, declaiming the storm¡¯s waning moments. Soon, the sun would cast them away. It was time to hide and sleep. The alcove tucked into the hill by the Mandrake River was damp, cool, and perfect for hiding. Malcolm let the foxes out of his bag and stuffed it with river grass. It was the best pillow the environment could offer. He made another heap of the material so the foxes could sleep somewhat comfortably. Nikki curled up on one side and drifted into a dream. Malcolm laid his head against the bag and did likewise. Terrence nestled onto his side, hoping to join them in slumber. But sleep was elusive. He stared blankly outside. Dissipating clouds flowing dreamily above. The murky, unchanging river. The reeds swaying in the tepid breeze. A miasma of small, flying insects milling about. ¡­ It looked exactly like Earth. Home. With a wistful groan, he closed his eyes and tried to dream. An hour passed before sleep cradled him in its arms. - An explosion in Terrence¡¯s nightmare jolted him awake. He stood defensively and his eyes darted about for fire, debris, or invaders. Pulse throbbed; his gaze affixed at the entrance for peril. Nothing. Just the cloudy, late afternoon sky. Nikki slept. Malcolm slept. The insects carried on as normal. A cruel jape of the subconscious, but at least everyone was okay. He walked to the entrance and absorbed his surroundings. Scattered trees and distant hills, but mostly a vast expanse of undulating grass. Reminded him of that one movie from school where a ferocious tornado descended from the heavens and chased the unsuspecting hero through the endless, Texan fields. There was a flicker of a smile as he remembered how riveting that was. A black speck materialized in his periphery. An unmistakable rumble of whirring motors. Terrence gasped and hid behind the wall. There, a few miles away: Helicopters! He scampered over and shoved Malcolm as hard as possible with his little paws. ¡°HEY! There¡¯s helicopters!¡± Malcolm¡¯s eyes popped open but he didn¡¯t register the information right away. ¡°Terr-¡± ¡°There¡¯s helicopters! Wake up!¡± He shoved him harder, hurting his wrists a little. Malcolm nudged him away and stood, a painful groan accompanying the maneuver. He thrusted an arm out and leaned against the wall as a brutal ache devoured his left knee. ¡°Stay back... and keep... calm.¡± Malcolm struggled between breaths. He staggered toward the entrance but stopped when he noticed the helicopters. Were they for him? Undoubtedly. Maybe they realized he was not at Shebaton Caverns anymore. He spied on the aerial menaces, holding back an outburst of pain. ¡°Please¡­ for the love of God, Rutger¡­ leave me alone¡­¡± The swarm wafted closer¡­ then away. Closer¡­ then away. Sometimes right, left¡­ right again. It was nearly an hour before it vanished entirely. The noise was gone; only then did Malcolm realize how rapidly his heart was beating. Terrence caught the terror in his expression as he turned. It disappeared when Malcolm faced him. ¡°About two hours ¡®til night; let¡¯s try to rest a little more.¡± Terrence nodded, still shaking. ¡°¡­ Thanks for warning me, by the way.¡± Malcolm added. Terrence¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°Oh, uh, yeah¡­ y-you¡¯re welcome.¡± The two settled in their respective spots. Terrence tossed and turned, worried the helicopters would return while they slept. When he was on his left side, he noticed Malcolm lying down, but not asleep. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He was looking at a sheet of paper¡­ or was that a picture? Terrence squinted enough to feign sleep but also attempt to make out those ink blotches. Amorphous blobs; the light dimmed to the point he couldn¡¯t discern them. He subtly tilted his head upward to read Malcolm¡¯s face. His typical deadpan, but accompanied with a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were little more open than usual, as though revealing a glimmer of emotion. Without warning, they met Terrence¡¯s prying gaze. ¡°Terrence?¡± The Fennekin promptly shut his eyes and pronounced his breathing to sound asleep. Malcolm furrowed his brow but said nothing. He tucked the paper away in the pocket not containing the river grass and went to sleep. Meanwhile, curiosity enticed the fox. There was something interesting in that bag and he wasn¡¯t going to let Malcolm keep it to himself. A wry smirk forming on his muzzle. A little peek never hurt anyone. Not now, but soon. - The twisted heap of debris that was once BioComp Lab shrunk day by day. Personnel in hazmat gear cleared chunks into waiting trucks under watchful eyes. Armed security protected the perimeter of red police tape, monitoring activity outside and in. Their unwavering stares unnerved the clean-up crew, but they did their best to ignore them. Dennis, the Grumpig who alerted Nicholas that Malcolm was in Shebaton Caverns, supervised the process. The short, chubby pig meandered from person to person. His sudden appearance made some of them jump upon turning around, but no one dared say anything. A Poliwhirl dropped a slab of concrete in surprise when he turned and Dennis was inches from his face. ¡°Don¡¯t mind me,¡± The stout swine snorted with rosy cheeks and toothy smile. ¡°Carry on,.¡± he perused his clipboard for a few seconds. ¡°Bert.¡± Bert said nothing and resumed; Dennis watching for ten interminable seconds before sauntering away. More rubble here, chunk of steel there, some scorched papers here. Type somehow still legible mostly consisted of chemistry jargon. He didn¡¯t stop to try to understand it; after all, there was work to do. Then a word arrested his attention. He set down the burnt bolts he just picked up and, quizzically, held the paper closer. His eyes widened¡­ was this real? Pneumonavirus. His surroundings became white noise. He read on. Dennis was peering over the shoulder of a Grotle when he caught Bert in his periphery. His gaze shifted. ¡°Hey, keep working!¡± The Poliwhirl, too intrigued by the paper, kept reading. The science around the virus was difficult to comprehend, but he couldn¡¯t put it down. More words¡­ more jargon¡­ a blurred diagram with an inscrutable footnote underneath... One particular word, a name, numbed his whole being. Like a fiery dart to his conscience. ¡°No¡­ what?!¡± He read the name repeatedly, as well as the statement surrounding it. This was fake¡­ wasn¡¯t it? Someone with an agenda... The pig stalked towards him with frigid anger. ¡°I said keep work-¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Bert thrusted the sheet away. ¡°I-I- it was just, th-the paper, uh¡­¡± The pig¡¯s ears perked up. The paper? He snatched the fluttering sheet before it could touch the ground, his alacrity betraying his ample frame. Bert was silent as Dennis glanced at the sheet and nodded. He¡¯d seen this before. ¡°I-it¡¯s, uh¡­ fake¡­ right?¡± Bert stammered. ¡°I-I, uh, you know, uh, I don¡¯t believe it or anything. I swear¡­¡± Dennis folded the sheet into quarters and stashed it in his breast pocket. A subtle, furrowed glance made Bert¡¯s spine tingle inexplicably. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s fake. I¡¯ll deal with this, just keep working and don¡¯t worry about it.¡± A quick nod and Bert resumed cleaning. Dennis poked through the debris too, as though wanting to root out more disagreeable papers. The Poliwhirl said nothing the rest of shift. After a grueling sixteen-hour day, the workers were escorted home by specially-assigned security. The windows were tinted enough the cleaners may as well have been blindfolded. Dennis assured them they needed the safety. The demolished lab was a hotbed of controversy and conspiracies; they couldn¡¯t take chances. Bert was relieved to be back at his apartment. His pay would be very good, but dealing with dirt, burnt steel, and toxic fumes the whole day was miserable. He showered, prepared a simple tuna sandwich, then settled down before his computer. Scroll through his Chitter feed for a bit before bed. He clicked the link. Familiar red squirrel icon loaded in. Familiar tabs. Any moment, a raucous opinion or bad take would show up¡­ It didn¡¯t. A gray window and black text greeted him instead. ¡°What¡­ the¡­?¡± ¡°We apologize for the inconvenience. Your account was found to have violated Chitter¡¯s Rules of Conduct and has been suspended indefinitely. If you believe this is an error on our part, please reach out to us as [email protected]. Thank you.¡± In flustered disbelief, he sent as polite an email he could and went to log on to one of his other social media accounts. Maybe Babble would provide his entertainment for the next hour. His jaw dropped. Same message. He tried his other five accounts; fingers becoming jittery. Picture-sharing, blog-posting, friend-chatting. Blocked. Desperate for communication, he called his older brother. Hopefully he was still awake. After three rings a brief, shrill monotone screeched through the speaker, followed by a recording. ¡°Hello. Suspicious activity has been linked with the number you are dialing from. Your call will be monitored by CommScan for security purposes. Press ¡®one¡¯ to proceed.¡± He ended the call without pressing the key and began to hyperventilate. What was happening? Scenarios flooded his mind. A hacker? Identity thief? A misunderstanding? Or¡­ - Dennis incinerated the paper with a simple lighter, reducing it to a fine ash. He texted Rutger. ¡°It¡¯s gone and he¡¯s silenced now.¡± The Typhlosion replied. ¡°Good. Do the same with others you find.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Would Bert have said anything to his friends or followers? Probably not. He didn¡¯t seem to believe what the sheet said, but Dennis couldn¡¯t risk it. It might take just one viral comment to undermine Rutger¡¯s efforts to save Revaria. Better Bert¡¯s voice be removed than sacrifice safety. - After a thankfully uneventful night, Malcolm and the children settled into a hillside den four miles from the nearest trail. That it was partially obstructed with dried, cascaded mud from the rainstorm made it ideal for hiding. The absence of fresh pawprints indicated lack of an inhabitant, but Malcolm was aware that could change any moment. He instructed them to sleep in the back of the cave while he stayed nearer the entrance. ¡°We¡¯re making good progress,¡± Malcolm said. ¡°We¡¯re already about halfway there, but we still have to be aware of our surroundings.¡± Not much else was said before they lied down for the day. Nikki curled up by her brother and fell asleep. Malcolm faced the entrance; if there was an intruder, he would deal with them right away. It helped being a light sleeper. Terrence resisted sleep. He eyed the bag with contained, curious glee. It beckoned to be zipped open once Malcolm fell asleep. Though the Weavile gave him plenty of reason to trust him, Terrence couldn¡¯t resist the thrill of mystery. What was that paper that made Malcolm almost smile yesterday? As soon as Malcolm was asleep, Terrence gently nudged Nikki away and tip-toed toward the bag. The zipper might be a nuisance; hopefully it would slide open with ease. Closer¡­ Closer¡­ His two digits quietly grasped the zipper and waited. Malcolm did not stir, though Terrence realized the position of his head would make plumbing the bag impossible. He shook his head in annoyance, but that wouldn¡¯t stop him. Even a glimpse would yield juicy details. With the subtlety of a sly fox, he pulled the zipper. Malcolm bolted up with a start. The startled fox had no time to retreat before the Weavile¡¯s gaze held him. ¡°Everything okay?¡± ¡°I, uh, you know, uh¡­ yeah! ¡­ You?¡± Terrence¡¯s ears drooped and tail hung pathetically between his legs. ¡°Were you trying to get into my bag?¡± Malcolm asked, phrasing it more like a statement. Terrence¡¯s eyes darted about, hoping a diversion would arrive and change the subject. He was trapped. This felt worse than the time his dad caught him poking around through one of his desk drawers. A father was obligated to forgive his child. Malcolm had no such responsibility toward Terrence. ¡°Well, were you?¡± Terrence gulped. His default strategy would be to craft a lie and hope Malcolm would buy it, but it was clear he rejected the sale before it was offered. ¡°¡­ Yeah... Sorry¡­¡± Malcolm kept a level tone absent of anger. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I, uh¡­¡± The Fennekin stuttered, face downward but eyes up. ¡°You know, I-I was, like¡­ um, curious¡­ you know, about-¡± ¡°About me?¡± Terrence nodded. Malcolm reciprocated the nod and, in an unexpected twist, opened the bag. It was still stuffed with the river grass from yesterday. ¡°Well, here you go. There¡¯s an additional pocket inside this one, where you¡¯ll find more interesting stuff.¡± Terrence cocked an eyebrow. ¡°¡­ Wait, what?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve nothing to hide. Look at everything if you want.¡± Malcolm shrugged, rotating the bag slightly so it¡¯d face Terrence directly. No hint of irony, sarcasm, or passive-aggressiveness. Just an open invitation to pry into Malcolm¡¯s personal effects. Choked by embarrassment, Terrence apologized again and declined. Malcolm zipped up the bag. ¡°Okay.¡± As though nothing happened, Malcolm lied down and fell asleep. Terrence smacked his forehead with his little paws for being a dummy, then fell asleep. - Nikki staggered onto her fours and stretched. The darkening sky meant it was time to leave. Another venture through the night cooped up in a bag. Not exciting, but that episode where Riley went on that boring road trip with her parents taught her life didn¡¯t always have to be exciting. It was good enough being with people you cared about and who cared about you, no matter the circumstances. Terrence was still asleep, so she thought to wait until Malcolm said it was time to go before waking him. She turned and noticed Malcolm¡¯s silhouette against the orange-yellow sky. Back facing her, but slightly hunched over. Head was down and something was in his hands. He was fixated on whatever it was. ¡°Goo¡¯ mowning Mister Malcolm.¡± She trotted over to him. He turned his head; voice mellower than usual. ¡°Good evening, Nikki.¡± His attention returned to what he was holding. ¡°¡­ We¡¯ll be ready soon.¡± She stood on her hind legs and propped her forepaws on his knee. ¡°What aw you looking at? Can I see?¡± Her fluffy little tail wagged happily. Terrence stood and stretched; a high-pitched yawn escaping his muzzle. It took him a second to realize Nikki was standing next to Malcolm towards the den¡¯s entrance. They were talking, but their words were difficult to discern due to keeping their voices down. He quietly walked towards them, figuring he shouldn¡¯t interrupt whatever they were talking about. When he was closer, he spotted a familiar item. The paper Malcolm was looking at last night¡­ and he was showing it to Nikki like it was no big deal! Well, Terrence could¡¯ve seen it too, but he chickened out like a dweeb. The humiliation from before clung to his fur like an odious stench. It beckoned him to not join them. But... lingering curiosity beckoned him to take advantage. After all, when was the next time Malcolm would brazenly reveal secrets he was indifferent about guarding? Terrence quietly walked forward, wondering what mysteries the paper held. ¡°Terrence,¡± Malcolm said without turning his head. ¡°We¡¯re leaving soon; hope you¡¯re rested enough.¡± The child furrowed his brow. How¡¯d Malcolm know he was there? His mom was right about adults having eyes at the back of their head. ¡°Uh, I am¡­ I guess.¡± He paused awkwardly before continuing. ¡°Uh¡­ is it¡­ okay if...¡± ¡°Sure, you can look.¡± Terrence sighed, suddenly considered that all his mental buildup was going to result in the most underwhelming payoff. How could a man on the run from a terrible force have nothing worth hiding? He stood beside Nikki and looked. Time to be disappointed. Terrence tilted his head. Somehow, he both did and did not expect this. A landscape-formatted, slightly faded photograph. Six by four inches, like some of the family pictures at home. The date in the lower-right read ¡®8-2-1998.¡¯ Based on the background, this was taken by a professional photographer in a studio. A suited-up Malcolm stood off-center. Younger, fewer creases in his face, a confident smile to match his dignified attire. Not a trace of stress. It was jarring to behold this version of Malcolm, but it was the rest of the picture that left Terrence at a loss for words. It was the others standing with him. Another Weavile. She also smiled and wore a modest, floral dress a lady would¡¯ve worn to church. She stood on Malcolm¡¯s right. In front of them were three shorter people. Sneasels, also in suit or dress, according to their being boy or girl. Though smiling, the boy looked distracted, as though he just wanted to go home and play video games. A taciturn Terrence looked back at Malcolm, flabbergasted this was the same man in the picture. ¡°That¡¯s Winifred, my wife. Those¡¯re our children, Jessica, Carol, and Robert. Of course, they¡¯re grown now and my two oldest are parents now. You can see this was taken fifteen years ago. I¡­ had little time to take anything when I fled, but I¡¯m grateful I was able to take this. This¡¯s the only thing that¡¯s made me happy since I started running away. Knowing I¡¯ll see them soon helps keep me going.¡± A subtle smile formed. ¡°That¡¯s why I look at them every night.¡± Terrence didn¡¯t know how to react. Malcolm was not shrouded in intangible mystery; he was an ordinary family man. He and Malcolm wanted the same thing; reunite with the people who loved them. ¡°Mister Malcolm?¡± Nikki asked. ¡°Whew¡¯s Missus Malcolm and wittle Malcolms?¡± Malcolm hesitated, the answer was one thing he didn¡¯t want the children to know, especially Terrence. The train of thought would lead to a terrible place, but per Terrence¡¯s wont, he would probe until the answer was his. May as well say it. ¡°¡­ Earth.¡± The kids¡¯ ears perked up, but Malcolm quickly interrupted their thoughts. Don¡¯t let Terrence think about this right now. ¡°But... anyways, we have to go. It¡¯s nighttime.¡± He herded the foxes into the bag. Two pain pills and a prayer later, they were off. Family was waiting. - Winifred sat by the window in her sister-in-law¡¯s kitchen; a warm breeze rustling the freshly-laundered curtains. A book laid open before her as she tried to read it. One or two sentences, then look out the window. A minute would pass before she read the same sentences again. Someone outside talked. She¡¯d look¡­ wistfully sigh¡­ reread the sentences. How long had she been on this paragraph? ¡°Hey.¡± Carol, her second-oldest quietly walked to her with two cups of ice cold peach tea, white straws in each. She set one before her mother and sat on the other side of the table with hers. ¡°Thank you.¡± Winifred smiled weakly, picking it up and sipping. Carol did likewise. ¡°¡­ Added a little lemon this time.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nice.¡± More silence. More looking out the window. A breeze flipped the pages in Winifred¡¯s book. She didn¡¯t notice. The Weavile nudged her glasses up the bridge of her muzzle as though intending to use them. The younger Weavile took her mother¡¯s hand with her own. ¡°I¡¯m sure dad¡¯s okay¡­ This¡¯ll be over soon.¡± Winifred lightly swirled her tea with the straw. ¡°Yeah¡­ I know. Just¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Wish I knew when. I hate sounding heartless, but why¡¯d this have to happen now? Planned this trip for months and he can¡¯t be here to enjoy it.¡± Carol had no answer. She could only nod. ¡°I know¡­ it sucks...¡± A baby started crying from the adjacent room. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Carol said and pushed back her chair. ¡°Coming, sweetie!¡± She got up and left. Her one-year old son was now awake and demanded food. Winifred¡¯s attention shifted back to the window. Soon, the pandemic would be over. Soon, the portals would open. Soon¡­ Malcolm would arrive. Late, but life was like that. He had a job and countless lives depended on him. She smiled faintly once more. Her husband was the hero Revaria needed. If it took weeks, even months... He¡¯d stop the pneumonavirus. Chapter 6 ¡°Cases and deaths from the virus are decreasing. More are receiving up-to-date care¡­ Ohara¡­¡± Booing and jeers ensued, to which Rutger gestured to silence. The noise subsided. ¡°¡­ will pay for this mess. He is slippery and sly, but he cannot run forever.¡± Applause, then another quieting gesture. ¡°Neither can his cohorts at BioComp. They¡¯re just as guilty. Just as vile. Hands as blood-soaked as his. We¡¯ve arrested most of them. Others are still at large, but we are trapping them one by one. They¡¯ll learn there is no profit margin worth the lives of our own children¡­¡± Rutger¡¯s speech, livestreamed on Chitter and numerous other platforms, captivated most of online Revaria. The impeccable blue suit and red tie, eyes glinted with commanding persuasion, voice resonated with a low, confident tenor. Behind him, a radiant sky-blue backdrop. A picture of burning determination and unwavering zeal. Despite this, there were detractors. Bebe Jimenez, a Sylveon in her mid-thirties, watched the Typhlosion orate and pound his marble lectern for an hour. With half a mind to say something, she created a Chitter account. ¡°Mama?¡± A little Eevee attempted to clamber onto her desk. Bebe helped her up. ¡°Is daddy home soon?¡± ¡°Yes, he¡¯ll be home soon.¡± Bebe stroked her daughter¡¯s headfur. ¡°Go play with your dollies in the meantime and I¡¯ll start dinner soon.¡± She kissed her on the forehead and set her down. The Eevee ran off before Bebe turned back to the screen. She scrolled through the replies, all of which alarmed her. Why was nobody defending Malcolm? She frowned and clicked the window to comment. ¡°What the hell? Malcolm¡¯s not a villain. I don¡¯t know where you get the idea he created the virus just to make a medicine and profit from it. You¡¯re full of it. You haven¡¯t shown any proof for this. If anything, he should be lauded. Did we all just forget about Optizene, or are we now going to say he created blindness just to profit from it too? Stop the hunt and tell the truth, Rutger.¡± She clicked SUBMIT, then got up to start dinner for her daughter and husband. She shook her head as she stirred the soup, telling herself to stay calm so she wouldn¡¯t splash hot broth around. Malcolm didn¡¯t deserve to be hunted like some animal; he should be awarded a medal of honor instead. Her daughter was born blind three years ago, but after her parents administered two milliliters of Optizene once a day for two weeks, her vision was healed. It worked only for genetic blindness, but was still the biggest medical advancement in decades. Most cases of blindness were now curable, and meant that, perhaps, it could someday be eradicated completely. It was all thanks to the years Dr. Ohara poured into research and testing the drug. He wanted all to have a product that worked. Allow those born blind the chance to use the eyes God gave them. Optizene was made available to the public only four years ago... Yet, everyone somehow forgot? The flood of scouring invective in the comment section indicated so. Later, Bebe and family enjoyed a hearty chicken soup. The food and the company of her husband and daughter soothed the anger from having read those comments. She hoped her input would change at least a few minds. ¡­ If only it wasn¡¯t taken down less than two minutes after posting and her account indefinitely suspended. A rude awakening awaited her next visit to Chitter. CommScan was tracking her phone before her family finished eating. - Malcolm trod upon damp, hardened soil through another cloudless night. He was thankful for the dearth of military presence, but aware he needed to pick up his pace. His bottle of painkillers was down to a little over half. At his current rate, he would make it back to the caverns just in time. The intermittent lumps and swaths of damp mud at the base of the hill slowed him a little, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t last. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be much further¡­¡± Malcolm assured himself, keeping his eyes peeled for the bridge. A chasm was situated to the right, across from the hill. He estimated the bridge to be nearby. He used it to reach the caverns days ago because it was a shortcut and isolated from civilization. Nobody supervised it. Inside the bag, Nikki softly hummed a Riley song while her brother stewed in a swarm of perplexing thoughts. ¡°Earth¡­ why¡¯s his family there? They escape too? And who¡¯s chasing him? Or them? A gang? Cops? ¡­ Army? Wait¡­¡± Terrence hearkened back to those helicopters. He didn¡¯t think of it then due to the sudden panic they caused, but now with everything calmer, the situation sunk in deeper. ¡°Were those copters really looking for him? And¡­ there were so many¡­ Why? What¡¯s so dangerous about him?¡± Malcolm¡¯s family picture arose to the forefront of his mind. Simple portrait of people content with each other; mom, dad, their kids. They looked happy. Life was good and they loved each other. Malcolm wanted to escape not just for himself, but for his family. His family missed him. Terrence¡¯s ears drooped. He loved his family too. Two families needed to be reunited. Malcolm toiled night after night through rain, while avoiding surveillance, to make sure this could happen. Terrence was the passive passenger. Aside from alerting Malcolm to the helicopters, what sort of hero was he? His mind went to video games. Who won by sitting on their hands? Since when was the damsel in distress succored by a bold knight riding in a backpack? Terrence scowled and shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s it¡­ I¡¯m not sitting in here anymore. I gotta help¡­ somehow!¡± Terrence rose to his hind legs and poked his head out. Chilled air stung his face, making him flinch, but failing to make him retreat to the warmth of the bag. He tried to foist himself up to jump out, though his little feet kept slipping against the sides. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± Malcolm asked without looking back. ¡°Get back in.¡± ¡°Uh, Malcolm? I-¡± A sudden gasp. Malcolm halted on a dime, causing Terrence to lose his grip and fall back in. ¡°What is it?¡± Terrence asked, staying still. Was there unwanted company? Malcolm said nothing; he just stood there in abject disbelief. Thanks to last night¡¯s rainstorm and massive torrent of loose hillside it unleashed... The bridge was gone. - A weary-eyed Wigglytuff in his early seventies stared quietly at passing buildings and crowds from behind a tinted window. Stridently-colored signs accompanied with jeers and cheers greeted him. Most of the signs condemned Malcolm through words and crude drawings. Fewer, but still plenty, demanded Rutger step down and tell the truth about Malcolm and the pneumonavirus. Errant, interspersed signs simply condemned the Typhlosion as a tyrant. The Wigglytuff, Phinehas Banks, was on his way to see Rutger about these very matters. Things needed to change. Revaria was nowhere near defeating the virus and Phinehas was concerned Rutger was not taking his job seriously. ¡°I will let Rutger know we will be there in twenty minutes.¡± The Sandslash guard beside him said. ¡°Thank you.¡± Phinehas¡¯ feeble reply was hardly audible over the protesting shouts. He closed his eyes and tried to meditate. Silence the clamor and think about his words. ¡°Rutger¡­ how could you¡­ No, uh¡­ Rutger, why is that¡­ No, not that either¡­¡± Not only was the ruckus overpowering, Phinehas¡¯ own thoughts combated him. Rutger knew viruses and Phinehas did not. Rutger went to medical school and Phinhas did not. Rutger had commanding presence and Phinehas did not. Rutger was less than half his age and had a sharper mind¡­ who was this old, elongated pink fluffball to question him? Maybe he should order the driver to turn around and postpone this meeting. The guard finished his call and turned to Phinehas. ¡°He says everything is ready for your arrival¡­ Are you well, sir?¡± Phinehas¡¯ brow was sweating, prompting the Sandslash to hand him a small towel. ¡°Oh, uh¡­ I¡¯m fine; just a little hot...¡± He wiped away the sweat. The driver turned up the air conditioning. It made him feel no better. He shouldn¡¯t have been scared of Rutger; Phinehas was the last person who should¡¯ve been scared. Yet, he was. - Malcolm stood idle in hopeless consternation. Terrence and Nikki clambered out of the bag after a minute. He didn¡¯t try to stop them. The young foxes stared out over the abyss. Aside from the embossed swath of dry mud leading into the gorge, they couldn¡¯t perceive what was amiss. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Terrence asked again, ready to think up a solution. Malcolm hesitated; the horror of the situation rattling his spirit. ¡°¡­ The bridge. It- it¡¯s gone¡­¡± Terrence¡¯s eyes widened, taking a step towards the gorge as though making sure Malcolm wasn¡¯t mistaken. ¡°Bridge?¡± Malcolm nodded with a grieved sigh. ¡°Yes¡­ all this mud must¡¯ve washed it away¡­ It was supposed to be a shortcut...¡± He put his hands to his face as though wanting to stifle a yell. Terrence scampered to the ledge to get a better look. Maybe the situation could be fixed? ¡°Careful!¡± Malcolm picked him up and set him down by the backpack. Before Terrence was pulled away, he caught a glimpse of the splintered planks scattered on the rocks below. His ears and limbs went limp with despair. Like the bridge dashed to pieces, so was his optimism in making it home. Nikki piped up, looking up at Malcolm. His hands were over his face again. Though there was a hint of worry in Nikki¡¯s eyes, her tail wagged with expectation. ¡°What do we do, Mr. Malcolm?¡± Malcolm lowered his hands and met her inquisitive stare. ¡°We¡¯ll¡­ we¡¯ll have to go around. It¡¯s going to take longer...¡± Terrence stood dead silent. Malcolm was a determined, stalwart figure who didn¡¯t surrender to his emotions. This made his excessive pausing and fearful visage all the more worrying. ¡°¡­ and we¡¯ll have to pass near a town¡­ Someone might see us.¡± He informed, averting his gaze. The last thing these children needed was another thing to worry about. ¡°Well, uh¡­¡± Terrence started, knowing a hero was supposed to urge the crestfallen to action. Can¡¯t waste another second moping. ¡°Guess we should just¡­ go then? Maybe we can, like, move faster, or, something?¡± Terrence winced. Was that his best motivational talk? Malcolm nodded and stood. ¡°You¡¯re right. Let¡¯s go.¡± He lowered his bag and Nikki scampered inside. Terrence had a different idea. He looked up at him, knowing the Weavile would approve. ¡°I-I¡­ I think I should, uh¡­ walk with you. If there¡¯s bad guys, I can use my fire-¡± Malcolm furrowed his brow and shook his head. ¡°No. Get in.¡± ¡°But I wanna help-¡± ¡°You¡¯re bright yellow. If someone sees you, they¡¯ll see me. Now, get in.¡± Malcolm¡¯s voice became gruffer, like a grandfather losing patience with an insolent grandson. Terrence furrowed his brow too. Malcolm may have been older, but he was not his grandpa. ¡°But it¡¯s night!¡± ¡°Terrence.¡± Malcolm intoned forcefully enough to silence him. No yelling, but his cold stare spoke volumes. ¡°People want me dead and I¡¯m not going to let that happen because you didn¡¯t listen. Get. In.¡± The fox quietly did as told, looking down as his eyes moistened. Malcolm slung the bag onto his back and resumed the journey; route deviated and pace quickened. - Rutger made sure his office was spotless and polished for Phinehas¡¯ visit. He even had to raise his voice at some of the servants to make them work faster. This rendezvous had to go exactly according to plan; he needed to be perfect, look perfect, sound perfect. Phinehas had the power to take away everything he accomplished the past few weeks. He had a lot to prove. He triple-checked assorted items on his desk. ¡°The graphs¡­ Item a, b, c¡­ e? Where¡¯s d¡­ ah, here. Numbers perfectly legible¡­ the quotes are¡­ here-¡± He muttered under his breath until a buzzing phone made him jump. A glance at the screen told him it was one of Phinehas¡¯ guards. He cursed inwardly and answered with a smile. ¡°Hello; Rutger speaking, sir.¡± ¡°Hello. We will be reaching the gate in five minutes.¡± ¡°Right. Uh, let him know everything¡¯s ready for his arrival. Thank you.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The conversation ended and Rutger gave a frustrated grunt. Good thing no cameras or crowds were here to witness that clumsy exchange. Seconds later, Dennis marched into the room to give Rutger one last pep talk. He wasn¡¯t going to be at the meeting, so he had to preemptively ensure a flawless performance. ¡°Hey, you alright?¡± The Grumpig strode over to him in few steps. ¡°Yeah, just need to work off a few nerves.¡± Dennis reached up to straighten his dashing red tie and brush off an extraneous fleck of lint. ¡°Nerves? What do you have to be nervous about?¡± Rutger scowled, unsure if he was being sarcastic. ¡°Okay okay, yeah, he¡¯s powerful, but YOU¡¯RE the expert. Can he solve the virus?¡± ¡°No, but if he¡¯s not happy with me, it¡¯s all over.¡± Dennis shook his head as though this was impossible. ¡°Hey, the progress¡¯ll speak for itself and, even if he¡¯s not happy, what¡¯s he going to do about it? Who would he replace you with?¡± Rutger emitted a light chuckle. No one, obviously. His eyes drifted to his three framed medical degrees on the wall behind his desk. ¡°See? No need to worry. You got this, Dr. Rutger.¡± Dennis drew out ¡®doctor¡¯ and gave him an encouraging pat on his forearm. Rutger smirked, confident Phinehas would be pleased with everything. He left and marched down the carpeted hall with a commanding gait. He would greet Phinehas with a dignified salute and prove he was more than worthy. - Malcolm toiled through the thick of night along the precipice. As he did, the mud-addled hill deviated further left. Swaths of dried mud gave way to tall grass and scattered fruit trees. Like the grapes in the baobab forest, these fruits were bigger than what Terrence and Nikki were used to. Apples the size of basketballs dangled from sturdy branches. Vegetable beds sprouted as well; Malcolm taking advantage of their large sizes by stealing through dense pumpkin patches. The orange gourds stood nearly a foot taller than him. Streams became more numerous the deeper into agrarian terrain they ventured. The trickling, undulating monotony indicated the proximity of other life forms. As the day¡¯s inchoate light seeped through the sky, Malcolm surveyed his surroundings for shelter. Farmers always woke up early, so he needed to hide soon. The pain ebbing back into his knee worried him, but perhaps he could ride it out until he found somewhere to hide. A mahogany, wooden barn stood some 500 feet ahead. It was the nearest structure and the only viable place to conceal himself. Further out was the farmhouse. A modest, single-story abode of birch painted white, a porch, and a couple of rocking chairs. No lights were on inside and the porch light cast a pale yellow aura in its vicinity. There was still time. Malcolm scurried toward the barn. 400 feet¡­ 300 feet¡­ 200- A jolt in his left knee stopped him and nearly made him keel over. He gritted his teeth, grunting but holding back a yell. A pill now wouldn¡¯t act quickly enough and walking was not an option. This left one choice. He stooped to his knees, extended his arms downward, and started crawling. The foxes yelped at the drastic change of orientation. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Terrence started, voice subdued as though afraid of rebuke. It was the first he¡¯d spoken since Malcolm ordered him to climb into the bag. Malcolm couldn¡¯t answer; it sapped energy to fight searing pain and trek across the ground like an animal. Terrence picked up on his labored breathing and didn¡¯t ask again. 150¡­ 100¡­ Fifty¡­ The porch light flicked off. Malcolm¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Forty¡­ Thirty¡­ A man¡¯s voice from inside the house. Twenty. The door creaked open. Ten. Door closed. An indiscernible yell. Malcolm stumbled into the barn and forced himself up. He quickly, yet quietly, shut the door. Heart pounded rapidly. Blood surged through his head. His limbs shook and he had to support himself against the wall. Did that person see him? All he could do was wait. - Reuben¡¯s heart sank when droves of helicopters flew away from the cavern. Each one whirring overhead the opposite direction showed he traversed all this way for nothing. Was Malcolm really not there anymore? Or was he still here, but the military was just giving up or mistaken? Their incompetence supported the latter, but the mass migration above moved him to turn and hunt elsewhere. The Incineroar sleuthed for hints of the villain. The baobab forest outside the cavern had to have something. Unmeasured hours spent searching; footprints¡­ handprints¡­ a scrap of food¡­ a marking of any kind¡­ Nothing. That monster covered his tracks too well. He would¡¯ve caught a common criminal by now, but Ohara was slippery. Fists clenched, legs becoming rubber, he shook his head in frustration. He wasn¡¯t going to give up though. Not after what Ohara did. Not after watching Lily breathe her last. Not after trekking this far¡­ Night enshrouded the landscape as a weary Reuben finally sought rest. He loathed the thought of sacrificing precious hours Malcolm would use to slip further away, but his body needed to recover. At the edge of the forest was a dilapidated cabin surrounded by weeds and damp mud. Its two front windows were caked with dust and grime; not even the light from the gibbous moon could reveal what was beyond them. A door frayed with splinters and rusty nails hung ajar from the top hinge; an intermittent breeze causing it to clap every so often against the frame. This would do. Reuben trudged toward the door and nudged it open; the gesture almost removing the feeble door from its frame. He tried holding it shut to keep the cold out, but there was no bolt to keep it in place. He shrugged and looked for a nook to sleep in. The rotted floor creaked under his calloused feet. Each cautious step was greeted with light skittering; resident mice not relishing the new company. A pile of hay in the corner of one room looked inviting enough. Time to sleep. Reuben walked towards it when he suddenly stopped. Light snoring came from behind the stack. Silent, Reuben crouched and extended his claws. This was it; time for Malcolm to die. Closer he crept. The snores went uninterrupted. On the count of one¡­ two¡­ three¡­ POUNCE! - Malcolm welded the door shut by filling the sides with ice. He expended the little energy he had left to make it as cold as possible. The farmer could still get in, but would have to break through the wall. Malcolm gambled on the fact he wouldn¡¯t try that. If the farmer broke in and caught him, Malcolm would knock him out and flee. Then his location would be discovered again. And he wouldn¡¯t have the hostile Shebaton Caverns to hide in. This was wide open farmland. He could kill the farmer instead and eliminate that chance, but why treat an innocent that way? Probably had a family to provide for. Malcolm couldn¡¯t bring himself to do that. Terrence and Nikki stumbled from the bag with stiff limbs, rattled and disoriented. What threw Malcolm into that panic? The siblings ran to the Weavile, whose exhaustion forced him to the ground. His hands and knees shook as they propped up his battered, beleaguered frame. He put a quieting finger to his mouth before either could ask anything. ¡°There¡¯s¡­¡± Malcolm rasped. ¡°someone¡­ Hide.¡± The foxes obeyed without a word. They vanished into the loft. Terrence let Nikki take the deepest space in the corner while he stood in front of her. If an enemy charged through, he would attack and keep her safe. ¡­ Except the thought of enemies barging in sent shivers down his spine. The gryphon showed him he wasn¡¯t very strong; why would he think he could protect Nikki? Best not admit the thought and just play the hero. At least make her feel safe. Meanwhile, Malcolm waited to strike. Was the farmer approaching? There were no calls or shouts, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t there. Minutes ticked by¡­ eyelids grew heavy¡­ the distant sputtering of a car¡­ driving away¡­ silence¡­ adrenaline ebbing¡­ eyelids closing¡­ He slumped to the ground. Eyes closed¡­ - Winifred hugged Malcolm before he had to leave and deal with the incipient virus. ¡°Don¡¯t be long...¡± He returned her hug with a knowing smile and assurance he would return, as though he was running a menial errand. They parted with a kiss and he walked out the door. She stood in their doorway, arms crossed over her chest as he backed out of the driveway. Her gentle wave was his last mental image before he drifted to sleep. - Banks¡¯ motorcade formed a procession up the quarter-mile driveway to Rutger¡¯s office. The forty-story edifice cast a shadow over the black limousines as they approached. The temperature in the car dropped, but the Wigglytuff continued to sweat. Rutger waited on the lawn. Suited up, groomed, poised with convincing words. He would make sure Banks¡¯ misgivings were assuaged. At his side were suited security personnel; not that Banks was going to do anything, but it looked more professional than having none. The lawn was immaculate; trimmed yesterday for this very moment. Banks needed to see that Rutger took his job seriously, and who would argue against the importance of a perfect outward appearance? The train of limousines rounded the corner and Rutger straightened his posture, standing a little taller than before. A confident, authoritative smile formed on his face by instinct. He always did that before an oration that would draw in the trust of his listeners. He knew Banks not to be a confident man, but so long as the Wigglytuff had confidence in him, it was all that mattered. The limos parked one by one. Banks was escorted out by his own guards. The Wigglytuff¡¯s demeanor made an effort to appear stern and somber, but was negated by the cane in his hand and limping gait. It also didn¡¯t help that when their eyes met, Banks¡¯ shifted away as though embarrassed. Rutger fought a smirk. Banks was going to be humiliated. - Terrence spied outside through a sliver between the loft floor and the wall. No one was there, but maybe the car driving away was the person Malcolm heard? Still, his nerves propped him awake. Malcolm and Nikki were asleep, so it was up to him to man the fort. Finally, he was important. Not a hero yet, but being sidekick wasn¡¯t bad. His chest puffed out a little with bravado. He strained his eyes for activity; attention glued to the house. The car would have to come back sometime and he would have to be ready to sound the alarm. Five minutes passed¡­ ten¡­ twenty¡­ His eyelids struggled to stay open. No car. Morning sky brightening. Chirping birds heralding another day. Thankfully, no copters. At least not nearby. His mind conjured that panicked moment once more. The terror. The cacophony. The swarm of black in the distance. He didn¡¯t remember what derailed his train of thought last time he thought about that, so he focused harder. The want of sleep made it more trying. ¡°They think he¡¯s bad AND a big threat? I¡¯ve never seen so many helicopters go after someone¡­ and the cave too; those people looking for him¡­ who¡¯re they? The army? Has to be someone¡­ or something really powerful¡­¡± He shuddered at the thought but continued trying to piece their situation together. He knew Malcolm didn¡¯t want to divulge certain things so he wouldn¡¯t garner needless fears, but the information gaps poked at his curiosity. If being a kid taught him anything, it was that no matter how much you tried to hide something, someone would find it out. It was like the time his friend told him he couldn¡¯t come to his birthday party because he had ¡®homework.¡¯ Basic sleuthing revealed the truth. His friend was at a StereoHowl concert; the blasting music and cheering in the background gave it away. His friend wouldn¡¯t have answered had Terrence used his own phone, which was why he called using his dad¡¯s phone. Malcolm¡¯s situation was weightier, but the principle was the same. Terrence would leave no stone unturned, no matter how much Malcolm resisted. ¡°They think he did something bad, but what? And is that why his family¡¯s not here? Do they think they did something terrible too? And¡­ wait, something else doesn¡¯t make sense¡­¡± He squinted as though that¡¯d focus his thoughts better. ¡°Why¡¯s Malcolm not with them? How¡¯d they escape to Earth, but he didn¡¯t? Also¡­ he said that cavern was good for making portals¡­ He said there¡¯s a place to get seeds that grow portals and then we have to go all the way back¡­ but wasn¡¯t he already there? Did he go into the cave and forget the seeds?¡± Terrence shook his head; Malcolm would never commit such a blunder. His disbelief was quickly replaced with a moment of alarm. His eyes widened at this new thought. ¡°But then¡­ what was that portal WE fell through?!¡± More questions whirred as a torrent through his weary mind. Was there a connection between that portal and Malcolm, or was that an extreme coincidence? Why did the portal disappear afterward? Why did the portal take them there? If Malcolm was connected, why was he not in the chamber Terrence and Nikki woke up in? If it was unrelated, perhaps someone chasing Malcolm knew the science behind the portals and created it, thinking he was already on Earth? The more Terrence thought, the faster and more chaotically his neurons fired away. Sleep deprivation added to the fragmented disorder. Dizzying queries danced around him in circles, going everywhere and nowhere all at once. Nothing made sense. Except one harrowing thought. Malcolm claimed the science behind flower portals was obscure, and he had to do it this way because the other portals were closed. If he got caught then¡­ where would that leave Terrence and his sister? ¡­ And what if the portals never opened again? A scratching at the door made him jump. Searing dread choked him. He leapt to the floor in one bound and frantically shook Malcolm awake. ¡°Wha-!¡± Malcolm bolted up. More scratching. Terrence¡¯s pulse was a jackhammer rattling violently through his body. Someone found them. It was over. Malcolm stood, wincing through the knee pain. He signaled Terrence to stay back while he readied an attack. The scratching was followed by a bark. Malcolm waited¡­ no human or Pokemon accompanied the noise. More scratches, more barks¡­ After two endless minutes, the dog left. Dead quiet. Terrence¡¯s mind went blank. He keeled over on his side and hyperventilated. Malcolm stooping to help him was the last thing he saw before passing out. - Rutger and Banks approached each other; the Wigglytuff strained at a soup?on of confidence and accomplished eye contact. He had to remind himself it was Rutger who should be submissive. He saluted the Typhlosion with a shaky right hand and feeble voice. ¡°Doctor Rutger.¡± Rutger returned the salute with polished poise and sober demeanor. ¡°I¡¯m honored you could come¡­ Mr. President.¡± Chapter 7 Terrence¡¯s eyes popped open. Sleepy, incoherent mumbling oozed from his mouth before he sat up. Wasn¡¯t long before his thoughts rushed back to the front of his mind and he remembered where he was. ¡°No!¡± He jumped and peered out the sliver, realizing he had been asleep. How long? He couldn¡¯t tell, though the day appeared bright. There was no car and no scratching against the door. His head swiveled to check on Nikki. She slept peacefully. He looked over the edge at Malcolm; also asleep. A brief sigh of relief, but his heart still raced. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling someone would come and try to get into the barn soon. It may have been daytime, but maybe leaving now would be best? Evade the farmer who was bound to check on the barn at some point, as well as get in extra hours of distance? He scampered down the rungs. ¡°Malcolm?¡± He nudged the back of his head with both paws. ¡°Malcolm?¡± The Weavile rolled onto his other side, making Terrence step back. ¡°Hm?¡± His eyes creaked open, then squinted. ¡°Malcolm?¡± ¡°¡­ What?¡± Though Malcolm was supine, Terrence was still slightly intimidated. Would Malcolm tell him off again? He had to tell himself sidekicks weren¡¯t supposed to be afraid of the hero; he was here to urge Malcolm to action! He cleared his throat. ¡°Uh¡­ well¡­ I was kinda wondering if¡­ maybe we should go? Like¡­ now? I mean¡­ I know it¡¯s, like, still day, but I¡¯m kinda... scared still being here and, you did say the missing bridge meant, uh, it was gonna take longer, so¡­ I feel like we should, you know, just go now?¡± Malcolm assimilated his words, then shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll be seen.¡± ¡°But what about time?¡± Terrence took a step forward, tone more forceful. ¡°And can¡¯t you just attack someone who sees you?¡± ¡°Yes, but word¡¯ll get out-¡± Terrence growled. Might¡¯ve been foolish, but the desire to get home overtook him. ¡°But you said we lost time because of the bridge! And if we keep waiting, that gives more time for the army to find you! Come on, I-I think it¡¯s better we go now.¡± Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. He raised himself up enough to sit against the door. ¡°Army¡­¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I never told you it was an army.¡± Terrence expected a scowl; he didn¡¯t expect a look of worry. The Fennekin¡¯s blood ran cold; his worst fear being realized. He shook his head. ¡°No¡­ it¡­ it¡¯s not¡­ is it?¡± The child¡¯s voice shook. Malcolm didn¡¯t answer right away, but his hesitance sufficiently answered. ¡°Terrence¡­¡± Malcolm was somber. ¡°You see why I didn¡¯t want to tell you anything¡­ but I should¡¯ve known I couldn¡¯t have kept this secret¡­ Things are very bad right now. The army is after me.¡± There it was, point-blank. Terrence only stared. He recalled his panic from the dog and how that could¡¯ve been the end. The dread of never making it home resurfaced. ¡°But¡­¡± Terrence gulped. ¡°Wh-why?¡± Malcolm opened his bag to take his medication. Returning to sleep wasn¡¯t likely; may as well prepare to leave once it¡¯s dark. ¡°They¡¯re blaming me for the pandemic.¡± ¡°A what?¡± Confusion joined Terrence¡¯s fear. ¡°People here are getting sick and dying because of a virus and, before you ask, you and Nikki are safe from it. Your system¡¯s strong enough to defeat it; if you got it, you¡¯d only get a cold.¡± He assured, leaving out the detail it was killing infants and toddlers. Terrence didn¡¯t need to know that. More bewilderment in the fox¡¯s face. He tilted his head. ¡°How would that be your fault? How can a person spread a disease that much? I mean, there¡¯s germs and stuff, but you¡¯re not sick. How could you make someone sick if you¡¯re not sick?¡± ¡°They say I created the virus in a lab and then spread it by giving it to test animals and letting them loose. Pokemon started getting sick when they interacted with them and, by the time anyone realized what was happening, it¡¯d become very widespread.¡± ¡°What?¡± Terrence scowled in disgust. ¡°But you wouldn¡¯t do that! Why¡¯re they saying that? Lame idiots.¡± As if that nice, family man in that picture would make people sick on purpose! Malcolm nodded, thankful Terrence trusted him. ¡°They¡¯re saying I did it so I can create a new medicine that would cure it, thus, make tons of money selling it. That would normally sound insane, but because I know how to create medicine, I¡¯m an easy target. They say the portals were closed to stop the disease from spreading, which is partially true. Mostly, it was to make it impossible for me to escape.¡± Terrence shook his head. ¡°But¡­ why would they do this? How come they don¡¯t arrest who really did this, and why¡¯re they blaming you? I mean, aren¡¯t there a lot of scientists who make medicine?¡± Malcolm sighed and his voice became softer. ¡°¡­ because I know who really did this. They want to get rid of me so I can¡¯t tell anyone the truth and get him caught.¡± Terrence growled. Whoever was accusing Malcolm was going to be met with a face full of fire. He and Malcolm would team up and destroy the fiend with subzero ice blasts and unstoppable conflagration; a combination worthy of a hero and his sidekick. Nikki could even cheer them on! Every heroic duo needed moral support and nothing ever dampened her spirit. ¡°So who did this?¡± He asked, then extemporaneously spouted his best tough-guy catchphrase. ¡°¡­ W-we¡¯ll teach him a lesson!¡± Malcolm wished he could be that optimistic. He looked at Terrence and hesitated, knowing his gusto for justice would be dashed as quickly as it formed. - Hay needles scattered about as Reuben¡¯s hand wrapped around someone¡¯s neck. A high-pitched squeal shot from the source; the echoless exclamation falling flat in the cramped room. Two eyes bulged as they pleaded the feline intruder for mercy. Reuben didn¡¯t kill her, but his iron grip suffocated any hope of squirming away. The emaciated Umbreon could only gag and try to force his paws away. The anemic yellow and lack of glow of her rings showed she was in poor health. Reuben relented, slightly. She looked familiar, but he couldn¡¯t match a name to her face. Don¡¯t let her go, but at least let her talk. ¡°Plees¡­¡± She gasped, paws still on his hands. ¡°Plees¡­ do no- urt me¡­ Wha- do you want?¡± That Spanish accent; Reuben¡¯s mind ticked as he tried to remember her. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± His voice was calm, but his eyes were intense, piercing hers like he was her ultimate judge. ¡°I-I- I do no- remember.¡± Her eyes darted. ¡°Plees le- me go, sir.¡± Reuben thought more before continuing. ¡°You¡­ I¡¯ve seen you on the news...¡± Pieces slowly came together. His neutral demeanor slowly changed into a scowl. The Umbreon flailed harder, but her enervated state made her fall limp. ¡°Iss no- true!¡± Reuben¡¯s eyes widened. He remembered. There was her face¡­ Yes¡­ she was in that story indicting Ohara. She was wearing a lab coat¡­ injecting that white rat with the virus! Reuben nodded. The pieces fell into place. His grip tightened once his memory heralded her name. Leticia Gutierrez, head of the virology department at BioComp. She was the one Malcolm persuaded to administer his virus to the animals. The story played frame-for-frame in his mind. Surveillance of the Umbreon on the phone¡­ the nodding in agreement with Ohara¡¯s directive¡­ the worry on her face as she poisoned the animals, as though her conscience was telling her to stop¡­ Reuben snarled, exposing his teeth and fangs. His veins bulged. ¡°You... helped Ohara! YOU¡¯RE a part of this!¡± ¡°No, plees, you meesunderstand!¡± She tried again to force his paws off; eyes tearing up from anxiety. It was like trying to fight against a trash compactor. The bulky feline could crush her head like a melon. And he was tempted to do so. Righteous anger coursed through his veins¡­ but a moment¡¯s common sense stalled his decision. Why not extract information from her? He slackened his grip, letting her slip to the ground so she could breathe. ¡°Where¡¯s he? Tell me and maybe I won¡¯t kill you.¡± Leticia couldn¡¯t talk right away, needing time to catch her breath. She sat against the wall and panted. Her eyes darted about, as though searching for an escape. ¡°Run and I¡¯ll snap your neck.¡± Reuben stated. This was not protocol for interrogating suspects and criminals, but that didn¡¯t matter right now. He was already treating her with more mercy than deserved. ¡°I-I don- know.¡± She admitted after nearly a minute. ¡°But thees iss wrong-¡± ¡°Tell. Me.¡± His gaze narrowed. He tightened his fists. ¡°Malcolm¡¯s innocen-, sir. Plees le- me explain-¡± She tried backing further into the wall. Reuben planted a foot over one of hers and pressed. Not enough to break a bone, but enough to hold her down. ¡°Stop!¡± She tried yanking away, tears welling from the pain. ¡°I don- know where -e is, and -e did¡¯n- even do anything!¡± ¡°Then who did?¡± He asked, not believing her. May as well kill her, sleep, then resume his search. He was wasting time. Leticia regretted not lying and making up Malcolm¡¯s location when the Incineroar asked, but sudden terror had a way of throwing off easy solutions. Her admission would likely seal her gory fate. With a heart palpitating faster with each second, she clenched her eyes and poised herself to answer. - While one of Rutger¡¯s butlers prepared Banks¡¯ coffee, the Wigglytuff surveyed the spectacle that was Rutger¡¯s office. It was officially Banks¡¯ but nothing of his was here anymore. Rutger¡¯s medical degrees loomed over him. Pictures of Rutger performing laboratory operations, focused and purposeful. Framed articles of his scientific accomplishments and glowing reviews from former peers describing his work as the zenith of medical progress. Other pictures showed him with his attractive Floatzel wife. She too was a scientist; the lab coat she wore in most of her pictures made that clear. Their baby Cyndaquil son was in some pictures too. Adorable little tyke with those wide, blue eyes and neatly-combed fur. He would lead the next generation of science, probably. And Banks? A know-nothing pushover. A joke of a president who should¡¯ve never held the position. He was happy as vice-president, hating Coppola for resigning over a scandal he could¡¯ve explained away. Banks could¡¯ve resigned too, but didn¡¯t think it good for the country. Can¡¯t have two resignations in rapid succession without engendering national instability. So, he bit the bullet and took the oath. Arrayed on Rutger¡¯s desk was an orderly mosaic of graphs and reports. Colored bars and highlighted sentences towered over him with academic prowess. Rutger was about to take him to class. ¡°Your coffee, Mr. President.¡± A tuxedoed sudowoodo set a polished, ceramic mug before him, almost making him jump. ¡°My apologies for startling you, sir. Is there anything else you would like?¡± ¡°No no, you¡¯re fine. Uh, thank you.¡± Rutger had nothing to drink; why risk spilling anything onto these papers? He dismissed the butler and sat across the president. ¡°Well,¡± he gestured to Banks before folding his hands on the table. ¡°Shall we start?¡± ¡°Y-yes.¡± Banks cleared his throat. Rutger¡¯s piercing gaze made him avert direct eye contact. ¡°Um, well¡­ where do I begin again?¡± Rutger kept a somber face while he laughed on the inside. Banks had nothing. ¡°Oh right¡­ well, I¡¯ll start by saying that the number of deaths from the pneumonavirus are not going down as quickly as I would¡¯ve thought, and it makes me question how much you, uh, really know about this disease.¡± Rutger cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. ¡°Second thing. Uh¡­¡± Banks stuttered. Rutger noticed the sweat on his brow and nudged the tissue box towards him so he could wipe it off. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± He grabbed a sheet and dabbed his forehead. ¡°But anyways¡­ the next thing I have a problem with is what you¡¯re using the military for and¡­ and that you recruited people without even training them. So many of them are dying. And to hunt Dr. Ohara? This is a terrible misjudgment. What does he have to do with BioComp?¡± Banks attempted his best scornful stare, to which Rutger nodded. ¡°And also, y-you need to stop censoring people. Revaria wasn¡¯t founded on dictatorial rule like that. You can¡¯t keep quieting people because you don¡¯t like what they said. When I gave you free rein to deal with this virus, I didn¡¯t intend for you to punish people for disagreeing with you.¡± Rutger answered with another nod. ¡°You¡¯re right, Mr. President. I hate that I have to act unreasonably at times but¡­ aren¡¯t these times unreasonable to begin with?¡± He slowly rose from his seat, sending a shadow over Banks. ¡°With all due respect, I¡¯m doing everything in my means to stop the virus and bring justice to the man who selfishly let it loose.¡± Banks felt like he was shrinking into his seat. Rutger continued. ¡°I understand your points and why you¡¯re concerned, but I¡¯ll show why you should allow me to maintain complete power for the time being. Please take a look at this.¡± Rutger nudged Graph 1-C towards Banks. The Typhlosion inwardly smiled; time for a virology lesson. - ¡°Well, tell me!¡± Reuben raised his foot to kick her when Leticia blurted out a name. Of all the names in existence, it was the last one he expected. ¡°Rutger! E-et was -im!¡± Reuben slowly set his foot down. ¡°¡­ You¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°Find the phone records, or check the servers; I swear! H-he had the lab burned down, but the phone records and email servers! He canno- delete those! He force- me to do geev the virus!¡± It was truth, or a clever lie. Phone records and servers weren¡¯t difficult to access for law enforcement. Simply obtain the warrant, then get the phone company or lab personnel to turn over the evidence. However, how could he do this with Rutger? How would Leticia expect him to do this? He had no evidence, aside from her claim, and Rutger would silence him like he had others. And accessing the scene where BioComp once stood was forbidden; municipal police officers weren¡¯t allowed. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°You have other proof?¡± He asked. Leticia¡¯s ears drooped. ¡°Eet got destroy- in the lab, but¡­ eef you can- get the records, look up John Finley. -e was Rutger¡¯s friend and work- in the lab. I was -is boss. Rutger want- to experiment with a new medicine and knew -e could do it through -im.¡± That name was also familiar. John Finley was a Leafeon and the first person caught on Rutger¡¯s list. Rutger decried him as a threat and Ohara¡¯s accomplice upon his capture. Leticia didn¡¯t sway him; it was just her word against Rutger¡¯s. Even if Reuben thought he was a weak leader, he didn¡¯t doubt his sincerity. Rutger¡¯s passion was evident in his speeches. His love and charisma for Revaria wooed much of the public to his side. He couldn¡¯t have been the monster Leticia asserted. ¡°You¡¯re the only one I¡¯ve seen blame him for this.¡± He crossed his arms over his chest. ¡°Everyone knows it was Ohara. Rutger, the news, internet, everywhere.¡± Leticia defended herself, despite believing she would not be around much longer. ¡°Who controls the news? The eenternet?¡± Reuben¡¯s eyes shifted downward for a moment before returning his gaze. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re controlling some narrative or some crap.¡± Leticia shook her head. ¡°Have you seen any trial or questioning or... anything from anyone at BioComp? Have you seen anyone at BioComp get to deefend heemself or herself?¡± Despite having been isolated from civilization since her company became headline news, she knew what the answer was. Reuben reluctantly shook his head. ¡°But¡­ it hasn¡¯t been long. They¡¯ll get a trial, of course.¡± ¡°No they won¡¯-¡± Leticia countered, believing most of her colleagues to be dead already. ¡°An- did the news ever play recording of my conversation? Did you acshully hear O-ara¡¯s voice or did they just tell you that?¡± Reuben was about to answer in the affirmative when the news story played through his mind. There was the room. The animals. Leticia with her phone. Not on speaker; why would it be? Gray-scale image¡­ date and time in the corner¡­ audio quality that of a cheap voice recorder¡­ Leticia¡¯s voice was unmistakable, but the voice on the other end was indiscernible. The panel of experts unanimously confirmed it was Ohara, claiming they analyzed the footage in a lab at Reynolds University. That was one of the most prestigious forensics colleges in the world; what grounds would Reuben have for doubting them? His memory became fuzzy after that. Last time he watched the story was at the hospital, less than an hour before Lily drew her final breath. Then grief. Anger. Tears. Blind hostility. She gave up the ghost and someone had to pay. TVs everywhere. The halls. Rooms. Computers. Ohara was a murderer. Evil, soulless profiteer¡­ The news said so... Leticia¡¯s nerves tensed up the longer the tiger stood steeped in interminable reflection. The thud of her own heartbeat pounded against silent dread. ¡°¡­ S-sir?¡± Her timid voice squeaked. Slowly, Reuben opened his eyes. ¡°My daughter¡­ she died because of this¡­ I held her little paw a-as she...¡± He faltered, an anguished growl in his voice. He stepped towards her with a cold stare. He needed to do the right thing. Her eyes welled up. She knew he wanted to do the right thing¡­ She knew she deserved the receiving end of justice. She should¡¯ve stood up to Rutger when she had the chance. The blood of this man¡¯s child was on her hands as much as they were on that Typhlosion¡¯s. If this bereaved father ever found Malcolm, she hoped he would listen to his side of the story and spare him. ¡°I-I¡¯m so sorry, sir¡­ I¡¯m so sorry...¡± She clenched her eyes and braced herself. - While Malcolm waited for darkness and the medication to set in, he told Terrence about Rutger. The forces hunting him are being led by the man responsible for the disease. Mouth agape, Terrence¡¯s bravado faltered from the news. Evil had all the power and the innocent were forced to flee. All one could do was keep under the radar and slip away. Once Malcolm made it to Earth, there was little Rutger could do. A mission where you couldn¡¯t defeat the final boss; just run fast enough to evade his grasp. That was the greatest victory he could hope for. The warm orange glow seeping through the narrow cracks showed the night was under an hour away. Terrence nudged Nikki awake so they would be ready to go soon. The three enjoyed some fruit left in a crate intended for the farm animals, as little as it did to answer the past few days of protein deficiency. Hunger pangs were only noticeable when adrenaline wasn¡¯t coursing through their veins. Being on edge all the time made you forget you had to eat. Terrence wiped the last fleck of apple from his muzzle. ¡°Uh, how come only you know he did this?¡± Maybe Malcolm was both a scientist and a computer hacker? The idea intrigued him; no one could argue a doctor spy wasn¡¯t a nifty concept for a videogame character. ¡°I¡¯m not the only one who knows, but I was the only one who would¡¯ve been able to do something about it... Timing was such that I couldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°But if you can¡¯t do anything about it, why¡¯s he still hunting you?¡± ¡°Because his power can be taken away. If that happens, he can¡¯t hunt me anymore. You see¡­ he was never supposed to be in power¡­¡± - The Early Days of the Pandemic Phinehas Banks paced aimlessly about his office. Not four months in power and infants and toddlers were perishing in Revaria¡¯s hospitals. A fatal virus blindsided the nation only a week ago and was wringing death to helpless children. His heart ached for them; three of his grandchildren were young enough to be potential victims. Best he could do was call in the head of Virology and Disease Control (DVDC) for help. Established thirty years ago under President Webber, the department had been successful in stymieing the growth of and eliminating various diseases. Potential epidemics thwarted and dammed by medicinal breakthroughs. The current head was appointed by Coppola two years ago. He was head of Virology at Reynolds when extended the opportunity to head the DVDC. An eminent figure in his field, he was an obvious choice. If anyone would know how to combat this onslaught of marauding, murderous microbes, it would be him. A knock at the door. ¡°Mr. President, he¡¯s here.¡± ¡°Bring him in.¡± Banks took a seat at his desk. The chair across awaited Revaria¡¯s top viral disease expert. His folded hands fidgeted as he looked down. A tinge of apprehension perched in his mind; part of him questioned if he was really doing the right thing. A suited Charizard opened the door. ¡°This way, sir.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Banks stood and warmly smiled when his visitor stepped in. ¡°Dr. Ohara, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.¡± he gestured to the polished, leather chair. Dr. Ohara, wearing his best suit, shook his hand before sitting. ¡°Thank you, Mr. President.¡± Banks cleared his throat. After pleasantries were dispensed, his expression became somber. So did Ohara¡¯s; no one needed to explain why he was here. Or so he thought. ¡°Ohara¡­¡± Banks exhaled. ¡°I¡­ I have a massive favor to ask... I hate to put you in such an imposition, but you¡¯re more qualified than anyone to do it.¡± Ohara nodded. He wasn¡¯t sure why Banks was being so dramatic; it was his job to research and stop diseases before they got out of hand. He didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°This virus is starting to cripple us¡­ destroying children, sending families into turmoil¡­ we need this stopped as quickly as possible.¡± The doctor nodded again, unfazed. He was about to mention how he and his team were already researching it when Banks took the conversation in an unexpected turn. ¡°And¡­ because of how much public health affects everything¡­ the economy, infrastructure, interstellar policy, agriculture, et cetera¡­ I¡¯m going to need far more help than I thought...¡± Dr. Ohara shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ¡°Wh-what are you saying?¡± Banks sighed and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t trust myself to lead effectively with this virus on the rampage. I¡¯m afraid that¡­ wrong policy decisions I make would interfere with your work fighting the pandemic¡­ and I¡¯d rather not have that on my conscience. One wrong move could kill more innocents who could¡¯ve been spared...¡± Ohara¡¯s eyes widened. The air thickened with choking heat. ¡°Mr. President¡­?¡± ¡°Dr. Ohara, I trust you. Your work creating Optizene proves you¡¯re far, FAR more intelligent than me, or anyone else under me...¡± Banks appeared to shrink into his seat. He clasped his hands in a childlike, importunate manner. ¡°So¡­ I want to extend to you all the executive power I hold. Make any decision you see fit that¡¯ll help end the virus. Economic, transportation, anything; I don¡¯t care. Do what you need in any of these other areas to make sure the virus is quashed. Please¡­¡± Ohara shook his head. ¡°Mr. President, with all due respect¡­ this is not a good idea.¡± Banks winced as though betrayed. ¡°But you can do anything you need to make fighting the virus easier¡­ why is this bad?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an economist, I¡¯m not an expert on transportation, or foreign policy, or infrastructure, or any of those other things. I wasn¡¯t appointed to any of those roles; I¡¯m a virologist. I was appointed to research diseases and inform the public with recommendations to stay safe from them. That¡¯s it.¡± ¡°But I trust you; you¡¯re smart!¡± ¡°Then I¡¯d be happy to advise what you can do with the information I provide. If you grant me power in areas outside my expertise, I will mess up. In solving one problem, five more will pop up in its place. I would advise you call meetings with the heads of all the departments so we can advise you. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. Use our advice to make decisions. You¡¯re smarter than what you give yourself credit for, but you need to be more confident.¡± Malcolm reached for a few tissues and wiped his sweaty brow. He didn¡¯t anticipate coming here and contradicting the president. Banks closed his eyes as though in thought. ¡°¡­ I appreciate your candor. Yes, I think a briefing of all heads would be best.¡± He opened his eyes and looked at Malcolm. ¡°Tonight. I¡¯ll let you all know the time shortly.¡± Their meeting ended and Dr. Ohara headed back to his office. Banks sat there, having no intention to hold a briefing. He just wanted to dismiss him politely so he could find someone cooperative. Someone in the same department, of course. Someone as knowledgeable as Dr. Ohara, or at least close. Someone with more confidence. A person not afraid to lead. He scrolled through the DVDC employee manifest and read their varying qualifications. No one matched Ohara, but a few boasted litanies of degrees and published papers. Banks stopped on one. Thirty-four, but nine years¡¯ experience heading the virology lab at Addison, a school equally prestigious as Reynolds. Five papers published, co-authored eight others, and was even on Ohara¡¯s research team when he headed the creation of Optizene. If he was good enough for the head of the DVDC, he was good enough to make important decisions for Revaria. Maybe he would agree to tackle the virus head-on. Banks called one of his aides. ¡°Hey¡­ yes¡­ I have someone else from Disease I want you to bring¡­ Yeah, Ohara didn¡¯t agree to it¡­ Could you bring Dr. Nicholas Rutger in? Thank you.¡± - Hours passed and Ohara never received a call, text, or email about a meeting that night. His attempts to contact the president went unanswered. A shame, but he couldn¡¯t force Banks to act like a leader. Best to continue researching and experimenting, as well as continue urging the public to exercise safe health practices. A chime dinged from his monitor and a red circle over his email tab showed he just received a message. He clicked it; maybe it was Banks? ¡­ Except the email was not from him. It was from Jeremy Weaver, president of BioComp. Emails from labs and medical companies weren¡¯t unusual, but the subject of this one made him raise an eyebrow. ¡°Rutger Helped Leak Virus. See Attachments. Please Investigate Him.¡± Accusations against high-level government employees were not to be taken lightly. Malcolm innately didn¡¯t want to believe it, but if Rutger was guilty, firing him and pressing charges would be the right course of action. He opened the email. The body of text was laconic, but there were several attachments. John Finley calling and writing Rutger, allowing him to use their lab to test his new medicine. Emails from Rutger stating the medicine hasn¡¯t been tested rigorously, so using animals would be safer. Then, follow-up emails suggesting tested animals should be let out among the public. See if anyone gets sick or not. Of course, An email from Finley expressed concern this would go worse than expected, but Rutger assured him nothing in the medicine was fatal. The worst that would happen to anyone is a cold. Finley responded with further skepticism, to which Rutger answered with extortion. After all, he worked for the government and for an agency more authoritative than BioComp. It wouldn¡¯t take much to rescind BioComp¡¯s licenses and smear Finley for malpractice. Malcolm had to double-check Rutger¡¯s signatures in each correspondence just to make sure this was really him. He shook his head; this was someone who helped him develop and test Optizene. Rutger explained in another email he would get someone else to inject the animals and release them. That someone was Leticia Gutierrez, Finley¡¯s direct supervisor. She had more to lose if she didn¡¯t comply, so she would be perfect. Malcolm was baffled as to why neither she nor Finley ever contacted him about this. Perhaps they thought telling him or another authority would result in retaliation not worth the justice? Maybe they thought the DVDC as a whole couldn¡¯t be trusted if one of its employees was doing this? At least Weaver reached out. As far as Malcolm could tell, there was no exchange between him and Rutger. Malcolm fumed inwardly. He dialed Rutger¡¯s number, intending to confront him privately. A confession wouldn¡¯t save him, but he didn¡¯t think it right as his boss to fire him and press charges without a clear and rational explanation. Rutger¡¯s ringtone, Mozart¡¯s Rondo Alla Turca, played on-loop in Malcolm¡¯s ear. Either he was not there, or was ignoring him. He opened a blank email, entered the executive office¡¯s address, and typed. Request a private meeting as well as forward the email from BioComp. Banks needed to see the evidence himself before taking action against Rutger. - There was no erasing the grin from Rutger¡¯s face as he leaned back in Banks¡¯ newly-relinquished chair. Winning the president¡¯s trust to tackle the virus was the greatest feeling, as well as just having an absurd amount of power. Would he take advantage of its entire breadth? Maybe not, but part of him fantasized about dictating things just because he could. Of course, Banks could change his mind and remove him if he did poorly, so he had to be careful. Just do what you were asked, Rutger. Defeat the pandemic, then leave. He opened several tabs on the president¡¯s computer to get started. Research and find out what policies needed to be implemented or reversed to defeat the pneumonavirus. The chime of a fresh email startled him. He nearly forgot he had access to the executive office¡¯s email now. It wasn¡¯t Banks¡¯ personal email; it was the one used for the general position of president, like a work email. It was surreal that governors, senators, world leaders, etc. would be messaging him directly. So much for being that lowly virologist tucked away under Ohara¡¯s shadow! He opened the email. It was from Malcolm. A moment¡¯s terror was swept aside when he realized what he could do to Ohara. To BioComp. To anyone threatening him with evidence. With a smirk he couldn¡¯t contain, he expunged the email before Banks could get to it, logged into the DVDC¡¯s server, and got to work. - Malcolm swiped his badge under an electronic card reader to enter a lab. Had to run some tests before calling it a night. Red flash. Access denied. He cocked an eyebrow. The system wasn¡¯t glitch-free, but this rarely happened. He tried again. Access denied. Again. Denied. Was the system down? Better call IT support. He applied his fingerprint to his work phone, expecting it to open like always. Fingerprint not recognized. He tried several more times. Confusion slowly morphed into fear. He raced back to his computer and tried logging on. Access denied. Unfortunately, he was the only one in the building, so he couldn¡¯t get another employee to test his or her credentials right now. He would have to come back tomorrow morning and- He froze mid-thought. He would need his badge to enter the building again. If the system was down and all the employees were effected, then nobody would be able to enter the building. It might be best to stay until someone fixed the problem. It then occurred to him they had landline phones. He hardly used them, but they were there. He could just use one of those to call IT. Thankfully, he was able to reach one not locked in a room he needed his badge to enter. He dialed the number. A few rings, then a message. ¡°Hello. Suspicious activity has been linked with the number you are dialing from. Your call will be monitored by CommScan for security purposes. Press ¡®one¡¯ to proceed.¡± He barely processed the recording when the faint hum of a distant helicopter drew his attention. A turn of the head revealed five scintillating lights in the sky. Approaching. The whirs of the motors intensifying. Fear festered into panic. No time to think about what was happening or assure himself he wasn¡¯t their target. Everything indicated he was now on a watch-list; possibly worse. Conceiving a plan in seconds, he swept what he needed off his desk and into a bag. Including the photo of his family wasn¡¯t practical, but knew their moral support would be invaluable. At his car, he tore off the device meant to track it in the event of thievery and chucked it. He would¡¯ve liked to unscrew his license plates from their frames, but the increasing volume of the motorized murmurs alerted him time was not on his side. Off he sped. No headlights, no radio, just a prayer. Make it to his waiting family and never return. - With the sky darkened satisfactorily, Terrence melted the ice keeping the doors shut and the trio headed out. He remained perplexed that Malcolm was in the cavern without the seeds. Were they duds? Perhaps it meant they would need to bring more seeds than needed. Whatever the reason, Terrence vowed their journey would not be in vain. They wouldn¡¯t be able to defeat Rutger, but maybe he would be exposed as a murderous fraud someday and given a taste of his own medicine. If Banks ever decided to stand up and do something about it. Chapter 8 Graph 1-C may as well have been a Calculus problem. Bars, figures, and equations leapt from the page, daunting the Wigglytuff into academic submission. His eyes glazed over, hoping to grasp a modicum of sense from this jumble. ¡°May I draw your attention here,¡± Rutger tapped a diagram in the upper-left corner; the president obediently looking. ¡°You¡¯re right in pointing out that fatalities are too high; you and I dream of zero, but more work is to be done. However, note the downward trajectory of cases over the previous three days.¡± His finger shifted to the graph on the right. ¡°The downward rate of mortality¡­¡± Then the graph in the middle-left. ¡°And this is the downward rate of other diseases connected to pneumonavirus. Thanks to ongoing research, we¡¯ve discovered that Feloxoquin modified with an approximate four-one ratio of this list of chemicals,¡± Rutger tapped on Diagram 1-B, a list containing eighty-nine elements, compounds, and various manufactured bacteria strains. ¡°is effective in eliminating about, oh¡­¡± he paused to give the impression he hadn¡¯t rehearsed this. ¡°Ninety to ninety-five percent of the virus in a normal, healthy immune system. Of course, the number is lower for those with comorbidities; the more adverse, the worse-¡± Rutger went on and on. Banks did his best to pay attention, but the jargon brute-forced him into a cul-de-sac of uselessness. He didn¡¯t know a fraction of these eighty-nine names, much less how to pronounce them. The doctor¡¯s incessant exposition made it even harder to find anything to understand; like falling behind in a lecture because you got stuck on an earlier detail. He tried to ignore the list and pay attention to the expert. More words danced over his head. Bronchodilater? Interlober? Subpleural plexus? Banks merely nodded along. Rutger masked an inward smirk with professional poise. Words rarely skipped a beat; a performance worthy of admiration. Most of what he said was relevant; some of his prattling about random aspects of anatomy served only to intimidate the president. Nothing hindered the Wigglytuff from stopping the impassioned oration and asking questions except his own insecurity. He expounded on the sea of other charts populating the table. More virus numbers. More case-by-state numbers. More numbers proving his extra-medical policy decisions have helped lower death rates. Keeping portals closed, borders between provinces closed, most businesses closed or hours restricted. Numbers showing money printed and sent to struggling Revarians so the dearth of employment wouldn¡¯t destroy them. Inflation was on the upswing, but was a problem that could be addressed once the pandemic was abated. ¡°So¡­¡± Rutger paused for water as his throat was getting sore. ¡°to sum up my answer to your first concern, fewer people are dying by the day. We¡¯re working to bring that to zero, but there is progress. But, on to your next concern, hunting Ohara is justified. Everyone knows he did this.¡± Banks instinctively shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s a good man-¡± ¡°He¡¯s a FRAUD.¡± Rutger tightened his fists and raised his voice with a touch of anger; just enough to make Banks jump. ¡°He¡¯s a traitorous mastermind who unleashed hell on innocent Revarians. No, if we don¡¯t act, he¡¯ll strike again. We HAVE to catch him and make him pay.¡± The force of his charisma made Banks¡¯s heart race. He felt shame for insinuating Rutger was mistaken about Ohara. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Rutger sat down and rubbed his temples. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for not seeing it. He was accomplished and everything but, he is guilty.¡± His eyes narrowed and met the president¡¯s. ¡°Goes to show there are people you can¡¯t trust.¡± Banks looked down. He recalled nothing about Dr. Ohara suggesting he was malicious. If so, he would have eagerly accepted Banks¡¯s offer of executive power. What easier way to crank out his new medicine than with unimpeded executive power? Then again, Rutger worked with him directly; he could¡¯ve noticed red flags Banks would¡¯ve never perceived. Rutger watched the gears gyrate in the president¡¯s mind. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it either, but Revaria¡¯s safety comes first. Dr. Ohara¡¯s extremely knowledgeable and, like I said, has accomplished a lot, but he stabbed all of us in the back. He stabbed his entire country in the back... If there¡¯s going to be any justice¡­ any closure for those poor families who lost their children¡­ I will see that justice is done. You can remove me from power if you want¡­ but that would be a mistake. You can disapprove the hunt and silencing people defending him, but we need unity. Imagine you lost one of your dear grandchildren to the virus, and you see some thoughtless person on Chitter rambling about how great Ohara is.¡± Rutger shook his head, sympathizing with Banks¡¯s hypothetical scenario. ¡°It¡¯d hurt. You¡¯d wonder how they could be so callous and you¡¯d want them gone. Look¡­¡± Rutger leaned closer, holding the president in his gaze. ¡°I care deeply about our morale¡­ people¡¯re hurting and hoping for normal days again. People look at¡­ that monster, wishing and praying justice would be answered. That¡­ evil would be punished and their children avenged. If you want to do the right thing, you¡¯ll keep me in power until we¡¯ve won. We¡¯ve come this far¡­¡± Rutger held Banks in his stare until the Wigglytuff answered. The frail old man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. - Malcolm¡¯s knee felt like new as the medication kicked in. The Weavile ran as fast as his legs could carry him and the foxes. Though the farmer never saw them, time was not on their side. Every second counted. Every step needed to take them forward. He wasn¡¯t optimistic Banks was going to grow a spine, but still clung to the sliver of hope he would. The president trusted him and was smarter than he gave himself credit for. He had to know Rutger was lying about everything; if only he had the gumption to act on it. Miles of grass, ferns, and flowers blanketed the landscape. Pumpkin fields turned into cornfields. Stretching into a starlit horizon, stalks provided a bulwark for the trio from probing eyes. Missing too were the screech and whir of aerial hunters. Malcolm was okay with Terrence and Nikki poking their heads out and taking in much-needed air. ¡°Uh, Malcolm?¡± Terrence tentatively tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Talk... later¡­ running...¡± The Weavile panted; his voice shook with each stride. ¡°So uh, why were you in the cave, you know, earlier? I mean, like, how come you were there with no seeds?¡± Malcolm winced and hesitated. ¡°¡­ I was there and¡­ I lost them.¡± Terrence cocked his head. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I had them and was so close¡­ then I was attacked by a horde of Ariados and lost them as I fended them off.¡± The fox shook his head, skeptical. ¡°But weren¡¯t they in the bag?¡± ¡°They were out because I was about to plant one¡­ When I did, I got attacked. I made it out okay because bugs¡¯re weak against ice, but the seeds were knocked into a crevasse. I couldn¡¯t save even a single one.¡± Terrence¡¯s ears drooped. To think Malcolm was that close to safety, only to slip into the most wretched luck. ¡°I-I can help if they attack again; they¡¯re weak to fire too.¡± He puffed his chest out slightly. Malcolm would rather him not; Ariados were strong and Terrence was inexperienced. But if they got attacked, Terrence and Nikki may need to fight. ¡°Also, uh, if you couldn¡¯t grow the portal¡­ how come Nikki and I got sucked through one?¡± ¡°Probably¡­¡± Malcolm hesitated, ¡°one of those seeds fell into water deep under the ground and helped it grow¡­ I¡¯ll admit I¡¯m not entirely sure. It was extremely bad luck you happened to be where it appeared, but it was going to appear somewhere. But¡­ what¡¯s done is done. I¡¯ll still get you and Nikki home and won¡¯t let anything ruin it this time.¡± Terrence slunk back into the bag. He hoped the same mishaps wouldn¡¯t happen again, but still wanted to play a part in his own escape. Maybe not a cluster of arachnids, but one or two might be fun. Malcolm could take one out while Terrence routed the other in a blaze of triumph. For an adventure with an impervious final boss, how gratifying would it be to have just one battle? One climactic showdown before the victorious escape? Small yellow fox takes down behemoth spider in a bout of bravery and underestimated strength. Nikki will be wowed and Malcolm will wish he hadn¡¯t kept Terrence cooped up this whole time. While Terrence fantasized about saving the day, Malcolm noticed the end of the cornfield and stopped just before leaving its confines. He crouched and turned his head to scan the horizon. Nothing to the left. Nothing straight ahead. Nothing to the- Malcolm quickly moved back a few steps. Massive, concrete edifice to the right. Distant, but the silhouette was dark enough to stand out against the night. Small yellow lights and windows lined the perimeter. There were glass double-doors, and single-doors the same hue as the wall were interspersed in erratic intervals. A warehouse of some kind, so it was certain to have security cameras. Malcolm¡¯s heart raced. He could find a way around and avoid exposure, but that would cost more distance and time. Time the collapsed bridge already consumed. He uttered a silent prayer, trembling as this further development ate at his diminishing hope. He would have to run for it. - A glassy-eyed Pyroar named Fred sat hunched over his desk, head rested against his hand. Focus shifted to the time in the corner of the screen. 9:38pm. Six and-a-half hours until he could go home and put his shift out of its misery. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the screen some more. Five minutes ago, the warehouse¡¯s security signal was tripped, forcing the fire feline to sigh and set his comic book down. Some stupid animal must¡¯ve alerted the sensor; likely a foraging opossum or raccoon. He¡¯d told his boss for weeks to fix the sensors so the false alarms would stop, but he insisted, ¡°It¡¯s better safe than sorry,¡± so now Fred got to spend his shift warned of every harmless critter. Nothing came into view after five minutes. Fred mumbled something under his breath and returned to his illustrated adventure. A rustle on the screen. Eyes flicked upward. Nothing. Waiting¡­ waiting¡­ He shrugged and picked up his book when a clump of pixels darted across the screen. Startled, he tossed the book aside and zoomed in to the image. The pixels were blurry, but its movements were deliberate. Was it on its way to steal from the warehouse? Even if not, no one ran that quickly through the night unless he was up to no good. He radioed his supervisor, who promptly dispatched four guards to inspect it. One of them was a Servine named Bob. He couldn¡¯t believe it was his first night on the job and there was already action. An eager grin formed on his face as he mounted his motorcycle, hyped to catch this nameless intruder and impress his boss. A successful capture would certainly mean promotion. The aspiring hunter stepped on the gas, accolades in sight, and propelled his motorcycle into the vast field. - Ahead was another cornfield, but about ten minutes away. Terrence and Nikki were jostled about as Malcolm darted across the expanse. Nikki clung to her brother for stability. The sudden pick-up in speed last time meant Malcolm was in trouble; they must¡¯ve been in trouble again. Terrence wouldn¡¯t have been able to peek outside if he wanted, but was curious. Was someone chasing them? There were no shouts or copters, but that didn¡¯t stop him from stoking a flame in his lungs. He had to be ready. The running continued. And continued. ¡°I-I¡¯m s-scawed.¡± Nikki whimpered and squeezed Terrence¡¯s hand harder. ¡°Ow!¡± He withdrew his paw. ¡°Y-your claws!¡± Her claws were tiny, but sharp enough to prick his skin. He grasped her hand instead; the pain ebbed quickly thanks to his adrenaline. ¡°W-we¡¯ll be okay. D-don¡¯t wor-¡± The monotone hum of a distant motor froze Terrence¡¯s blood. Second by second, it grew louder. Malcolm¡¯s expirations intensified. Don¡¯t look back. Don¡¯t slow down. The cornfield was near¡­ He squinted, focusing his vision¡­ This wasn¡¯t an ordinary cornfield. A solid hedge formed an impenetrable wall, save for a gap leading inward. It only became visible when he noticed the patch of inconsistent lighting in the wall. White placards with bold red font flanked the entrance; his instinct to hide overcame his instinct to stop and read them. All he caught was ¡®DO NOT ENTER,¡¯ and ¡®maze¡¯. Malcolm raised his hopes. If he could outsmart the military in a labyrinth cave system, he could do the same here. The downside was this maze would be considerably smaller and more claustrophobic. One turn down the wrong path could bring him face-to-face with his pursuer¡­ or pursuers. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The Weavile disappeared among the maize corridors. - Bob squinted, narrowing a focused gaze through his binoculars as he powered along. The figure vanished into the corn; he couldn¡¯t tell who or what it was, but that didn¡¯t erase his confident smirk. Seeking shelter in that maze was a sure way to get trapped. The Pinta Valley Maize Maze posed an annual challenge where participants plumbed its disorienting paths to reach the center. The three Golden Kernels were to be found there. Those cunning and determined enough to wrest one from the maze¡¯s grasp had to make it back to the entrance to win. Tickets for free rides and food at the Pinta Valley Fair were on the line. Bob dominated the maze three years in a row as a kid, only for his streak to be snuffed out by a stealthy Rattata. Embarrassing, but it did not erode his aplomb in sleuthing the maze¡¯s depths and trapping the trespasser. ¡°Anyone got a twenty on the guy?¡± A voice shot from Bob¡¯s radio. Bob picked it up to reply... but hesitated. Finger poised over the talk button, but not pressing it. A fantasy paraded through his mind; one involving his boss showering him with exultation. Raises, paid vacation, promotion... The newest guard making a catch¡­ his first night? He chuckled, turned his radio off, and set it down. This was HIS catch. - The further into the maze Malcolm went, the fainter the motor¡¯s clamor became. That, or the pursuant dismounted his or her vehicle and was proceeding by foot. The corn edifices muffled noise from inside and out; something the Weavile could use to his advantage. He made as many turns as possible to increase his evasiveness and, by luck, find the exit. Left. Right. Left. Diagonal right. This went on for several minutes. Muted, faraway calls for him to stop punctuated the air. The distance was a decent buffer, but he had to keep moving. Right again. Another right. A sharp left. The hunter¡¯s voice was no longer audible and the towering stalks grew closer together. Maybe the exit was near? He turned down another path¡­ Dead end. He backed out and traversed another path- Also dead end. Terrence poked his head out and spoke quietly. ¡°Where are we?¡± His eyes darted about, baffled by the staggering maize stalks. ¡°A maze¡­¡± Malcolm contemplated turning around and finding another path until the determined fox chimed in. ¡°Hey, what about that hole?¡± He clambered out and reached over Malcolm¡¯s shoulder so the Weavile could make out where he was pointing. A narrow gap in the wall showed this may not have been a true impasse. ¡°Too small.¡± Malcolm said. Terrence shook his head. ¡°No, I mean, I can go in there and see if I can find a way out? You know, for us? If the exit¡¯s there, I can tell you, or something.¡± The hunter¡¯s call was still imperceptible. Did it mean he¡¯d lost them? Or given up? Or trying to be stealthy? Impossible to tell. Malcolm didn¡¯t want Terrence out, but being backed into a corner forced him to consider the child¡¯s proposition. ¡°¡­ Be quick.¡± Malcolm stooped to let Terrence leap safely to the soil. ¡°Come back the moment there¡¯s trouble and, whatever you do, do not use a fire attack.¡± The Fennekin slipped through the hole with ease. Leaf tips tickled his face and ears as he slunk across the dirt. His slender form allowed him the cloaked stealth of a ninja warrior. His paws scraped across the ground gracefully, making negligible imprints. This was his time to shine. The fox stopped shy of exposing himself to open air. Tall grass obscured his vision, so he crept out and stood on his hind legs to get a better view. A vast meadow stretched into the horizon. A swath of stars and nebulae adorned a spacious firmament above. ¡°Malcolm! It¡¯s open over here!¡± He scrambled back to Malcolm, tail wagging. ¡°We¡¯re almost there!¡± He squealed, attempting to keep his voice down but unable to restrain his glee. ¡°Good work.¡± Malcolm stooped to let Terrence back into the bag. A Servine came into view. His and Terrence¡¯s eyes met for a split second before the fox yelled. Panic took over. A ball of flame rocketed towards the grass snake, felling him in one blow. Extant sparks scattered onto the stalks, starting a small blaze. And Bob¡¯s body cam caught the interaction. - Fred¡¯s supervisor and Pinta Valley Police had access to live footage from the guards¡¯ body cameras. Being an isolated little town meant action was scarce, so this was thrilling for law enforcement. Worries arose when Bob failed to answer radio calls. Was his radio broken? Thankfully, his path appeared deliberate, like he knew exactly where the fiend fled. That quickly quelled their concerns. When Bob rounded a corner, the camera showed someone they were not expecting. A young Fennekin? There was also a stooped figure with his or her back facing the camera; whoever it was blended into the dark. It didn¡¯t help that the Fennekin launched a ball of fire at Bob, taking him and his camera out. The image was replaced with static. Calls immediately went out to the other guards, ordering them to go to the maze and search for a Fennekin and another unidentified person. A technician rewound the footage and froze the screen on the Fennekin¡¯s bug-eyed expression. ¡°Who¡¯s this kid? Recognize him?¡± The Zangoose gestured at the screen while facing a uniformed Thievul. The fox shook his head. ¡°Alright.¡± The Zangoose ran a program attempting to match the Fennekin¡¯s face to one of the locals. The search lasted only thirty seconds; Pinta Valley had few citizens to comb through. Four Fennekins lived there and none were the attacker. The Zangoose grunted lightly; probably some uncouth out-of-towner trying to cheat the maze before it opened to the public. The stooped figure? No one knew; maybe a complicit relative? The reason was irrelevant, they had to be apprehended. Even if the Fennekin was a kid, he still attacked an officer. The law cared not for age. He had to be caught. Two squad cars were dispatched. - Using ¡®Slash,¡¯ Malcolm rapidly tore through the stalks and created an exit. Then he used Ice Beam to put out the incipient embers. The fire melted the ice on contact, allowing water to form and quench it. He promptly checked on the Servine, making sure to stay out of the camera¡¯s view (it was turned to the side, as that¡¯s how Bob was positioned). Mostly first- and second-degree burns concentrated on his face. Not the worst that could happen, but the Servine¡¯s physiology amplified the damage. His protective vest saved his torso, but was not enough to prevent him from losing consciousness. Malcolm would¡¯ve treated him if he had the materials and wasn¡¯t fleeing for his life. Otherwise, all the snake could do was lie there and wake up later. With taciturn agitation, he fled. Despite his concerted effort to stay out of view, he didn¡¯t know if the Servine¡¯s camera caught him before Terrence attacked. - Malcolm was forced to stop and catch his breath in the cover of a cornfield three miles from the maze. He knelt beside a tree, set his pack down, and panted as though he¡¯d just finished a marathon. Nikki clambered out and put a concerned paw on his knee. ¡°Do you haf an ouchie?¡± She looked up at him for an answer. Malcolm¡¯s gaze shifted to her briefly before returning to the ground. He didn¡¯t answer; labored exhalations consumed his energy. Nikki repeated her question and Malcolm shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­ We¡¯ll¡­ leave soon¡­¡± He rasped. His knee was okay but his heart was pounding. He rose to stand after another minute, then his ears perked up when crying started coming from the bag. Nikki found her brother inside; lying down and back facing her. ¡°Tewwy?¡± Nikki tried to turn him over with her paws so they¡¯d face each other, but he didn¡¯t budge. She settled for a comforting paw on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t cwy, we¡¯ll be okay!¡± No reply, but Nikki didn¡¯t demand one. Neither did Malcolm, who knelt beside the pack. ¡°Terrence¡­ it¡¯s fine.¡± He slowly hefted the pack over his shoulders. ¡°¡­ Let¡¯s go.¡± Off they went. Nikki softly sang a happy song from her Riley show about rainbows decorating the sky after a storm. The bubbly raccoon sang about bands of color dancing above like giant party streamers amidst a festive gale. Terrence¡¯s thoughts shut out the optimism, leaving him in darkness. If he hadn¡¯t pointed out that gap in the stalks and Malcolm continued searching for the actual exit, they might¡¯ve evaded the Servine. If none of them ever made it home, it¡¯d be thanks to Terrence¡¯s bumbling stupidity. - Headlights off and thermal imaging cameras engaged, police made their way to the maze. A search around the perimeter took them to a gaping hole and burnt stalks. Leaves, stems, and corn lay strewn in haphazard array; the direction of the vegetative confetti showed the culprit did this from the inside. ¡°That scrawny punk fox couldn¡¯ta did this.¡± A Sandslash shook his head. ¡°That feller with him though.¡± ¡°Mmhmm¡­¡± His Boltund partner grunted as he reviewed the footage on his phone. The crouched figure was likely the slasher, but the dark skin and back turned to the screen made him or her hard to identify. The canine shrugged; they¡¯d figure it out when they found the Fennekin. ¡°I reckon they¡¯re prolly hiding out in a grove or field out there.¡± The Sandslash gestured. ¡°Won¡¯t do much; they¡¯re ain¡¯t much of ¡®em. Only one other cornfield out there.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± The Boltund grunted as he sniffed the chilled air for an unusual scent. A pause... another inhale¡­ he cocked his head to the side. Something wasn¡¯t right. ¡°What¡¯s a matter?¡± The Sandslash asked, staying put so he wouldn¡¯t interfere. ¡°Doesn¡¯t smell like fox¡­ or any canine¡­¡± He inhaled once more to process the unexpected odor. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ mustelid?¡± ¡°¡¯Zit mixed with fox?¡± The yellow dog shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s like he wasn¡¯t even here¡­¡± ¡°Coulda kept him hidden.¡± The clawed shrew posited. ¡°Backpack or some such?¡± The Boltund nodded¡­ The scenario was strange, but that mystery could be solved later. They went back to their cars and headed out. - Later, Malcolm stopped in a small orange grove. The eastern sky was slowly lighting up and it was time to rest. He set his pack down and both foxes crawled out. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± The Weavile informed them and scanned for a hole they could sleep in. An empty burrow nestled into the vertex of two tree roots looked perfect. ¡°You can sleep in there. After this, we¡¯ll get to the seeds in one more trip and go back to the caves.¡± His eyes shifted to his medication. About forty-percent left, with the harrowing journey not quite half over. He winced for an instant and looked at the siblings again. ¡°And,¡± he cleared his throat, ¡°there¡¯s oranges everywhere if you¡¯re hungry; just be quick.¡± Malcolm was not hungry despite having an empty stomach. He planned to bring a few oranges before leaving the following night. For now, just sleep and contemplate how the next few days were going to unfold. He climbed up onto the leaf-concealed bough of a nearby tree and, before settling down to sleep, pulled out the picture of his family. Wrinkled and slightly torn from days of sharing space with two foxes, but that was to be expected. Winifred and the kids looked back at him, as if knowing they would see him soon. He gazed at his family longer than normal, not wanting to let go. Sleep soon wrested the image away and it floated to the ground. - Rutger bid Banks farewell with a wide grin and salute. The Typhlosion will stay in power another three month and afterwards, be appointed as the new head of the DVDC. He swore Ohara and the pneumonavirus would be eliminated before then. - Late afternoon Terrence and Nikki too fell asleep without eating; Terrence already having been eaten by self-loathing. He woke up while the others slept; the third time within the past five hours. May as well stay up and get ready to leave when it¡¯s dark. And hopefully not do something really stupid this time. His stomach grumbled rancorously, reminding him he still needed to sustain himself despite his folly. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll eat¡­¡± Maybe the healthy food will help him think more clearly from now on? He drowsily ambled along, planning to roll two oranges back to the burrow. One for him and another for Nikki. Still in the process of waking up, his senses were dulled. He looked up and noticed the Sandslash too late. Malcolm was jolted awake by a scream. He leapt to the ground. The young fox was struck by a red trapping device. A bright, white beam short forth in a stark zigzag pattern. It enveloped the child. And absorbed him. Malcolm launched Blizzard at the Sandslash before he could react, striking him with ruthless force and slamming him into a tree. He was immediately knocked out and largely encased in frigid ice. The Weavile dove onto the wriggling ball and fought to pry it open. There was no button on these trapping devices; they could be opened from inside or out, but only with brute power. ¡°Fight, Terrence! Fight!¡± Sweat dripped from his brow. Terrence had about thirty seconds to break free. After that, the ball would permanently lock and lie inert. The miniature portal inside would whisk Terrence away if either failed to open it soon. Precious time trickled away. Chapter 9 An invisible force yanked Terrence backwards through blue-tinted darkness. The same stretching sensation from the portal days ago returned. His claws dug into a dirt-like surface with as much fortitude and desperation as he could muster. A shrill, metallic whir assailed his ears as the radiance vied to steal him away. ¡°Malcolm!¡± His claws strained to keep him anchored. Malcolm yelled something, but his voice seemed distant. Every inch he was tugged towards doom made the Weavile¡¯s call fainter and fainter. Terrence¡¯s claws grew more numb as the unseen force pulled and pulled. His heart pounded away. Sweat drops from his face were quickly flung backwards as though absorbed by a black hole. ¡°Fight!¡± Malcolm¡¯s voice rang through the chamber. A horizontal sliver of white light appeared some unknown distance ahead. Terrence chomped into the ground, relying on his jaws to stabilize him if his claws became too weak. Searing pain surged through his teeth and claws. The endless pulling threatened to rip them out if he held on much longer. The sliver widened, revealing part of Malcolm¡¯s face and hands. Despite Terrence¡¯s eyes facing downward, the Weavile was in his periphery. It was then he realized how much the device shrunk him; he was no larger than a beetle. Malcolm couldn¡¯t see Terrence due to the azure glow, but knew he was there. As long as the ball didn¡¯t snap shut, Terrence had a chance. The young fox needed to hold on only another few seconds¡­ - The Thievul from Pinta Valley PD waited by cell 34-F. The Fennekin should be dropping in soon, as per the Sandslash¡¯s radio call. The Hawkson Juvenile Detention Center ten miles from town was where the little punk would stay the night. He would be identified and his parents notified. Nothing harsh, but he couldn¡¯t avoid the consequences of his actions. The older fox¡¯s eyes were glued to the narrow portal on the opposite wall, anticipating the uncouth ragamuffin to plop onto the waiting cot. Waiting¡­ Waiting¡­ The Thievul drummed impatient fingers against the bars and raised an eyebrow. The portal appeared because the trapping device caught its target. The only thing that would cause this delay would be a resilient captive fighting the pull. It was also possible someone was trying to force the device open to free him. The Thievul¡¯s ears perked up and he scowled. That accomplice! It may not have helped that the red device was used. Weakest of all traps, the Sandslash used it because the Fennekin was just a kid. Why waste a more expensive and powerful one on him? He held down the button on his radio to talk to the Sandslash when a ruckus broke out down the hall. Excited clamor made the Thievul turn his head, but was not enough to draw him towards it. He walked to a quieter part of the hall. ¡°Sanchez, copy?¡± Seconds elapsed, no answer. He tried again¡­ and again¡­ and- ¡°WE FOUND ¡®IM!¡± A hoarse shout from behind made him drop his radio. ¡°Wha-?¡± The fox pivoted, startled by the grinning, bulky Ursaring bounding towards him. He stepped back. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°¡¯o else, genius?!¡± The bear grabbed the fox by the arm and led him back to the others. ¡°Never ¡®xpected it either! ¡®e¡¯s right there on the body cam!¡± The fox lost all feeling in his body. There was only one ¡®him¡¯ in all Revaria who didn¡¯t need to be named. He was thrust before a screen crowded by nine others. His mouth went agape. So that¡¯s who was helping the Fennekin. Dr. Ohara. Calls were rapidly placed. Fingers flew across keyboards and emails were jettisoned to higher-ups. For the first time since Shebaton Caverns, Malcolm¡¯s location was known. Helicopters and local forces would be after him within the hour. That slithering weasel could no longer hide amidst dark shadows and hostile beasts; there was little to ensconce himself with out there. Ohara would be lucky to survive another week. During the frenzy, the Thievul slipped away to the bathroom and into a stall. He vomited into one of the receptacles. Limbs shook as he mentally cursed himself, though he knew he couldn¡¯t have done anything. He was the silent minority among the whooping and hollering. If it wasn¡¯t for Dr. Ohara, his son would¡¯ve never been able to see. - Blinding sunlight flooded Terrence¡¯s vision as he was catapulted from claustrophobic confinement. Malcolm caught him, almost knocked down by the fox¡¯s velocity. The skin around his little claws was bleeding, but Malcolm had no time or resources to stem the trickle. Terrence¡¯s respirations were labored; his eyes glazed over as he clung to consciousness. Wanting to make sure Terrence didn¡¯t pass out, Malcolm clasped Terrence¡¯s paws above his pounding heart. ¡°Keep them raised until the bleeding stops.¡± He dryly instructed, fumbling around in his bag for the medication. ¡°I¡¯ll get Nikki and we¡¯ll leave.¡± The taciturn fox obeyed. The ice-choked Sandslash lay slumped against the tree in his periphery. Unconscious. Muffled chatter sputtered from his radio. Terrence turned his head so he couldn¡¯t see him. He shuddered, moisture leaking from his eyes as his spirit buckled under the trauma. Malcolm¡¯s trembling fingers unscrewed the cap; one pill tumbled to the ground as he removed two. He put the one back with an exasperated sigh and imbibed the other two. Those should last the time it took for them to get to the seeds. He corralled a sleeping Nikki from the hole and gently stowed her into the bag without waking her. At least she didn¡¯t have to see what happened to her brother. Terrence limped in after, wincing as he trod upon sore paws. The bag was zipped up and the trio vanished from the scene as a wisp of smoke. It¡¯d matter little though. Malcolm was aware the Sandslash¡¯s body camera spotted him. The moment he acted to save Terrence, all Revaria once again knew where he was. - A completely shaved John Finley was unceremoniously dragged along a cold, marble floor. He was the Leafeon from BioComp whom Rutger extorted. Blindfolded. Muzzled. He tried to break free from the cuffs binding his back legs, resulting in metal indents in his skin. Gloved hands accompanied by silence guided him. Clopping boots echoed weakly against the dry wall. John¡¯s mouth was dry and his stomach ached. All he could enjoy the past twenty-four hours was the taste of his own saliva. Before that, bread and tap water sufficed as his only rations. The steel click of an opening door perked his ears. A dull murmur of muffled voices and gasps followed. ¡°John!¡± A lady¡¯s wail punctuated the monotony. The Leafeon turned his head sharply. His wife. Her protests made his heart sink. Of all the ways their time together would end, neither thought it would be like this. The hands leading him didn¡¯t stop. Onward he trudged, Bernice¡¯s voice fading into the somber din. One agonizing minute later, he was hoisted up and plopped into a wooden chair; his head striking the back hard enough to elicit a pained whimper. His wife¡¯s distant sobs cut through him. He tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but couldn¡¯t still his shaking limbs. ¡°mmpfmf!¡± An anemic, incomprehensible growl permeated the cloth binding his muzzle. At best, he could barely display clenched teeth. Two guards held him still while another strapped him to the chair. Electrodes were applied to his head and limbs, followed by a sponge dampened with salt water. The saline mix trickled down the right side of his face in cold drips. He instinctively tried to raise an arm to brush them away, but was immobile. Footsteps echoed through the chamber and stopped near Finley. A male voice addressed the observers. His tone was matter-of-fact and procedural; this was just another paycheck. ¡°The termination of the convicted, John Finley¡¯s, life will take place in five minutes. If you have any last words for him, speak now.¡± Rutger watched the scene unfold from an adjacent room. The tinted window prevented others from seeing him. Hands folded under his chin as his fingers made a steeple formation; he beheld his former friend with frigid contempt. ¡°¡­ You could¡¯ve avoided this.¡± As the one who commanded the sentence, he had to watch and make sure it was carried out humanely. No need to prolong his suffering; it only mattered that his voice would be silenced for good. The best part of his new position was he could expedite federal sentences. John¡¯s trial lasted about two hours before he was condemned. Scripted witnesses, hand-picked jury, lawyer who couldn¡¯t do anything except plea for a commuted sentence. The Leafeon accused Rutger of extortion and pressuring Gutierrez to release the virus to the public through lab animals, but the destruction of BioComp removed all evidence. He was quickly derided and judged. Protesters outside the execution facility demanded a fair trial; even those who believed Finley was guilty thought his trial was a sham. If Rutger could do this to him, he could do it to anyone. Rutger shrugged it off. Finley had to die, along with everyone else who knew the truth. Gutierrez and Ohara remained, and he needed to be rid of them soon. They may have been powerless now, but that would change once Banks removed him from power in three months. He would likely call off the hunt once back in office. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Then the Umbreon and Weavile might get the chance to speak¡­ A searing flash and a SNAP wrested Rutger from his thoughts. Bernice screamed as John¡¯s lifeless body slumped forward. Black smoke rose from the burnt flesh around the electrodes as the guards waited for his body to cool. Rutger inexplicably looked down. A twinge of unease surged through his heart. ¡°¡­ Y-you could¡¯ve avoided this¡­¡± Unease morphed into remorse before Rutger promptly beat it down with his false justifications. ¡°Revaria dies without me. I¡¯m sorry, John¡­ but you were in the way.¡± Then his phone rang. - Most of the Pinta Valley police force was at the scene Ohara and the Fennekin were spotted. A couple fire types melted the ice pinning the unconscious Sanchez to the tree and whisked him away to a hospital. Others stayed to investigate. The grass and dry ground didn¡¯t allow for tracks, but that didn¡¯t stop officers with keen sense of smell from locating clues. They just needed a direction. It didn¡¯t take long for their noses to sleuth the scent of mustelid and vulpine. The culprits fled north-east. Puzzling, as there was little to hide in out there; just an endless swathe of fields and streams. The mountains and hills to the west would¡¯ve made more sense, but it wasn¡¯t law enforcement¡¯s job to mull over that. Perhaps Ohara didn¡¯t know the landscape; all the better for the hunt. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s this?¡± A Wartortle picked up a wrinkled and torn sheet of paper. The blank side faced up while colors of an image bled through with muted visibility. Others looked as he flipped it over¡­ then looked at each other, baffled. Did Ohara want to get caught? It was Malcolm and his family. Just more conclusive proof that evil scientist had really been here. Police from other towns eventually populated the scene and Pinta Valley PD pointed them the direction Ohara likely absconded. Most of Pinta Valley PD joined the search while others stayed to brief military personnel once they arrived less than an hour later. The Thievul was supposed to be there, but wasn¡¯t. Sudden family emergency. - It was the longest night of Malcolm¡¯s life. Eyes fixed forward, but his other senses alert. Any moment, a cavalcade of spotlights, heat sensors, and night-vision lenses would flood the heavens. The tranquility of night dashed to pieces. The outcast doctor¡¯s mind darkened with each step. Nothing but open vastness ahead. Everywhere to run, but nowhere to hide. Meanwhile, Nikki¡¯s queries glanced unanswered off her brother; her words met only with a stare from dead eyes. He rarely looked at her; gaze transfixed to a distant, imaginary object. Was he okay? Was he hurt? Was he even alive? Her ears drooped; she couldn¡¯t understand why he was acting like this. Even when he was mad at her, she could always talk to him. He was simultaneously there, and not there. As he turned to lie down, obscured moonlight exposed his bloodied claws. ¡°You haf an ouchie!¡± Nikki gasped, reaching for his left paw. He promptly withdrew it without word or sigh. Confused and concerned, Nikki quietly curled up next to him. ¡°Sowwy¡­¡± The rest of the night passed in silence. - Pale yellow light began filling the eastern sky as a sea of blue flowers washed in over the horizon. Malcolm¡¯s legs were rubber and pain slowly ebbed back into his left knee, but he forced himself to move faster. ¡°Field¡¯s ahead.¡± He stated audibly enough for Terrence and Nikki to hear. No reply; perhaps they were sleeping. Understandable, especially for Terrence. Malcolm hoped he was getting good rest; his past few days had been pure misery and stress. And Malcolm wasn¡¯t optimistic about the next few days. When Malcolm reached the field, he nearly keeled over. He winced and his eyes moistened as he tried to stoop and collect the seeds. The pain was a searing hot knife slicing a plumb line through his leg. ¡°,,, Malcolm?¡± Terrence asked, his voice hardly above a mutter as he peeked through the opening. ¡°Uh¡­ can I help?¡± Malcolm gently set the bag down and zipped it open. ¡°Please¡­ Get one of the bags out first.¡± He panted. Bags? What ba-? Oh right, the ones Terrence and Nikki have ridden with the entire time. Small plastic things he was used to seeing snacks kept in back at home. His distracted mind took a few seconds to register them. He stuck his head in the backpack and grabbed one. Wrinkled and creased, but would work. ¡°Now uproot a few of those flowers and put them in.¡± The flowers were small; nine inches from soil to stigma. All of them blue, ranging from a deep midnight hue to that of a bright noon sky. The petals formed tight bulbs when closed, resembling blueberry lollipops. The edges of the petals spiraled upward in miniature serpentine lines. Terrence sniffed the air. That smell¡­ He remembered it from the cavern. The blue soil. The blue light. The blue walls¡­ He clamped his teeth around the stems of three flowers and yanked. They came out with ease, nearly making him stumble backwards from the excess force. He regained his composure and looked up at Malcolm, hoping his stumble didn¡¯t ruin the seeds. ¡°Careful.¡± Malcolm warned. ¡°No need to be gentle with them; just put them in.¡± Terrence did so, zipped the bag, and put it in the backpack. ¡°Thanks¡­ My pills, please.¡± While Terrence nodded and looked for them, Malcolm¡¯s attention was fixed in the general direction they came from, but slightly north. A slight bump dotted an otherwise even horizon. ¡°Here.¡± Terrence held the pills up to him. Malcolm accepted it and unscrewed the cap. Two more pills imbibed. A little more than a third of his supply remained. He screwed the cap back on and told Terrence to put them back. ¡°We¡¯ll leave for that hill as soon as my knee¡¯s better... about twenty minutes. We¡¯ll hide there for the day.¡± Terrence nodded. A sudden pang in his stomach made him groan. The adrenaline from yesterday abated, surrendering to stinging hunger. His eyes fell on the ocean of flowers and he salivated. The scent was mildly inviting. ¡°Uh¡­ can I eat these?¡± He peered up at Malcolm. ¡°Yes.¡± Malcolm nodded. ¡°Eat your fill, but take extras before we leave so Nikki¡¯ll have something when she¡¯s up. There may be nothing at the hill.¡± Terrence plucked another few flowers and placed them in the backpack before chomping on his own. As soon as his teeth sank into the bulb, his taste buds were saturated with a savory tang. It was like biting into a raw bell pepper; reminded him of his mom¡¯s piping hot vegetable soup she made in the winter. He would¡¯ve recoiled at this a week ago with watery eyes. Pizza was better in every way. He no longer lived in that time, stuffing his starved little vulpine face with blue bulbs. Satisfying. Tasty. Homey. He closed his eyes. Mom set a festive, ceramic bowl before him. Roasted carrots, tomatoes, chunks of beef, potatoes, onions, and celery swam in dense, bright red broth. An array of herbs and spices coated the dish in a sumptuous aroma. Nikki sat to his left, Dad to his right, and Mom across from him. In the family room, a fire crackled in the stone hearth. There were intermittent pops as the errant spark leapt into the air. In the corner, the Christmas tree shone with a glittering, gold luster. Shimmering drapery and ornaments adorned the branches. A strung spectacle of emerald, vermilion, violet, and sapphire lights added to the glorious ensemble. In two days, he and Nikki would tear into their gifts. Grandma and Grandpa would be there to shower them with more generosity, as well as those butter cookies Grandma baked every year and the ham Grandpa always baked. Aunts and uncles would come over. More presents. More family. More mirth. Nikki would get on his nerves as she belted out tunes from A Very Merry Riley Christmas!, and he¡¯d get on her nerves by replacing the lyrics with jokes about what a dork Nikki was. They always made up by playing one of his racing video games (he usually let her win once or twice). Fun, innocent times. When Terrence opened his eyes, the warmth dissipated. Half-chewed petals in his mouth. Yellow further brightening the sky. The unforgiving chill of early dawn. Isolated from nearly everyone and everything he loved. Billions of miles from home and no guarantee of making it back. He swallowed what was in his mouth without further chewing and cried. - Not minutes after Malcolm scurried into one of the grooves in the hill did his worst nightmare come true. The distant din of helicopters. He nestled himself as deeply as possible into the rocky recess. An outcrop overhead eclipsed mid-morning sunlight as well as direct exposure to the rest of Revaria. Military wanting to catch him would have to weave through this narrow forge, and the knoll itself would block out heat detection. Negligible comfort for the beleaguered fugitive; he couldn¡¯t stay forever. Even if the helicopters went elsewhere, others would come. He¡¯d have to step out eventually and make a run for Shebaton Caverns. It was still the closest place the seeds could grow into an interstellar portal. He sat curled up against the smoothest wall he could find and opened his pack to look at the picture again. His eyes widened. Terrence, Nikki, flowers, spare bags, the pain medication, the vial... No picture. No family to look upon¡­ Slipped away through misfortune. - A stiff-limbed Terrence stirred awake. A shiver was brought on by the dead, frosted air. He sleepily clambered from the bag and stretched his legs to get the blood moving. Malcolm was awake. He sat on a narrow slab of granite jutting from the wall, faced away from the drowsy fox. A mild, orange glow filled most of the ravine, leaving the trio a meager shadow. The sun would be down soon. It would be time to run once more. ¡°Terrence,¡± Malcolm intoned, his voice weak. ¡°Yeah?¡± The fox¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°¡­ sit here, please.¡± He set his hand on a spot to his right. The bag of flowers and empty vial were on his left side. Terrence hesitantly stepped forward; should he be scared? Malcolm didn¡¯t turn to face him; his gaze was steady and tone anemic. No anger. No sadness. No confidence. Nothing. Terrence sat beside him and turned a sheepish look up at his face. Slowly, Malcolm lowered his head to look back at him. His eyes were dry and red. ¡°I need to talk to you.¡± Chapter 10 A reel of past events coursed through Terrence¡¯s mind like an uncontrollable merry-go-round. Attacking the Servine. Getting caught in the device. The constant headbutting with Malcolm since tumbling into his life despite knowing nothing. Perhaps Malcolm was finally fed up with him and will tell him to find his own way home. Terrence wouldn¡¯t blame him. He was getting fed up with himself; a bad hero and a bad sidekick. Hindering Malcolm with all his mistakes and needing to be saved all the time. ¡°Okay¡­¡± Malcolm exhaled and picked up the flowers and the vial. He set them beside Terrence. ¡°I want you to pay attention very closely.¡± The fox nodded. ¡°Alright. So, here are the flowers and vial for the water.¡± He started, his tone professorial. Terrence fixed his attention on the items. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m going to teach you how to grow a portal.¡± The child tossed a confused glance his way. ¡°Why? Aren¡¯t you-?¡± Malcolm raised a halting hand. ¡°I¡¯ll explain. Don¡¯t interrupt because there¡¯s not much time.¡± Terrence fidgeted uncomfortably. Malcolm held up one of the flowers just below Terrence¡¯s eye level and peeled away some of the petals. ¡°Here¡¯re the seeds.¡± He gestured to a small mass at the center of the remaining petals. ¡°See ¡®em?¡± Terrence nodded. ¡°First thing you have to do is dig a shallow hole in the dirt, then put in one of the seeds. Cover it back up with the dirt after.¡± Another nod. Simple enough; this was no different from that one time his second-grade teacher had the class grow flowers in their compact flower bed. ¡°And then I water it.¡± Terrence added instinctively. ¡°Yes, but,¡± Malcolm cleared his throat. ¡°make sure you wait ¡®til you¡¯re close to the cavern before collecting the water. The water in the baobab forest is cleaner since it¡¯s further from civilization. That¡¯ll help it work better. That¡¯s why those trees and those fruits were so large; I¡¯m sure you remember.¡± Terrence nodded with a furrowed brow¡­ That forest felt like ages ago. ¡°From there, you¡¯ll see the flower start breaking through the ground after a minute. Yes, it¡¯s supposed to be very fast. It¡¯ll grow to about twice as tall as the flowers we saw just earlier. That¡¯ll take another few minutes; just don¡¯t disturb it in the mean time. You¡¯ll know it¡¯s done once the petals start glowing.¡± ¡°Huh...¡± Terrence started, distracted by a tangent thought. ¡°After that-¡± Terrence¡¯s ears perked. ¡°The big room we landed in was glowing too.¡± ¡°Yes, that was because that was where the portal was. Anyways, once it starts glowing, it¡¯ll blossom. An image will pop up from it like a hologram, about a foot square on all sides. Think of it as a screen or a picture. You¡¯ll see a projection of earth because it¡¯s the planet with the most portals. The flower¡¯ll naturally be attracted to it. This¡¯ll make it easier for you to find your home.¡± Terrence tilted his head in bewilderment. ¡°Ever used a cell phone or touchscreen?¡± Malcolm asked. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± He nodded, dolefully remembering his phone and 3DS. ¡°Just think of it as a giant phone screen. You¡¯ll see a picture of earth in the hologram. You can zoom in or out on it with your fingers and swipe in any direction by moving a finger across it. It¡¯s just a big touchscreen map.¡± Terrence¡¯s predicament floated to the back of his brain for a moment. A portal that functioned according to his proclivities? Perfect. He¡¯d become a portal-master in seconds. Brag to everyone about traveling across the universe at will; he¡¯d just have to bring the seeds and a little soil from Shebaton cavern- He gasped. ¡°Hey, wait!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I-if you just needed the dirt from that cave, why didn¡¯t you just take some with you?¡± He frowned. ¡°We coulda grown a portal when we got the flowers!¡± Malcolm shook his head. ¡°The soil¡¯s only part of it. The surface layer draws particular nutrients from deep underground that grow the portal. You can¡¯t just take a handful of it and grow it wherever you want.¡± ¡°But what about the thing I was trapped in?¡± Terrence countered. ¡°How¡¯d they make that portal? There was even dirt-¡± ¡°Hybrid flower-digital portal. That works differently, but please let me finish.¡± He spoke faster, seeing the waning light. The teacher side of him would¡¯ve entertained his query, but this wasn¡¯t the time. ¡°Figure out where you¡¯re trying to go by zooming in or out and swiping. When you do, press and hold your finger on that point for several seconds. The portal¡¯ll start to form there and,¡± He hesitated, eyes shifting from Terrence. ¡°make absolutely sure you pick a spot far away from anyone.¡± Terrence nodded, but tilted his head again. ¡°But why¡¯re you telling me all this? This a test or something? Why can¡¯t you do it?¡± Malcolm exhaled and clasped his hands in resignation. He looked away with a grimace. Terrence was about to be crushed. ¡°Well?¡± Terrence narrowed an irritated gaze at the scientist. Malcolm turned his head towards him, but only slightly. His voice trembled, failing to restrain saddening despair. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m not going to make it.¡± The Weavile hunched over, head down and arms folded across his knees. Terrence stared; heart sunk and expression blank. He couldn¡¯t have heard correctly. He waited for Malcolm to admit he was playing a cruel joke. ¡°Wh-why?!¡± The Fennekin barked. ¡°We¡¯re doing good!¡± ¡°My medication¡¯s running out.¡± Malcolm muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t have enough to make it back.¡± ¡°What? Wh-what do you mean?¡± Terrence recalled the times Malcolm took his pills, but thought nothing of them. ¡°I take them because of my bad knee. The pills take away the pain for a while, which lets me run and walk without hurting. Once I¡¯m out, I¡¯ll have no way of helping my knee. I won¡¯t even be able to crawl.¡± His gaze shifted to Terrence. ¡°That¡¯s why I had to tell you how to grow the portal¡­ I won¡¯t be able to help you.¡± The remnant soup?on of daylight vanished into the onset of night. A stiff chill whispered into the ravine, sending a mild shiver through their spines. Nikki stirred from the bag, her internal clock telling her it was time to leave soon. Her ears perked and she scrambled out when her brother raised his voice. ¡°You gotta be kidding! We got this far and you¡¯re giving up? What about your family?! Th-the whole picture and everything; you miss them a lot a-and, they miss you!¡± ¡°I¡¯m being realistic.¡± Malcolm stood, his knee feeling healthy again. ¡°Get back in the bag so we can get moving. Want to cover as much distance as possible...¡± He dryly instructed, noticing Nikki as he turned around. Her ears drooped; worry finding place in her demeanor. ¡°What happen?¡± She stepped forward. ¡°It¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡± He calmly answered. ¡°But Tewwy was yelling.¡± Malcolm kept his poise. ¡°Just a little talk. Come on, back in you go.¡± He lightened his voice a degree, as though talking to one of his infant grandkids. He turned a sideways glance at Terrence, keeping his tone with Nikki. ¡°I want to get you home safe and sound.¡± - The three stole quietly through the night. Despite the medication, Malcolm¡¯s legs were sore due to the past several nights. Numbing pain threatened to stop him in his tracks; it was only his motivation that kept him moving. His passengers didn¡¯t deserve to be stuck here another day. In the throes of the midnight hours, a distant, menacing whir of helicopter motors incited Malcolm¡¯s fears. Surrounding him were miles of open terrain, lightly-rolling dales, and flower beds. The occasional orange tree dotted the landscape, but there was nowhere to hide. Shebaton Caverns was still miles away. Run faster. Ignore the protesting heart. Push it. Legs stiffening into rubber. Fight it. His mind devolved into a haze. The grass under his feet whizzed past in a dark, green blur. The mechanized, aerial monotony acquiesced to the percussive thunder of blood surging through his head. The still, sleeping air awakened into a contrary gale as he tore ahead. Keep going. No pain is too much. The faraway lights in his periphery to the left briefly stole his attention. He subtly turned his head. They were going his direction. The humming grew louder. He veered sharply to the right. Terrence and Nikki gasped as they were thrust suddenly against the side of the bag. Breaths shot out in rapid and labored bursts; his lungs burned. Get away from them. Now. A numbing ache tore through his left leg like a dull knife. He gritted his teeth as his kneecap was ground to a pulp. Keep running. They were getting closer. His mind was paste. Blood swirled in torrents through his skull. Had to go fas- A blood-curdling yell pierced the air. Daggers sliced upward through Malcolm¡¯s right leg as he kicked a weed-ensconced rock at full sprint. He broke his fall with extended arms and rolled to the side, hurling the Fennekins into the grass. He clutched the stricken leg, doing everything possible to stifle a second yell. A dazed Nikki whimpered as she struggled to get up. Terrence sprang to his feet immediately, too pumped with adrenaline to be startled. He noticed the copters too. ¡°Get up! Come on!¡± Terrence tugged at the magenta frill around Malcolm¡¯s head. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± Malcolm couldn¡¯t lift himself; he only answered with restrained groans. ¡°Come on!¡± Terrence pulled harder. Nikki scrambled onto her feet finally and tried to help. ¡°Don¡¯t gib up!¡± She added. Malcolm tried again. His languished form strained to lift himself even slightly, and the throbbing ache in his right foot incited worry over a broken bone. ¡°Y-you can¡¯t just lie here! COME ON!¡± Terrence shouted at the top of his lungs, briefly looking up and narrowing his gaze as though Shebaton Caverns were just a couple miles away. Hope was on the horizon. He and Nikki would make it home. So would Malcolm. In the midst of their panic, they didn¡¯t realize the cloud of choppers flying the opposite direction. It wasn¡¯t until Malcolm realized the absence of the humming that momentary relief swept over him. Did the soldiers detect a red herring with their heat sensors? Perhaps. The three needed all the time they could get. Malcolm eventually sat up and swiveled his right foot around. He winced. His foot was only sprained, but now he wouldn¡¯t be able to run. ¡°Aw you okay Mister Malcolm?¡± Nikki asked. ¡°Do you have ouchie?¡± ¡°¡­ I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± Nikki rubbed the back of her head. ¡°I haf ouchie here but I¡¯m okie.¡± Malcolm nodded; likely a bump from tumbling from the bag. She wasn¡¯t crying or complaining about the pain, so it likely wasn¡¯t serious. Still, he told her to turn so he could look. He was right. ¡°Are you hurt, Terrence?¡± Malcolm asked. Terrence shook his head. ¡°Good¡­¡± He remained sitting, massaging the injury on his foot. ¡°I¡­ kicked a rock back there and hurt my foot badly¡­ I¡¯ll try to get us out of here soon.¡± Terrence¡¯s jaw dropped. Another setback in a long, domino-line of catastrophes. For every step they took forward, happenstance pulled them back two more. Malcolm¡¯s heart sank, seeing his reaction. Best he could do was get them as close as possible. ¡°Terrence, listen carefully¡­¡± He removed another two pills from the case and imbibed them, leaving him only two. The fall robbed him of these extra two he would¡¯ve taken at the onset of the next night¡¯s journey. ¡°I¡­ I could get caught any moment¡­ they know my general location now, so this might be the last chance I get to tell you anything.¡± Terrence¡¯s hairs stood on end. Nikki tilted her head, confused. Malcolm absent-mindedly took dirt in his hand and let the grains trickle to the ground. ¡°¡­ You¡¯ll need to know how to get to Shebaton Caverns.¡± Terrence¡¯s limbs felt weak and his eyes welled up. There was no way Malcolm was saying this, but he listened anyways. ¡°I¡¯m going to do my best to make it to a ghost town about twenty miles away.¡± Malcolm set his gaze westward. ¡°From there¡­ I¡¯m going to have to surrender. My pills¡¯ll be out then.¡± ¡°But Mal-¡± Terrence started, hoping an inkling of encouragement would solve everything. Malcolm shook his head. ¡°Stop. From there, go towards the mountains in the west. They¡¯ll be easy to see since they¡¯re the only mountains around. They¡¯ll be nine miles from the town. When you reach the base, follow it south, or left. It¡¯ll be another nine miles before you reach the baobab forest. If you remember, that was where we stayed after we left the cave.¡± Terrence nodded, head down as tears rolled down his cheeks. ¡°Keep going and you¡¯ll see a large, blue hill. That¡¯s the cave. The entrance¡¯ll be easy to spot and, thankfully, you won¡¯t need to go in far to use the seeds. You shouldn¡¯t run into any of those monsters, like that gryphon. If you remember those pillars and statues before leaving the cave, just plant the seed there. I¡¯ll give you the bag of flowers and the vial before you leave. Shouldn¡¯t be very heavy.¡± Terrence had nothing to say. The dampening grass at his feet became a blur. His mind became fuzzier and breathing tighter. Malcolm continued. ¡°And¡­¡± Malcolm hesitated. ¡°I-if I¡¯m about to get caught before we make it to the town, you two will need to jump out immediately. I¡¯ll leave my pack down. Take the bag and just run until you reach town. Remember, that¡¯s where you¡¯ll see the mountains.¡± He reiterated, hoping Terrence was absorbing the information. The medication was slowly kicking in; they¡¯d be ready to leave soon. However, he had to make sure Terrence knew one more thing. ¡°Do you-¡± Malcolm cleared his throat, a subtle tightening sensation forming in his chest. ¡°Do you remember where you fell into the portal? I¡¯d recommend returning there and not straight home.¡± For a moment, Terrence snapped out of his cluttered train of aimless thought. He looked up and wiped his eyes¡­ and thought¡­ and thought¡­ It was Lake¡­ ¡­ Dawson? Durman? Darmon? It was like straining at a distant memory. A happy, content moment tucked into a dusty section of his subconscious. ¡°Please¡­ tell me you remember...¡± Malcolm silently clasped his hands, the choking feeling in his chest becoming tighter. Terrence¡¯s ears perked. ¡°¡­ Dorson! Y-yeah, it was that.¡± Malcolm exhaled and nodded slightly. ¡°Good, good¡­ and you remember where that is? Remember, you have to zoom in on it when the image sprouts.¡± ¡°California. I-I remember¡­¡± The drive up the mountain¡­ whining in the back seat over Nikki¡¯s music¡­ the tents¡­ the talk¡­ fishing with Dad¡­ teasing Nikki... His mind wandered. It all felt like a pleasant dream from years ago¡­ Like it did not really happen. ¡°Y-yeah, I-I know where to zoom in¡­¡± He hung his head again and sniffled. ¡°I-it¡¯s not fair¡­ you¡¯re the good guy...¡± The Weavile didn¡¯t respond, just letting the medication course through him until he was well enough to walk. When it was time, he corralled them into the bag. To the ghost town they headed. - The remainder of the night passed in somber reticence. Once again, as Nikki tried to console her mute brother, he met her with only a dead stare. He eventually turned his back to her to steep in his thoughts. Surely, a solution lay amidst the emptiness. Heroes never lost. Villains never won. Every movie, every game, every show¡­ good always triumphed. Setbacks never defeated the strong; they powered through. Malcolm would receive the happy ending a hero deserved. Away from Revaria¡­ Rutger¡­ slander¡­ Should a soldier try to impede the good doctor, Terrence wouldn¡¯t flee... he¡¯d fight. Knock out the fiend like he did the Servine. Despite the mistakes tallied against him, he¡¯d right his wrongs. Terrence McLean ¨C the young sidekick who¡¯d deliver the eleventh-hour victory. The morning arrived with grim fanfare. Dehydrated, brown grass crunched under Malcolm¡¯s sore feet as he staggered towards a river bank. The dried mud was riddled with cracks, not having tasted the stream in months. The water was a pathetic trickle, but would be enough to satiate their thirst. Taller grass stood nearby as a convenient resting spot. ¡°Drink up, there won¡¯t be any more water until we reach town.¡± Malcolm set his bag down and urged the Fennekins to assuage their parched mouths. They lapped up what they could while Malcolm cupped his hands into the water and brought it to his mouth. Tepid and possibly unsafe, but Terrence and Nikki would be okay. Whether it hurt Malcolm was immaterial. ¡°We¡¯ll sleep in that tall grass for a bit and then set off again¡­ We¡¯ll reach town by tomorrow morning, hopefully.¡± Terrence¡¯s throat was constricted; each gulp of water stung. While he was ready to put up his fists, Malcolm was submitting himself to Rutger¡¯s will. He stopped drinking and faced his ally, brow furrowed with stalwart determination. ¡°When we get there, we¡¯ll plan on winning. Those¡­ those stupid bad guys¡¯ll lose. They don¡¯t know how strong we are.¡± He puffed out his chest. The Servine and gryphon came to mind. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°¡­ They¡¯re a whole army¡­ There¡¯s no hope.¡± Malcolm intoned with deadpan defeat. ¡°Once we get there, you and Nikki¡¯ll need to flee at once.¡± Terrence growled. ¡°But-¡± ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®but.¡¯¡± Malcolm cut him off, then reiterated himself with punctuated words. ¡°When we get there, you will flee. You will not take down an army-¡± ¡°OH CUT IT OUT!¡± Terrence snapped, limbs tense as he stood on his fours. Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. Nikki snapped her head his direction in worry. ¡°Why¡¯re you giving up?! We came all this way and you¡¯re like, ¡®oh, looks like I¡¯m gonna die!¡¯ just because of some pills? There¡¯s a way! There¡¯s ALWAYS a way! We just have to think! You¡¯re a scientist!¡± Malcolm frowned but did not raise his voice. He narrowed a stare on the impassioned fox. A stiff breeze rustled the grass and weeds, sending slight shivers down their spines. ¡°Terrence¡­ I¡­ I ultimately can¡¯t tell you what to do¡­ I¡¯ve done everything to help make your way home simple, considering all the obstacles. If you want to throw it away and risk yourself and your sister being stuck here...¡± Terrence returned his stare. He wanted to answer, but had nothing. ¡°What¡¯s done is done.¡± Malcolm stated impassively. ¡°We¡¯re not talking about this again. We¡¯ll sleep, then resume when we¡¯re up.¡± He turned and walked towards the grass without another word, Terrence and Nikki left alone by the water. The younger fox turned to her brother in hopes he could explain what was happening. Except he couldn¡¯t. - Five hours drifted by before Malcolm opened his eyes again. The noonday sun blinded him, forcing him to raise an eclipsing hand over his eyes. He winced and gritted his teeth as he shifted his left leg to reach his bag. Disoriented fingers fumbled with the zipper before finding leverage and opening it. In the shaded space were the flowers, the vial, the extra bags, the pills. The last two pills. He twisted open the lid and let them tumble into his left hand. His eyes fell on the empty container in his other hand for several seconds before beholding the pills with moistening eyes. With a trembling hand, he ingested the pills. In twenty minutes, they¡¯d be ready to go. The sky was bright, but it didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was making it to town. Get Terrence and Nikki as close to home as possible. Ideally, he would slowly pass from dehydration in an ensconced hovel. Don¡¯t give Rutger the satisfaction of finding him alive. ¡°Terrence, Nikki¡­¡± He nudged them awake, though Terrence appeared like he was barely asleep to begin with. Squinted pupils peered up at Malcolm as Terrence rubbed the red from his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re leaving soon¡­ five minutes.¡± That gave them time to stretch and chomp on some vegetation before getting back into the bag. Provided no one spotted them between here and the town, they should get there past midnight. It would be sooner if Malcolm¡¯s foot wasn¡¯t sprained. He shrugged off the thought; as long as Terrence and Nikki got there safely, they¡¯d be okay. The foxes climbed in; Terrence hung his head as he tried not to cry. As much as he wanted to ensure everyone made it home, his outlook on Malcolm¡¯s situation was too bleak to ignore. Malcolm caught his crestfallen demeanor, but said nothing. He lifted the pack onto his back and walked. The skies were pleasantly quiet. - The ride inside the bag was a slow burn. A slight, lop-sided jostle was the only indication they were moving. Terrence and Nikki poked their little heads out and watched the rear. Terrence called out a distant and blurry black haze a few times over the journey, but it never got too close. Malcolm expressed gratitude for the alerts, but silently predicted the soldiers would check the ghost town sooner or later. A location with so many hiding spots was sure to catch their attention. The sky¡¯s vibrant blue gave way to purple and orange as soft grass gave way to rocks, weeds, and dried mud. Fertile earth acquiesced to barren land; the kind of place one would expect to find abandoned civilization. Malcolm¡¯s left knee continued to cooperate, though his feet dragged as they cried from exhaustion. At least he could rest in about six more miles. Stars studded the crystal-clear firmament as the town¡¯s silhouette rose over the horizon. Silver moonlight bathed the parched ground, illuminating millions of cracks and holes where tiny creatures slept. Lives blissfully ignorant of the world above. ¡°Almost there¡­¡± Malcolm panted. Dull, subtle pain began creeping into his knee. In two hours, his left leg would be wholly incapacitated. Should be enough time to find a structure suitable for hiding. ¡°Awake back there?¡± Terrence mumbled incomprehensibly. ¡°Yeah.¡± Nikki declared. ¡°Good. Terrence, you see the mountains to your left?¡± Malcolm asked. Another grumble. ¡°That a yes?¡± ¡°... Yes.¡± ¡°Good, I just wanted to make sure you remembered. Before you go, I¡¯ll ask you to repeat to me how to grow the portal. Remember everything?¡± Malcolm asked, as though in front of a classroom again. ¡°¡­ Yeah.¡± He answered after several seconds. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Terrence reiterated like a flustered student. ¡°Go in the cave, plant the seed, cover it, water it-¡± ¡°Where should you get the water?¡± ¡°The forest.¡± ¡°Good, then what?¡± ¡°It grows, then sprouts into a flower. It¡¯ll open up and there¡¯s a screen with Earth on it. Then I have to zoom in to Lake¡­ um, Dorson, and then I hold my finger there to make the portal appear.¡± ¡°Very good, and the portal will take about an hour to fully form after that. You¡¯ll know it¡¯s started to form when the humming sounds higher and screen goes completely blue. It¡¯ll look exactly like the one you fell through. That¡¯s when you and Nikki will be able to go through it.¡± ¡°Oh, and I have to plant it far away from people.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Malcolm nodded, ¡°and the reason that is is once a living being travels all the way through, it withers and vanishes. Long as you and Nikki are in it at the same time, it¡¯ll stay open. Remember, it¡¯s still a flower, and flowers wilt. It grows quickly and... dies quickly.¡± He added, the tightening sensation returning to his chest. He hoped they would flee once he was settled before Terrence connected the dots. If Terrence wasn¡¯t so stubborn and inquisitive, Malcolm would be more optimistic. Terrence widened his eyes. ¡°Huh¡­¡± He recalled the portal he and his sister traveled through not being there after he woke up. Just a chamber illuminated with blue and brimming with horror. The three made it to the edge of town and Terrence¡¯s imagination was ignited. For now, Revaria was background noise. The destitute streets and dilapidated, decayed structures housed specters seeking solitude from the world of the living. A drab, wispy miasma clung to the local market to his right like a foul, unrelenting spirit. People from a past age imprisoned in its clutches. Once Terrence collected the seven Light Crystals, he¡¯d have the power to fight the evil spirit and cast it to the underworld. The music store next to that? A Bayleef from the days of yore sold violins, metronomes, and song books there. Zealously dedicated to music, he refused to leave his place behind the counter he hadn¡¯t dusted since giving up the ghost. It was his one solace- ¡°We¡¯ll hide there.¡± Malcolm¡¯s voice snapped Terrence to reality. The Weavile pointed at a ramshackle structure tucked into a side alley. Adjacent structures veiled the shed in icy shadows. Barely enough room for the three, which Malcolm intended. Splintered, jagged planks of wood framed its feeble front. They bent at odd angles as they struggled to hold the roof up. Jutting nails glinted weakly in atmospheric light where the window sill used to be attached. A cracked window caked in dust staved off outside inspection; one needed to step over the rotted wood at the door to see inside. None of this caught Terrence¡¯s attention. What if one of these other buildings had something that could help them? All the signage and banners may have vanished through the sands of time, but it didn¡¯t mean potentially helpful items have. ¡°Malcolm?¡± Terrence asked. ¡°What?¡± He grunted, the pain worsening. ¡°What if there¡¯s something helpful in one of these buildings? I was thinking, you know, that we should look?¡± Malcolm maintained a limping gait towards the shed. ¡°There might be, but I don¡¯t have the strength to look very much¡­ my knee¡¯s about to give out.¡± ¡°Can I look though?¡± Terrence jostled the bag as he climbed up and jumped out. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be something!¡± His tail wagged. Malcolm paused. ¡°¡­ Alright, but be quick. I¡¯ll be in that shed. When you¡¯re done, come back and I¡¯ll give you the bag.¡± Terrence looked back at him with a subtle smirk. ¡°You won¡¯t have to.¡± He sprinted down the moonlit street. - Nikki stayed in the bag while Malcolm trudged towards the shed. A dozen or so mice scattered when he set foot inside. ¡°Mousies!¡± Nikki squealed happily, reaching her paws out as though wanting to pet them. With a grunt, he sat in a back corner and laid the bag beside him. Nikki crawled out and stretched. ¡°Whew aw we? Aw thew more mousies?¡± ¡°Probably not.¡± Malcolm shrugged. ¡°I like mousies. They¡¯w cute.¡± Malcolm silently nodded and leaned against the wall. He winced and massaged his knee; the pain was getting stronger. Nikki stood next to him. ¡°Aw you okay Mr. Malcolm?¡± He stared out the door, waiting for Terrence. ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m fine, don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°Aw we sweeping here?¡± ¡°No.¡± He shook his head and looked down at her. He was ready to explain what to expect once her brother was back when he averted his gaze. He donned a wistful frown. ¡°Excited to go home soon?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± She beamed. He wanted her to stay smiling. ¡°What do you like to do there? I bet you have all sorts of fun.¡± ¡°I like Wiley the Waccoon.¡± Her tail wagged. ¡°See¡¯s funny and, and see has fwends and dey go do dese WEALLY fun pwaces. They¡¯w scawy too, but, but, Wiley¡¯s bwave.¡± ¡°Riley the Raccoon,¡± Malcolm nodded, ¡°my kids used to watch that a long time ago. It¡¯s old, but good.¡± Nikki went agape. He knew about Riley?! To think they could¡¯ve been talking about it the past several nights! ¡°You like your family too?¡± Malcolm went on. ¡°Yeah, I wuv my mommy and daddy and, and Tewwy and dey wuv me too.¡± Her expression became forlorn and she hunched slightly. ¡°I miss mommy and daddy.¡± Another nod. ¡°They miss you too, but you¡¯ll see them soon.¡± His eyes shifted to gaze outside. ¡°I promise.¡± - Terrence scurried down the road, scattering clouds of dirt into the air. The line of vacant businesses flanked him, painting a scene of bleak homogeneity. An occasional washed-out sign showed where the coffee shop used to be. Another showed a gas station. Its pumps and pipes were lined with rust and digital display screens were clouded over. The fox whisked past a pharmacy as he rounded a corner. Faded lettering on its windows advertised hours as well as local doctors- Terrence skidded to a halt. Medicine! ¡°YES!¡± The Fennekin¡¯s exclamation reverberated off surrounding structures. He bounded into the building. Moonlight illuminated patches of floor and shelving. The fox pitter-pattered across wooden planks caked with dust and wind-strewn dirt. A moldy odor stung his nose as he navigated through musty air. He had to shield his eyes with one arm to ward off blinding granules. With the other, he swatted at the cloud before him. Wisps cast to the right. To the left. Details blossomed into view as the grainy fog dispersed. Muted colors were endued with saturated hues. He waved more dust away. The odor kept a vice-grip on his nostrils, but at least he could make out his surroundings. Especially the shelves behind the counter. Dozens of containers dotted its spaces. Some stood, many were tipped over or fallen, but the contents should still be good. As long as medication was in pill-form, it would never expire. That was what the doctor in ¡°Legend of the Dark Empire: Shadow Dawn¡± told him when the hero asked if his healing items could expire. The casing kept the contents fresh, only breaking apart when introduced to stomach acid. Terrence bounded forward with a knowing grin. Malcolm saved Terrence several times¡­ now the rescued would save the rescuer. The fox ran along the counter and shelves. To his dismay, grime coated the labels and made them very difficult to read. If he were Malcolm, he could tell what these pills were. Best option was to take them to him. He scooped up as many containers as possible in his arms and darted out. One of these should work. They had to. - Terrence dropped the cluster of eight cylindrical containers at Malcolm¡¯s side. ¡°Found these! One of ¡®em¡¯s gotta be right!¡± Malcolm picked one up, scraped some of the grime off with a claw, and focused a stare on the exposed writing. ¡°Expires¡­ January 1995¡­¡± he mumbled and twisted open the cap, emptying a pill into his hand. ¡°and¡­ this isn¡¯t pain medication¡­ I believe this is for cholesterol.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ check the other ones. There¡¯s gotta be something...¡± Terrence insisted. Malcolm did, but each successor was shot down with the same verdict. Each proclamation of expiration forced Terrence into a sepulcher of guilt. None of them being intended to alleviate pain added insult to injury. He was not a good hero, sidekick, or minion. He wasn¡¯t even a minor character. A nameless, valueless NPC whose greatest achievement was to take up space. ¡°I appreciate the effort, Terrence.¡± Malcolm tried to encourage him, seeing tears well up in the fox¡¯s eyes. ¡°You¡¯re a good kid¡­ This was all just very bad timing¡­¡± Terrence adamantly shook his head. ¡°I-I¡¯ll get more.¡± Malcolm shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s okay; I¡¯d be surprised if there were still pain pills in there. Probably all taken-¡± Terrence darted to the drug store again. Malcolm was wrong; it wasn¡¯t like he lived here. There had to be pain pills; why wouldn¡¯t there be? He seized another armful and scurried back. Nine containers this time; this meant better chance of success! Malcolm twisted off each cap. More cholesterol¡­ Cholesterol again¡­ Antibiotics¡­ Vitamin D... Terrence hung his head and groaned. All duds. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ M-maybe if I look again-¡± ¡°They¡¯re probably all gone,¡± Malcolm stated with more force this time. ¡°Pain medicine¡¯s used a lot; they could¡¯ve been looted or run out of stock when the town got abandoned.¡± Terrence shook his head. Should he look a third time? What was the point? Tears welled up again. ¡°It¡¯s not fair¡­ I¡¯m sorry...¡± Malcolm wanted to encourage him, but it was best not to drag this out. ¡°I know, but you two really need to go-¡± ¡°But they¡¯ll get you!¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do-¡± ¡°I can¡¯t let that happen!¡± Nikki stood beside him with determined poise. ¡°Yeah! We¡¯w help you Mr. Malcolm!¡± ¡°You got us this far! W-we CAN¡¯T let them win just because those stupid spiders made you lose your seeds!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no way around it.¡± Malcolm frowned. ¡°We-¡± ¡°And then for someone to just WASTE them to grow a portal WE fell into! That coulda been you-¡± Terrence¡¯s harangue ground to a halt, as if crashing into a brick wall. Venting refrain colliding with an unyielding front. ¡°Terrence?¡± The tightening sensation in Malcolm¡¯s chest returned. Gears churned in Terrence¡¯s mind. A cog in the wheel of instructions Malcolm handed him was missing. He furrowed his brow in alarmed thought¡­ Slowly, his stream of consciousness descended into darkness. ¡°¡­ Malcolm¡­ Uh, didn¡¯t you, uh¡­ I mean¡­¡± He stammered, his voice reduced to a whisper as thoughts churned through him. ¡°¡­ W-why¡¯d the portal form if you dropped the seeds? Doesn¡¯t someone have to press the image?¡± The vice grip amplified its hold. Malcolm¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Someone else found them and grew them. Terrence, you gotta go-¡± Terrence looked up in thought¡­ Who made the portal then? He closed his eyes, straining to recall the details. It was like trying to remember a dream, similar to when he tried to remember Lake Dorson¡­ Surging at light speed through a portal¡­ stretching¡­ Nikki¡¯s cries for help¡­ senses cast into muddled chaos¡­ ¡­ Did anyone soar past him? An Ariados? A soldier? Anyone? He could¡¯ve missed them. But¡­ how would someone miss an abnormally-elongated individual? Was there anyone else in that chamber besides Nikki? Terrence put paws to his head in frustration. Who else was there? There was that horrifying gryphon, but that was a monster well on the other side of that wall. No way it could¡¯ve done this. He saw no soldiers. There were the ones they hid from when Malcolm first saved them, but none of them discussed a portal. Only other one was Malcolm himself. Good thing he happened to be there to rescue them- His mind froze. The color drained from his face. His limbs became liquid. He stared agape at Malcolm. Malcolm winced in return; he couldn¡¯t bear to look at Terrence¡¯s mortified expression. ¡°¡­ YOU grew that portal!¡± Terrence felt himself collapse into a pile of bones and skin. Reality dissolved into a choking haze. ¡°And I-I WASTED it!¡± An inconsolable Terrence melted into a pale, yellow heap. His dirt-encrusted form heaved as he sobbed into the ground. Nikki couldn¡¯t grasp what was happening but started to cry too. ¡°Terrence!¡± Malcolm flicked away the little moisture that accumulated in his eyes. ¡°It was an accident. You didn¡¯t mean it¡­ if the Ariados hadn¡¯t-¡± White noise against the barrage of asphyxiating guilt. He just had to play his stupid game in the forest instead of stay in his tent like Mom and Dad said. He and Nikki would¡¯ve never fallen into the portal. Malcolm would¡¯ve been reunited with his loving family. Instead, no wife or kids to greet him again. No vindication as Revaria¡¯s hero. What was his reward? A final night wasting away in a dark alley, unable to walk. An evildoer sought by a malicious, slandering government... After all Malcolm did to ensure Terrence and his sister had a chance make it home¡­ Terrence repaid him by destroying his only escape. Amidst the tears, another sound permeated the night. A distant, motorized murmur. Terrence bristled. Suffocating dread filled him. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± Malcolm alerted. ¡°Take the bag and go.¡± Terrence pulled at Malcolm¡¯s right leg, his puny arms doing little. ¡°No! N-no, you have to get up! There¡¯s still time! Help me, Nikki!¡± She stood beside him and pulled. No use; Malcolm was dead weight. The whirring drew nearer. Malcolm couldn¡¯t stand to look outside. ¡°Come on!¡± Blood thundered through Terrence¡¯s ears; his shaking limbs made an already impossible job harder. ¡°Don¡¯t gib up Mr. Malcolm!¡± Nikki didn¡¯t relent. Malcolm shook them off. ¡°Leave or they¡¯ll capture you too. They¡¯ll see you trying to help me and, if you interfere, they¡¯ll see you as an enemy.¡± Malcolm explained forcefully, then rested against the wall again. His eyes drifted upward. ¡°¡­ You have to accept it¡¯s over, Terrence.¡± Terrence¡¯s crippled morale atrophied completely under Malcolm¡¯s proclamation. The helicopters were getting closer. He had to accept defeat. Malcolm held out the bag with the flowers and vial to Terrence. The Fennekin accepted them, arms numb. The tears continued. ¡°I-I¡­ I just wanted to help¡­¡± He sniffled. ¡°You helped me all this way a-and¡­ all I did was ruin everything¡­¡± He looked down, unable to meet Malcolm¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± The roar of the helicopters began overpowering his words. Spotlights hovered menacingly in Malcolm¡¯s periphery. He put a consoling hand over Terrence¡¯s hunched back. The fox peered pathetically at him from behind his paws. Wistful solace washed over Malcolm¡¯s face. No anger. No hatred. No regrets. Just a man accepting he¡¯s lived his life to completion. His eyes met Terrence¡¯s. ¡°¡­ Go home.¡± The screeching whirs and lights gained prominence. Incoherent shouts echoed through the clamor. They knew. The hunt was over. With one last, lingering look at the man he stabbed in the back, Terrence whipped about and fled. Flowers and vial in tow. Crying, Nikki followed. - Malcolm leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and tuned out the noise. And traveled back thirty-five years. He stood at the front of the sanctuary, suited in his tuxedo. Winifred, in her wedding gown, faced him. He faced her, holding her hands steady as she restrained her excitement. His smile was modest, concealing a degree of joy (and nerves) matching hers. Two souls in their early twenties, anticipating the life and love they¡¯d soon share together. It was his turn to speak. ¡°In the name of God, I, Malcolm, take you, Winifred, to be my wife¡­¡± A haze of shouts and curses in the distance. His memory continued, shutting them out. ¡°to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse¡­ The shouts intensified. The clopping of boots reverberated through the darkened streets. ¡°for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish¡­¡± Voices alerted fellow soldiers to a shadowed alley. One pointed to a shed; his heat sensor narrowing down the life form inside. Four of them ran to inspect it, guns at their sides and trapping devices in hand. Anticipation coursed through them. This was the day Revaria waited for. This moment. Justice. Contentment coursed through Malcolm as he relived the day he waited for. He gave Winifred¡¯s hands a light squeeze, returning her gaze with utmost sincerity. ¡°¡­ until death do we part.¡± A frightened yell punctured the night. The siblings turned in time to witness the bright, white flash of the trapping device. Cheers erupted. Terrence and Nikki pressed on toward the mountains. All feeling in their nerves lost. Consciences devoid of thought. A vacation meant for fun, playing, and new sights¡­ Brought unintended misery. Chapter 11 The interminable hours of night slowly surrendered to the subdued blues and grays of dawn. Stars faded, drifting into morning¡¯s burgeoning light. Towering hills and mountains drew nearer as Terrence and Nikki stole through endless fields. A stifling quiet weighed on them, punctuated at times with sniffles or tears. Nikki shed most of them. Terrence hardly made a sound. Even if he weren¡¯t carrying the bag with his mouth, few words would¡¯ve found voice. His mind was blank. He was a robot. Run¡­ run¡­ run some more¡­ Go home. The only times he stopped was to peer back over his shoulder to make sure Nikki was still following. And if, maybe, Malcolm was there too. As the sun peeked over horizon behind them, Nikki stumbled. ¡°Tewwy! I¡¯m tiwed!¡± She complained, paws calloused and aching. ¡°We have to go.¡± Terrence intoned, lowering the bag. Were his feet aching? He couldn¡¯t tell; everything felt numb. ¡°I can¡¯ wun anymow!¡± She whimpered. Terrence instinctively narrowed his gaze deeper into the landscape they left behind. The glaring sun eclipsed a clear view¡­ had to squint¡­ hand above his eyes¡­ Was that a silhouette? He squinted harder¡­ rubbed extant gunk from his eyes¡­ opened them again. Dancing phosphenes sparkled and taunted his restrained vision. Was that silhouette still there? A tiny, dark blotch wavered in the distance. Terrence darted towards it, a smile slowly formed on his muzzle. ¡°Hey! Malcolm!¡± ¡°Tewwy?¡± Nikki picked up the bag and went after him. What did her brother see? The object materialized in greater detail as he approached¡­ something wasn¡¯t right. The form¡­ too wide, tall, brown¡­ and so many arms? His steps slowed as the projection stood in full height over a hill¡­ A lone cedar. Nikki joined him seconds later, panting. ¡°Tewwy! What is it?¡± She scanned their surroundings. Just them and the tree. ¡°¡­ Nothing¡­¡± Terrence hung his head. His voice as devoid of energy as before. ¡°Come on¡­ let¡¯s go.¡± They trekked into a shallow flower bed and turned in for the day. Terrence gauged they¡¯d reach the mountains the coming night. Before Nikki shut her eyes, she asked him a question. ¡°Is Mr. Malcolm coming?¡± Doleful optimism in her expression. Terrence turned and looked back from where they came, a shudder rattling his spine. ¡°I-I¡­ I hope so¡­ maybe he¡¯ll¡­¡± He sniffled. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay¡­¡± Malcolm was a hero, and heroes always found a way. He and Nikki sent clumsily-worded, yet earnest pleas to God that Malcolm would see his family again. Two measly foxes couldn¡¯t do anything, but maybe the Almighty could. Nikki fell asleep first, swaddled in the gentle flow of morning warmth. Terrence watched to make sure she was comfortable before lying down. He clutched the flowers and vial to his chest and tried to sleep. - The elegant, glass table seated Rutger, his family, and advisors who¡¯d been a major help in affirming all his decisions. Nothing but smiles and mirth as Revaria¡¯s world-class chefs prepared a sumptuous, celebratory dinner. Aromas wafting in from the kitchen teased their senses. Most of the country broke into jubilation following Rutger¡¯s victory speech. Revaria¡¯s greatest criminal was behind bars, never to harm another soul. Justice was a reality. Good won. Evil lost. Rutger¡¯s eyes shifted to the photo portraits lining the polished oak wall. The gleam of new finish accompanied the confident stares meeting his own. The president, vice president, heads of department, other government officials of high rank. The gap where Ohara¡¯s portrait used to hang would be replaced with Rutger¡¯s once officially appointed as head of the DVDC. At thirty-four, he would be the youngest one on that wall. The overflow of attention and success nudged him into considering a presidential run. Why not? His country loved him. The chefs marched out with the long-awaited entrees. The sublime aroma of seasoned prime rib summoned Rutger from his daydream. The side of chive-speckled cheesy mashed potatoes rivaled the mouth-watering ribs. A heavy, filling meal; only enjoyed when Rutger commemorated landmark success. That made it more special. He ate nothing else all day just to save room. When was the last time he had this? Must¡¯ve been¡­ Rutger tilted his head up in thought. His life was defined by success, but it had been years since eating this exact meal. He closed his eyes, memories relaying through his mind like a movie reel- ¡°Psst!¡± An elbow nudged his side. ¡°What?¡± Rutger scowled at Dennis, sitting to his right. The Grumpig subtly gestured to the rest of the table with a glance. ¡°Remember¡­?¡± Oh right, his speech. Have to toast everyone who helped make the hunt a success. All eyes beheld him expectantly. His wife to his left, nudged him too. ¡°Alright, alright.¡± He mumbled and stood, his mind still sidetracked with the past. Absentmindedly, he picked up his glass of champagne. Everyone else stood, glasses in their hands or paws. A few raised eyebrows at his unprepared demeanor, but who could blame him? Working twenty-four-seven to ensure Revaria¡¯s safety was exhausting; Rutger deserved to be tired. Rutger composed himself and started his toast. His wife, advisors, the soldiers who sacrificed their lives hunting Ohara, the soldiers who found him, the doctors who worked tirelessly to combat the virus, and President Banks for giving him the reins and trusting him. It was a shame the president couldn¡¯t be here. Out of nowhere, he nearly toasted Ohara before fettering his slip. Extol him? Perhaps he was drunk. But a past speech replayed in his conscience. He remained standing, but said nothing as older words echoed in his memory. ¡°To Dr. Ohara, whose endless research, tests, and most importantly, compassion, have led to the creation of Optizene. It was an honor helping with-¡± Raised eyebrows turned into concerned, awkward glances. The smile on Rutger¡¯s face slowly faded. Slowly, he lowered his champagne onto the table. The dulled clink of glass against the gold coaster was the only sound he made. He left the room without another word. - The Thievul, Officer Bernard Cox, from the Pinta Valley Police Department, stood in silence in the station¡¯s break room. Slouched against the wall, mostly-consumed cigarette in hand, staring blankly out the window at the starless night. The scant personnel present were mostly filling out paperwork. If there was a local emergency, they¡¯d be enough to handle it. Most of the force was out celebrating Malcolm¡¯s capture and being the media¡¯s center of attention. Without them, that murderer would still be on the loose. One more prolonged draft of the cigarette and it became little more than a smoldering nub. He walked outside and stamped it out. Out came another cigarette from his coat pocket. The previous one was supposed to be his last for now, but decided one more wouldn¡¯t hurt. There was too much on his mind. He¡¯d stop for real once the chief of police arrived. Give him his letter of resignation and start a new job in a few weeks. Spineless cowards shouldn¡¯t serve as enforcers of the law. He wouldn¡¯t have been able to save Malcolm, but his unspoken sentiments the past couple of days would haunt him the rest of his life. Bernard was about to light his cigarette when an orange silhouette formed in the distance. The Thievul focused his stare at the muscular, broad-shouldered figure. Something was slung over his shoulder, but his identity was instantly recognizable. The fox walked towards him. ¡°Reuben?¡± The Incineroar made eye contact but didn¡¯t answer. As Reuben came closer, Bernard saw more detail in the bag. Folds and creases weighed the bottom. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± Bernard instinctively stood in his way despite being half his height. Reuben can¡¯t just disappear for weeks and bring an unknown object to the station without probing. ¡°Go back in; I¡¯ll tell you.¡± Reuben kept his voice low. ¡°And everything that happens; stay quiet about it, ¡®kay?¡± Bernard frowned. He didn¡¯t move, but his heart raced. Was it his last, whimpering resolve to show courage? ¡°This is suspicious; what¡¯s going on?¡± Reuben gave an annoyed grunt and knelt to Bernard¡¯s level. Bag still slung over shoulder, he whispered into his ear. Bernard¡¯s hairs stood on end. Into the station they walked. Good thing hardly anyone else was here. - Four hours of sleep later, Terrence¡¯s eyes opened. Nikki was curled up beside him, steeped in a dream he would soon end. A sun partially eclipsed with gray clouds shone overhead, washing them in mild warmth. Terrence stretched his limbs and scanned his surroundings for Malcolm. Not there. The land was bereft of life, save for the Fennekins and occasional outlying bird. ¡°Hey¡­¡± He nudged the side of her face with his paw. ¡°We have to go¡­¡± His eyes shifted to the mountains. A few miles away, hook left to find the forest, then the cave. Her muzzle twitched and she weakly batted at his paw. She opened her eyes and yawned. The beleaguered foxes craved another few hours of sleep, but home couldn¡¯t wait. Fight through the aches and exhaustion. Hibernate when you¡¯re back in your own beds. After chomping on some flowers, hardly satisfying their appetites, they pressed on. One mile. Two miles. Three miles¡­ The land blended together in a hazy blur. The rocks, trees, vegetation, rivulets, streams, ponds¡­ a homogeneous mosaic Terrence hated more and more with every step. To never see it again. Never again suffer a sleepless day here. Never again tread through a land where evil triumphed over good. Whoever concocted this backwards, nightmare hellscape deserved to be incinerated. Terrence didn¡¯t stop looking over his shoulder intermittently, convinced Malcolm would catch up any moment. This nightmare had to have been only that¡­ a nightmare. The hero would make it out somehow. Early evening swaddled the landscape and the siblings stopped to rest. A pond tucked into a pine grove nestled against the mountain base provided their oasis. Quiet, save for the chirping of crickets and scuttling of tiny critters giving the foxes space. Nikki went to lap up the fresh water while her brother waded through tall weeds into the trees. ¡°Whew aw you going?¡± She asked, water dripping from her nose. ¡°Not far¡­ don¡¯t worry.¡± Terrence barely looked back before continuing. He disappeared behind a tree. Nikki resumed drinking. Terrence was cloaked in the trees¡¯ shadows. Cool, dry grass crunched under his calloused feet as he trudged towards a different pond. Minuscule streaks of waning sunlight glinted into his eyes. Another endless night crawled upon them. This pond was smaller than the other one, but just as clear. He stopped at its edge and looked into it, shoulders hunched. It was the first time he saw himself this clearly since trapped in Revaria. The Fennekin peering back at him didn¡¯t look like Terrence. Face was thinner. Fur unkempt. A tuft of hair grew on his chin. He was gaunt¡­ were those outlines his ribs? He felt his chest with his paw and quietly gasped. The curved protrusions were unmistakable. Come to think of it¡­ Nikki changed too. He didn¡¯t realize it due to seeing her every day, but the journey thinned her out too. His mouth watered thinking about gorging on walleye tacos, but the thought quickly perished. The disheveled face glaring at him scowled with bared fangs. What comfort did he deserve? With extended claws, he yelled and swiped at his reflection, splashing water everywhere. Tears welled up in his eyes and Nikki scurried in. ¡°Tewwy! Aw you okay?¡± He looked away, trying not to cry. She surrounded him with a hug. ¡°You going be okay, Tewwy.¡± The two remained a while longer as night crawled upon them. Terrence brushed away the last bit of moisture and managed normal breaths again. He gently removed himself from Nikki¡¯s hug. ¡°¡­ Thank you.¡± He intoned. He gathered the flowers and vial, and off they went. - Reuben, Bernard, and two others convened in the research lab. A row of empty seats lined a row of blank monitors. Reuben let the bag down and positioned himself before the door to dissuade anyone from leaving until allowed. Bernard took a seat before one of the computers, careful not to let the chair squeak, and turned it on. ¡°Should I-?¡± Bernard started, but Reuben interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ll use my credentials.¡± The towering feline reoriented the keyboard and entered his name and password. ¡°If this goes wrong, I¡¯ll take the blame.¡± The bag stirred, startling the other two. They were here more as hostages, as they happened to be present when Reuben entered. They were not to disclose anything they were about to see. No one wanted to be the object of Reuben¡¯s anger. ¡°You can come out of the bag now.¡± Reuben said as the display loaded. All eyes except his turned. Reuben told the others who it was, but it was jarring seeing her before their very eyes. A pale, scrawny Umbreon slunk from the sack like a cat summoned by her disapproving owner. The weight of the others¡¯ stares made Leticia want to dissolve into the ground, but she promised to help. That Reuben didn¡¯t snap her like a twig back in the hovel was a miracle of mercy itself. Would these other three try something though? Reuben swiveled the chair around to let her climb onto it. The Umbreon did so, mumbling an enervated ¡®thank you.¡¯ ¡°R-reuben,¡± a Heliolisk hostage, stammered. ¡°Wh-why¡¯s she here? I mean-¡± ¡°Found her while hunting for Ohara.¡± Reuben answered. ¡°Claims the virus is Rutger¡¯s doing, so I¡¯m making her prove it.¡± Leticia said nothing as she pulled up BioComp¡¯s server page. Despite the destruction of the building and execution of most of the employees, it was still up. No one was running it anymore, but as long as Leticia¡¯s credential¡¯s worked¡­ All the emails should still be there. Not even Rutger had the authority to tamper with them. ¡°One momeent¡­ should be soon¡­¡± Leticia¡¯s voice trembled. A spinning gray circle occupied the center of the screen as the site loaded. Reuben drummed his fingers against the top of the chair as he stood behind her. Her heart beat faster. He could snap her neck right now. Seconds later, a litany of email correspondences materialized on the display. She released a sigh of relief. Everything was there. ¡°Everyone¡­ look at thees¡­¡± She toggled the brightness to make sure the others could see them. ¡°I open one at time, and you see Rutger iss gueelty.¡± She opened the first one, the incipient exchange between Finley and Rutger. Slowly and incredulously, their eyes pored over each word. Another email¡­ then another¡­ and another¡­ Reuben clenched his fists and pictured caving in Rutger¡¯s skull with them. Some anger was directed at himself. He would¡¯ve soaked his hands in innocent blood had he found Malcolm instead of Leticia. - Along the mountain the foxes traversed. Bumpy, rocky, minute pebbles occasionally pricked their exposed feet. Terrence slogged through them, stopping only because Nikki complained every time something pierced her soles. A vexed growl seeped through his teeth. He was about to snap at her, but a different thought found purchase in his mind. ¡°Hey¡­ how ''bout¡­ I race you to that tree?¡± Terrence gestured at a lone baobab several hundred feet away. ¡°¡­ bet you can¡¯t beat me.¡± The left corner of his mouth was upturned ever so slightly. ¡°If you win, uh¡­ then I have to be Riley for Halloween.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. An excited grin formed on Nikki¡¯s muzzle. She needed no further convincing. They could both be Riley on Halloween! ¡°Okay!¡± She trotted to him and awaited the starter¡¯s pistol. Determined gazes fastened to the tree. The two poised themselves to sprint. Sideways glances were exchanged. Nikki returned his subtle smirk; she was totally going to win this one. Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­ Go! The siblings darted across the stone-festooned ground. Terrence took the lead; he¡¯d turn his head and stick his tongue out at her if not for the bag in his mouth. She scowled, picking up speed. The pebbles suddenly didn¡¯t hurt anymore. Terrence slowed himself down just enough to let her slip past. She garnered more speed, flinging granules in her wake. As Nikki neared the tree, Terrence gathered just enough speed to finish a split second behind her. ¡°Aw shucks! You win! Guess I have to be Riley now.¡± He shrugged. ¡°YAY!¡± Nikki squealed, not noticing the pebble-pricks and teeny trickles of blood in her soles until they took a bath in a nearby stream. Afterward followed a meal of those large grapes they ate the last time they were in the baobab forest. Home was near. - As promised, Reuben escorted Leticia back to secluded wilderness after she delivered what she promised. The evidence was squarely in the hands of the Pinta Valley Police Department. How quickly remorse took place of euphoria among the force; thinking themselves heroes while dancing with the villain. Knowing how easily Rutger could silence them added trepidation to sorrow. How would a small town force manage to use the evidence to convict a tyrant? Reuben would plan a solution soon. For now, he wanted to get rid of Leticia. He reached the hovel he found her in and let her out. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Reuben crossed his arms and scowled. ¡°Only reason you¡¯re alive is because you helped us find out the guilty party¡­¡± He shook his head and looked down. ¡°But you still played a part in killing my daughter¡­ and who knows how many other children... I can¡¯t forgive that.¡± He shot a glare her direction. She looked down and sniffled. ¡°I am sorry, sir¡­ I never meant for that...¡± Reuben was silent for a few seconds before talking. ¡°¡­ I¡¯ll let you live and won¡¯t turn you in but¡­ I swear¡­¡± He stooped enough so there¡¯d be no way she¡¯d mishear his next promise. He kept his tone level, but absent of mercy. ¡°If I ever see you again¡­¡± The crack of his knuckles as he flexed them made her bristle with dread. She merely nodded and crawled back behind the hay. Reuben walked back to the station. - Terrence bolted up from a deep sleep. A voice calling his and Nikki¡¯s names. The young Fennekin scrammed out from the hole under the baobab and into the night-saddled forest. ¡°Malcolm! Over here!¡± His voice reverberated into the easterly wind. He stopped and listened. No reply. Just the rustling of leaves and snapping of loose twigs from their branches. ¡°MALCOLM!¡± Even louder. One¡­ two¡­ three seconds¡­ Nothing. A trick of the wind? Sleight of hand from his dreams? An agonized yell erupted from his throat and he turned to go back to the burrow. May as well rouse Nikki and- He stopped dead in his tracks. Something moved along the ground several feet ahead. Curving, serpentine motions slithering towards the den. Opaque moonlight glinted off its scales. ¡°Tewwy?¡± Nikki¡¯s little head popped up from the hole. She screamed when she realized the adder and scampered to her brother. Except he bounded after the snake. A violent hiss escaped its muzzle as the fox bore his fangs into its neck. It thrashed vehemently, blood seeped from its mouth and dripped over its head as the vulpine beast tore into it. Terrence didn¡¯t relent. His fangs and claws continued shredding away. No mercy. Make it suffer. Reduce it to ribbons. ¡°Tewwy?!¡± All the color drained from Nikki¡¯s face. She timidly tapped him on the shoulder; maybe they should leave now- He didn¡¯t stop, decimating what little remained. It was impossible to tell it used to be a snake, let alone a living thing. He could¡¯ve incinerated the reptile, but instant disintegration didn¡¯t have the cathartic satisfaction tearing it to ribbons did. Nothing he just did made sense to him, but that didn¡¯t stop him from beholding the massacre with grim contentment. He hated that snake more than anything. It had to die. Horribly. Nikki stared at him with widened eyes. His deadpan expression, emotionless eyes staring back at her, snout caked in slimy, reptilian ichor. She couldn¡¯t comprehend the pain in his face, but knew it was there. ¡°We¡¯w be okay, Tewwy¡­ thank you.¡± She hugged him, not minding the fragments of adder sticking to her. Terrence¡¯s mind and body numb, he stood there. Minutes passed without a word. Sunlight began seeping through the forest, bathing them in silk-like warmth. They ate quietly, then set off for the cave. At the next stream, Terrence gathered water into his vial. A bath would be good, but this close to home, it was not urgent. The adder was already shrouded in a distant dream. - It was mid-afternoon when Terrence¡¯s ears perked up. In the middle of the baobab forest¡­ trees for miles¡­ ¡°Hey!¡± He bounded to a particular-shaped crevasse in the crook of two roots. ¡°This¡¯s where we hid! Remember? We¡¯re close!¡± To the best of his recollection, he retraced the same steps Malcolm strode days ago. Nikki¡¯s tail wagged excitedly as she skipped after him. The sights¡­ sounds¡­ smells¡­ It all came back. Minutes later, the top of a massive blue hill rose over the canopy. The ground hardened with the texture of stone, dried mud, and dead grass. No footprints left their mark, but the area was unmistakable. A gaping hole awaited them at the end of a path overlain with weeds and crabgrass. Shebaton Caverns. The foxes picked up speed. A frenzied amalgamation of emotions whirled about in their spirits. After all these harrowing days and obstacles¡­ They¡¯d be at Lake Dorson in just over an hour. They scampered through the short, stony vestibule into the mammoth chamber. The Gothic architecture and forest of fragmented obsidian pillars dwarfed the foxes into submission. The statues stood as Terrence remembered. A rusted, marble effigy of a Blastoise gazed upon them from his throne atop an endless flight of stairs. Robed, wielding a scepter with an iron grip, eyes stoic with unwavering authority, commanding respect from his subjects- ¡°Tewwy?¡± Nikki broke him from his trance. ¡°What aw you wooking at?¡± ¡°Uh, nothing¡­ Come on, let¡¯s go.¡± The soil was a little tough, but Terrence managed a shallow rut sufficient for the seed. Carefully, he opened the bag and took one of the flowers. The seeds were where Malcolm said they¡¯d be. He plucked one, plopped it into the groove, and swept the mound of dirt over it. Next, he twisted the cap off the vial with a shaky paw and let the water tumble onto the mound. Down it seeped. The thud of Terrence¡¯s heart reverberated in his ears as he waited. His eyes were transfixed to the dirt. Thankfully, little waiting was needed. A blue bud no larger than a centimeter pushed the dirt aside and rose quickly into the air. The stem followed suit at a rate resembling those short, sped-up videos showing flowers growing over several days. ¡­ Except it was happening in real time. The siblings were dumbfounded, afraid of what¡¯d happen if they touched it, but also amazed. Only grass-type Pokemon could enact rapid vegetative growth; a mere seed accomplishing this was something they¡¯d probably never see again. Not five minutes later, the flower stood slightly taller than Terrence and started glowing. Not bright enough to blind them, but enough to make them squint. The petals unfurled and a pale blue beam shone from the center, disappearing into the infinite ceiling. The familiar, monotone hum accompanied it. A white, secondary beam arose from the center, much smaller and wider. It propagated itself as would a film projector. An image of Earth formed at the widest part, like a screen. Terrence reached tentatively at the stem to pull the image towards him, as he wouldn¡¯t be able to reach it otherwise. ¡°Nikki, hold the stem there so I can make the portal.¡± She did and her brother began to look for Lake Dorson. His finger went to touch the screen, but went through it. A quick gasp. Was it not going to work? He shook his head and gulped the incipient panic down, trying again. He met the image with the tip of the same finger, stopped, then tried to toggle the image. It worked. A swipe to the right rotated the Earth right. Left swipe took it left. Contrary finger motions zoomed in and out of various geographic locations. Mountains, oceans, cities, all a finger-breadth apart. ¡°Okay¡­ okay¡­¡± He mumbled, finding California and zooming in to the southern part of it. Freeways¡­ hills¡­ mountain ranges¡­ bile simmered up as he realized there were no written labels for these landmarks. What did Lake Dorson look like from above? ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ we¡¯ll¡­ we¡¯ll get it.¡± He gulped again. ¡°Maybe¡­ if I find um, that¡­¡± THERE! The twisting freeway wending its way through that mountain! He recalled looking at this exact thing with his dad the night before the drive. He traced a tremulous finger upward¡­ Forest¡­ More forest¡­ Lake! He zoomed in further¡­ another gasp. Tents! Small, ant-like figures milling about near the lake and other parts of the campground! The lighting suggested the sun was about to set. Perfect. By the time the portal formed, everyone should be in bed. Away from the forest. Hurriedly, he swiped to a clearing a short distance into the forest, uttered a quick prayer, and held his finger in that spot. After a few seconds, concentric blue rings radiated from the spot his finger touched, like ripples in a pond. Eventually, the entire screen filled with blue, veiling the image. The humming shifted pitch a quarter-tone higher. The portal started to form. ¡°You can let go now, thank you.¡± He said. Nikki released the stem and the flower resumed an upright position. ¡°Aw we going soon?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± A weak smile crossed his face and he looked back at the entrance. ¡°We¡¯ll be out of here in an hour¡­ So¡­ guess we¡¯ll hang out or something¡­¡± With time to kill, they went to look around at all the different curios. This vast museum of a chamber begged weeks and months of appreciation; Terrence was grateful for an hour. - Two panting Fennekins stood atop the stairs before the giant Blastoise. They had to stand several feet away just to avoid needing to crane their necks to see his face. The cannoned behemoth harbored cracks and minute gaps, but it seemed no length of age could completely mar his majesty. He sat on his throne, but would¡¯ve been over twenty feet tall were he built standing on two legs. Despite not living, the aggrandized tortoise was enough to command silence from the children. Terrence made sure his claws were retracted as much as was possible, not wishing to scratch the floor and anger him. Something was inscribed on the pedestal the king¡¯s feet were planted on. The centuries, possibly millennia, weren¡¯t sufficient to obscure the mounted gold plate. Head lowered, Terrence stepped lightly towards it. Nikki scampered after. ¡°What dat?¡± Nikki whispered. Terrence didn¡¯t answer. He reached the pedestal, brushed the dust off the plate, and tried to read it. Despite the grime caked into the letters and numbers, they were legible¡­ sort of. ¡°What it say?¡± Nikki asked. Terrence grunted. It resembled English, but the words were all funny. Wilt? Thou? Shalt? He shrugged. Should¡¯ve expected the archaic talk. He tried reading from the top. ¡°For¡­ for rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt th¡­ thou¡­ then not be afraid of the power? Do that which is good, and th¡­ thou sh-shalt have praise of the same¡­ oh, there¡¯s more¡­¡± His eyes drifted under the block of text. ¡°Romans thirteen three¡­ Oh¡­ wait, this is the Bible?¡± At least it sounded like it? Church was that time every Sunday he got to doodle on the back of his papers and occasionally absorb part of a verse. Romans sounded like a Bible thing. ¡°What dat mean?¡± Nikki tilted her head. Terrence tilted his too. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± He could ask his parents about it later. Must¡¯ve been important enough for this ancient monarch to have it embossed on a gold plate and nailed to this pedestal. And it was from the Bible, a book about God, an infinitely powerful Being Terrence at least knew was good and punished evil. He paid enough attention to get that. The dim ember in his soul told him Malcolm would make it, somehow. Sunday school, regular school, movies, video games¡­ They told him Malcolm was the kind of man who deserved good. It was going to happen. Down the stairs the siblings went. An hour must have nearly passed and they needed to be there when the portal formed. - Terrence and Nikki waited before the glowing flower. The humming persisted. Anxiety mounted, tightening the nerves in Terrence¡¯s chest. Minutes always dragged slower and slower relative to how much you anticipated their end. The ground began shaking, making the siblings step backwards. Nikki squealed and hid behind Terrence, who stood his ground. The blue shaft of light shooting up into the ceiling widened. The humming waxed greater in volume, almost having to make them cover their ears. The newly-formed hole where the flower once stood beckoned them in. A wistful smile formed on Terrence¡¯s face and he turned to face the cave entrance. ¡°Tewwy, is Mr. Malcolm coming?¡± Nikki tugged at his arm. Terrence took a hesitant step toward the portal, keeping his eyes on the entrance. ¡°¡­ Yes.¡± Terrence held a longing gaze on the unoccupied entrance before turning to the portal. He wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°¡­ Let¡¯s go.¡± They held hands and, on the count of three, jumped through the cosmic threshold. Galaxies¡­ stars¡­ nebulae¡­ everything whizzed by. Terrence and Nikki held hands the whole way. The further they traveled, the more Revaria became a dream... The portal faded minutes later. The brown, wilted flower lay crumpled beside the vial and unused flowers. - A Lilligant, Yolanda Nolan, tidied the front desk of Lake Dorson¡¯s camp office. Two minutes to eight, it was time to turn in. Pens clattered into a cup holder and forms were filed chronologically into drawers and dividers. Notes to return calls were stuck to the computer monitor¡¯s lower frame. Yolanda looked once more at the corkboard where the notices for the missing Fennekin children were posted. ¡°Poor things¡­¡± She muttered to herself, remembering the raw distress of their parents when they rushed into her office several days ago. Gerald doing his best to relate what he knew while trying to comfort his inconsolable wife. Yolanda did everything she could to wrangle as much of a search party as possible to sleuth the campgrounds for their little ones. Rumors circulated about a portal because of the characteristic blue light, but no one could explain why it and the Fennekins vanished without a trace. Yolanda feared the worst, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her from praying for them each night. She sighed and walked over to shut off the light. Something caught her eye outside the window. Two small, yellow figures limping towards the office. Scraggly, anemic, filthy¡­ ¡°You poor babies!¡± She gasped, flinging the door open and running out to gather them. The foxes took a wary step back, not knowing this plant lady. They relaxed when it became apparent she was there to help them. Terrence and Nikki waited on a cushioned chair in the office while Yolanda placed calls. First, their parents. They were in a motel a few miles down the road, having stayed in the area since losing their children. She called the police next and informed them the missing children had been found alive. ¡°Are you hungry or hurt?¡± She asked, approaching them to inspect their conditions. Nikki was dirty and paws red, but otherwise healthy. Terrence was a mess. She asked him about the blood on his muzzle and scabs around his claws. He hung his head and sniffled. She patted him on the back; if he didn¡¯t want to talk about it, that was okay. She offered food from the miniature fridge in the back room, a couple of ham sandwiches and bottled water (of which she poured into a bowl so they could drink it easier). The food was barely set before them before being reduced to crumbs. Their wagging tails and expectant expressions suggested they wanted more. ¡°I have chips too-¡± She started, turning to fetch them when headlight beams shone through the window. The timbre of the engine was familiar. Nikki squealed and darted out the door. Terrence scampered after. Gerald and Michelle barely had time to open their doors before their children leapt into their arms. ¡°Nikki!¡± Her father clutched his crying daughter, hand over the back of her head as she soaked the tuft of hair on his chest. He gently rocked her back and forth as he let his own tears drip down. Michelle cradled her son, tightly holding him as though warding off anything else that would wrest him from her arms. ¡°My baby¡­ my baby¡­¡± She managed through intermittent sobs. ¡°Never again¡­ never again¡­¡± She wiped her eyes and continued holding him. No words came to Terrence¡¯s mind as he shed his share of tears. All that happened over the last several days; all his emotions, all the danger, Malcolm¡¯s absence¡­ Let Mom smother him with hugs. He didn¡¯t want it to end. Soon, police arrived to take statements. The two officers found the family in their car; either parent quietly embracing their child. One officer, a Raichu, went into the office to take a statement from Yolanda. Gerald noticed the other officer, a uniformed Cinderace approach them. He lowered Nikki while still holding her. The tall rabbit apologized for interrupting and asked if either child wished to make a statement. Nikki faced the stranger with curious eyes. ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Gerald answered. ¡°You want to tell the nice policeman what happened?¡± Nikki¡¯s ears drooped and she moaned. ¡°It¡¯s okay, sweetie,¡± The fire rabbit said, his stance relaxed. ¡°Just do your best. If you don¡¯t want to talk, that¡¯s okay.¡± Nikki tried her best to relate everything she could remember. The portal, the scary robot-lion-bird thing, Mr. Malcolm, the backpack, all the walking. Her paws were upturned in a way that made the minor callouses and cuts visible to the officer. The Cinderace thanked her for her time, then made his way around to Terrence. ¡°You did good, Nikki.¡± Gerald whispered. Knowing his son¡¯s imagination, he was apprehensive hearing about how Terrence would describe their experiences. Knowing about the portal and monster wracked his nerves enough. The dark red coating his son¡¯s snout made him shudder. He held Nikki a little tighter. The Cinderace stood before Michelle and Terrence. Michelle wiped her eyes and faced him. ¡°Sorry¡­ I¡¯m such a mess.¡± ¡°No worries, ma¡¯am.¡± He smiled warmly. ¡°Just wanted to see if your son wanted to talk about what happened.¡± His notepad was out, partially filled with Nikki¡¯s testimony. Plenty of room remained for her brother¡¯s. Terrence turned his head slightly so the officer was in his periphery. The tall rabbit waited, meeting the fox¡¯s sideways gaze. The bloodied muzzle ignited questions in his mind, but better to let the child speak. Seconds passed before Terrence buried his face into his mom¡¯s hair tuft and sobbed. Michelle patted his back. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ it¡¯s okay¡­¡± She faced the officer again and apologized. ¡°I understand... We¡¯re just glad your children are back safe and sound.¡± He reached into one of his coat pockets and produced a card. He gave it to Michelle. A list of local child therapists with their names and numbers. ¡°They¡¯re good people,¡± the Cinderace added, resting a hand on the open door. ¡°Reach out to any of them, you know, if you need.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Michelle gazed at the card a little longer before pocketing it into the center cup holder. ¡°I think¡­ we should just go home, unless you need anything else.¡± He shook his head and removed his hand. ¡°You¡¯re good to go. An officer¡¯ll visit in the next couple of weeks to check in on you, but we¡¯re done here. Thank you for your time and drive safely.¡± ¡°Thanks. Goodnight.¡± Gerald gave a cursory wave and shut his door. Michelle closed hers and her husband instructed his kids to buckle up before starting the engine. Belts buckled, headlights on, doors locked, they left for home. Gerald remembered his promise to let Terrence pick a song on the way home. He asked him, peering at him through the rearview mirror. Terrence stared without response out the window. As if searching. Chapter 12 (Final) That night rolled drowsily by. Gerald and Michelle were fatigued, but filled with gratitude. Nothing but weary smiles on their faces as they tucked their children in. Nikki drifted to sleep during the drive. Terrence was exhausted, but too wired to acquiesce to slumber. He sat up, a red-eyed gaze fixed to his bedroom window. His dad lingered before bidding him goodnight. ¡°¡­ Sure you¡¯re okay? Wanna talk about anything?¡± Terrence hesitantly shook his head. He wanted to nod, mind swimming with too many thoughts, but the things he wanted to talk about pained him to address. ¡°Alright,¡± Gerald yawned. He turned to go to his own bed when he stopped. ¡°¡­ If you wanna sleep with the light on, that¡¯s okay.¡± Terrence nodded. He hadn¡¯t slept with the light on since he was a toddler, but wouldn¡¯t mind tonight. ¡°Thanks.¡± He mumbled. ¡°I love you, son.¡± Gerald tousled his headfur. ¡°Goodnight.¡± ¡°Love you too, Dad.¡± Terrence felt a pang in his heart and looked up at him. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry¡­ about everything¡­ about leaving the tent...¡± Gerald knelt beside him and looked him in the eyes. ¡°I forgive you, buddy¡­ we¡¯re just happy you¡¯re back.¡± There was one last hug before Gerald went to bed. He left Terrence¡¯s door ajar and the light on. Terrence was alone; the only sound in his room was the spinning ceiling fan over his bed. Time faded into a nebulous reality as Terrence stared out his window. Even with the light on, the outside world was visible. Should a blue beam of light shoot up into the sky, he wouldn¡¯t miss it. Or, maybe Malcolm made it back after Terrence and his family left Lake Dorson and was seeking a new home? At various points throughout the night, he¡¯d get up and look out the kitchen window. Maybe Malcolm would be walking down his street? He watched¡­ waited¡­ watched¡­ waited¡­ Midnight became one o¡¯ clock¡­ which became two o¡¯ clock¡­ His eyes grew heavier¡­ No blue light or Malcolm. His tail would wag at the sight of an errant pedestrian, only to realize it was nobody he knew. Three o¡¯ clock¡­ Four¡­ Five¡­ A touch of blue and gray dabbed the eastern horizon. One by one, street lights flickered off and birds chirped a new song to herald a fresh day. When Michelle woke up and went to start the coffee, she discovered Terrence sleeping on the table. His body was pointed toward the window as though he¡¯d been keeping guard, but drifted off. She scooped him into her arms and laid him in his own bed. With a light kiss on his forehead, she bid him peaceful dreams and left, quietly closing his door. - For every sleepless night Terrence waded through. the deeper into the throes of despair he sunk. No blue beams of light. No Malcolm. No sign the hero triumphed over the villain. Gerald ambled to the kitchen one night for water and was greeted to the sight of his crestfallen son staring outside. Gerald stood by him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°D-did¡­¡± Terrence stammered. ¡°did you see any blue lights o-or a Weavile l-lately? Like, outside?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t; I¡¯m sorry. What¡¯s his name?¡± ¡°Malcolm¡­ I¡­ I just¡­ h-he helped us¡­ He wanted to come to Earth too¡­¡± He sniffled, averting his gaze in shame. Gerald nodded. This had to be the ¡®Mr. Malcolm¡¯ Nikki referred to when the Cinderace talked to her. He put a comforting hand on his back. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll make it soon.¡± ¡°Th-they¡­¡± Terrence¡¯s face reddened as he started to cry. ¡°caught him a-and they¡¯re g-gonna kill him if he doesn¡¯t escape...¡± Gerald¡¯s ears drooped; no answer finding purchase in his voice aside from an airy platitude. He picked his son up into a hug. ¡°He¡¯ll find a way, Terrence.¡± Terrence fettered his tongue before an admission of guilt could tumble out. No matter how much the incriminating malignance chewed him up from the inside, there was no reason to tell anyone. ¡°Try to go to sleep,¡± his father said. ¡°And we¡¯ll pray for your friend, alright?¡± Terrence nodded and turned to go to his room. He stopped before taking a step, remembering wanting to ask something. ¡°Dad?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I, uh, had a question. Forgot to ask earlier¡­¡± ¡°Sure, what is it?¡± Gerald flicked on the light and sat at the table; his son taking the seat beside him. Terrence asked about the verse on the pedestal. He forgot the address, but remembered it had words like ¡®ruler,¡¯ ¡®terror,¡¯ and ¡®good works,¡¯ and mentioned doing good. Gerald thought for several seconds before realizing what Terrence was talking about. He went to retrieve his Bible and came back. ¡°This one?¡± He flipped it open. ¡°That¡¯s Romans¡­ here?¡­ Yeah, this chapter.¡± Gerald turned it towards him, finger poised over chapter thirteen, verse three. ¡°This is?¡± Terrence looked it over. ¡°Yeah.¡± Gerald was intrigued that his son somehow came across this verse, but that was a question for another time. ¡°It¡¯s saying how God intended rulers to reward and protect people who do good, as well as punish people who do evil. We have police and people in government for that reason; they¡¯re supposed to encourage good and punish bad people.¡± Terrence became locked in cognitive dissonance. ¡°Dad?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°What if¡­¡± He stuttered. ¡°The ruler¡¯s bad and punishes good people?¡± ¡°Well, sadly, that happens too.¡± His father answered. ¡°There¡¯re a lot of rulers who don¡¯t do what God wants¡­ This about Malcolm?¡± Terrence nodded. ¡°H-he was a hero¡­ but they¡­¡± His voice faltered; Gerald putting an encouraging hand on his back. ¡°¡­ They- the rulers told everyone he was evil so the real bad guy could get away with his crimes, and then th-they caught him so they could¡­ they could k-kill him¡­ W-we couldn¡¯t do anything because the bad guys were the rulers; the president hurt people and blamed Malcolm...¡± His voice was a pitiful mumble. His father was taken in stunned silence; did his kids really get involved in some worldwide drama? Was this why the portals were closed? His son continued. ¡°I-I wanted to help¡­ He helped us get home, b-but I couldn¡¯t help him¡­ it¡¯s my fault he was caught...¡± Gerald was struck dumb as he picked his son up again, seeing him about to cry. There had to have been more to the story, but Terrence could talk about it when he was ready. ¡°Hey¡­ I don¡¯t know what you went through, but it sounds really complicated. Whatever you and Malcolm did... you tried very hard to make it and, who knows? Malcolm could be okay.¡± ¡°¡­ His knee was hurt and he couldn¡¯t walk anymore¡­ He can¡¯t run away...¡± Gerald shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t give up hope. I don¡¯t know what else to say, and I wish I could say Malcolm¡¯ll make it. Even if he doesn¡¯t though, don¡¯t beat yourself up. If the rulers were all villains, winning would¡¯ve been very hard for you. You were all in a very difficult situation.¡± Terrence couldn¡¯t look up, his eyes watering. The contrition eating him from inside festered until it leapt out. ¡°...No¡­ it IS my fault¡­ Malcolm grew that portal and¡­ and¡­ I wasted it when I fell through¡­ Malcolm was so close, but I ruined it¡­ I-I¡¯m not a hero or a good guy¡­ I¡¯m bad...¡± Come on, you didn¡¯t mean it-¡± Gerald started, but his words were white noise. Choking silence enveloped Gerald as his son buried his face into the seat cushion and cried. Words were of no use; Terrence was too engulfed in guilt for consolation. The best Gerald could do was sit here with him. This didn¡¯t stop him from assuring him he was not a villain. He loved Terrence and wouldn¡¯t trade being his dad for anything in the world. Terrence had no reply, crying until his eyes ran dry from exhaustion. Gerald scooped up his defeated son; the distressed fox falling asleep after his dad laid him in his own bed. - Moribund, Malcolm sat hunched in a drab, unlit cell. A flickering ceiling light down the hall seeped across the graveled floor, grazing his feet in opaque warmth. A metallic brace clamped his muzzle shut; it was strapped so tight the leather strip near his eyes dug into his skin. His wrists and ankles were bound with the same kind of metal. The ankle bindings weren¡¯t terribly useful; he couldn¡¯t walk regardless. Even twitching his left leg would cause searing pain to tear through it. He waited for the inevitable; his mind fixated itself on muddled prayers and supplications. Best not to focus on his own fate. His family¡­ Terrence¡­ Nikki¡­ They¡¯d find out what happened to him once the portals reopened. They would be hurt more than any pain Rutger could cause him. The 2,000-volt shock would send his soul beyond the stars in a blinding flash. The shock to his family and the siblings would last the rest of their lives. Terrence would be hit much harder than Malcolm wished. The agonized sorrow in his face was the last Malcolm saw of him. ¡°God, comfort his soul too...¡± His ears perked up. Muffled, indiscernible shouts reverberated through the hallway. Whose voices were those? The bolted door impeding their yells made it difficult, though one of them was definitely Rutger. It persisted for several minutes. No doubt this was about Malcolm¡­ for better or worse. Silence replaced the contention. Muted footfalls stormed away... A click resounded through the hall. A beep¡­ a latch slid against a steel shaft¡­ another click. Warm, white light flooded into the hall as the cell block door swung open. ¡°This way.¡± An unfamiliar voice. Approaching footsteps. - A month after returning home Michelle and her son spent the better part of an hour walking the aisles of Kaylen¡¯s Bargain Market for some of this month¡¯s groceries. She typically got this done in half the time, but wanted her son to stop spending his days cooped up in his room. He never went anywhere except of necessity and, whenever his sister asked him to play with her, he ignored her. His friends eventually gave up on him as he stopped calling them or hanging out with them. He didn¡¯t care. He deserved no friends. Villains didn¡¯t deserve happiness. Terrence said little as the shopping cart filled up. At most, he uttered an incomprehensible grunt when she would ask him anything. Michelle wanted to cry, seeing him like this, but kept her composure. Healing would take time. ¡°Well, that about does it.¡± She announced as Terrence plopped the bag of tomatoes onto the carton of eggs. ¡°Thanks for helping me today.¡± She smiled and affectionately patted his head. Another sullen grunt. They stood at the back of a line stretching into the kitchenware aisle. Only two registers open and two dozen customers to ring up. Annoying on any other day, but Michelle was in no rush. ¡°So, Terrence,¡± she started. ¡°we were thinking this weekend about going to that new theme park. It¡¯s a¡­ Dave¡¯s Crazy JungleLand, I think? Looks like something you¡¯d enjoy-¡± A different voice further up the line made his ears perk. Just loud enough for him to notice. ¡°Hey... that the portal kid? ¡®e prolly knows.¡± Terrence shot an alarmed gaze toward the source of the voice. The Electabuzz cashier nodded his direction. The customer he was tending to, a Flaafy, also looked his way. Other eyes stared his way too. Formerly absorbed in just paying and leaving quickly, it wasn¡¯t long before half the store realized the ¡®portal kid¡¯ was in their midst. The weight of their stares crushed him¡­ ¡­ as though accusing. They knew. Mind blank, Terrence bolted out the door, almost knocking over incoming customers. Head down, nerves fraught. The voice of his mother calling after him was drowned out by the blood coursing through his temples. Didn¡¯t matter where he ran, so long as no one was there to heap burning scorn onto him, deserved as it was. He wished another portal would open and swallow him up. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. And take him far, far away... An hour later, his mother found him sobbing under a dumpster after combing the streets with frayed nerves. ¡°Terrence!¡± A touch of heartbreak and anger in her voice when she spotted him; why would he run like this again? Her indignation subsided in part when Terrence crawled out. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± He wiped his eyes. Michelle gathered him into her arms; her frown melted away with a low sigh. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ it¡¯s okay...¡± Healing was going to take time. - Malcolm waited with bated breath. The footfalls drew nearer. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Another voice. Feeble, shaking; strained as though having exerted all energy exerting his authority. Malcolm would¡¯ve gone agape if not for the brace. His eyes moistened, glued to the cell door. It would soon open. President Banks was here. - A warm, Friday afternoon. Gerald let out a tired moan as his fingers clicked across the keyboard. The wont of caffeine normally struck this time of day, but no amount of coffee would scratch the surface of his fatigue. Terrence kept him up nearly every night, insisting he couldn¡¯t sleep. Not only did he need to watch for Malcolm, he refused to rest his head. His dreams typically ensnared him in worlds where gryphons gobbled him up, metallic spheres absorbed him and locked him inside, and... ¡­ Malcolm was left to die. Every day, he and his wife assured Terrence he was no villain, but it always fell on deaf ears. He wallowed in guilt heavy enough to make them think he¡¯d driven a dagger through Malcolm¡¯s heart. They knew this would take grace and longsuffering, but his pain hurt them no less. Gerald shook his head sporadically as though warding off sleep and disturbing thoughts. It was challenging to write his report when his mind went dark places. How far down would Terrence¡¯s life go? Unwilling to sleep, play, or even eat for a whole month now. Terrence returned from Revaria as gaunt as a twig and had put on no weight since. He hardly tasted anything for weeks; submitting to hunger only when pushed to the limit. He¡¯d sometimes ask if his experiences could¡¯ve just been dreams. Maybe the pike that night had a rare fish disease? Obvious wishful thinking, but Gerald couldn¡¯t blame his son for thinking it could¡¯ve all been a nightmare. It pained him to counter his son. Fish-induced nightmares would¡¯ve been preferable. His eyes caught the time in the corner. Almost 2:00. With a subdued exhale, he continued the earnings report. The deadline wasn¡¯t going to wait. He emailed the finished report at 1:57 and started praying for his son right after. His face was buried in his hands and his eyes shut. A call at 1:59 interrupted him. A nervous gulp as he reached for his desk phone. Did he submit a sloppily rushed report and incur his boss¡¯ ire? A quick scan of the call screen¡­ ¡­ Unfamiliar number? His pulse slowed and he hit the speaker button. ¡°Hello. Gerald McLean, Foundry Accounting. Who am I speaking with, and how may I help you?¡± A brief conversation with the stranger followed, but it was one Gerald would never forget. They talked for a few minutes, but it was enough to pump life back into the beleaguered father. After he bid goodbye, he squinted a bit of moisture from his eyes and resumed work. - Terrence was nudged awake the next day at noon. He groggily swiped at the intruder transporting him to conscious life against his will. Three hours of sleep wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°Dad!¡± He growled, eyelids half-shut, then laid his head back onto his pillow. ¡°Up; we have a visitor coming in an hour.¡± Gerald nudged him again. ¡°I want you showered and looking nice when they arrive.¡± The undulating monotone of running bath water, accompanied with Nikki¡¯s tone-deaf singing, made him sit up. Disoriented, he couldn¡¯t put together why she was washing up at this time of the day. ¡°Dad?¡± ¡°Nikki¡¯s almost done; you¡¯re next.¡± Terrence grunted as he chucked his pillow off his bed. ¡°Why do I have to? Why¡¯s someone coming? Who even is it?!¡± Gerald kept his voice casual and face straight. ¡°They¡¯re coming to see you and Nikki. Look at you, your fur¡¯s as messy as a ragged mop. You want ¡®em to see you like that?¡± Terrence snarled. He wanted to torch whoever this visitor was; it was like they didn¡¯t care he was tired and needed to rest up for another long night. Begrudgingly, he slipped out of bed and waited his turn. Nikki belted out her tune with unmitigated gusto, not caring for anyone else¡¯s ears. ¡°Busy, buzzy little bees! Buzzing all around my knees!¡± ¡°HURRY UP!¡± Terrence barked. ¡°Be nice.¡± His mom, helping Nikki bathe, rebuked. The water was soon reduced to a trickle as Michelle turned it off. ¡°Sowwy! I¡¯m done now!¡± Nikki said. Nikki emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, dry, and rubber Riley toy in hand. Her mother followed. Terrence sheepishly apologized for yelling before going into the bathroom and closing the door. The water was turned back on. Terrence grumbled as he stepped into the tub, though his mood improved a little as the water coursed over his dirty skin and fur. Gritted teeth melted into a mere, irritated frown. Unless this visitor had something important to say, he¡¯d hop straight back into bed. After soaping himself. a blip of hope told him this had to do with Malcolm. Dad¡¯s deliberate ambiguity always resulted in welcome surprises¡­ ¡­ though he¡¯d been fooled before. The pounding behind the wall¡­ a gryphon. The plethora of pill containers¡­ none of them for pain. An adventure to prove his heroism¡­ he was a hindrance. All he could do was wait. Distracted and straddling the line between ease and dread, he took another half-hour to finish. Once out, he went to watch the window by the front door. Nikki played in her room while singing to herself. She wouldn¡¯t rush the visitor; they¡¯d get here when they were ready. Gerald and Michelle watched their son from their table. A light smile crossed their faces, watching his tail wag. Minutes ticked. The errant car whizzed by. Terrence¡¯s nerves tensed. When was the visitor getting here?! His eyes flicked intermittently from window to clock a number of times he cared not to count. ¡°Dad? When¡¯re they-¡± A modest, boxy, off-white car approached from the left end of the street and pulled into their driveway. The sun¡¯s reflection glinted off the window, shielding the visitor from view. Terrence squinted for a better look¡­ His heart raced. Who was it?! The engine shut off. The door swung open. The visitor¡¯s face moved from behind the glaring light as he swung his legs over to step out. Terrence went agape, paws over his mouth in quiet disbelief. This visit wasn¡¯t about Malcolm¡­ ¡­ It was Malcolm. ¡°NIKKI! NIKKI!¡± He bolted to her room, almost grabbing her by the nape of her neck to pull her away. ¡°Ow! What-?¡± ¡°IT¡¯S MALCOLM!¡± The two foxes skidded across the tiled foyer, nearly banging their faces into a wall. Gerald winked at his wife and calmly walked to the door. Michelle stood in anticipation of greeting their guest of honor. Terrence and Nikki crowded the door, tails swishing excitedly as their father slowly opened it. They stepped back just enough to avoid being hit, but as soon as there was space, the Fennekins zipped out to the driveway. ¡°MISTER MALCOLM!¡± Nikki squealed, running towards the Weavile. ¡°Nikki... Terrence.¡± Malcolm stooped, letting Nikki jump into his arms like an overexcited puppy. The absence of a backpack was jarring, but very welcome. Terrence couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. He stood before the scientist and froze. Despite letting Malcolm down at every turn, he survived. Moreso¡­ he was relieved to see Terrence? As it was back in the shed, and as it was now, there was no trace of bitterness or betrayal. Only gratitude. The crushing burden lifted away from Terrence¡¯s spirit; his amalgamation of emotions sent him into a mess of overjoyed tears. - The McLeans welcomed Malcolm at their table; he gratefully accepted a glass of water, but that was all. The children sat on either side of him; Terrence fidgeted, afraid he¡¯d wake up. He¡¯d dreamed four times over the month that Malcolm was safe, only for his eyes to open against the caustic glare of the midday sun. After their mother managed to get her children to calm down, they asked Malcolm about who he was and all that happened. Gerald was told some things during the phone call, but wanted to know more. Malcolm, as clearly and concisely as he could, exposited who he was, the pandemic, Rutger, fleeing to the cave, and rescuing the children. Michelle clutched a worried hand to her chest hearing about the gryphon. Nikki and Terrence had already alluded to it, but it was no less terrifying the third time. Malcolm went on to relate different details of their journey, mentioning Nikki¡¯s unabashed optimism and Terrence¡¯s constant willingness to help. The circumstances of the journey made that difficult, but he appreciated Terrence¡¯s attitude. The Fennekin looked down nervously. At some point, Malcolm would have to cancel out Terrence¡¯s heroic comportment with all the times he messed up. As soon as Malcolm described how the portals worked, the parents put together why Terrence blamed himself harshly for Malcolm¡¯s capture. Gerald put a hand on his son¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Everything was horrible timing,¡± Malcolm reiterated, taking a drink as his throat was drying out from all the explaining. ¡°That Rutger took power just before I sent the emails, or how the Ariadoses attacked me as I waited for the portal to form, or how if I¡¯d just set the portal to grow in a different part of the forest, Terrence and Nikki wouldn¡¯t have been dragged into this mess.¡± He looked Terrence and Nikki in the eyes. ¡°I am sorry you two got tangled up in this whole mess. I know you blame yourself, Terrence, but I¡¯m the one who planted the portal where I did. I brought you and your sister into all that unnecessary danger. Forgive me?¡± Terrence was taken aback. Malcolm was a hero; heroes don¡¯t apologize! ¡°I, uh, yeah? But I should be sorry¡­¡± ¡°Everyone made a mistake.¡± Malcolm nodded. ¡°But no one meant any of it¡­ mistakes happen. If you were thinking of asking for it; yes, I forgive you¡­ But... forgive yourself too.¡± Terrence groaned and looked away in shame. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to do that, at least not now. Malcolm went on to conclude his story. He was captured, sat in a dark cell for days, suffered passively through a sham trial filled with slander, returned to his cell to await death, and finally set free by President Banks. ¡°He said he had a gut feeling I was innocent and finally stood up to Rutger. He also said that the pandemic was coming to an end and that if I was interested, he would reinstate me as head of the Department of Virology and Disease Control. Charges dropped, exonerated, as if nothing happened. I was very grateful he trusted me and saved me from the chair¡­ but I don¡¯t think I want to set foot in Revaria ever again.¡± The others nodded. They wouldn¡¯t want to either. ¡°Banks understood too. He wasn¡¯t happy about my choice, but still offered to help me however he could. I asked simply for pain pills, food and water for a week¡¯s travel, and to be taken back to where I was caught. He asked why I¡¯d need such things; all I said was I had some traveling to do. I may¡¯ve had executive impunity, but that wasn¡¯t going to stop zealous vigilantes. I wanted to leave in secret.¡± Another somber nod. Tragic that Malcolm would be forever stained as a villain in the minds of most Revarians, but at least he got to live and be reunited with his family. ¡°I returned to the field for the seeds and made the trek back to the caves,¡± His attention focused on Terrence; a subtle smile formed on his face. ¡°And it was there I noticed you left the vial and leftover flowers for me¡­ Even then, you believed I might make it. Thank you.¡± Terrence blushed. ¡°I-it was nothing.¡± ¡°It may not¡¯ve seemed like much, but it was. I know you wanted to help in big ways, but the little things you did mattered too. Heroes don¡¯t need to do big things to be heroes. Sometimes, just showing someone you¡¯re thinking of them is more than enough.¡± A glint shown in Terrence¡¯s eyes. Not brightly, but enough to soothe him. Maybe he wasn¡¯t the villain he made himself out to be. - Close to Halloween, the portals linking Earth and Revaria reopened. News of the pneumonavirus hit millions of ears for the first time. Loved ones were reunited. Long-time friends greeted each other for the first time in ages. It didn¡¯t take long for news of the manhunt and the government to leak either. Banks was impeached for unlawfully granting another his authority. Many lambasted him for releasing Malcolm, while others like Bernard Cox, Bebe Jimenez, and Reuben lauded the decision. Rutger was imprisoned for treason, perjury, negligent mass homicide, fabricating data, and several murder charges when questioned about the damning emails. Nobody knew Leticia¡¯s whereabouts, but the righteous anger surrounding her died off over the years. The public criticized congress for acting slowly and letting this happen at all. Rebuilding was going to be arduous, but with the virus taken care of, they could at least start. - Halloween night hung ominously over the McLean¡¯s block. Children dressed up as pirates, cowboys, zombies, and everything in-between. The atmosphere simmered with excitement; an evening crammed with candied confections, parties, and pranks awaited. No one was more thrilled than Nikki as she proudly donned her Riley costume. ¡°Can we go now can we go now can we go now?!¡± She beamed, bouncing as excitedly as a hyperactive squirrel on caffeine. ¡°Your brother¡¯s almost ready.¡± Her father brushed a fleck of lint off her enormous head. Her mother held onto both children¡¯s bags. Shuffling from Terrence¡¯s room. ¡°Gimme a minute!¡± Terrence stumbled out in his awkward costume to Nikki¡¯s unrestrained glee. This was the best day of her life. ¡°WE¡¯W BOF WILEY!¡± ¡°¡­ Yep!¡± His muffled voice trotted out from behind the mesh meant to be Riley¡¯s mouth. ¡°This is sweet!¡± Michelle set the bags down. ¡°Let me get a picture before we go.¡± Terrence rolled his eyes. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t show it-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just for us.¡± His father assured. Michelle got their picture¡­ two of them, actually. They were free to go after the photoshoot; Gerald and Michelle having to tell them repeatedly to slow down. It was the best Halloween Terrence and Nikki ever had. Not that Terrence loved his costume or was overly concerned his friends would mock him (as if they¡¯d recognize him behind the giant mask), but that he was happy to make Nikki¡¯s day. Even if she¡¯d forgotten about his promise to dress as Riley, he would¡¯ve done it anyways. It showed heroes don¡¯t always wear capes and fly squealing damsels to safety. Sometimes, they just dressed like cartoon raccoons. THE END