Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Jean LeBrun, Francois LeBrun, Marie LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Theodore Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg the Third, Roxanne Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Lupin, Doctor Fox Jones, William Pongo, Captain Archibald, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Vincent Leon, Abu-Yusuf, Sergeant Otetiani, Lieutenant Black, Julie Black, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Rowena Spyke, Jeremy Mustela, William White, Hannah Vulpes, Richard Terry, Hantaywee Twofeathers, Professor Nutkin, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Werner Schnauzer, Professor Erica Belge, Charles 'Mouse' Mombay, Ulf Søndergård, Paul Donkey, Harley Davidson (Not the motorcycle manufacturer, obviously) and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005.
Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.
Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.
The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.
In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.
Plus one
Esteban opened his eyes. He was laying on a mattress on the floor in Leo’s and Lizzy’s living room. A big mattress, but it was still cramped. Jean was still asleep, holding on to him. Very hard, in fact. He hadn’t slept much...nor very well. No one in the living room had. No one had managed to fall asleep until two in the morning or so.
The world wasn’t the same anymore. Everything was different now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw towers on fire. Great fireballs exploding. Little black spots...falling towards the ground.
He had wept a lot. Everyone had. It was one of those situations where crying was definitely okay. Even for males. He had seen a lot of tears yesterday. Everyone had been affected. The more time that passed, the more information they all got, the more shocking it had become. Lizzy and Leo had their own internet connection, like most other furs these days. They’d turned on the computer and taken turns checking all the news sites they could find. CNN had been it’s usual punctual and informative self, in particular.
It meant war.
He just didn’t know who against. None of them did. ‘Terrorists’ were difficult to wage war against, at least. At least as far as he saw it. It was hard to invade ‘Terrorististan’...simply because it didn’t exist. But the furs who were behind the attack had to be punished. They had to be brought to justice...taken care of...
Killed.
Esteban sighed. He was a peaceful fur. He hated the thought of killing. Taking lives was wrong...but this situation left no alternative. He looked around the room. Would any of his friends join the army and take part? Probably not. The army tended to prefer furs around 18 to 20 years of age. Most of those he knew were at least approaching 25. If they hadn’t already passed that age. Some were no doubt in the reserve. They might be called up for active service again. So far, there hadn’t been a declaration of war issued...but it wasn’t as if it was needed. There were two destroyed towers, a smashed pentagon, a debris-littered Pennsylvania field and an unknown amount of dead furs out there, declaring war for America.
The wolf sighed deeply. This was a terrible, terrible situation. And it was easier for him than for most others. He was a citizen of Mexico, with a green card and permission to stay in the US. Actually joining the army wasn’t required of him. But all he had to do was look at his friends to imagine what kind of emotional turmoil they might be going through. He knew none of them were the killing kind. He couldn’t imagine Leo in a uniform. He couldn’t possibly see Rafe in one either. Not that he doubted they loved America, but...to pick up a gun and kill someone was not an easy thing.
“Stop, lobo...eet won’t do you anee good,” he mumbled and sat up, trying to clear his head.
“What won’t?” Leo’s voice asked from the kitchen door.
The lion was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, holding it out towards Esteban. The look on the feline’s face was as serious as one might expect.
Esteban got up, carefully...he didn’t want to wake Jean. He scratched his neck and picked up his jeans from the couch, pulling them up over his hips and closing them. “Sorree about the nudeetee...eet becomes second nature after a while,” he apologized and reached out for the coffee, motioning to the kitchen. There was no reason to stay in the living room with all the sleeping furs there.
Leo nodded and followed. “It’s all right. I’m pretty sure I won’t suffer lasting damage from seeing you in the buff,” he mumbled and sat down. The attempt at humor came across as humorless at best. “Anyway, what won’t do you any good?”
“Theenkeeng about war and keelleeng, amigo.”
“You’re right...that won’t do you any good. But I can see why. It means war. The question is...who’s going to get it.”
Esteban shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table, nursing his coffee. “I have no idea. Terroreesm eesn’t leemeeted by borders...that’s the idea.”
Leo sighed and sat down across the table. “I may have to go, Esteban. I don’t know how to tell Lizzy...” he said, rubbing his face. He looked absolutely miserable.
“Reserves? What branch?”
“Lieutenant of the reserve, yes...in the artillery.”
Esteban nodded, gravely. “You’re probablee goeeng to get the call one of these days, then. What’ll you do, Leo?”
The lion shrugged and sipped his coffee again. “Arrange an extended break on grounds of military service with Uni...then go. It’s not as if I have much choice. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”
“I meant what weell you do about Leezzee? She’s not too keen on the meelleetaree,” Esteban said and sipped his coffee again. He put the mug down and looked directly at his friend.
“I know. Look...we don’t know what will happen. If they’ll even recall the reserves from my regiment. I may be told to be on stand-by for a long time, but never actually get called back up. I’ll go if I am called for. But I’m not going to turn back up at a recruitment office to volunteer all over again,” Leo said and sighed.
Esteban nodded. His friend looked absolutely miserable. There was no doubt that Leo needed to talk to Lizzy about this. Esteban had difficulty seeing the feline in the army. And as an officer, no less. But then again, Leo’s background almost dictated a military career.
“I theenk we should take one day at a time, amigo. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah...”
Esteban reached out and patted his friend’s shoulder. Then he reached out and took the coffee pot, pouring a refill for both of them. A lot of things would change now...he knew that.
Just one more step. And another one. And then one.
###
Malcolm was so tired he could barely remember his own name. He’d been walking the streets of New York all night. At least...he thought he had. He wasn’t sure what was going on. People had tried speaking to him a few times...some had seemed worried for some reason...but he’d never stopped for more than a few seconds. He felt like someone had stuffed his head full of cotton. Sounds were muffled. When someone spoke to him, it sounded like they spoke in extreme slow motion...and it was so distant. So...distant he could barely hear what they said.
He was pretty sure he knew this place. It was close...to a bus-stop, wasn’t it?
Yes...
The stop where he usually got on in the morning.
He smiled, not really sure what about...then turned a corner. He was almost at Abu-Yusuf’s stall. He could buy some fruit on the way to work. He had to go to work, didn’t he?
Of course he did. There was a great premiere coming up. Soon. At least...he thought so. It was so hard to think.
He blinked. Leaned against the corner of the building he had just turned around. He wanted to sleep. More than anything in the world, he really, really wanted to sleep.
Just a few pieces of fruit, he reminded himself and stumbled onwards.
A young femme recoiled as she saw him and tried to say something to him. It didn’t register. He couldn’t make out the words. She looked terrified at something. He opened his mouth to try to ask her what was wrong but no sound came out. He tried to shake his head to let her know everything was all right. Tried to smile.
Nothing seemed to work right. She pointed at his stomach...he looked down at the cherry-juice stain and sighed. He had to get home and change. The young femme was totally right. He couldn’t possibly go to work, being that messed up. What wouldn’t his boss think? He had to get home. Timothy would probably get really mad at him for ruining his T-shirt like that.
He could buy a little at Abu-Yusuf’s stall and bring with him home instead, he told himself, stumbling another few steps. Turning another corner.
There was no stall. Not anymore. Just a pile of broken boards and twisted metal. Fruit was laying around on the sidewalk...not a lot of it though. Most had already been removed. The sign above the stall had been torn in half. There was some writing on what was left. Someone had written ‘orist’ on it.
Malcolm blinked. That made no sense. Abu-Yusuf wasn’t a florist. He sold fruit, not flowers.
He’d have to ask the oryx...whenever he saw him. It was a real mess, too. Malcolm hoped his friend had insurance.
Again, he stumbled on. At least it wasn’t far now...he was only a few hundred yards from the apartment building.
He could get a clean T-shirt there...
###
Hantaywee Twofeathers was sitting on the stairs leading up to the history faculty. The place was nearly empty. No one bothered coming to school it seemed. Or at least...very few. Not many lecturers were present either. It was as if the United States had stopped dead in it's tracks.
She winced at the thought. ‘Dead’ was not a very good word right now. Even if it was fitting. She sighed and flicked her tail, resting her elbows on her knees. It was difficult to think of anything except what had happened the day before. She’d watched it in her room, on television. Shocked...stunned and in disbelief most of the day.
She heard footsteps and looked up. Richard Terry smiled politely at her, nodding a bit. “Mind if I take a seat here? Hantaywee, wasn’t it?” the terrier asked.
“Feel free. I’d like some company right now,” the puma admitted, sighing to herself. She adjusted one of the heavily ornamented upper-arm bracelets she wore and scratched her fur a little.
“Y’know...two days ago in class when you said you’re Lakota...you didn’t really have to say. Not that many furs would wear that much native gear without being native,” Richard said and sat down next to the femme.
Hantaywee looked sidelong at him for a long, quiet moment. She tried to determine if he’d been condescending or not but the smile on his face was completely honest. Finally, she just nodded and shrugged.
“I figured at least I’d make sure you all got the tribe right from the start,” she said, chuckling. “How come you are here today? I mean...I think everything’s closed down.”
Richard nodded and shrugged. He looked around the mostly empty campus grounds. He had to admit the femme next to him had a point. Everything looked very closed down indeed. He lived on Campus, but even in the student apartments, everyone stayed indoors. It was a bright, sunny, beautiful day and normally the grounds would’ve been bustling with activity. It was, after all, a perfectly normal Wednesday.
No, it wasn’t, he told himself. There was nothing normal or ordinary about it.
“I’m here because I have a meeting with Professor Nutkin, actually,” he said, shrugging.
“Oh poor you...” Hantaywee answered, trying to lighten the spirit of the conversation just a little. “Whatever did you do to deserve such a terrifying fate?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it’s got something to do with my last assignment not being good enough. I had to rewrite something over the summer holidays, you see...and if I fail it again, I’m in real trouble.”
“Hrmm...you’ll have one more attempt, won’t you?”
Richard nodded again. “Yeah. One more but if I don’t get it right this time, how can I get it right the next one?”
“What class is it?” the puma asked, smiling a crooked little smile. The terrier was nice...he wasn’t much of an academician, that much was obvious, but he was a nice fur and he tried his best. From what she could piece together, his main strength was that he wasn’t afraid of asking the dumb questions everyone else wanted to ask but didn’t dare to. His main weakness, as it was...was that he didn’t think scientifically.
“Long lines of American History, no less. I mean it should be so easy...everyone tells me it’s so easy but my interest in history isn’t in America and I just don’t get it. I keep stepping on Nutkin’s toes I think. Somehow, I don’t think he appreciates anyone criticizing General Washington for being a slave owner.”
Hantaywee giggled. Richard had sounded so dejected, and most furs would have no problem seeing his point. She, however, understood enough by now to know where the problem was.
“I’ll help you. If you have to rewrite it, I’ll help you study for it. And we’ll ask Miss LeBrun to explain a few things to you, in private? I mean, she probably won’t mind helping you out if her reputation is anything to go by. Anyway, you can’t criticize Washington for being a slave owner, Richard...it’s not our job to judge him. It’s just our duty to present what he did as objectively as possible. Let everyone else be the judges,” she said and patted the canid’s shoulder.
Richard’s ears perked up. “You’ll help me? Really? Great! Thank you. I’d really appreciate that. You think Miss LeBrun will help too? She seemed okay...I mean...you know...” he began. His voice started trailing off.
“Mind if I ask why you’re so uncertain about her? She’s a teacher like any other around here and from what I can tell she’s pretty good at her job, even if she’s very new at it,” Hantaywee asked, looking at the male next to her.
“I guess it’s got something to do with her voluntarily getting rid of a male’s best friend...” Richard said, grinning dumbly and shrugging. “I just can’t imagine...”
“Did you consider that just like it isn’t your job to judge George Washington for holding slaves, that it isn’t your job to imagine what Miss LeBrun has gone through? Just acknowledge that she has done so and move on...”
“It’s that easy, is it?”
Hantaywee nodded. “It is. She’s here to teach. Period. I think, if anything, it says a lot about her personal integrity that she doesn’t simply hide it, and I think it says a lot about how brave she is that she gets a job where she has to get up in front of a great deal of unknown furs, lecturing them...knowing that the rumor-mill is working overtime about her.”
“You know...you’re absolutely right. Damned...you’re right. I’ll remember that. Thanks. Anyway, what’re you here for today?” Richard said and smiled. He felt relieved. Hantaywee seemed to be a bright femme and he could certainly use the help she had offered.
“I’m going to a meeting with Professor Schnauzer. I don’t think he’s going to turn up, but...I live on campus so I figured I might as well check. Get...my mind off what has happened,” the puma said and looked down. She obviously didn’t like thinking about the day before.
“I think that makes perfect sense,” Richard said. “I live on campus too, incidentally. Tell you what...if Professor Schnauzer doesn’t turn up, wait for me here. I’m sure it won’t take Nutkin many moments to chew me up and spit me out of his office. We’ll go somewhere quiet and just talk. I think we could both do with thinking about something else...”
Hantaywee nodded. That sounded like an excellent idea. “Maybe a cup of tea or coffee or something...and a muffin. I don’t know why but I’m in a real need of a muffin. A big one. With berries.”
“You’re not pregnant are you?” Richard asked, grinning. “You sound like you have a real craving going on there.”
Hantaywee blinked and looked sidelong at the terrier again. The glint of humor in his eyes was unmistakable. She laughed softly and shook her head.
“No. I’m not. But thank you. I needed to laugh.”
“Today, Hantaywee...I think all of America needs to laugh. I just don’t think most furs realize it. But if we let those bastards take us down...they win. I’ll buy you a muffin...and the beverage of your choice to go with it. It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping me out.”
The puma smiled and looked at her paws. The laugh faded quickly but for a brief second, things hadn’t looked so dismal and gloomy. For a few moments, she’d felt better. That was good. That meant she’d feel better again in the long run. “You’d better get to your meeting. I’ll wait right here.”
Richard got up and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll see you in a few moments, probably severely shaken.”
He turned and walked inside. Hantaywee remained on the stairs. She raised her eyes and looked at the skies. Empty...clear skies. Not even a vapor trail from a passing airplane.
###
Gabrielle left the bathroom. She switched the light off and rubbed her face, wrapping an enormous towel around herself and tip-hoofing back towards the guest room. It was very early. Much too early to be up but she couldn't sleep anymore. She'd had a fitful night at best, and getting any more sleep didn't seem possible. Yohni had wept in her sleep, and the equine had spent some time just holding her girlfriend, making her relax...hoping she could help dull the nightmares. Yohni had relaxed after a little while so Gabrielle told herself it had probably worked.
The door opened down the hallway. Not the guest room door but the one to the main bedroom. For a moment, Gabrielle froze up. Considering Ulf’s girlfriend’s apprehension about her and Yohni, the last thing she wanted was for Ulf to walk out on her in such a state of undress. She made ready to back up to the bathroom, but a moment later she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Ulf coming out of the bedroom.
She made sure to make enough noise with her next step to let the other femme know she was there.
The other figure stopped and listened, then nodded. “I’d say good morning...but I’m not sure if it’d be fitting...”
Gabrielle smiled a bit. “It’s considerate of you to say so but...we can always wish each other a good morning, Miss.”
“Please, don’t call me that. Just Signe will do...”
“See...neh. All right. I’m sorry if I get it a bit wrong. Danish names are a bit strange...”
The other femme chuckled and shrugged in the dark hallway. “Come on...let’s go make some breakfast. I think today is one of those days where we need to do everything possible to make things...erhm...”
“Pleasant?” Gabrielle tried.
“I suppose that’ll do. There’s a Danish word for it but it can’t really be translated. ‘Hyggelig’...it means cozy and pleasant to the nth degree or thereabouts,” Signe answered and stepped closer. Her voice was still kept low. “I’m just glad Ulf was able to help you two. I can’t imagine how terrible it must be.”
Gabrielle looked at the shorter femme. She was almost excruciatingly beautiful. A canid of a kind that Gabrielle had never seen before they had met each other the night before. Signe was quite short...but carried herself with elegance and pride, making her seem much taller. Her fur was long and very thick, a light grey and off white mix. She had a slender snout and narrow eyes, as if they were set against a biting cold wind or a sharp sun. The equine could easily see why Ulf found his girlfriend attractive.
The equine hadn’t been able to help herself and asked where in the world Signe came from.
The answer had been Greenland.
“You know...I can’t even imagine, myself...not yet. It...all hasn’t sunk in just yet,” Gabrielle said and followed the canid to the kitchen.
“Maybe you should slip into some clothes though...or a robe,” Signe chuckled.
“Oh...yeah...right...sorry.”
Gabrielle actually found herself blushing as she headed back to the guest room to get dressed. Yohni was still sleeping. Quietly and restfully, from the looks of it. It was probably best to let her sleep a little longer, Gabrielle reasoned. She put on some clothes, quietly, and went back to the kitchen. Signe was already slicing up bread.
She sat down and looked at the canid. “Sit a while...let’s give them both thirty more minutes before we wake them up. They both need it,” she said.
Signe stopped slicing and nodded, putting the knife aside. She sighed...without turning around. “I know,” she said.
“And you need to do something with your paws, or it all comes rushing back...am I right?”
“Yeah. Exactly. I feel terrible. I mean, when Ulf told me that he’d shown you two around and that you had told him what line of work you’re in...I...”
Gabrielle nodded. She smiled crookedly and tapped a finger on the table, opposite of herself. “Sit down a while. Please. Let’s talk. I think you need to ask a lot of questions and it’ll keep both of us occupied a while.”
Sighing slightly, the canid turned and sat down. “I guess you’re right. I just don’t know how to get started...”
“Try at the first question that springs to mind. That’s usually a good place to start,” Gabrielle said with a shrug. She really wanted to get along with her hostess. With yesterday’s terrible events unfolding, no one knew how long she and Yohni were going to stay in Copenhagen anymore. Even if they could move back out and find a hotel, they’d run out of money for that eventually. This was easier...besides, she simply would like to get along with the canid.
“Why?” Signe asked at last. The one word seemed to be terribly hard to pronounce.
Gabrielle smiled again. It was not a bad first question, when it came down to that. She could’ve thought of much worse ones at least. It also deserved a thorough answer.
“Okay...” she began “...let me tell you about a skunk I know in Ohio, called Zig Zag...”
###
Taking the last few steps up the stairs, Malcolm leaned against the wall. He was completely exhausted. It confused him a little...his memory was getting foggier and foggier. He vaguely remembered walking around the city but he wasn't sure for how long or why. He kept telling himself he had to get a clean T-shirt and probably a bath before heading off to work.
He rummaged around his pocket for the key to the door and blinked, reminding himself there was a code lock on it. How could he have forgotten something like that? What was that code again?
He tried pushing some of the buttons but...to no avail. It didn’t work. He just couldn’t remember the code. He tried several more times, still with no luck. Eventually...he gave up and just leaned his head against the door, sighing deeply. If he could’ve fallen asleep standing, he would’ve.
The door opened. He stumbled inside, losing his balance and falling into the arms of an extremely upset and bewildered bronco.
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!!?”
Malcolm blinked...regained his balance and looked around in confusion. His eyes came to rest on Timothy. The smaller male was a complete mess of tears and puffy eyes, wringing paws and confusion.
“I...I’m not...” Malcolm began. His voice wouldn’t really obey him. “I can’t...really...remember...”
Timothy reached out and grabbed a hold of Malcolm’s T-shirt. “Do you have any IDEA what this has done to me you bastard?? I’ve been up all night. Calling every single hospital in the tristate area. There are thousands of dead and you didn’t even ca....M...Malcolm, is...is that blood?”
The bronco stepped back, letting go of Malcolm’s T-shirt, looking at his stomach.
Malcolm blinked again and looked down himself. “It’s...cherry, I think...yes. Yes...I bought...some cherries...” he whispered. It was getting impossible to stay on his hooves.
The fear of seeing what he thought was a serious wound had snapped Timothy out of his anger. He looked at his boyfriend again and swallowed...instantly regretting having ever gotten upset. Malcolm was barely there. Physically, he was right there in the room but he was a total mess. His clothes were dirty...torn in a lot of places. There was a thick film of dust covering him, which had long since dried into his fur. His normally pitch black fur was grayed out in many places because of this. His eyes were dull and lackluster. His hair and mane was a complete mess...not the usual stylish mess that Malcolm favored but real, total chaos.
“I’m...so sorry. Please...come here,” Timothy whispered and opened his arms, putting them around the taller stallion. “My God, I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I was so scared, I thought you were dead...”
Malcolm stiffened for just a second at being touched. Then...he closed his eyes and swallowed. Before his minds eye, he saw himself back in the bus as it turned the corner at the Dow Jones building...then he heard the screams again. Saw the young fur he carried out of the bus again. He wanted to sleep. So very badly. But the images wouldn’t let him.
He began to shake all over.
Collapsing into the embrace...he wept.
Bitterly.
###
It was nearly noon by the time Esteban and Jean got back home. Everyone had eaten breakfast together at Lizzy's and Leo's place, and Jean had checked the internet to make sure that she didn't have to turn up for work. Somehow, it seemed stupid to even check but she felt better for having done it. Needless to say, school was out for the rest of the week. At least.
Esteban opened the apartment door and entered, holding the door for Jean. He tried to smile. It didn’t work very well. They hadn’t said much on the way back, either. None of them had known what to say. Once in a while, Jean had reached over and given his paw a squeeze, while he was driving. As if to make sure he was really there, as much as to reassure him.
“What do we do now...?” Jean asked and hung up her jacket, pushing off her shoes. She turned to look at the wolf behind her.
“No idea, chica...except to keep up to date. Televeeseeon and the eenternet and so on,” he replied.
Jean nodded. That was pretty much all she could think of doing too. The awfulness of it all was, that it made her feel helpless and useless. The further awfulness of it was...that she knew that in this case she was helpless and useless. Almost everyone was. There was nothing she could do, except try to follow the developments as they happened.
“I overheard Fox and Miriam talking this morning...they didn’t think either of us heard them in the bathroom but I did. They’re postponing their wedding, Esteban...”
“I theenk that ees veree prudent of them. Thees eesn’t the right time to have a beeg partee.”
Again, the vixen nodded. It wasn’t as if her own wedding was being postponed. That was still a way off into the future.
Esteban put up his windbreaker and pushed off his shoes too, before putting his arms around Jean and holding her close for a long, quiet moment. He needed to. He needed to know she wasn’t going to vanish into thin air. For some reason, he suddenly worried that his world would burst like a soap-bubble.
“Leo might be goeeng away, when the fighteeng starts,” he said, quietly.
“What? You mean he’ll join the army? Leo??” Jean asked, incredulously.
“No. He’s alreadee een eet. He told me thees morneeng before the rest of you woke up. He’s a...what ees eet he said again...teniente de reserva de artillería...?”
“A lieutenant of the reserve in the artillery. I see. Yeah...I should’ve guessed that with his background he’d be a military fur.”
Esteban nodded. “I don’t think he liked eet much but he’s determeened to do hees dutee eef eet comes to that.”
Jean thought about it. And sighed. She had always been anti-militarist by nature. To her, a soldier shooting at a target shaped like a fur was being trained to be a professional murderer. Nothing more, nothing less. History had proven beyond all reasonable doubt that a soldier could not simply claim he was merely following orders. The German war criminals after the second world war had tried that stunt and been executed regardless. There was no excuse. But this...changed everything. This forced her to think about the military in a completely different light.
They were there to protect her too. Or at least to make sure that those responsible for actions like those the day before wouldn’t get away with it. One couldn’t send a policefur overseas to catch a criminally insane terrorist in another country. That wasn’t how it worked. In cases like that...one sent an army to protect oneself from repetition.
She felt ashamed of herself for having been so blindly idealistic. So naive. An army could do good things as well as bad ones. It could protect, as well as destroy. Save, as well as kill.
“You know, Esteban...I’ve been such a fool. And I’ve been reading history books like a certain someone reads the bible...” she murmured.
“What do you mean, chica?” the wolf asked, not letting go. “Like who reads the bible and how have you been readeeng heestoree books? I thought you were good at eet.”
“I’ve been so busy reading casualty lists and about the horrors of battle and the terrible things that happen to furs in war that I’ve condemned the idea of armed forces most of my life. That’s reading history like the Devil reads the bible, Esteban. I’ve hated the idea of killing so much that I just looked at any fur in uniform with a mixture of fear and disgust. Why would anyone want to learn how to kill others more efficiently, I’d ask myself, unless they were really bad furs?”
“Jean...Alex O’Whitt ees a former combat pilot. And you like him as a friend, don’t you?”
“The few times I’ve met him, yes...but...I never thought of that. That’s the real hypocrisy, can’t you see? ‘Oh, he’s okay...Alex is okay, it’s all the others that are a bunch of murdering bastards’. I’d do the same with other furs I knew and liked with a military record, too. Esteban, can’t you see how...how...ughhh...I’m disgusted at myself, that’s what I am. It’s wrong of me.”
Esteban smiled a bit and stroked the vixen’s back gently. “Don’t be. You’re wakeeng up to the real world. Eet happens to evereeone, weeth deeferent parts of life. Eet’s called ‘growing’ and ‘learneeng’, chica...eet’s not a bad theeng.”
“I guess I realized what they mean by ‘to protect and serve’ at long last?”
“Probablee.”
Jean nodded. She relaxed a bit. She had never considered herself a particularly patriotic fur. For several reasons. For one thing, she was a fur with two nationalities, even though she’d never lived outside the United States. She’d been raised in a home by two French parents and she had a mixed cultural background as a result. Secondly...and just as importantly...she didn’t like the word or what it said.
Patriotism, to her, had always meant loving one’s own country...at the expense of everyone else. Thinking one’s own country better than everyone else’s in some way. It was easy to be a patriot in the United States based on that, she thought. Bigger army than all but a few other countries, and definitely the strongest one in existence. It made for the strongest country, by conventional standards. Big economy, huge cultural influence on the rest of the western world. It was easy to love America if one was an American. Jean simply didn’t like the idea of saying America was better than others. She didn’t think it was bad. But what right did she have to tell anyone else that she was better?
Again, all that she had held as integral parts of herself came into doubt. She did love the United States. It was her home and some creep had dared attack it. A creep she really, really wanted to pay. Hard. She could think of a number of inventive and very painful ways of making it happen, all selected carefully from the repertoires of the best torturers in history. But did that make her a patriot?
Sighing again, she shook her head and looked up at Esteban. “I’m getting a headache...can we please make a cup of tea and just spend the rest of the days watching the news updates?”
“I theenk that’s a good idea,” Esteban said and kissed her nose. He recognized the look of frustration and hurt on Jean’s face. He didn’t like seeing it there.
“Have I been...a bad fur, Esteban?” Jean asked, swallowing. “For questioning ideals that others hold sacred? Is that wrong of me?”
“Eef you mean the ideals I theenk you mean, then I believe someone has to do that, chica, to prevent evereeone else from groweeng too content weeth themselves. But I theenk we both know there’s a time and a place for eet,” the wolf said and smiled warmly down at the vixen in front of him. He hoped it’d take some of the hurt off her face.
“You are...without question the wisest fur I know. Thank you...I needed to hear that,” Jean whispered. She closed her eyes and looked relieved...just briefly, but it was there.
Esteban nodded and took his girlfriend’s paw in his own, leading her into the living room. He’d make tea in a moment. But right now, she needed a hug.
What was more...he needed to hold her.