Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt andR.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, MarvinBadger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, WandaVixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. AlexO'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. JeanLeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington vonSalzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Fox Jones, Peter Spermophilus,Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Miriam Redtail,Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor EricaBelge and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005. All othercharacters appearing in this story, except where otherwisespecifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen.
Legal Notice: This story isCopyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold orused for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may notbe modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror siteor any other Internet site without the written permission of theauthor. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic,electrical or optical mediums.
Permission to use charactersthat are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to theappearance of said characters.
The author, Joan Jacobsen,hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of thiswork.
This is an independent workof fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W.Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant toimply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S.Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters createdby Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark andSilver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story shouldnot be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag','Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.
In fact, as far as 'ZigZag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag theStory' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavowany knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in thisstory.
Telling it as it is...
The music was loud enough to drown out any attempt at conversation in most of the bars and nightclubs in downtown Cincinnati. All except a few.
The sound of Jazz came soothingly from behind a pair of double oak doors. Over the doors, a great big sign said 'Spirit of New Orleans'. Inside, a band was jamming on the stage and several tables had been put together to form a bigger one. Around it sat twelve femmes of all ages.
"You must excuse me the little joke at your expense, Lizzy...it was too good an opportunity to pass up," a Bombay feline said and smiled.
"No need to apologize, Madam Consul," Lizzy chuckled. "You can buy us a round of Irish Coffees and we will call it even?"
A round of loud cheering went up from the rest of the femmes and Gertrud Katze laughed and nodded. "Oh very well. I think we deserve one more..."
"One??" a rotund beaver in her fifties chuckled. "My dear, when I was young..."
"Ahh, but you still are," Lizzy said and got up. "Young is a state of mind, dontcha know?"
The beaver chuckled. "If that's the case, young lady, you should be writing books about me. I'd be old as the pyramids!"
"Alas, I don't specialize in the history of Egypt," Lizzy answered with an amused wink. She headed to the bar, along with the consul herself, to get the refills.
Behind the bar, a young mustang smiled at them, correcting his vest.
"Good evening, ladies," he said.
"Heeey...wait a second," Lizzy grinned. She'd had a few too many Irish Coffee's already and she was feeling a little tipsy. "I know you. I've seen you in Columbus. I have some friends there. I thought the name of the bar was a coincidence..."
The mustang looking like he was trying to remember. "Yes...yes, that's right, Miss. You'd come in with Miss LeBrun and Miss Ryder at times, wouldn't you? You and a few other friends of theirs?"
"He even knows their names..." Lizzy giggled. "Anyway, we need another 12 Irish coffees."
The mustang nodded and turned around to start preparing them. "Certainly miss. Tell you what, I'll call it a small happy hour and you just pay for half of them. It's rare that I have someone coming here recognizing me," he said and looked over his shoulder.
Gertrud Katze looked slightly confused and turned to Lizzy to ask her what was going on. She never got to do so. Lizzy had already guessed what the feline's expression meant.
"This young gentlefur used to tend the bar in a place by the same name in Columbus, Madam Consul..." the doe started.
"Oh stop that Madam Consul nonsense...we're not at work. Gertrud is fine, as long as we're off duty," the feline answered and smiled. She looked at the bartender and nodded, appraisingly. "I see then. So you are branching out?"
"Not at all, Ma'am. I am not the boss, as such. The original 'Spirit' in Columbus is owned by Mr. Paul Donkey. I've been working for him almost since he opened, so when he decided to open a second place...he left it to me to manage it on a day to day basis," the mustang replied. "Anyway, I'm Harley Davidson, Ma'am...at your service."
Gertrud momentarily looked like she thought someone was joking, then she realized it wasn't the case and she smiled, taking out her credit card.
"Well...I'll pay for these, and we'll probably come back for yet another round before calling it a night..." she said.
"I'll be here, ma'am," Harley said and flicked his tablecloth over his shoulder with a bit of a flourish, after placing two trays, each with six tall glasses of piping hot Irish Coffee on the bar.
Lizzy took one of the trays and smiled to the feline, following her back to the table.
"Here you go," she said and began distributing the drinks to her colleagues. "Enjoy. I just found out this place is an off-shoot of a similarly named club in Columbus. If Harley up there has learned how to make Irish Coffee like his boss in Columbus, we're in for a real treat!"
"Oooh, he's cute," the beaver commented and finger-waved at Harley.
"Ruth!! He may be married," one of the other femmes burst out and blushed.
"He could be gay for all I care," Ruth pointed out. "I still think he's cute."
On that note, everyone had a sip of their drinks.
"Very well..." Gertrud said. "I do have something I want to ask you all..."
Every femme at the table paid attention. Even though they were off duty, Lizzy noted, the others paid Gertrud Katze a good deal of respect. So far, she had seen no reason not to, either. The feline was pleasant company.
"I'm sure you have all seen the news this morning. And you know that the United States and Germany are allies, though NATO. This will mean extra hours for us all, in the coming weeks. I know you are all up to it. But I want to know, right now...if any of you have husbands or husbands-to-be going off to war. I want to know...because that will place an extra emotional strain on you, and I don't want to see my staff crack under stress. So be forthright about this. I'll do my best to take it into account."
The question fell like a bomb. The good mood didn't dissipate...but some nervous glances were certainly exchanged. Ruth broke the ice after almost two solid minutes of silence and sporadic, embarrassed coughing.
"Ma'am..." she said and picked up her Irish coffee, "...if my husband goes off to war, his gout will kill him before the enemy gets within five hundred miles of him."
With that, she took a healthy swig of her drink and winked knowingly at the younger femmes around the table.
It had the desired effect. Laughter broke the uncomfortable silence. None of the femmes present had wanted to be the first to admit they might be feeling the pressure already. Slowly but surely, paws were raised.
"Mine's going..."
"Mine said he'd go to the recruitment office tomorrow. He says he doesn't want to be a coward..."
"Mine's still in the service. He was due home in just two weeks. Now he's rejoining."
Finally it was Lizzy's turn. "I...got the letter yesterday. My boyfriend isn't at home. But he's been recalled...he's in the reserves..."
"Reserves?" Ruth said and blinked. "Don't you worry...he's not going anywhere..."
"He's a Lieutenant in the artillery, Ruth...he's probably going to have to..." Lizzy said, quietly.
"Oh..."
"Ahh..."
"Scheiβe..."
"Madam Consul...really...your language!!"
Gertrud shrugged and sipped her drink. "We all know now. It is our collective responsibility to keep each other's spirits up now. My office is open if any of you want to talk," she said and put down her cup. "When the shooting starts, we're going to see casualty lists in the newspapers, and I expect each of us to support everyone else."
Everyone nodded. Lizzy cleared her throat. "Ma...I mean...Gertrud...if you don't mind my saying this, it seems like you know what you're talking about."
"I don't. But my mother did. I grew up with her telling me about how she had seen her mother's fear, every time she read the casualty lists. Except for my father, I grew up without a single male family member. Everyone else was killed during the war. I am not saying anyone we know will be hurt or, God forbid, killed. But the pressure of not knowing is enough to make anyone need support. Afghanistan is a very long way away from Columbus, Ohio, and news may travel slowly. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on...I want everyone here to promise each other they won't cry alone," the feline said, her eyes sharp and attentive as she let them gaze around the table.
Everyone nodded. Lizzy felt relieved. She looked at her boss and smiled, warmly.
"I'll drink to that..." Ruth mumbled and downed the rest of her drink.
Suddenly, Lizzy thought, being alone without Leo didn't seem quite as scary.
###
Gabrielle kicked up her hooves on the seats in front of her and leaned back. Yohni was busy clicking away, taking pictures of everything they passed. They were lazily drifting along the Seine, on board a sightseeing boat. It was more like a barge with a lot of seats on it. Apart from a couple of Japanese tourists, the two femmes were the only ones on board.
"This isn't a bad way of getting good pictures, you know," Yohni said and put the camera away, looking at Gabrielle.
"I know. I enjoy this. Maybe we should take the boat back again to the peer we left from?" the bronco asked.
"I'm all for it. Then we can hop back ashore and find some little café to get some breakfast and go get a few hours of sleep?"
Gabrielle nodded. That sounded like a great idea. It was very early morning...and they hadn't been to bed all night. It had been a fantastic night though. They'd started by having dinner at the hotel. Despite initial appearances, the kitchen turned out to be quite good. Then they had walked along the Seine for half an hour or so, before turning and heading towards the Eiffel tower as the lights came on. It had been a grand thing to behold.
From there, they had continued across the park towards the Triumphal Arc. They'd earned a few wolf-whistles along the way...neither of them minding at all.
They'd walked down the Champs Elysees, paw in paw, looking at the windows of all the shops...laughing between them as they passed something called 'Det Danske Hus', with Danish flags visible everywhere. It brought some good memories of Copenhagen and they had laughed and smiled, turning again at the Place de la Concorde, catching a taxi.
It had driven them to Montmartre, where they had watched the last moments of the sunset, walking between the artists, sitting along the sidewalk, painting. They had listened to old French furs singing or playing various instruments. They'd stopped for a little while at a café, for a glass of wine. The waiter had told them they sat only a few hundred yards from the only actual vineyards left in Paris. He'd told them that the wine from those fields...perhaps two hundred bottles a year...cost so much only the absurdly rich or heads of state bothered buying it...
"And it tastes like sewage," he had chuckled and winked, heading to the next table.
They had finished the wine...and headed for a night at the Moulin Rouge. Watching the most famous cabaret show in the world.
And now...they were on an early morning sightseeing barge...watching the sun rise over the roofs of Paris.
Gabrielle felt warm inside. She looked at the mongoose next to her and smiled...brushing a paw through Yohni's hair.
"I love you..." she said, quietly.
Yohni didn't answer. She just smiled and leaned against the bronco, sighing happily. The Seine didn't smell very nice. But Gabrielle did. It had been a wonderful night. Paris was a wonderful city.
Life...as a whole...was wonderful.
###
It was three twenty four AM when Zig Zag woke up to the sound of someone frantically making their way to the bathroom. It took her a few minutes to figure out what was going on, half asleep as she was. For a moment, she wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed James arriving...until she remembered James had, in fact, not arrived, but that Alex was in the house.
It didn't sound like the tiger was doing too well out there. Getting out of bed, Zig Zag wrapped a silk kimono around herself and slipped out of her bedroom, without a sound. She didn't want to intrude in case she had been mistaken. But as she approached the bathroom, it became clear to her that she was anything but mistaken.
Alex was heaving. It didn't sound like he'd been throwing up...but he was heaving for breath, like he'd been running a very long, very hard sprint.
"It's just a dream, Alex..." he whispered to himself, staring at his paws as if willing them to work. He flexed his fingers, repeatedly...like he was testing something. "Get a grip, O'Whitt! You didn't fire...you didn't fire!"
Zig Zag was mildly shocked. Since her reunion with her cousin several years ago, she had always seen him as nothing short of rock solid. She found it difficult to believe something could've shaken Alex this badly. The tiger hadn't noticed her yet, but he was obviously having a hard time.
He grabbed a towel and wiped his face, leaning against the bathroom wall, his forehead against the tiles. He sighed heavily. Everything about him said he was in a sorry state. Zig Zag debated with herself if this was one of those times where she should quietly pretend she hadn't seen a thing and simply go back to her room.
But how would she look at him, the following day as she said goodbye and gave him a hug, sending him on his way?
Would she be able to conceal her worry?
Probably not. Alex had told her, before going to bed, that he was headed for an airbase outside New York to pick up an F-15 to bring his unit up to full, fighting strength.
Did she want her cousin...the only family she had regular contact with, these days...to get into the cockpit of a fighter jet...in that emotional condition?
She straightened her back. Alex was a grownup, and he would know if he was unfit to fly, she told herself. But she was a grownup as well, and she had a responsibility to act when someone she cared for was that obviously distressed.
"Alex...what's wrong?" she asked, softly, pushing the door open.
Alex shot upright as if someone had doused him in ice cold water. "I'm...I'm okay. Just a dream..." he said, trying to smile.
"Don't lie to me to protect me, Alex...I'm family," Zig Zag said, still in that gentle tone of voice. "I heard what you said. Talk to me..."
Alex realized there was no denying anything. If the skunk had heard him whispering to himself, she'd know something was really wrong. He nodded and rubbed his face.
"Can...can you make us a cup of coffee? I don't think I'll get much more sleep tonight," he said, quietly.
Zig Zag nodded and stepped up to her cousin. "Sure I can...and I can do this, too. Because you need it," she said and gave him a gentle, comforting hug.
Weeks of pent up emotion hit Lt. Colonel Alex O'Whitt with more force than a Sidewinder missile. He shook...from head to toe...and rested his head against Zig Zag's shoulder, hiding his eyes as his shoulders began to shake, hard. Not a sound came out...not the tiniest whimper. But he was finally letting go.
"It's okay, Alex...I'm right here..." Zig Zag whispered, stroking the tiger's back. "Take all the time you need."
###
Leo opened the door to his and Lizzy's apartment. He made sure to be quiet, believing the doe to be fast asleep. He'd known she had plans for the evening but it was nearly a quarter past five in the morning. Surely she'd be in bed by now, he told himself.
He took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, running a paw through his mane. He should get some sleep as well. It had been...a very long night. He and Esteban had gotten a drink or two at a bar in Columbus, and he refused to drive while under the influence of alcohol. He had simply been forced to wait until it had passed, and they had gone back to Jean's and Esteban's place.
Jean hadn't been home...which they felt strangely happy about. There was a cryptic message on the table about her needing to talk to someone, but Esteban had said that happened quite often. They had watched some television and mostly been quiet. What had been done had been done. There was no need to brag. Besides, Jeremy had not suffered any harm. At most, he'd need a new pair of underpants.
They had, however, agreed that if Jeremy did not take their warning seriously, they'd not stop at words next time they saw him.
The lion smiled a little and headed into the kitchen.
There was a letter on the kitchen table. Looked official, too.
Leo sighed. He could guess what the contents were. Picking it up, he scanned it and nodded to himself. Sure enough...his recall papers. He didn't feel like trudging off to Afghanistan but he knew what his duty was. He'd have to contact University the very next day...to arrange for his extended leave of absence. As far as he knew, that was merely a formality. Military service in wartime was, no doubt, a very, very valid reason to postpone his studies.
"I heard the door. I wasn't asleep yet..." Lizzy's voice said behind him.
He turned around. Smiled. He'd never seen the doe more beautiful than just then. Well, maybe the first time he saw her, but it was a close race.
"You're beautiful..." he said, dreamily.
Lizzy felt herself caught off guard. She smiled a little and headed up to the lion, kissing him gently. "Thank you. What a nice way of greeting me. I see you've found your letter."
Leo sighed and nodded. "I have," he muttered and dropped it on the table, wrapping his arms around Lizzy instead. She was a good deal more interesting to hold than his recall papers.
"You'll be unable to attend the weddings..." the doe said.
"Wedding...oh...yeah, Fox and Miriam..."
"And Esteban and Jean..."
Leo nodded again. "I suppose. You'll have to go and be cheerful for both of us. Do you think you can manage sobbing in the church, while cheering and throwing rice at the couple at the same time?"
Lizzy giggled. "I never sob at weddings. I leave that to my mom. I'll do fine. Besides, only Fox and Miriam will have a church wedding. I strongly suspect Jean and Esteban will have Zig Zag do the honors or something. Anyway, you're home early..."
"Zig Zag marrying someone? Hmm...put her in a nun's habit and..." Leo started, playfully. He stopped when Lizzy swatted him, just as playfully.
The phone rang. Leo was just about to say something about the swat. Instead, he grumbled and looked into the living room. "It's a quarter past five inna flippin' morning!! Who'd call at this Godforsaken hour?"
"I don't know," Lizzy said and managed to unwrap herself from Leo's embrace, heading for the phone. "But it had better be important. I was being all romantic and stuff..."
"Stuff? Stuff??!" Leo huffed, mock-indignantly. "I've been demoted to stuff. Hrumph!"
Lizzy picked up the phone.
###
Alex sat down in Zig Zag's kitchen. Somehow, the living room was too big, right now. The kitchen was the right size for this. He shook his head for the tenth time in the last two minutes and tried to collect his thoughts.
Zig Zag sat down next to him and pushed a mug of coffee across to the tiger. "There you go. Now...what is this all about?" she asked.
Alex opened his mouth and tried to answer. He knew immediately that it wasn't right and he stopped himself. He tried again...with the same result.
Sighing and shaking his head he sipped his coffee and closed his eyes.
He could see the most beautiful swan...soaring ahead of him, behind his closed eyelids. Perfect and graceful. Serene.
Snapping his eyes open with a strangled gasp he swallowed his piping hot coffee too fast and coughed. Wheezing, he tried to gasp an apology to Zig Zag.
She simply patted his back to help him cough through the fit...smiling warmly. "No need..." she said and ruffled Alex' hair a little.
It was a simple gesture, but...it was kind and soothing in it's own strange way. Alex wouldn't have allowed anyone in the world to do that...except the skunk next to him. But right at that moment, it was the right thing to do.
"I saw them go down, Tonya..." he whispered at last. "I was there...when Flight 93 went down. I was lined up to shoot them down..."
Not in her wildest imagination had Zig Zag imagined something like that. Again, she let the use of her birth name slip by without protest. "You were there?"
Alex nodded and clenched his mug tightly. "We were in the air...scrambled as soon as the first plane hit the towers in New York. It was horrible..."
Zig Zag managed to recover. Her cousin was a highly accomplished, decorated combat pilot. She knew that much. He was extremely capable and yet, he was in a state of complete disarray.
"Go on..." she said, softly.
Alex took some time before he could continue. He sipped his coffee again and looked sidelong at the skunk next to him. He didn't try to conceal the pain in his eyes.
"The first time I had this nightmare, I didn't think it was so bad...not once I had realized it was just a dream. But it keeps coming back. I see...this great...great, beautiful swan in front of me. I'm in the cockpit of an F-15, and I am ordered to shoot it down. I look at my paws and instead...I see robotic fingers. I shoot. The swan is sent from the skies in a whirlwind of blood and smoke. Screeching in agony all the way down. I report the target is destroyed...without feeling..."
Zig Zag still didn't quite know what to say. She looked at her cousin for a very, very long time.
"What happened up there?" she asked, at long last.
Alex had dreaded that question...and longed for it. He hung his head, looking into the black liquid in his mug. As if he could find the answer to alleviate his pain there.
"We tailed Flight 93 for a while. We knew what had happened in New York. It was headed straight for Washington D.C., Tonya. Straight line...right to the White House," he said, slowly. "We knew that if it came down to it...we would have to shoot that plane down. We'd have to be the ones to prevent those terrorists from reaching their target."
"Alex...you have flown numerous combat missions. I know for a fact you have seven confirmed kills. You're a war hero for goodness sake. Shooting down an airplane isn't going to do this to you. Tell me...what is it?"
Alex felt something snap inside of him. How could she not understand?
"Don't you GET IT??" he roared and pushed the mug away. With too much force. It flew off the kitchen table and smashed on the floor. "Those were INNOCENT CIVILIANS. It wasn't an enemy trying to shoot me out of the skies. It wasn't 'kill or be killed'. It wasn't one fur against one fur. It was me...fully armed...able to kill dozens...DOZENS of innocents. Femmes. Children. Old furs. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND??"
His voice had risen to a shout. He was furious. Not at the skunk in front of him...she didn't understand. How could she understand? He was furious at himself.
And he didn't know why.
Zig Zag just nodded and held out a paw to him. "I understand perfectly, Alex. But you needed to say that...you needed to stop dancing around it, and say it out loud. Get it off your chest," she said. Her voice had never left the soothing, gentle tone she had used since she found him in the bathroom.
Alex stopped. His rage left him instantly. Like a balloon someone had taken a needle to, he deflated. Sitting back down, he nodded...very slowly. "I'm...sorry for the mug..." he tried.
"Never mind the mug, Alex. Forget the mug. Listen to me...you didn't shoot. Ask yourself now...and be honest...if they had given you the order to shoot, would you have done it?"
"I've asked myself that question a hundred times a day since. Every waking moment...every second of every day. And...the answer is yes. Yes, I would have."
Zig Zag took her cousin's paw in her own and gave it a squeeze. "Then I'm proud of you."
It was all she said. Alex felt another surge of emotion coming over him. Then she did understand. That if he hadn't shot...the casualties would've been impossible to predict. Thousands might have died...
Instead of dozens...
The pain of those deaths wasn't lessened. But he'd been telling himself all along that he would have fired because it would have been the right thing to do. For one thing it would have been a direct order. But moreover...it would've been the right order. Why did he see those images in his dreams, then?
He looked up and towards Zig Zag again.
She knew fully well what the unspoken question was...and answered before Alex could voice it.
"Your dream doesn't mean you are a murderer of innocents. It means you have enough conscience to grieve for them. You were one of the last furs to see them alive. You...and whomever else was up there with you that day. You are a living, breathing testament to their deaths. It would've rocked anyone's world. You have been hurt by what happened like every other civilized fur. Yet, you would have done the right thing...not because you'd take any kind of pleasure in it. Not because you were told to do so, but because it was the right thing to do."
Alex smiled a bit. He looked at his paws again. "I didn't fire..." he said, quietly.
"No. You didn't fire, Alex."
Zig Zag got up and gave her cousin another gentle hug before leaving the kitchen.
Alex stayed a while longer. He cleaned up the mess on the floor where his mug had landed. Getting rid of all the shards and wiping the floor clean, he headed back to the spare bedroom. He could still get a few hours of sleep.
He lay down and closed his eyes.
Behind closed eyelids...he could see the swan again. Soaring serenely in front of him.
Darkness closed around him. All he could see was the swan...as he drifted deeper into sleep. He could feel the controls between his fingers. He looked down at them. Metallic, robotic fingers again.
"Alpha One, you are authorized to fire. Take 'em down."
The voice came clearly into his ears through the earphones. Alex kept the swan dead in his sights.
"Order is received, Skywatcher," he heard his own metallic voice answer. "Target is not hostile...I repeat, target is not hostile. There is no need to fire."
Somewhere, even in his sleep, Alex knew this was...not the way it was supposed to go. The voice in his earphones spoke up again.
"It was not a request, Alpha One. You are authorized to fire. Shoot them out of the skies! That is an order!"
"That is a negative, Skywatcher. I repeat...there is no need to fire," his own voice repeated.
The swan kept flying straight and level. Alex felt something strange. He was metal...yet...he felt. His mouth was doing something very strange. It's corners were creeping upwards. It had to be a malfunction.
No.
It wasn't a malfunction. He knew it wasn't.
The swan flew on. Above it...light began to shine. The clearest, most radiant, beautiful light Alex had ever seen.
A trickle of oil ran down one of his cheeks from his eye as he beheld it. The swan rose...towards the light. Slowly...elegantly, it ascended into the brightness. It was almost glowing. It never wavered. Flew so calmly...so serenely onwards.
"Skywatcher, this is Alpha One, target is no longer available," he said.
"Alpha One, you are under direct orders to fi..."
Alex terminated the radio link. He watched...as the swan ascended with another slow beat of it's wings...and vanished, into the light. For a moment, the light lingered there, before his eyes...then it too vanished.
He was flying in clear skies again. In his earphones, he heard the voice of his wingfur.
"Good going, Ice...you really do have a heart in there."
Alex O'Whitt looked at his fingers. His gloved...but organic...fingers.
"Thank you, Lord," he heard himself whisper...but not to his wingfur. Rather to the sky outside the cockpit. "Please, receive them well."
Alex turned over in bed. For the first time in weeks...he slept soundly.
###
Not everyone slept soundly. Fox Jones had heard something in his sleep. A telephone, ringing...and he'd gotten up. It was most annoying. He'd been right in the middle of a dream about stacks of pancakes as tall as Mount Everest and an ocean of maple syrup. He'd been sailing on that ocean in a spoon, singing loudly at the top of his voice. If he remembered right, he'd been yodeling. He had a distinct feeling Lederhosen had somehow been involved, but he didn't want to remember that bit if it was true.
"No more snacks before bedtime, Fox," he muttered sleepily. "You get weird dreams."
He picked up the phone and muttered into it.
"Fox here...oh...hey Lizzy. Easy...easy slow down there, femme. Easy now...I'm listening..." he muttered and sat down.
And he did listen. He didn't believe his own ears, but he listened.
A moment later, he hung up and went back to the bedroom, shaken to the core. He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to wake up Miriam. He didn't like waking her up. Especially not with the kind of news he had but...she needed to know. Not later. Right away.
"Miriam...wake up..." he said, his voice thick.
"Mrrh...wha...Fox...this is a bad joke," Miriam grumbled. "It's a quarter to six. Go to sleep. It's Sunday for Gods sake..."
"Mir...please? Please wake up? It's...it's Emma..."
Those words punched through Miriam's drowsiness like a rapier. She sat bolt upright in bed. "What? What's happened to her?"
Fox had tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't look like he knew how to answer.
"TELL me, Fox. What's happened to her??" Miriam asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.
"The police have her...that was Lizzy calling. Emma had called her, asking her to get a lawyer for her. She's....she's shot Jeremy. H...he's dead, Miriam."