By Oboroten
Late that evening, Charlie walked down Border Street, trying to ignore the glare of the spotlights pointed in his direction. The entire frontier was lit up, with security agents posted at every street corner on the edge of Capital City. Fear had gripped the populace, as many were sure that predators from Beast Town would ravage the streets.
Approaching the Stray Dog Café just before ten o’clock, Charlie spotted the familiar shape of Jack Buckby standing outside the door. Being part kangaroo, he towered over the milling crowd of morphs nearby. Employed by the bartender for security, Jack was said to be a good fighter even before he was transformed. Now, he was even more effective.
"That’s all for the night. Get outta here," yelled Jack, thrusting a scaly armadillo-morph out the door. As the ousted patron tried to go back in, the kangaroo-man knocked him down to the ground with a single blow of his muscular tail. As the crowd parted, Jack held his arms up, as if ready to box. However, seeing only a hard shell in front of him, he made a strong kick with his hind legs, sending the armadillo spinning down the sidewalk. Shaking the dust off his armored rings, the armadillo-man soon got up and walked away, having learned not to mess with bar security here.
Cautiously walking up to Jack, Charlie carefully drew a card from his vest, marked with the signature of Dr. Jethro Scanlan. Initially, Jack seemed suspicious, knowing the Charlie Coyote had often worked as a sleuth-hound for the Capital City Police. Then, as the roo morph peered down at the card, his ears seemed to stick even more upright than before. "Don’t wave that around too much," he whispered to Charlie, "There’s lots of money involved. So much that some folks would kill for it."
"I’ll be discreet," said Charlie quietly, shoving the card in a pocket under his jacket as he slowly walked inside. Jack attempted to back inside for a moment, but quickly remember that his legs would only go forward. Carefully swinging his tail around, he rotated his entire body to block the entrance and then headed inside. A diminutive, rodent-like man then ran behind him, solidly locking the door.
"This Collins mess is bad for business," said Jack calmly, as they passed a table where some dog-morphs played poker. "Only a few of the herbivores will be allowed into Capital City. No one else, including you Charlie, will be able to even step across Border Street. How are they going to get credits to spend here?"
"I dunno," said Charlie slowly, noticing that Jack was leading him toward a back room. "Some folks still get money without much trouble. What about Howie and Vicky? I can’t figure out why they’re spending credits like there’s no tomorrow."
"Yeah . . . it’s odd, but Vicky won’t be getting as many customers. Someone got the other key to that room last night, someone who wanted to get back at her."
"You’d think she’d keep both keys herself," said Charlie, his ears pointing up to listen for other conversations. He could hear voices faintly chittering within a nearby room, but they became quiet as Jack approached the door.
"What! You think I had something to do with it," Jack suddenly spat out, glaring at Charlie and swiveling his long ears to listen for any sounds outside. "Are you trying to trick me? I already talked to two cops this afternoon. I was nowhere near . . ."
"No, no, I’d never do that," replied Charlie slowly, backing away from the agitated marsupial-man. "But you’ve got a bit of a reputation for being, um, somewhat unpredictable. While I couldn’t imagine you doing something to Collins, the cops . . ."
After making a guttural cough to cut off Charlie, Jack resumed talking. "I’ve heard it all before. I don’t need someone looking like a damn dingo to tell me they’re out to get me. Why, they even accused me of being ‘with the mob’ last year. Of course I was! That’s what groups of kangaroo morphs are called. Just because I’m big and bulky, the cops are sure I’m some sort of thug, a hit man for a gang."
While Jack stamped his hind feet on the ground in annoyance, Charlie considered what he’d just heard. He’d have to be subtle here, for he wasn’t sure if his invitation would be accepted as genuine. If Jack really did know what happened to Collins, he might hurl Charlie back onto the street. "Of course not, Jack," he continued in a faltering voice, carefully watching Jack’s thrashing tail, "I’m quite aware that you’re a herbivore and pacifist by nature. Besides, you said someone else had the spare key. There’s no way you could possibly gone in that room without Vicky’s permission."
"Yeah, Howie had it," said Jack, getting a bit calmer and walking back to the door. "I still can’t figure out how someone else got inside, but I know none of us did it. If I ever find out who knifed Collins, I’ll box his . . ."
Hearing Jack make a sudden clucking sound in his throat and momentarily rear up on his huge hind legs in anger, Charlie wondered if the display was genuine. He did seem truly annoyed, but was it merely feigned displeasure? After all, no one in Beast Town really liked Congressman Collins, not after all the restrictive rules he’d promoted.
As Jack unbarred the door, and began to turn a key in the lock, Charlie tried to recall where Howard Hare lived. It was a place Vicky had told me about, a run down apartment facing Border Street. Maybe someone had grabbed the key from his room when he was away running errands? Any robber in Beast Town would want to break into Howie’s place, for he must keep thousands of credits there.
Walking inside, Charlie saw a number of short fursons sitting at a large table. While seven-foot-tall Jack stood by the entrance, Charlie sat down at the largest chair, glancing at the others in the room. Most of the herbivores appeared rodent-like, having faces like mice, rats, and squirrels. All seemed to quaver at the sight of Charlie, shrinking back after viewing his sharp fangs and the pointed claws on his hands.
Then, as Jack closed the entrance door, a familiar voice spoke from the back of the room. "So, Charlie Coyote, what are you doing here?"
Before he could respond, Howard Hare walked forward along the right side of the table, "What is it you want? Some wine perhaps?"
Looking down, Charlie noticed that a few of the rodent-men had cans of beer in front of them, but saw nothing else. "I don’t see any. Should I go back to the bar?"
"There isn’t any," replied the hare, baring his large teeth. "And don’t even think about going out of this room until we find out which side you’re on."
This was ridiculous, Charlie thought to himself. Still, he’d respect the lapine’s threat as it was backed up by Jack’s muscle, for he guessed the kangaroo-man must be on Howie’s side, whatever that was. "Well, it wasn’t very nice for you to offer something you didn’t have? I was invited here by Dr. Scanlan."
"I didn’t invite you," said Howard, briefly glancing at Jack for encouragement. "You barge in here, sit down in the biggest chair in the room, and get ready to boss us around just because you’re a carnivore. I’ll ask the questions!"
"I’m sorry," said Charlie apologetically, trying to lower his eyes in submission, which proved to be quite difficult given that the lapine was at least a foot shorter. "I should have been more polite, but my day’s been real rough. They’ve revoked all passes into Capital City for carnivores so I don’t know how I’ll get any more credits."
"It’s not just carnivores," interjected Jack. "The cops have been watching me all day, trying to pin my tail for attacking Collins. I was never in Vicky’s place!"
"Don’t you see how you’re being oppressed?" asked Howard, glancing at the others in the room. "All of us were once humans. We deserve respect, just like them! Give us our rights back! Strike a blow for freedom!"
"But what will your words achieve?" asked a furson at the table who somewhat resembled a dormouse. "Who will bell the cat?" He quickly guzzled down a beer, barely paying attention to the angry hare. The other rodents in the room seemed equally skeptical of the lapine’s strident remarks, Charlie noted
"We shall build a new society together," proclaimed Howard. "By any means necessary, we shall bring about a change. Everything will be different."
"But we can’t do anything," insisted another, whom Charlie couldn’t see very well. From her high-pitched melodic voice, however, he guessed she was a bird morph. "We’re too afraid of the carnivores and have no hope to persuade the humans . . ."
Hastily inhaling through his nose, Howard tried to dismiss this comment, "Don’t you know what will happen if we do nothing? They’ll treat us like mere animals, breeding us like cattle. Why, I’d even expect them to start eating the herbivores."
A shudder ran through the room at these words and Charlie immediately felt dozens of eyes were gazing up at him. "I assure you that I’d never consider something like that," he said to calm the others. "While some of us do have difficulty controlling our appetites, I eat almost the same foods as when I was human."
"I wasn’t referring to you, Charles Robinson," said Howard harshly. "The humans fear our society, so I really do believe that they would consume the flesh of the herbivores, to terrify them into serving them as slaves. But we shall overcome all of their threats, building a new Beast Town!"
"That’s great," said Jack, "I’d like to get involved, but how are you going to help us? On the radio this evening, I heard that your friend is in trouble. Collins is starting an investigation into the drug companies. It seems the police think Doc Scanlan has been shipping drugs to Beast Town, so they’re going to check out his records."
"What exactly did you hear?" asked the lapine, rapidly stamping his feet.
"Well, I’m not sure entirely, but I reckon you won’t be able to bring more credits out of Capital City. Or at least, it will be a lot more difficult now."
"I don’t care. The time for talk is over," insisted Howard. "Since they revoked all the passes, we’ll get the carnivores on our side. They call us beasts, but the real vermin are Collins and his crew. If they set foot in Beast Town again . . ."
"I saw Collins over at the door to Vicky’s place earlier tonight," reported the squeaky voice of a nearby rodent. "Maybe we can confront him? Tell him what he did was wrong?"
"Meeting dismissed," said Howard abruptly, heading for the door. Jack opened it quickly, as the lapine evidently wanted to go somewhere hastily. Charlie slowly followed behind, but soon found himself surrounded by a crowd of anxious herbivores. Jack also detained him, anxious to find out if Charlie would help him clear his name.
The night went by quickly, although Charlie didn’t remember exactly what happened from the amount of alcohol that flowed in the Stray Dog Café. It seems that Howard Hare had left behind enough credits for all his friends to have free drinks on the house. Everyone moaned about how they hated the new rules, but no one seemed to have the slightest idea of what could be done about them.
On the next morning, well after sunrise, Charlie awoke to hear his phone ringing. Grabbing it roughly with his paw, he groggily awoke, hearing the faint voice of Officer Freeman. Turning up the volume, an urgent request came through:
"It’s an emergency! Head out to the left side of Vicky’s place."
"Again? What happened this time?"
"Collins is dead! Someone bashed his head in last night when he was walking down the street. Even worse, the newspaper reporters were tipped off, so they’ve all gone into Beast Town to take pictures. It’s covered with blood."
"So, why do you want me? I won’t be able to track the scent if . . ."
"But I really need you this time, Charlie. Your hunch was right. The kangaroo guy wasn’t involved at all. One of Vicky’s girls saw the killer in the moonlight."
"Huh?"
"It was Howard Hare."