Chapter 3
Morning came by and she did her best to avoid the others. She was bouncing a ball she found off the wall when that fateful moment came and proximity alarms went off. The ship was entering the gravity well of CP-006. Gwyn bolted towards the cockpit, to find the others had all beaten her to it. Jon sat in the pilot’s seat.
“Alright, hang on to something. We’ve got an exciting ride ahead of us.” Said jon, who was flipping switches all across the dash.
“Freighter 13377 you’re coming in too fast, divert to holding pattern.” said a voice over an intercom. “Repeat, divert to holding pattern; where is your destination?”
“You don’t think they’ll shoot us down if we don’t comply do you?” asked Ben.
“I doubt it, this isn’t a time of war anymore. We are just some civilians in a bit of trouble is all.” he said with a smile. The ship tore threw the clouds of the atmosphere as the silence of space was filled with the crackling of atmosphere. One could see nothing but white out the viewport of the ship. “Listen it is going to get bumpy once we hit the final layer of the,” as if on queue the ship began to shake and scream. Jon gripped the joystick of the ship tightly, beads of sweat forming at his brow. The clouds tore away and under them was a huge city.
“Fine place you have picked to land.” said Ben in a sarcastic manner.
“Shut-up.” Shouted Jon. The city approached, growing larger in each passing second. “There, we’re landing there.” shouted Jon, pointing at what looked like a building that was under renovation. Plastic covered the windows and there were no people in sight.
Impact! The ship crashed through the wall of the building. It tore through walls and floors; the friction of the debris slowed the ship. Gwyn was holding on as best she could, before she felt herself being wrenched away from the emergency handrail. The ship became a washing machine as she was tossed about like laundry. She wrapped her head in her hands. The girl was thrown from wall to wall. In a moment, the world once again found peace. She sat up and looked around, before feeling arms wrap themselves around her.
“Are you alright?” asked the familiar voice of the wolf.
“Yeah,” she said, unsure if such was true. Her head hurt to all hell, and her shin was definitely bleeding.
“We need to move,” called out the commanding voice of Ben’s. Jon was already unbuckled. He disappeared into the interior of the shuttle as the smell of smoke began to fill the air. “Now!” He added with more intent. The man grabbed Trace’s collar. “Go get the bags.” he told him. He reached down and pulled the fox up by her arm. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I think so.” admitted Gwyn.
“Off the ship then, go.” he commanded. Gwyn wasted no time doing as he said. She limped her way out of the cockpit and down the halls. The ship was filled with smoke. Alarms deafened her, as evaporated engine coolant choked her lungs. Her eyes stung. She kept them shut, making her way through the ship by feel. The girl slipped and hit the metal floor. It was hot, the shuttle was on fire, she knew she did not have much time. Gwyn redoubled her efforts. The door could not be that far away. She scurried forward running into the wheel of the access hatch. She gripped it in her paws, as the electronic door opener was surely broke. She pulled with all her might and the fox was rewarded with cool city air. Smoke poured out above her, and the without delay she jumped onto the tarmac. The pavement bit her hands and knees. Her right leg screamed out in pain. It was only a four foot jump, but the shock of landing aggravated an injury she was just realizing she had. She looked back on all fours. Her ankle was swollen to almost twice its size. The girl began to crawl away from the burning shuttle. Her body slowly beginning to alert her of exactly what was injured. Everything hurt; every muscle was reporting pain to her brain. The fox fell into a fit of coughing. Her shirt went tight as the familiar presence of Jon pulled her to her feet by the collar of her shirt.
“We gotta move girly; Police will be here soon.” he told her half dragging and half pulling her along. She focused on keeping up with his fast pace, or at least it felt fast to her. The other two were right behind them. Trace was carrying about 4 different duffel bags and Ben was carrying an absurdly long rifle.
“We need to get into cover and wait this thing out.” he shouted, as the group ran down alley ways and sidewalks drawing the view of a few people. “We can’t let the Police find us. Customs would not appreciate what we are bringing on planet.”
The group went down another side alley where Jon opened up a man-hole. “We will make our way away from the crash and hole up in some low end apartment complex.” He climbed down the ladder. Upon reaching the bottom, he whipped out a tablet from his pockets and began typing in search queries while the rest of the group made their way down. It was quite in the tunnel as the hustling of citizens and emergency crews died out, muffled by the concrete. The tablet broke the silence, alerting the group that it had found an apartment complex. The sewer smelled of dead fish and motor oil. Gwyn looked down; she was standing in water that went up to her ankles.
“Oh, this is just fabulous. I’ll smell like this for weeks.” she complained, walking next to the hulking presence of Ben. His presence she was beginning to find comforting. The way he carried himself, the confidence in his gate, both gave the man a commanding presence about him as if the air itself told her to be brave. Gwyn felt her eyes tear up. A more sensitive nose had its benefits, but today she was learning of its downsides. She looked over to Trace to see if he was having as much of a problem as her. Trace was busy tying a cloth over his face and the two humans did not seem to even notice the issue. Gwyn wondered if they could even smell at all until Jon spoke up.
“It really stinks down here.” He stated. A murmur of agreement come from the party. “It’s worse than Tim’s socks were that second week of basic… do you remember, Ben?” he asked.
“Ahh, yes, How could I forget?” he responded. The man was cradling the rifle as he walked fearlessly through the sewage. He was the only one wearing boots after all.
Gwyn decided to not pay anymore attention to the conversation as the two talked of pranks pulled years ago. Some of them sounded terribly mean. The girl could feel the greasy water permeate her shoes and her fur. It seeped between her toes, and she could only pray the white fur on her feet wouldn’t change color. The fox had white fur from her hands to her elbows and from her knees to her feet. The water slowly turned to sludge and the smell got worse. When the fox thought she wouldn’t be able to take much more the tablet beeped and Ben motioned towards a nearby ladder. Jon went up first. He popped the manhole cover off and out he went. He motioned that the coast was clear. So Ben passed him up the rifle before climbing up half way. Trace proceeded to toss Duffel after Duffel to Ben who tossed them up to Jon. Ben made his way up and Trace motioned to Gwyn.
“Ladies first.” he said with a smile. Gwyn happily took the chance to get out of the sewer. She made her way up the ladder, Trace following. Trace followed rather quickly afterward, taking to chance to look up at the fox’s rear. Something any self respecting gentleman would do. She poked her head out of the manhole before the hand of Ben yanked her out. The group was in an empty alleyway. Jon had stacked the bags so Trace could easily pick them back up. It seemed the wolf had to carry most everything. Jon put his tablet against the door, and in a moment the magnetic lock clicked. The door popped open. The four traveled inside.
“Are we going to rent a place?” she asked, cautiously. Gwyn was trying to stay quiet.
“I doubt it, was thinking of just breaking into an abandoned looking place. Hide in there for a day or two, while we set up a new base of operations.” Jon told her, looking to Ben for approval of the plan.
“Yeah, we should not blow what limited capital we have.” He added, taking one of the bags from the now struggling boy.
“Capital?” asked Trace who was not familiar with the term.
“Yeah, it means the same as cash. It is the money you have to spend,” explained Jon.
The group walked up a flight of stairs finding themselves in a hall filled with doors to apartments. Jon walked up and knocked on the first.
“Yes?” answered an older lady.
“Health check.” replied Jon. Something that wasn’t uncommon for apartments to routinely find homes that might have dead residents. No other conversation was needed. The group made their way from door to door, getting answers before continuing. Room 117 he knocked. There was no answer. “Ben?” he asked. Ben simply nodded before kicking through the bolt of the door. A quick view inside told the group it was occupied.
“Oops.” Gwyn stated for the group. She saw surprised how little locks did to keep them out. It was nothing but a small inconvenience for them. She for some reason felt less safe now. The crew continued to knock or kick in doors until...
“Bingo.” said Jon, looking over a room with no furniture or belongings. “We can stay here for the night.”
Gwyn was ushered in with the rest of them by Jon. She leaned against the newly painted wall. She let herself slide down the wall sitting on the carpet. It was a small single bedroom apartment. She looked down at her bleeding shin. There was a lot of blood caked into her fur, so she decided to pull up her pant leg to inspect the wound. The gash on her shin became more painful as she looked at it.
“I think this needs medical attention.” She told the room. Trace knelt by her looking over her leg.
“She’s got a pretty big gash.” Trace said looking up at Jon.
“Fine, I’ll make a run to the closest pharmacy.” He dropped some of his gear in the corner, tapping his tablet to get directions to the nearest drug store. “Fucking teen picking up young foxes.” he mumbled as he walked out of the room, closing the busted door behind him.
“Gwyn.” Ben said squatting down beside her. “I do not think you should stay with us. We are to put it shortly, in the process of something very dangerous and illegal.” Trace looked crestfallen as his mentor began telling the fox to go away. He spoke up.
“But, what if she wants to help? We’re the good guys! We have to kill-” He was cut off by Ben.
“Trace, that’s enough. She is not staying. She is untrained and would end up getting one of us killed. When Jon comes back we will help you bandage up your leg and then you’ll leave. Do you need money?”
Gwyn shook her head no. She found it somewhat rude that they were speaking as if she was not in the room, but she agreed. She did not want to be apart of any of it. Trace shouted.
“You can’t just kick her out!”
“It’s alright Trace. I have been trying to get to Novi all my life, and now I’m here. It’s been…” she did not want to say fun. “Interesting, but I think he is right. I should go. I will be okay.” she assured him with a smile. Trace huffed and began to pace around the room. Gwyn laid her head back against the wall and shut her eyes, dozing off until the ex-bartender would return.
