Bridger pushed through the door at the end of the hall and started down the stairs, trying to figure out how someone could be so jaded and so blind to their own hypocrisy. That wolf was ranting about how bad humans were for treating morphs so poorly, yet she was just as dismissively generalizing and condemning all humans for the actions of some. If they were all that way, then slavery would never have been abolished. But what was she talking about when she said the good ones were just furry inside? Was she trying to give a new name to humanity or was there something more that had been kept from him and he was blinded by his own controlled childhood?
“Bridger? Bridger!”
The horse stopped, realizing that his friend had been calling him for a while. He looked up two flights to see the squirrel clinging to the railing as he tried to manage the unfamiliar stairs. He hurried back up and put his hands on the blind rodent's shoulders to stop him, “I'm sorry, I was lost in my own head for a while.”
“Did somebody break the elevator while we were listening to that bitch?”
“No, I … How did you know she was canine?”
Chester smirked, “I didn't.”
Bridger missed the intended insult, “Do you want to go back to the elevator?”
“No, just carry me down. These are steeper steps than I expected.” He caught his breath as the familiar large hand slipped under his tail and scooped him up against the warm, muscular chest. Of course he had an ulterior motive for wanting to be carried by the big mustang and he was sure Bridger knew it, but the comfort of resting in the horse's strong arms allowed his mind to drift back to thoughts of his mother. He realized his families were just protecting him by not telling him, and he had long since accepted that she had died when he was born, but he was still trying to come to terms with the monster that killed his mother getting away. Before he expected it, the horse lowered him to the ground and he was standing on his own feet again.
The mustang stopped at the door and looked back at his squirrel friend still standing at the bottom of the steps, “Are you okay with walking?”
Chester turned to his friend's voice and started walking towards it, “Yeah, just getting my bearings.”
Bridger watched the fluffy tail dragging on the ground behind him and was pretty sure his friend was not okay. They walked about a block before he couldn't take it anymore. Scooping the sullen squirrel up, he set him on the window ledge of an empty storefront and sat down beside him.
“Where are we?”
“Nowhere. I just thought we could use a moment to reflect on what we just heard.” He put his hand on the smaller morph's back.
“It … was a little unnerving hearing her trashing humans like that. My families and friends in Copperdale are nice folks; not the slavers she was trying to make them out to be.”
Bridger knew that wasn't the main issue, but he didn't push it. “She was awfully critical of humans being anti-morph, but she's pretty anti-human.”
“Yeah. She needs to come down to Copperdale to see what humans are really like. The ones here in the city are rude.”
“I don't think they all are. There's just more of them to notice.”
Chester pulled his tail into his lap and started picking out the bits of debris that had collected in the fur.
-
People walked by without noticing them much, continuing with their day and their conversations.
“Omigod, I can't believe she'd wear something like that. I mean, I would never, and you know that.”
“I know, right? It's just so over the edge…”
“Chelsea, look. Can you believe it?”
“I didn't think they sold those anymore. How much do you think they are?”
“I don't know, but my dad had one and I could just stare at it for hours.”
"Did he…?"
The girl scoffed, "No. He wasn't like that."
“Did you ever do anything?”
“Almost, but he wouldn't let me. He knew I watched when he was cleaning, though. He'd move slow, letting me see everything, instead of just doing it quickly.”
“I don't think I could handle a big one like that.”
“Well, there's a little one there, too.”
“I don't know. Do you think it's too small?”
“It's all in how you use it.”
“Hey, she's right.” The girls gasped as a man joined their conversation. “I noticed you ladies checking out my merchandise. Are you interested in buying?”
“I don't think we can afford it.”
“Oh now, don't rush off. I'm sure we can work out a deal, maybe a payment plan. They're very useful and more than just a little fun. They'll pay for themselves before you know it. You won't regret it.”
“Well, how much are they?”
“Vikky!”
“There's the spirit. Why don't you make me an offer. I don't want to scare you off by quoting their value when I can make you a deal like you'd never believe.”
Bridger started to feel uncomfortable listening to the guy pressuring the girls. They were dressed clean and probably expensive, but the 'salesman' was scruffy and unkempt. He wondered if he should intervene and save the girls from the trouble he was peddling.
“Well, I don't have any cash with me. Do you do digital?”
“We can make that happen. What's your offer?”
Bridger stood up to interrupt them, but a man's hand on his chest stopped him. He followed the arm to find a human as big as himself and another beside him. He looked around and noticed two more men in the other direction, corralling them on the sidewalk in front of the window.
“V, I can't afford anything like that!”
“Tell you what, You make a good offer on the horse and I'll give ya the little one for free.”
“See, he'll work with us.”
“But I thought owning furrys was illegal.”
The man had an answer for everything, “Oh, there are some exceptions, like work contracts for debt and …”
Reality clicked and Bridger spoke up, “We're not for sale. This man does not own us.” A sudden blow to his neck sent the horse stumbling to the ground and the girls shrieked, “Don't hurt him!”
“What's going on?” Chester reached beside him, looking for his friend who wasn't there.
“I don't have time to work their debt out of them, so how about you cover it, so I don't have to sell them for parts!” The man was no longer friendly.
“Come on, Vikky, let's get out of here.”
“I can't leave them like that. He's gonna kill them!”
One of the men caught Chelsea as she started to leave.
“How about you just give me your account infos and everything you've got on you and we won't sell you for parts, either.”
Chelsea started crying as Vikky fumbled with her bag.
“You, too, missy.”
A dark shadow fell over the group and a blow from above sent the man holding Chelsea crumpling to the ground like an empty bag. Both girls screamed and Chelsea pulled Vikky's shirt until they both ran down the sidewalk. The other three men looked at the 8'4” man towering before them and took off, as well, leaving the 'salesman' alone.
“You've messed with the wrong guys, throp.” The scruffy man stood defiantly in front of the living wall, but soon realized that he was alone.
The big man straightened his back, adding another eight inches to his height and raised his huge fists beside the much smaller man's head.
“Well, you'll get yours later. You'll be sorry you crossed us!” The salesman stumbled over himself as he hurried away.
“Bridger?”
The horse stood up and dusted himself off, then rubbed his neck and addressed the big man, "Um, thank you?"
He spoke simply with a deep voice, "Those guys are trouble, but I couldn't let them get away with hurting you or those girls."
"Bridger."
The mustang stepped back and put his hand on the distressed squirrel's back to calm him. "I guess we owe you our lives, then."
The man shook his big head slowly, then bent down and picked up the unconscious bully, "Your life is your own, as everyone's should be." He carried the limp man to the door of the empty shop and sat him down, leaning against it.
"Bridger, what happened?"
"Some guy thought he could sell us to some girls for some reason."
The big man pointed to the window behind them, "Be careful where you sit."
Bridger looked up and noticed a sign on the window that read FOR SALE or LEASE and groaned, "I guess I should. Sorry about that." He held out his hand. "I'm Bridger and this is Chester."
"Call me John."
"That guy called you throp, but you look human."
John gave a heavy sigh, "I'm 40% brown bear. I was created for fighting, but I can't do that anymore. I should tell Mr Gambine that they're mad at me again. He won't be happy." A distant siren caught his attention. "You should go now." He turned and walked across the street. A few doors down, he ducked through a door into a store with a sign above it: Gambine's Get-it.
“Bridger …?”
“Let's get moving.” The horse scooped up his squirrel friend and hurried up the street towards the parking garage, only putting him down in the seat of his car. “You're right, let's get out of San Francisco.”
“But what about seeing the Golden Gate Bridge?”
“You'll survive without it and so can I.” He started the car and when the navigation screen came on, he tapped it. “Navigate highway 1 north.”
The map on the screen shifted as it calculated, “Return to street level.”
Bridger turned to his traveling companion and put his hand on the small morph's leg, “Let's get out of here before something else happens.”
Chester smiled, “Finally.”
