Ch. 4

“Hurry up!,” yelled the Overseer. “We have a deadline to meet. Boss’ll be lookin’ for this stuff.”

The squarish-rectangular room was filled with boxes of assorted things, ranging from scrap pieces to stolen goods. The sun was starting to touch the horizon, which forced the goons to illuminate the garage. Ten males, ranging in varying predator species, worked as bees, Connor and Maxwell amongst them. They loaded these boxes of goods onto a semi-truck’s compartment car.

Maxwell hastily tossed some car parts at Connor’s box. Most went in, a few missed, and one (the sedan’s engine) charged Connor’s muzzle. Connor snapped, “Watch where ya throwing that, Maxwell.”

Before Maxwell, a dark jaguar like Connor, could respond, the coyote Overseer stormed over and knocked the cub down. “Get to picking them up and fast. We don’t have time for these games.” Connor glared at the Overseer, but did as he was told. As he picked up the parts, and as the Overseer returned, Connor noticed a silhouette dash from shadow to shadow. He shook his head and got up; he stored the parts in his box. “Sorry pal,” apologized Maxwell. Connor didn’t respond, but gave an odd look at Maxwell. “What’s wrong?,” inquired he. Connor just shook his head, shrugged, and struggled to find the words.

“ZPD! PAWS UP!”

The police semi-circled the group of smugglers from the entrance. Connor froze in place. He could barely keep up with his scattered group, which pulled their guns. A standstill ensued between the two sides, centering Connor. He attempted to reach his gun.

“Looking for this, son?,” asked Eric, who drew Connor’s gun, in an evidence bag, from a hidden purple satchel. Connor’s awkwardness became more apparent than the stalemate. “Connor, is that your gun?,” asked his bewildered friend.

“Maxwell, I presume,” said Eric. Maxwell silenced himself. “Thanks for keeping Connor close. After all, birds of a feather flock together.” Everyone, even the officers, turned their faces to him, puzzled by what just came out of his muzzle. Eric turned his attention back to Connor. He put up the bag and holstered his gun. “Connor, your parents miss you. They need you back.”

The indignant Connor snapped, “My parents don’t want me! I’m just a burden to them!”

“Connor, whatever burden you may have been on them is greatly overshadowed by your absence. Your mother was on the verge of mourning because you were gone. She is worried about you,” nearly pleaded Eric.

“Liar!”

“Ok then. When was the last time THIS ‘family’ of yours treat you well?,” questioned Eric. Connor glanced back. “Perhaps before you got your own jacket from Maxwell?”

The devil spoken about examined Connor again. “Where is your jacket, Connor? We’re supposed to wear them today,” stated he. Connor paled and slightly quaked. Tears overflew from his eyes. The outraged Maxwell berated, “You left it with your gun? You idiot! You led the cops here!”

“Now, now Maxwell,” responded Eric like a mother to a child, “Is that how we treat family?”

“He’s one of us, so we’ll handle him like one of us.”

“Let me guess,” hypothesized Eric, turning to the Overseer, “IF you get away, you’ll force Connor to take dangerous jobs, like smuggling things in front of the police or other gangs, to other mammals, through his rear entrance. Or you’ll probably stone him with all of your contraband. Or, more likely, you’ll pit Connor and Maxwell against each other, with only one to come back. Which shall it be?”

The gobsmacked Overseer turned his attention to the officer. Connor peered at the Overseer. “Is that true?”

The Overseer’s gaze became hotter at the officer, at least from the look of it. Maxwell took offense at the silence. He asserted, “They would never do that.” Eric retorted, “Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve seen it before. The Smuggler’s Guild despises traitors more than anything else.

“Connor. I am willing to put aside all of what you’ve done. I am willing to have all the charges against you dropped. Come with me, and we’ll go home.”

Maxwell countered, “Connor. Stay with us. We’re your family and we’ll forgive you.”

“Remember what I said: ‘They despise traitors more than anything else’.”

“Come on, pal. Don’t listen to the copper. He’s lying.”

“Your Overseer begs to differ, Maxwell. You can’t save him. I can.”

“Connor, stay with us!”

“Connor, come with me. Come home with your real family!”

“SHUT UP!”

Poor cub, imprisoned by the incessant arguments from both sides within his ears and mind. He left the room dead silent. Seconds felt like hours as the impasse continued. The tide began to turn as Connor puppy-eyed the Overseer. “Will you forgive me?,” his voice quivered.

The Overseer just stared at the cub. A dilemma arose within. On one paw, he wanted to forgive him for the sake of the group. On the other, the Overseer had to make an example out of someone. He pondered the choices, but Connor took his silence as a clear answer. He turned away, joining the officer.

Maxwell vented his pent up outrage with a yell. Eric drew his gun, shooting Maxwell’s gun and four gangsters. This began the firefight. Eric tackled Connor into cover, spilling out the evidence bag. The muzzles of the guns flashed, briefly brightening the room. Bullets raced out of them, piercing opposing wielders. Lead filled rain darted back and forth, dampening each side. At first, the gangsters sent the cops on the retreat. However, more flashes and lead erupted from them. Unable to stand against the other side, the gangsters retreated into the semi.

Maxwell was the last to get on. He called out Connor, verbally assaulting him and his family. Enraged, Connor took his gun from the bag next to him. He ran to the open garage door. Connor’s ears muted the shouts of both mammals and guns. One energized thought channeled into his paw; The fire within laser-focused on his once friend. The resounding BANG echoed his scream as the bullet drilled through the air. Maxwell’s cackling ended with a shocked face. The last of his enemy broke apart on the street as the truck escaped into the city.

Connor dropped his gun. His breaths grew weightier. The emotions overwhelmed his efforts to hold back tears. He fell to his knees and held back no longer. Eric put his paw on the cub’s shoulder. “It’s ok, Connor,” he said. “You did the right thing.” Connor shot up his face, rivers and all, at him. He could faintly hear the cops calling in for medics and backup.