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More from wrathofautumn
Chapters:
1)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3296822
2)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3311879/
3)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3331352/
4)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3376285/
5)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3417877/
6)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3496265/
7)
8)
9)/
And the story goes on! woo...after this I'm goin to sleepies. v.v
Emma finally reaches her family after doing some sidechecking in other places.
02/15/10: Major editing has been done, and I'm happier with the results of this version much better.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
“Silent Echoes
Chapter Five
By Wrathofautumn”
Emma could see the fires from the city limits. The sky was hazy with smoke, covering the city in a veil of brown and gray. At the very least visibility wasn’t so poor that she was driving blind. The fog would cover her tracks against any pursuing bandits and gadiantons, but they’d hear her motor running. Making a signal to turn right, she entered what appeared to be the downtown part of Provo.
The traffic lights here had no flash. Not that that should have mattered, except that she saw that the lamp posts, hanging billboard signs, and neon lights were not working either. Though there were a few knocked over power lines, that couldn’t have explained the power outage in such a large area. There must have been a large power surge during the pandemic, and with no workers to keep the plants running, they quickly fell into disrepair and the city slowly went into darkness. Driving here at night would not be the wisest of ideas. She would have to work to find her family quickly. Was this to be the fate that Mount Pleasant, Ephraim, and the rest of Sanpete County would eventually share?
On either side of her, she could see vast square yards of parking lot, the asphalt actually empty. Though there were a few broken in cars the only thing she could distinctly make out in the fog of smoke was giant piles of debris like landfills, fires still burning strong. She thought she could make out shadows moving in the shroud of brownish grey, but she wasn’t willing to find out whether they were friend or foe. Passing over a bridge, she came by more buildings, almost like a plaza in Mount Pleasant. Most of the buildings were boarded up and there was some debris and dead mutated bodies on the sidewalks. Other than that, there were no signs of any life or activity around, save the trees. Had there been a large riot? Why would anyone want to burn down large buildings in a lawless land anyhow?
Just as she passed 500 North, she spotted a familiar landmark: a tall building made of bricks and concrete, its roof spiked with spiraling towers, almost like a mansion. Something about it reminded her of a place she used to go to, something important, but she couldn’t remember what. Turning a right on 400 North, she pulled in to a parking lot, killing the engines. She wasn’t sure if stopping here was a good idea, but her gut told her that she could find something if she looked hard enough.
Unbuckling herself out of her seat, Emma left the car and stretched her legs against the lot. She’d been driving for at least over an hour. Her muscles ached, too, from that car chase. Across the parking lot was a vast lawn of crabgrass, divided by a network of sidewalks. Making her way across the grass, she headed towards a broad stairwell. The climb would be high but it would lead her to the front entrance. Then she stopped herself, putting a finger to the tip of her chin, assuming that foxes have chins. Her memory recalled an easier path. Detouring left, she trotted past a handrail and back onto the sidewalk. Sure enough, there was a large glass wall supported with great metal frames, vandalism staining their transparent bodies. The frames were smudged with many fingerprints. All the lights were out, but she could still see littered paper over the tiling. Someone had been here before. But why? Could they still be here now?
There was a set of double doors to the way inside. Padding down the ramp, nails clicking against the asphalt, she grabbed hold of the door handles, but nothing budged. Ah, no matter; after all, when there was a will there was a way. The door,, much like the walls surrounding it, was simply a metal frame centered with a piece of glass, and hopefully not bulletproof. She pulled out her 13 mm and blasted the glass frame. Like a waterfall, the shards rained on to the ground with a high-pitched shatter. Carefully jumping over the fragments, Emma strode along the white linoleum floor, following the trail of paper and entering a larger room. The hard linoleum flooring softened to velvet carpeting. She beheld entire shelves filled with books and every desk and cubicle with a computer. Now Emma knew for sure that this was Provo’s public library, which was where she would get what she needed.
Going behind the information desk, she knelt as best as a tauroid could, searching through the files of scrunched paperwork. Finally, her claws pulled out a phone book. Dropping it on the counter, she flipped it open, searching through the resident listing under Eukariah. Sure enough, Jacob Eukariah appeared under the address 3247 Mohawk Lane 84604. Like an unexpected migraine, muddled memories came into view of a large colonial-styled house on the top of a hill, a lower lever built into the ground. The cobblestone walkway from the driveway was lined with periwinkle primroses, and freshly planted gold and violet pansies, and the arch-shaped windows with curtains concealed the inside except for a dog poking its head from the windowsill.
The rustling of pages snapped her back to reality. What was that just now? It couldn’t have been an air conditioner since there was no power. So was it a nearby threat? Cocking her gun, Emma padded quietly to the source of the sound, tail tucked low to the ground. She wouldn’t take the chance of letting whatever it was to get the best of her. Oh no, She’ll kill the bandit first! Slowly, she patrolled the aisles of the deserted library, eyes shifting this way and that. Ears snapping at the sound of a sharp giggle, she raised her gun, ready to kill. Then she stopped, remembering Moroni’s words: “Know who you’re shooting.”
Sitting on the carpet flooring was a Mouse Survivor, wearing clothes that gave off an unforgivably horrendous stench. Not even sandblasting would ever get rid of that smell. He pushed a pair of circular glasses against his snout. All of his attention was completely focused on the novel in his hairless handpaws. His bare, plantigrade footpaws shuffled against the flooring, his long ropey tail tapping against the bookshelf. Looking closely at the book’s cover, she read “The Great Gatsby”. In a decent stack behind him were other titles he’s gone through like “The Magnificent Amberson”, “Paradise Lost”, “100 Years of Solitude”, and “The Once and Future King.” None of these titles struck her memory, and neither did they interest her.
When the mousey figure looked up at Emma, he smiled quietly. The expression threw Emma off guard as he waved his handpaw before he returned to reading. The foxtauress lowered her weapon, her head filled with questions. How did this boy find this place on his own? Where were his parents? Did he not realize how dangerous it was to be all alone? Should she do something about it? Well, she thought, this kid didn’t look like a threat. She saw a very youthful and vigorous complexion, but no malicious intent in his innocence. If she could’ve spoken to him, she would’ve asked a thing or two. It didn’t feel right to leave him here, but something told her he knew his way around.
Her footpaws were getting itchy. All of her instincts told her she needed to go back to the car. Putting her gun back into her strap, the foxtauress trotted out of the library, down the linoleum corridor and out the glass door. The moment she climbed up the ramp, however, her nose caught wind of something musty, different from the mouse’s scent. Another Survivor, and so soon? When Emma got a little closer, she could see the Survivor trying to pry open the lock on her car. Emma shouldn’t have let her guard down!
Pulling out her gun, Emma quickened her pace, her body already accustomed now to this new style of motion. The thief’s ears pricked to attention, catching sight of her aiming. Before he could bolt, Emma fired a few rounds, making sure not to aim at the car. He grunted as he went down, two of the bullets hitting his leg. As the Foxtauress towered over him, the survivor raised his arms in the air. What else could one do with a gun pointed only inches from his face?
“Please,” He trembled. “Don’t hurt me. I just want some food, is all. Do you have any to spare at all?”
Without a doubt, he was a scavenger. He wore a dirty trench coat with a thick cotton shirt and sweatpants, but no shoes as his digitigrade footpaws were too big to fit in any normal shoes. For his rascally looks, this survivor was strangely handsome looking. He had the fur pattern of a silver fox, silvery fur with black ears and a black tipped tail. His innocent looking blue eyes with fox slits were distractingly cute, and not a single strand of headfur covered his head. Teeth bared into a snarl, Emma did not waver her gun this time. It made no sense to let someone who tried to get away with trying to break into her car, and yet there was something familiar about him.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know this car was yours. I thought it was just a stray, really! Please, you gotta believe me, miss, I’m telling the truth.”
Emma may not have all of her wits just yet, but she could tell that he was lying to her. He was no doubt hiding nearby waiting for her to leave the car all alone for him to steal. Ah, she didn’t have time for this! The sooner she found her family, the better. Still, something tugged at her heartstrings. The poor fox was just trying to get some food. Putting her gun back, she padded to her trunk and opened up the hood, pulling out a first aid kit, a power bar, and some raisins. Handing the food to the intruder, she quickly sprayed on some disinfectant as she unrolled a spool of gauze. Wrapping it around his wounded leg, she cut it with some scissors and tightened it before she fastened it together.
The thief looked at the offering of kindness he‘d received, the bandaged leg, and back to her, his smile suddenly fading as she went back to the car. “Wait, wait a minute.” He swiftly moved in front of her, holding a handpaw to her chest. “You can’t just leave now only giving me this. Surely, you got some more food than that to last me a little longer. Come on, have a heart.”
This thief was starting to test her patience. Quietly, she moved to pushed him out of the way when he suddenly got aggressive, grabbing her arms with a snarl. “Hey, come on! There’s no rush! Help a poor beggar out.”
Emma gasped as he grabbed her wrists tightly, struggling to get him off. Her arm moved to get her gun, but he grabbed it first and pointed the barrel between the eyes. “I asked nicely, just remember that.” He grinned, pulling the trigger only hearing a click. What great luck, having her own gun run out of ammo. The thief’s ears flattened as his lips trembled. “Oh, crap. Um, say, we could work some—“
Before he could finish, Emma reared up on her hind legs and slashed at the thief’s face, pressing all her weight down on his chest, crushing him on the parking lot. He let out a yelp, whining and whimpering as he looked at the sky in a daze. This thief really was pathetic.
Pulling the gun out of his handpaw, she hurried back into the car, buckling herself in and starting the engine. She would let him live now, but the next time she spotted him raiding her car, she wouldn’t be so kind. Surprisingly as she pulled back, the thief caught up with her scratching on the window. She could still overhear him shouting frantically. She could sense the tension and feat in his voice.
“Wait, you can’t just leave me here! Please! I’ll die on my own out here!” As she drove out of sight, she could see him slowly heading east towards the mountains. Something made her want to stop and let him come with her, but everything else shoved the idea out of her mind. Whomever this person was, there was no time or means to say she was sorry. If this were truly a friend of hers, he would have to hold out. Her family came first, after all.
Driving back on the road, she turned right on University Avenue, heading north until she’d reach 2230 North, and from there, she’d turn left on Canyon Road. After that, she would have to rely on photographic memory to find her way home. Now that she did remember, though, it would be as easy as a chicken potpie.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
As she travelled closer to the mountains, she saw that very little seemed to have changed from what she remembered; the house was exactly as her memories recollected it, except for the bars on her window. Actually, she did notice lesser than subtle differences about the neighborhood, from the abandoned bicycles lying in the middle of the road to some trails of smeared blood on the asphalt. There was even some vandalism painted on the crossroads. Everything was ghastly quiet, yet she knew that a hundred eyes, maybe more, were watching her. Emma prayed her parents were still alive.
Parking into the driveway, Emma padded down the walkway onto his porch, fiddling with her keys until she found the right one. Clicking the lock, she steadily pushed the door open, Padding inside the doorway, she glared a little until her eyes adjusted. The interior was dark, and the air smelt of stale bread and souring dairy products. From where she stood, though, the house looked deceivingly clean.
She had just entered the living room, where at the far back was a hall and a corridor of stairs leading down. Within the circular shaped room, there was a piano lined next to a cupboard, covered in photos and plastered figurines. Why did stroking the bleached ivory keys with her own claws make her think of older times, when she saw a little girl tapping away at the piano, aspiring to be like Mozart? Walking along the soft carpet, she picked up one of the pictures on the cupboard and saw a photo of her family, almost dating back what was like years ago. Her parents were full of life and youthful, their teeth pearl white in the photograph. Her brother seemed less than happy to be in it, and she looked very cute in that picture. Bright cheeks, sparkling eyes and a crooked smile, she was humorously cute for that age. Emma wiped her handpaw across the portrait. If any of them were still alive now, they’d never look this human.
What was that sound clawing at her ears? Putting the picture back on the cupboard she continued to explore the house when she came across the hallway with some stairs to the right. At the bottom of this staircase, narrow and steep, something scratched behind a wooden door at the bottom. The knobbed handle was barricaded with a wooden chair and the very door itself hidden behind heavy furniture. That scratching struck a chord in her heart, making her ears flatten and her tail tuck between her legs. Yet there was something intricately curious about what laid behind that door. If she didn’t find out about it now, she would never be able to forgive herself.
Just as she took her first step with her forepaws, her ears pricked to attention. Pulling out her gun, she pointed it at two oncoming silhouettes. In both of their handpaws, they were carrying what looked like baseball bats. Based on their, shape, she could instantly tell that they had a vulpine look to them all. While one was much taller, the other was more muscled and hunched forward. The tough one let out a loose growl of dominance, making it clear this was their territory. Only then did she realize now that she’d forgotten to reload her gun. Emma did not falter, however, and remained calm, keeping her gun in her handpaws. The best she could do then was bluff, and hopefully, the people who lived here would let her escape.
The taller silhouette put an arm on his back. “Easy, son. I recognize her eyes and those clothes.” His voice sounded strangely familiar. Then he let out a joyful laugh, his arms spread out wide. “Emma! Emma, you’ve come back!”
All of a sudden, Emma’s composure melted. The moment she heard that laugh, she remembered it clear as day. Putting her gun away, she ran up and embraced her father, tail wagging behind her. Her father and brother were alive! Her father scratched her back, feeling his nose sniff against her neck and hair. “Welcome home, Emma.”
When she was finished with him, she moved to hug her brother, who reluctantly returned it, nuzzling the top of her head with sibling affection. “Sis, please! You’re embarrassing me.” Something reminded her that he’d always been rude, and that was all right. Nothing could make her so happy to see them again, even if they didn’t smell anything human. The poor lighting hid their true appearance, but that didn’t even bother her in the very least, either. Human or inhuman, they were her family, all the same.
Suddenly she heard some excited barking from below her. She was expecting to see the family dog, but instead, to her surprise, it was a vixen. She knew because as soon as she’d jumped onto Emma’s back to lick her face, she could smell her sex. It gave off a scent like hers. It couldn’t have been her dog, since she never remembered them owning a fox. The only other thought made her tail droop.
“Rebecca, get off Emma’s back, why don’t you?” Her dad said gruffly. “She’s had it rough for sure.”
Rebecca? Oh, no, she thought. This small vixen, just a regular old vixen was her mom. No, it couldn’t have been. Yet it only made sense! Still, something was odd about her mother. She had a strange twinkle in her eyes, making her look unreasonably intelligent. Nodding to her father, Emma’s mom jumped off her back but continued to run around her in excited circles.
Emma’s dad stepped forward. “We didn’t think that you would’ve survived the virus. We thought everyone down at Sanpete had been killed, and then we heard about the accident. We’re just so glad to see you alive, Emma!”
Emma pulled out her notepad and began writing stuff down. “Dad, what’s happened here? What’s been going on? Why am I a fox? What’s happened to the world around us?”
Her father asked her why she couldn’t just say that, which she replied with a tapping on her throat and her rasping sounds. Her dad put his hands to his side. “Well, I think you have a right to know. Come on. We’ll talk more in the living room. Alma, get out some candles. We’ll risk having a little light in here. Rebecca, stay close to me. Emma, you go on and make yourself comfortable.”
1)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3296822
2)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3311879/
3)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3331352/
4)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3376285/
5)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3417877/
6)http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3496265/
7)
8)
9)/
And the story goes on! woo...after this I'm goin to sleepies. v.v
Emma finally reaches her family after doing some sidechecking in other places.
02/15/10: Major editing has been done, and I'm happier with the results of this version much better.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
“Silent Echoes
Chapter Five
By Wrathofautumn”
Emma could see the fires from the city limits. The sky was hazy with smoke, covering the city in a veil of brown and gray. At the very least visibility wasn’t so poor that she was driving blind. The fog would cover her tracks against any pursuing bandits and gadiantons, but they’d hear her motor running. Making a signal to turn right, she entered what appeared to be the downtown part of Provo.
The traffic lights here had no flash. Not that that should have mattered, except that she saw that the lamp posts, hanging billboard signs, and neon lights were not working either. Though there were a few knocked over power lines, that couldn’t have explained the power outage in such a large area. There must have been a large power surge during the pandemic, and with no workers to keep the plants running, they quickly fell into disrepair and the city slowly went into darkness. Driving here at night would not be the wisest of ideas. She would have to work to find her family quickly. Was this to be the fate that Mount Pleasant, Ephraim, and the rest of Sanpete County would eventually share?
On either side of her, she could see vast square yards of parking lot, the asphalt actually empty. Though there were a few broken in cars the only thing she could distinctly make out in the fog of smoke was giant piles of debris like landfills, fires still burning strong. She thought she could make out shadows moving in the shroud of brownish grey, but she wasn’t willing to find out whether they were friend or foe. Passing over a bridge, she came by more buildings, almost like a plaza in Mount Pleasant. Most of the buildings were boarded up and there was some debris and dead mutated bodies on the sidewalks. Other than that, there were no signs of any life or activity around, save the trees. Had there been a large riot? Why would anyone want to burn down large buildings in a lawless land anyhow?
Just as she passed 500 North, she spotted a familiar landmark: a tall building made of bricks and concrete, its roof spiked with spiraling towers, almost like a mansion. Something about it reminded her of a place she used to go to, something important, but she couldn’t remember what. Turning a right on 400 North, she pulled in to a parking lot, killing the engines. She wasn’t sure if stopping here was a good idea, but her gut told her that she could find something if she looked hard enough.
Unbuckling herself out of her seat, Emma left the car and stretched her legs against the lot. She’d been driving for at least over an hour. Her muscles ached, too, from that car chase. Across the parking lot was a vast lawn of crabgrass, divided by a network of sidewalks. Making her way across the grass, she headed towards a broad stairwell. The climb would be high but it would lead her to the front entrance. Then she stopped herself, putting a finger to the tip of her chin, assuming that foxes have chins. Her memory recalled an easier path. Detouring left, she trotted past a handrail and back onto the sidewalk. Sure enough, there was a large glass wall supported with great metal frames, vandalism staining their transparent bodies. The frames were smudged with many fingerprints. All the lights were out, but she could still see littered paper over the tiling. Someone had been here before. But why? Could they still be here now?
There was a set of double doors to the way inside. Padding down the ramp, nails clicking against the asphalt, she grabbed hold of the door handles, but nothing budged. Ah, no matter; after all, when there was a will there was a way. The door,, much like the walls surrounding it, was simply a metal frame centered with a piece of glass, and hopefully not bulletproof. She pulled out her 13 mm and blasted the glass frame. Like a waterfall, the shards rained on to the ground with a high-pitched shatter. Carefully jumping over the fragments, Emma strode along the white linoleum floor, following the trail of paper and entering a larger room. The hard linoleum flooring softened to velvet carpeting. She beheld entire shelves filled with books and every desk and cubicle with a computer. Now Emma knew for sure that this was Provo’s public library, which was where she would get what she needed.
Going behind the information desk, she knelt as best as a tauroid could, searching through the files of scrunched paperwork. Finally, her claws pulled out a phone book. Dropping it on the counter, she flipped it open, searching through the resident listing under Eukariah. Sure enough, Jacob Eukariah appeared under the address 3247 Mohawk Lane 84604. Like an unexpected migraine, muddled memories came into view of a large colonial-styled house on the top of a hill, a lower lever built into the ground. The cobblestone walkway from the driveway was lined with periwinkle primroses, and freshly planted gold and violet pansies, and the arch-shaped windows with curtains concealed the inside except for a dog poking its head from the windowsill.
The rustling of pages snapped her back to reality. What was that just now? It couldn’t have been an air conditioner since there was no power. So was it a nearby threat? Cocking her gun, Emma padded quietly to the source of the sound, tail tucked low to the ground. She wouldn’t take the chance of letting whatever it was to get the best of her. Oh no, She’ll kill the bandit first! Slowly, she patrolled the aisles of the deserted library, eyes shifting this way and that. Ears snapping at the sound of a sharp giggle, she raised her gun, ready to kill. Then she stopped, remembering Moroni’s words: “Know who you’re shooting.”
Sitting on the carpet flooring was a Mouse Survivor, wearing clothes that gave off an unforgivably horrendous stench. Not even sandblasting would ever get rid of that smell. He pushed a pair of circular glasses against his snout. All of his attention was completely focused on the novel in his hairless handpaws. His bare, plantigrade footpaws shuffled against the flooring, his long ropey tail tapping against the bookshelf. Looking closely at the book’s cover, she read “The Great Gatsby”. In a decent stack behind him were other titles he’s gone through like “The Magnificent Amberson”, “Paradise Lost”, “100 Years of Solitude”, and “The Once and Future King.” None of these titles struck her memory, and neither did they interest her.
When the mousey figure looked up at Emma, he smiled quietly. The expression threw Emma off guard as he waved his handpaw before he returned to reading. The foxtauress lowered her weapon, her head filled with questions. How did this boy find this place on his own? Where were his parents? Did he not realize how dangerous it was to be all alone? Should she do something about it? Well, she thought, this kid didn’t look like a threat. She saw a very youthful and vigorous complexion, but no malicious intent in his innocence. If she could’ve spoken to him, she would’ve asked a thing or two. It didn’t feel right to leave him here, but something told her he knew his way around.
Her footpaws were getting itchy. All of her instincts told her she needed to go back to the car. Putting her gun back into her strap, the foxtauress trotted out of the library, down the linoleum corridor and out the glass door. The moment she climbed up the ramp, however, her nose caught wind of something musty, different from the mouse’s scent. Another Survivor, and so soon? When Emma got a little closer, she could see the Survivor trying to pry open the lock on her car. Emma shouldn’t have let her guard down!
Pulling out her gun, Emma quickened her pace, her body already accustomed now to this new style of motion. The thief’s ears pricked to attention, catching sight of her aiming. Before he could bolt, Emma fired a few rounds, making sure not to aim at the car. He grunted as he went down, two of the bullets hitting his leg. As the Foxtauress towered over him, the survivor raised his arms in the air. What else could one do with a gun pointed only inches from his face?
“Please,” He trembled. “Don’t hurt me. I just want some food, is all. Do you have any to spare at all?”
Without a doubt, he was a scavenger. He wore a dirty trench coat with a thick cotton shirt and sweatpants, but no shoes as his digitigrade footpaws were too big to fit in any normal shoes. For his rascally looks, this survivor was strangely handsome looking. He had the fur pattern of a silver fox, silvery fur with black ears and a black tipped tail. His innocent looking blue eyes with fox slits were distractingly cute, and not a single strand of headfur covered his head. Teeth bared into a snarl, Emma did not waver her gun this time. It made no sense to let someone who tried to get away with trying to break into her car, and yet there was something familiar about him.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know this car was yours. I thought it was just a stray, really! Please, you gotta believe me, miss, I’m telling the truth.”
Emma may not have all of her wits just yet, but she could tell that he was lying to her. He was no doubt hiding nearby waiting for her to leave the car all alone for him to steal. Ah, she didn’t have time for this! The sooner she found her family, the better. Still, something tugged at her heartstrings. The poor fox was just trying to get some food. Putting her gun back, she padded to her trunk and opened up the hood, pulling out a first aid kit, a power bar, and some raisins. Handing the food to the intruder, she quickly sprayed on some disinfectant as she unrolled a spool of gauze. Wrapping it around his wounded leg, she cut it with some scissors and tightened it before she fastened it together.
The thief looked at the offering of kindness he‘d received, the bandaged leg, and back to her, his smile suddenly fading as she went back to the car. “Wait, wait a minute.” He swiftly moved in front of her, holding a handpaw to her chest. “You can’t just leave now only giving me this. Surely, you got some more food than that to last me a little longer. Come on, have a heart.”
This thief was starting to test her patience. Quietly, she moved to pushed him out of the way when he suddenly got aggressive, grabbing her arms with a snarl. “Hey, come on! There’s no rush! Help a poor beggar out.”
Emma gasped as he grabbed her wrists tightly, struggling to get him off. Her arm moved to get her gun, but he grabbed it first and pointed the barrel between the eyes. “I asked nicely, just remember that.” He grinned, pulling the trigger only hearing a click. What great luck, having her own gun run out of ammo. The thief’s ears flattened as his lips trembled. “Oh, crap. Um, say, we could work some—“
Before he could finish, Emma reared up on her hind legs and slashed at the thief’s face, pressing all her weight down on his chest, crushing him on the parking lot. He let out a yelp, whining and whimpering as he looked at the sky in a daze. This thief really was pathetic.
Pulling the gun out of his handpaw, she hurried back into the car, buckling herself in and starting the engine. She would let him live now, but the next time she spotted him raiding her car, she wouldn’t be so kind. Surprisingly as she pulled back, the thief caught up with her scratching on the window. She could still overhear him shouting frantically. She could sense the tension and feat in his voice.
“Wait, you can’t just leave me here! Please! I’ll die on my own out here!” As she drove out of sight, she could see him slowly heading east towards the mountains. Something made her want to stop and let him come with her, but everything else shoved the idea out of her mind. Whomever this person was, there was no time or means to say she was sorry. If this were truly a friend of hers, he would have to hold out. Her family came first, after all.
Driving back on the road, she turned right on University Avenue, heading north until she’d reach 2230 North, and from there, she’d turn left on Canyon Road. After that, she would have to rely on photographic memory to find her way home. Now that she did remember, though, it would be as easy as a chicken potpie.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
As she travelled closer to the mountains, she saw that very little seemed to have changed from what she remembered; the house was exactly as her memories recollected it, except for the bars on her window. Actually, she did notice lesser than subtle differences about the neighborhood, from the abandoned bicycles lying in the middle of the road to some trails of smeared blood on the asphalt. There was even some vandalism painted on the crossroads. Everything was ghastly quiet, yet she knew that a hundred eyes, maybe more, were watching her. Emma prayed her parents were still alive.
Parking into the driveway, Emma padded down the walkway onto his porch, fiddling with her keys until she found the right one. Clicking the lock, she steadily pushed the door open, Padding inside the doorway, she glared a little until her eyes adjusted. The interior was dark, and the air smelt of stale bread and souring dairy products. From where she stood, though, the house looked deceivingly clean.
She had just entered the living room, where at the far back was a hall and a corridor of stairs leading down. Within the circular shaped room, there was a piano lined next to a cupboard, covered in photos and plastered figurines. Why did stroking the bleached ivory keys with her own claws make her think of older times, when she saw a little girl tapping away at the piano, aspiring to be like Mozart? Walking along the soft carpet, she picked up one of the pictures on the cupboard and saw a photo of her family, almost dating back what was like years ago. Her parents were full of life and youthful, their teeth pearl white in the photograph. Her brother seemed less than happy to be in it, and she looked very cute in that picture. Bright cheeks, sparkling eyes and a crooked smile, she was humorously cute for that age. Emma wiped her handpaw across the portrait. If any of them were still alive now, they’d never look this human.
What was that sound clawing at her ears? Putting the picture back on the cupboard she continued to explore the house when she came across the hallway with some stairs to the right. At the bottom of this staircase, narrow and steep, something scratched behind a wooden door at the bottom. The knobbed handle was barricaded with a wooden chair and the very door itself hidden behind heavy furniture. That scratching struck a chord in her heart, making her ears flatten and her tail tuck between her legs. Yet there was something intricately curious about what laid behind that door. If she didn’t find out about it now, she would never be able to forgive herself.
Just as she took her first step with her forepaws, her ears pricked to attention. Pulling out her gun, she pointed it at two oncoming silhouettes. In both of their handpaws, they were carrying what looked like baseball bats. Based on their, shape, she could instantly tell that they had a vulpine look to them all. While one was much taller, the other was more muscled and hunched forward. The tough one let out a loose growl of dominance, making it clear this was their territory. Only then did she realize now that she’d forgotten to reload her gun. Emma did not falter, however, and remained calm, keeping her gun in her handpaws. The best she could do then was bluff, and hopefully, the people who lived here would let her escape.
The taller silhouette put an arm on his back. “Easy, son. I recognize her eyes and those clothes.” His voice sounded strangely familiar. Then he let out a joyful laugh, his arms spread out wide. “Emma! Emma, you’ve come back!”
All of a sudden, Emma’s composure melted. The moment she heard that laugh, she remembered it clear as day. Putting her gun away, she ran up and embraced her father, tail wagging behind her. Her father and brother were alive! Her father scratched her back, feeling his nose sniff against her neck and hair. “Welcome home, Emma.”
When she was finished with him, she moved to hug her brother, who reluctantly returned it, nuzzling the top of her head with sibling affection. “Sis, please! You’re embarrassing me.” Something reminded her that he’d always been rude, and that was all right. Nothing could make her so happy to see them again, even if they didn’t smell anything human. The poor lighting hid their true appearance, but that didn’t even bother her in the very least, either. Human or inhuman, they were her family, all the same.
Suddenly she heard some excited barking from below her. She was expecting to see the family dog, but instead, to her surprise, it was a vixen. She knew because as soon as she’d jumped onto Emma’s back to lick her face, she could smell her sex. It gave off a scent like hers. It couldn’t have been her dog, since she never remembered them owning a fox. The only other thought made her tail droop.
“Rebecca, get off Emma’s back, why don’t you?” Her dad said gruffly. “She’s had it rough for sure.”
Rebecca? Oh, no, she thought. This small vixen, just a regular old vixen was her mom. No, it couldn’t have been. Yet it only made sense! Still, something was odd about her mother. She had a strange twinkle in her eyes, making her look unreasonably intelligent. Nodding to her father, Emma’s mom jumped off her back but continued to run around her in excited circles.
Emma’s dad stepped forward. “We didn’t think that you would’ve survived the virus. We thought everyone down at Sanpete had been killed, and then we heard about the accident. We’re just so glad to see you alive, Emma!”
Emma pulled out her notepad and began writing stuff down. “Dad, what’s happened here? What’s been going on? Why am I a fox? What’s happened to the world around us?”
Her father asked her why she couldn’t just say that, which she replied with a tapping on her throat and her rasping sounds. Her dad put his hands to his side. “Well, I think you have a right to know. Come on. We’ll talk more in the living room. Alma, get out some candles. We’ll risk having a little light in here. Rebecca, stay close to me. Emma, you go on and make yourself comfortable.”
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 80 kB
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