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[s] [long] Friends- part three: A Hurried Pickup

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Scott Robert Dawson

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Jan 22, 1997, 3:00:00 AM1/22/97
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Friends- [Part Three- A Hurried Pickup]

Squad Leader Greypaw, rolled tightly in an armoured ball, landed in
the middle of Steve Davidson's room amidst a shower of broken glass.
As she began to roll, she uncurled and quickly landed on her feet,
ready for human attack.

Apart from shards of glass and a few falling knickknacks, nothing else
in the room moved.

She looked around. The small room was empty of humans, and the door
was firmly shut. "Frith and embleer Inlé! He's not here<STOMP>!" The
stomp rattled the house. Greypaw heard human footsteps upstairs and
suddenly noticed the shrilling sound of an alarm. She moved more
quietly to the now mostly glassless window, armoured paws crunching on
small fragments of glass, and called, "Squad! Into the room!"

The four other rabbits, also armoured, quickly appeared at the window
and hopped over the sill. The footsteps stopped in the hall outside
Steve's door. There was a knock, and a voice: "Steve? It's Dave. Are
you okay?" A pause. Another knock. "Are you there? Steve?" A muttered
curse, then the sound of the front door opening. The footsteps moved
outside, and were now audible through the broken window. A human
silhouette appeared briefly at the window, and the rabbits heard,
"Shit. The whole front window's gone. How the hell am I going to pay
for a new one? Damn kids... I'd better get some cardboard and the
other key..." The footsteps returned to the hall and headed upstairs.

Greypaw said quietly to the other rabbits, "Follow me. We're going
around to the back." She hopped out the window, and the other four
BunnyTroopers followed. They jumped down to the snow-covered ground,
turned, and vanished into the night shadows between the houses.

The footsteps, and their creator, Dave Mandelbrot, returned to the
front hall of the house. Dave inserted his landlord's key into the
lock and opened Steve's door. Peering in, he saw the glittering glass
fragments covering the floor. He shook his head and muttered
something, then closed the door and headed for the kitchen to find a
roll of packing tape and some cardboard.

At the same moment, a battered white older-model Buick sedan slewed
around the corner from Harbord Street and screeched to a halt in front
of the house. A nondescript white man in a rather elderly trenchcoat
leapt out of the car and then hunkered down behind it, looking through
the car windows at the house. Captain Karol Burnett, AoF (Toronto
Office) carefully watched the front of the house for movement. Seeing
none, he gradually rose to his full height and cautiously walked
around the car, which was in the middle of the road, and up to the
sidewalk.

He took a long and careful look at the small, snow-covered front yard,
noting the rabbit tracks therein. They all appeared to leave the yard,
so he walked up the steps to the front door.

Just as he was about to knock, the inner door opened. Inside, a man
carrying a large piece of cardboard and a roll of duct tape started to
open the outer door, saw him, and visibly jumped, dropping what he was
carrying. "Who the hell are you?" he yelled.

"Sorry if I startled you. I was just about to knock when the door
opened. My name is Karol Burnett. I'm looking for Steve Davidson. Have
you seen him?"

Dave's expression changed from annoyance and exasperation to
puzzlement. "Carol-?"

Karol said, with the air of someone who has said something many times
before, and was resigned to doing it for the rest of his life, "Karol.
It's a Polish name. Want to make something of it?"

"No, no... I'm just a little disoriented. Some asshole just threw a
rock through my tenant's window. I've got to cover it up before the
whole house freezes."

"Well, be careful. They might still be around." Dave noticed that
Karol never ceased glancing in every direction, as if he feared- no,
was aware of the possibility of- assault. "Have you seen Steve
Davidson?"

Dave considered. "Not today. I heard movment in his room about twenty
minutes ago, then in the kitchen and so on. Then I heard the back door
slam. Then this..."

Karol mentally slapped himself. A back door... the rabbits had gone
around back... they could even now be cornering Steve in some alley.
He hastily thanked Dave and walked quickly back to his car, just in
time to catch a withering glare from a little old Oriental lady in a
blue Honda, whose path his car was now blocking. He got back in his
car and accelerated down to the other end of the block, then turned
right, searching the right-hand sidewalk for the entrance of the alley
that he knew ran behind the houses. Finding it, he turned in, shut off
his lights, and attempted to drive up it as quietly as he could.

Dave grumbled something about 'people,' then opened the door, picked
up the cardboard and tape, and began to inspect the broken window.

Meanwhile, Greypaw fumed, and her squad of four BunnyTroopers became
nervous. A quick search of the back yard had revealed exactly one set
of fresh Human footprints, carrying Steve Davidson's scent, leaving
the back door and passing through the now-closed gate and into the
snow-covered alley. They had followed the prints up to Harbord Street,
where clumps of snow on the bare sidewalk showed that Steve had run to
the bus stop. A fresh diesel scent drew their attention to a bus
crossing Spadina Avenue, blocks away in the distance.

"He's escaping from us on the embleer BUS! <STOMP>" Greypaw was angry.
This was not good. The BunnyTroopers began to try to ease away from
her while simultaneously attempting to appear alert, unconcerned, and
ready for new orders. The manoeuvre worked about as well as one might
expect; that is, not at all. Greypaw turned on the nearest Trooper.
"And YOU! What did _you_ do today, that I should spare your puny life?
I-" Suddenly she stopped, and her expression changed completely, to a
rather lopsided grin. There was a pause. "Hraka," she said. "Anyone
can have a bad day. Let's get that Fudd-in-waiting."

She became more serious. "That bus will be going to the Wellesley
subway station. Our bug on that pay phone, WHEN it worked," she
gritted her teeth momentarily, "told us that Karol wants Steve to try
for Nathan Phillips Square. Steve will probably take the subway down
to Dundas and walk over. If we dash at top speed down the alleys
toward College Street and the Kensington Market area, then across
south of Dundas Street, we should just be able to beat him there.
Then-"

A motion down the alley drew their peripheral vision. "NOW what?"
Greypaw demanded. They turned to look. Suddenly blinding light poured
over them, accompanied by the roar of a certain Buick, accelerating
out of the darkness. It was the Army of Fudd (Toronto Office), all one
of them, in full battle charge.

From the dark alley, Karol saw three of the rabbits silhouetted
against the lights of Harbord Street. He also saw the gap in traffic
just beyond them. There was no time to lose. Pressing the accelerator
pedal, he reached with his right hand for the special control panel he
knew so well by touch. One switch turned on the bank of mighty
spotlights mounted on the front of his car. Another started the car's
second high-pressure windshield-washer-fluid pump, connected to its
reservoir of specially-prepared vanilla extract, and to the banks of
needle-spray nozzles, one fanning outwards on the front bumper, the
other fanning backwards over the body of the car.

The car leaped forward. The rabbits froze, stock-still in the
approaching glare, then abruptly leaped upwards to either side. They
were rather more nimble than the car, but some of them were not fast
enough.

Karol felt two distinct bumps: one at the left corner of the car, and
another heavier thump directly in front of him. He had the sense that
he had driven over something, but there was no time to consider it,
for he was already out in the glare of the oncoming traffic on Harbord
Street, and had to screech around in a righthand turn. He hastily shut
off the spotlights and sprayers, and with fast work, settled himself
in the eastbound lane of the street. A few moments later he turned
right again onto Spadina Avenue, and he was out of sight of the battle
zone. He slowed to legal speed, turned on his headlights, and headed
for Nathan Phillips Square.

And a battle zone it was. DevilBunnies can leap surprising distances,
and panicked devilbunnies can leap even further. It took a few minutes
for Greypaw to orient herself. She was on the roof of a house
overlooking Harbord Street and the alley. What was she doing there?
She went to lick her paws and clean her face, but the feel of the
armour in the way, and the faintest smell of vanilla, suddenly brought
memory back. Her Troopers- where were her Troopers?

In haste she half fell, half jumped off the roof, bouncing off an
awning, to land in a bush. She looked around, and her heart froze.
There was a Bunny-shaped lump in the middle of Harbord Street, and
traffic was not being entirely successful in avoiding it.

It was the Trooper she has accosted so long ago, centuries ago, almost
a quarter of an hour ago.

Greypaw looked around. A shadow to the side revealed itself to be
another Trooper. He was limping badly, his armour was out of shape and
cracked, and fur that should not have been visible seemed burned. He
staggered over and collapsed at her feet, saying nothing.

The other two Troopers climbed down from their landing places and
approached her. No one said anything. The smell of vanilla was in the
air.

Greypaw felt a wail building in her. She knew that if she let if out,
all pretense of rationality would be lost, and she would go whirling
away on the gales of madness. She bit it down, with an effort that
made her vision blur.

She activated her comm gear. The familiar 'Link Encryption Safe' light
appeared in her peripheral vision. "Greypaw to Bunny Base. Come in,
Bunny Base. I need help."

"Bunny Base High Park to Greypaw. How can we help?"

"Greypaw here. We need medic help. One of my Troopers is dead, one
badly injured, all thanks to that embleer Fudd, Burnett. We're at the
mouth of the alley on Harbord between Major and Brunswick. And
hurry..."

"A BunnySymp van will be there in four minutes. We have your locator
signal. I won't sign off..."

The High Park operator was not prepared for what happened next. Before
she could even think of moving to help the injured Trooper, the
madness rose again, and Greypaw let herself surrender to it. She let
out a wail that caused nightmares for a kilometre in every direction,
and caused cats and dogs alike to cower in terror. The uninjured
Troopers froze in panic.

"Burnetttttt-----------! You Willl Dieee for Thisss-----!!!!!"

Then she dropped unsensing to the snow. She never felt the friendly
hands of the medic team, or saw the broken armor carefully peeled fron
the injured Trooper, or saw the BunnySymp van blocking the Harbord
traffic while the body of the other Trooper was gently lifted from the
street.

Kilometres away, as Karol was slowing down near Nathan Phillips
Square, he heard, or perhaps sensed in some other way, Greypaw's cry.
He knew he would not sleep tonight, and he also knew that this was
just another of the nightmares he would bear to the end of his days.

He looked across the Square. Except for the skaters on the frozen
reflecting pool, it was almost deserted, for it was still quite cold,
and it was approaching full dark. Still, there was a single figure
loitering awkwardly near the Eternal Flame in the Peace Garden.
Perhaps it was warmer there. He hastily pulled the car in behind a
Chinese tourist bus, flashed his lights, and activated his outside
bullhorn. "Steve Davidson! Over here!"

The figure paused, looked up, and ran towards the car. Karol pushed
open the passenger door. Steve appeared and slid in, seeming rather
taken aback by the appearance of the car- dented, scraped, with lights
and accessories bolted lumpily on. Karol said, "Close the door. We
have a lot to talk about."

Steve did so, and Karol pulled out into the traffic on Queen Street.
The festive lights over the skaters lit their faces with cheerful
colours. Steve did not see the tears running down Karol's face. A few
minutes later, he said, "Why does this car smell of vanilla?"

[End of Part Three. Next part: Interval with Memos]

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