The Fire Triangle -- Part II, Oxidizer

The Fire Triangle: Book II - Chapter 19

"Erin...Hopps?" the lioness repeated the name, this time with an edge to her voice.

"Uh, here." Raising a paw, she got up and went over to where her gear was stacked...dragged herself over, if you wanted to be truthful about it.

There were only two items left in the pile, both of them hers.

"I'm on LAST!"

She would have burst into tears if she hadn't felt so numb.

"Here, let me help you wi' those." It was the Afurican Wild Dog again. His voice was kind and wholly sympathetic, but for Erin it was about as comforting as sitting on chilled concrete, in a wet swimsuit.

Even so, the young doe-bunny allowed him to take her duffle-bag, her pedalboard... and her bass. Yeah, let someone else carry it; who cared anymore, anyway?

Barely aware of what was happening, she took her place in the line at the stage entrance. Her thoughts were empty of emotion, almost robotic.

All right, when the group ahead of hers was down to the last three performers, the door would open and....

Erin would never have thought that her ears were still capable of it—not while she was waist deep in a blue funk—but just then ,she felt them shoot straight upwards. On the other side of the stage door, the song that had been playing—it sounded like Ed Shearing's Bad Habits—abruptly ceased with almost half of it left to go. What the...? She hadn't heard any gong; why had they....?

These thoughts were cut off by a noise and a commotion, somewhere in the stage wings beyond.

And then without warning the door banged open, so hard that a layer of brick dust shook loose from the wall. A split instant later, a sobbing young civet-cat went rushing past her with his arms wrapped over his head. Right behind him was the coyote-girl from the sign-up table, calling for him to wait up.

It wasn't the first time Erin had seen something like this today...so why did she feel like she'd taken a baseball bat to the gut?

"Hey rabbit...wake up, we're on."

Someone was shaking her by the shoulder; it was the marbled fox-girl in line ahead of her.

Stepping blindly, trying not to stumble, Erin followed her through the stage door—and at that moment she understood why the civet's meltdown had hit her so hard.

That was almost exactly how SHE had behaved that first time at the Carrot Days talent show–when her bass had died and she'd almost destroyed it. And now...could it happen again? Could she lose it like that a second time? Could it happen...here?

Oh, sweet cheez n' crackers, anything but that!

Someone closed the door behind her; the wolf security-guard who'd been drawing the names from the 'bingo-cage'.

Erin barely noticed him...and didn't see him averting his eyes as he went past her.

On the other side of the doorway, in the cavernous confines of the rehearsal studio, everything was as quiet as a still-life painting. Erin, the lioness, and the wolf-guard had been the last ones out the door, and now the room was empty.

But not for long; at the far end of the enclosure, the door to the hallway cracked open and a single eye appeared in the frame. It could almost have been an effect from a vintage B-movie horror flick—until it swung open all the way and a lanky, athletic young rabbit stepped into the room.

Max March had made several false starts before finding his way here. His first tunnel had run smack into a concrete dead-end, and the second one had taken him back outside of the theater again. His third attempt had come to naught when the earth surrounding him had abruptly turned sandy. Wisely–especially for him–he had promptly reversed course. As much as he wanted to catch Erin's audition performance up close and fursonal—without her parents around—it wasn't worth getting caught in a tunnel collapse. His fourth try, he'd sworn, would be his last if things didn't pan out.